Seokjin Oneshot - Tumblr Posts

i personally find it hard to find seokjin fics that leave an impression but this was sooo cute !! absolutely loved it <3

- rae

Bon Appetit: Kim Seokjin

Genre: Fluff Rating: T Pairing: Seokjin x Reader Words: 7.2 k

I can honestly imagine Jin falling in love with a cook of a small restaurant… I will totally ship it.

-Admin Taettybear

~☆~

Kim Seokjin was someone you knew quite well. He was always polite, smiling at you in greeting when he came to eat at your restaurant owned by your family.

He loved getting the pesto pasta, a recipe you had arranged a couple of years ago, making it one of the most popular such at your place.

Seokjin always spoke to you when you served him, regardless of how tired he actually looked.

And you, as well as everyone knew how attractive this young man was.

~☆~

“Hello, Seokjin-ssi. The usual?” You questioned, leading him deeper into the restaurant, away from prying eyed and a more private area of your store. You didn’t want him to be out in the public eye and not enjoy his dinner.

“That’ll be great Y/N-ah.  But the other guys are coming as well so I’ll wait for them to arrive before ordering,” The man smiled as he slipped his face mask off, revealing his plump pink lips. You were quite positive they were in a better conditioned than your own chapped lips.

Keep reading

Not-A-Goodbye | KSJ

Pair: Seokjin x idol!reader

Summary: You knew this day would come but you were just hoping that you wouldn’t have to face it. You thought that you were ready. But as you stood at the military base, saying your goodbyes to your beloved, you didn’t want to let him go. 

Genre: Fluff, established relationship au

A/N: I am sorry for the sad chapter. I am so sorry 😭 I was bawling myself -

WC: 928

You knew time was not on your side. Time was never on either of your side. 

But you never thought that it would come so fast. 

The sun hung low on the horizon as the both of you got into the sleek back car. The morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the scene at the military base. As you stood in the midst of a crowd that was all there to bid farewell to each of their beloved - whether it is family, friends, or boyfriends. You were standing there with the six of the other boys, all there to send your beloved who was about to begin his mandatory military service. 

All the boys were bidding Seokjin goodbye, teasing him by constantly rubbing his now shaved head - god, just the thought of it makes you feel a fresh wave of tears. But you couldn’t move. You stood still, heart heavy with a complex mix of emotions. Your beloved was standing no more than ten footsteps away from you, dressed in his military uniform as he stood tall and proud. 

But you knew him better. 

As his eyes caught the attention of yours, you saw the emotions that he was trying to conceal. Your throat tightened as more tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You were so worked up on denying the fact that he was leaving but now looking at him, the reality of his absence was starting to sink in, and it was absolutely overwhelming. 

Seokjin turned to you, gaze locking onto yours and instantly wrapped you in his strong arms. Despite the brave face he put on, his eyes clearly mirrored the pain and sadness you felt. Swinging your arms around his waist, you embraced him tightly, voice shaking as you whispered, “I’m going to miss you so much, Seokjin.”

He held you close, arms a cave of warmth and comfort. “Hey now…” You left tear stains on his shirt as you tried to control yourself. “I’m going to miss you too but remember what we talked about last night? You’ve gotta take care of yourself when I’m not around, okay?” You shook your head, messing with your hair as you squeezed him tighter as if if you did, he wouldn’t leave. “Don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll be alright in there.”

Worry. It was an indescribable feeling - one that constantly plagues minds and bodies; one that is a type of uncurable illness. It was a constant companion, always gnawing at your heart ever since he received his draft notice. That night, you spent it crying in his arms, begging him to stay. You knew that nothing you did would ever change as the military was part of his duty as a citizen but it was difficult. Difficulty to not worry about the dangers that he might face and the time you spent apart. 

Worried about him being out in the cold, having heat flashes, his allergies, and so much more. The list was non-exhaustive. And it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. On the contrary, you trusted him too much. You knew that he wouldn’t look at others but you were worried - worried and jealous that they get to see your boyfriend doing push-ups, pull-ups, and runs. 

“But I can’t help but be worried.” You admitted, voice quivering. “You mean the world to me, Jin. What if you get hurt? Like you sprain your ankle? Or maybe you dislocated your shoulder? Or what if you get too cold during the winter or faint from the heat during the summer? Or what if -”

Seokjin gently brushed a tear away from your cheek and softly kissed your lips. “Shh… I understand your concern, but worrying is not going to change anything. Plus, if I ever get too cold, I can just slap heat patches like I always do.” Seokjin turned his nose upwards, laughing. “While I’m not around, you should focus on yourself. Grow yourself so that when I come home, you can be strong enough to take anything I give you.” Seokjin gently lifted a finger to caress your cheek. “I know you’ve been putting off so many things on my behalf. Now is the time to pursue your dreams, spend time with your friends, and do whatever you want to do.” Suddenly squishing your face in his big hands, you let out a surprised squeak. “Take care of yourself. I’ll be fine and come back as soon as I can.”

It hurts to know that his words bring to you a mixture of comfort and sadness. You knew he was right but the thought of him not being by your side made it hurt so much more. The extended period made it an even harder fact to accept. Still, you nodded and wiped your tears, hoping that your little smile would be convincing enough. But the little squish that Seokjin did on your cheeks and the quivering smile on his lips gave you enough of an answer. 

“I’ll… I’ll try, Seokjin. Promise to focus on myself.”

With a final, tender kiss, you reluctantly let him go. As you watched him walk away to join his fellow soldiers, you stood there, feeling a void in your heart. As they walked through the gates, you stared at Seokjin’s retreating figure until you couldn’t see him anymore. The moment you felt tears filling your eyes, you immediately turned back to the car as your shoulders shook. You knew that the days to come would be filled with missing him and longing for his presence.

in you, i lay - k.sj.

summary: one night was all you needed to come back to him or a story in which love grows where seokjin goes, and you can’t help but follow.

genre: fluff (7.8k)

note: i have my exams soon, so i’ll get back to writing as soon as they are over, i wanted to give you all a little something before that so, i hope, with all my heart, that you guys enjoy this <3

masterlist

three years ago, your trip to berlin changed the entire trajectory of your life.

one day, your life was all black and white and then it burst into so many colors that you couldn’t quite grasp how quickly it changed to look so beautiful.

which is why you decided to come back to berlin. more successful, happy, and filled with life than you have ever been, you came back to live your bright past for one last time and move on to bigger things.

you look out the window as the cab breezes past the beach that held more memories than 23 years of your life, a smile unconsciously grows on your face as you think back on how different just 3 years of your life were.

you wonder how he is.

you never stopped wondering how he is.

Keep reading

Rings - Boxer!Seokjin x Reader

Notes: HELLO! Oh my god, I know I said this was gonna be posted weeks ago, but I had so many things to fix and then so much to add in. But now it’s finally here! And I’m literally sO excited to share it with you guys! I hope you guys like it! Requested by anon, hope you like it dove! Humongous shout out to @jinpanman for helping me out with this, and reading my terrible first draft! I literally owe her my kidney right now lmaooo. Love ya, doll! Have fun reading you guys, and let me know what you think!! 「 ──────── 」 Summary: All Jin knew was the ropes of a boxing ring, the pain of broken limbs. He grew up in this life, making a name for himself, the path that his father had carved out for him. He knew nothing of a gentle touch and soft whispers and a sweet girl who had no business around the likes of him. Genre: Fluff (?), Angst, Smut. Boxer!Au Word count: 17.7k (remember when I said Hearing Voices was the longest thing I’ll ever write?? Lmaooo) Warnings: Description of violence, mentions of blood. Smoking, Smut, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), Oral m receiving. Swearing. 〘◊❒◊❒◊❒◊❒〙 “It’s way too loud in here.” Yoongi groans as he sits down in the usual booth, tossing his leather jacket on the table with a frown. Seokjin goes to comment that he always says that. Anywhere that’s not the quiet, peaceful solitude of his apartment was too loud for him, and that he should suck it up, because it isn’t very often they get to hangout in a place that’s not the Boxing Gym. Namjoon slides in behind him with a smile, eyes turning into crescent moons and dimples coming out of hiding. Seokjin barely pays them mind as he sits opposite them, his eyes scanning the length of the bar to find a distracted Hoseok not ordering drinks like he said he was going to do. He sighs quietly, but allows him his moment with the pretty blonde stranger he was chatting up. Seokjin notices the way he already has her wrapped around his finger, with the way she covers her smile with a hand, the other resting against his chest as he flirted with everything he had. He catches sight of the bartender Jimin, a chipper younger man, sending a smile that reaches his eyes before his lips move. His blonde hair looks pink in the low red lighting of the bar’s neon bulbs, and he sends him a wave, one that Seokjin returns tiredly with an equally tired smile. Yoongi and Namjoon are talking about something in quiet voices, the elder of the two stopping to look around when he notices Hoseok’s prolonged absence. He spots him in the same position that Seokjin had and rolls his eyes, never subtle in his actions or hiding how he feels. What he gives is what you get with Min Yoongi.

Keep reading

Sit. Stay. || KSJ

(banner by @kth1)

Title: Sit. Stay. WC: 14k one-shot Genre: fluff, s2l, neighbors!au, baby angst for a quick minute?, smut

Summary: Your new puppy, Zinnia, has turned your world on its head. She’s ruined everything from your sleep schedule to your favorite shoes, and you know it’s your own failure to train her properly. When your cute upstairs neighbor tells you about a local obedience academy, he slowly starts to make himself a place in your schedule, your life, and your heart. After your last relationship went up in flames, will his affections be something else you can count as a failure?

Rating: NSFW - Minors DNI, i mean it

Warnings: language, casual drinking, a parent is having heart problems and seeing doctors for it, miscommunication sort of, immaturity lol, kissing, mentions of surgery/doctors/hospitals - but everyone is okay!, an argument, protected penetrative sex, doggy style (i mean how could i NOT), fingering, a nanosecond of nip stim

A/N: Written for the Paw Prints Academy Collab hosted by @kth1fics! Typo-check by @oddinary4bts - thank you, Ella!!!

--

You’re asleep, dreaming something plotless - your grandmother, long deceased, is there. It doesn't feel sad - it feels peaceful. It feels like, oh, it’s nice to see you again. 

And it’s ruined, too early, by a long, high-pitched, inhuman cry. You startle awake, heart pounding as your brain scrambles to make sense of the sound. The whine - it’s a whine despite the loudness of it - dies down and is followed by a series of yips and sharp barks. Every noise seems to pierce straight through your skull.

You haven’t slept through a night in four days.

“Zinnia,” you beg, pushing the comforter off your body and making your way blindly across the unlit bedroom, “you have got to chill. You are not dying.”

Zinnia, an eleven-week old chocolate labrador, yaps even louder once she hears your voice.

You’re reinforcing bad behavior by getting up, a voice in your head reminds you.

You know it’s true, but what’s the alternative? Let Zinnia wake up every apartment on the whole floor? 

You open the bedroom door, and Zinnie bounces with excitement in her crate, her tail flapping against the wall of it with a rhythmic thwap-ap-thwap-ap.

You sigh. She’s so dang cute, you can’t even be pissed that it’s two in the morning. “Hi, silly girl,” you say, resigned. She rolls herself in a full circle, going belly up and then back to her feet in less than a second. 

You unlock the crate and watch absently as she catapults around your feet, races into the kitchen, slides across the linoleum and crashes sideways into a wooden cabinet door, and then dashes - unphased - back towards you, barreling into your shins. 

You sigh again and head back to your bedroom for a hoodie and some shoes. Miss Zinnie needs to run, apparently. 

You hook up her leash and grab your keys, patting your pocket to make sure your phone is in there before heading to the hallway. Zinnia zips left and right, tripping you more than once on the way to the elevators. 

You take the elevators up instead of down. There are a lot of perks to your high-end apartment building - covered parking, a pool, a 24-hour gym - but the best is by far the dog run, outside on the twelfth floor. You’ve used it approximately sixty times in the days since you brought Zinnia home. 

You realize as you push open the glass doors to the rooftop space that you forgot poop bags. 

“Zinnia,” you say seriously, “I need you to promise not to poop. Got it?”

Zinnie gags once as she pulls too hard on the leash. You rub a hand over her face and reach down to pick her up, opting to carry her hyper ass the rest of the way to the dog run. You hold the door on your way back in for a tall guy with a baseball cap tugged low over his brow, leading a fluffy, blue-eyed dog back into the building. He nods in thanks and hurries past you. You have to step inside for a second to let him by, his shoulders take up so much of the doorway despite his slender frame. 

“His dog isn’t choking itself on the leash,” you point out to Zinnia sourly. You make your way over to the dog run and make sure to latch the gate before setting Zinnia back on the ground and unclipping her.

“Go, you absolute menace,” you tell her. “Go run until you’re tired. Please, for the love of god, run until you’re tired.”

–

You’ve always gotten a mid-afternoon energy slump; Zinnia’s nighttime shenanigans haven’t helped that at all. You’re bent over your desk, trying to inhale the caffeine from your two pm coffee, when your phone pings on your desk.

Your heart sinks when you see the name of the college kid who’s supposed to watch Zinnia on weekday afternoons. 

“Please just be a cute picture,” you mutter as you unlock your screen. No such luck. The text informs you that, in your absence, Zinnia chewed through a pair of shoes you’d been stupid enough to leave out.

There is an attached picture.

It is not cute. 

–

You get home earlier than normal somehow, letting yourself into the apartment and kicking off your shoes. You immediately pick them back up, cradling them against your chest like they need to be protected.

They kind of do. Zinnia hears you and blasts straight at you, running circles around your legs, tail flopping side to side so hard her whole butt wiggles.

“Hello, silly beast,” you say affectionately, though truth be told you’re still mourning those chucks she’d ruined. 

Ry, Zinnia’s college pal, gathers her belongings and tells you goodbye. Alone with your shoe-destroyer, you sigh and head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Abandoned in the living room, Zinnia begins to sing the song of her people.

“Oh my god,” you huff. “Please, can you let me pee and change clothes? It is okay to be alone for five seconds!” 

You ignore her complaints as you do just that, emerging in joggers and a hoodie, and sneakers that aren’t your chucks, since those live in the garbage can now. 

You’d been planning on taking Zinnia on a walk walk, but there are some pretty ominous clouds out there. You pull your phone from your pocket and check the hourly - 80% chance that it’s already raining. 

A quick trip to the dog run will have to be better than nothing. 

You two head to the elevator, and you push the button for the twelfth floor, the ring around the button lighting up red.

The elevator slows to a stop on the eighth floor. The doors open and you spot the dog you’d passed last night, the one with the pretty blue eyes. You raise your eyes to look at its owner, the guy with shoulders the width of the moon.

He’s got a cap on again, but you can see his face today. He lights up when he sees you, stepping inside to let the doors close behind him. He glances at the button panel to make sure his choice is selected - he must be heading to twelve as well.

“We met you last night,” he says slyly, smiling at you. You’re unable to answer for a second; he’s so good-looking you think he must model or something. He’s got a strong brow, beautiful dark eyes, and lips that should be a museum, carved from marble.

“I think we did,” you agree, feeling suddenly shy, completely unqualified to speak to this absolute god.

“We did,” he says confidently. “I’d remember a face that cute anywhere.”

You feel yourself flush, suddenly so warm that you want to strip off your hoodie and maybe your shoes too, just to cool down. Then you realize that he’s looking down at Zinnia, whose tail is wagging so ferociously that she’s almost toppling over as she sniffs noses with the stranger’s dog.

“Is she okay?” you ask suddenly. “Do I need to –?”

“It’s fine,” he says easily, flapping a hand at you. “Blue’s very maternal. She knows a baby when she sees one.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing a little in relief. Being a Bad Dog Owner is bad enough, you’d hate to make a mistake with someone else’s dog in the equation. 

The elevator doors open on the twelfth floor, and the guy holds out a hand, beckoning you to go first. You try to exit, but Zinnia is so obsessed with the guy’s dog - Blue - that she won’t budge.

“Good god,” you grumble, reaching down to lift her, stalking out of the elevator with only a scrap of your dignity. You’re pretty sure you hear the guy snicker as he follows you towards the doors to outside. 

There’s an elderly lady and a corgi in the dog run, and you and the guy from the eighth floor hurry through the gate and latch it quickly. 

Zinnia takes off sprinting the second you unclip her. Blue trots over to the corgi first.

“So,” you say. “You have a dog that listens.”

The grin he shoots you is amused. “I’ve had Blue for almost eight years. You have a baby. A lot of her behavior right now - the energy, chewing on everything she finds - she’ll grow out of.”

“That’s a relief,” you say, thinking of the ruined chair legs under your kitchen table. You’d had that kitchen set for a decade and Zinnia left it covered in teeth-marks within the seven minutes it took you to switch laundry loads. 

He shrugs. “Some of it has to be trained out, though,” he warns you.

“Damn,” you sigh. A raindrop hits the back of your hand; instinctively, you raise your eyes to the clouds. Beside you, the guy does the same. On the other end of the dog run, the older lady calls her corgi over and clips its leash, ready to head in.

“You better pee fast, you monster,” you tell Zinnia, who doesn’t hear you and wouldn’t care even if she did.

The guy laughs quietly under his breath, then whistles once. Blue stops sniffing the ground and trots over immediately. Either his competence is really sexy, or you’re biased by his face. 

“I’m Seokjin, by the way,” he says, looking up at you as he bends over to clip the leash back on. “Most people just call me Jin. This is Blue.”

As the rain starts to patter more strongly, you tell him your name, and then point at your bonkers puppy, who is currently trying to wedge herself under the metal beam below a bench. “That absolute disaster is Zinnia.”

He smiles and repeats it. “We’ll see you around,” he says, heading back in towards the building, leaving you and your puppy in a suddenly steady rain. 

–

You stagger like a zombie to the elevators in the morning, hands clasped around a travel mug full of hot tea. Inside, you lean heavily against the wall, willing your eyes to stay open as you descend. 

You’ve made it down two floors before you even register that another human is in there with you. One more before you register that you know that human.

“There she is,” he says brightly, when he sees that you’ve clocked him, finally. “Good morning!”

“Sorry,” you say, smiling ruefully. “I’m exhausted.”

He nods understandingly. “New puppies will do that,” he says, still cheerful. “Are you crate-training her at night?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. “It’s not going great.”

He seems like he’s going to answer, but the elevator stops on floor three and four more people shuffle in between you. When you’re released into the lobby, he nods goodbye from the opposite side of the small crowd as you make your way through the front doors. 

–

You barely make it through the work-day without taking an illegal nap at your desk, but somehow you do. When you get home, Ry slipping out your front door the second she hears you, you want nothing more than to collapse on the couch and close your eyes. 

Instead, you leash up Zinnia - without even changing clothes first - and head up to the dog run. You figure if she handles her business now, it might buy you a few hours of couch time.

You also wonder if the guy - Jin - is usually out there right around now. He was yesterday, after all. Maybe that’s his normal schedule. 

He’s out there before you, this time. Your hunch was right. You unclip Zinnia and lean back against the fence, hoping you don’t fall asleep on your feet like this.

Jin sidles up beside you and you can’t deny the warm, pleased feeling that rises up in you. 

“Tough day at work?” he asks.

You can’t fight the smile off your face - you don’t even try. “Normal,” you say. “Yours?”

He shrugs. “Normal.”

You wait a beat, two beats. Jin leans comfortably next to you, his eyes watching Blue as she runs happily alongside someone’s doberman. 

“What do you do?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you. 

He gives you a sideways look that you can’t decipher. “You’ll be disappointed,” he says, sort of like a warning.

This surprises you. “Disappointed? Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s pretty boring.”

Your smile turns a little knowing. “And you don’t like looking boring?”

His mouth twists to the side. “I don’t like feeling boring. But anyway - I’m a salesman. I work at a sporting goods store. I do consultations for certain equipment, but most of the time I’m just trying to make commission.”

I think with that smile you could probably sell me a used tissue, you think unhelpfully. 

“That’s more exciting than mine,” you tell him, hoping it cheers him up. “I spend all eight hours behind a desk.”

He grimaces. “Do you hate it?” he asks. 

No one’s ever framed the question like that before. You ponder this as, across the dog run, Zinnia happily harasses a pair of doodle-mixes. 

“I don’t hate it,” you say slowly, weighing the truth of the words. “It’s just… monotonous, sometimes.”

“So you got a puppy to break up the monotony,” he guesses. 

Now it’s your turn to grimace. “I got a puppy because my boyfriend moved out.”

He turns to look at you sharply, expression stricken. “I’m sorry - I didn’t -.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him. “I kicked him out. Caught him - well - it doesn’t matter. The point is I wasn’t sad to see him go. And I’d been trying for a long time to talk him into getting a dog, so. I gave myself a few months to get back on my feet and then I got myself a damn dog.”

And now she’s eating everything I own, you don’t add.

“Sorry you went through that,” Jin says seriously. You wave him off.

“It’s ancient history,” you tell him. “Besides, I’d trade him for Zinnie any day. Even when she pees inside.”

He laughs at this. 

You stand chatting for a while - long enough for the doodle-mixes to get taken inside, and for a whole herd of dachshunds to come, chase circles around Zinnia for thirty minutes, and leave again, shepherded out by a middle-aged man. Long enough to learn that Jin went to college in the city, has an advanced degree in Business Management that he’s never used, adopted Blue when he was twenty-one. Long enough to learn that his parents live on the coast, that he can do most board-centered sports well, that he likes food and video games more than he likes most people. Long enough for him to learn your answers to the same questions. 

“I should probably take her in,” he says finally, as dusk settles around you. “We both need dinner.”

“Sure,” you say. “I should, too. Zinnie! Zin! Zinnia, come!”

Jin snorts as Zinnia happily ignores you. 

–

Your Friday is off to a bad start. Not only did Zinnie scream through the night, until you caved and let her out of the crate and spent the rest of the night on the couch so she wouldn’t feel lonely, but you break a heel on your way out the door. 

The sudden break sends you sprawling onto your carpeted entryway floor. Your thermos of tea rolls away - thankfully sealed tight - but you feel your tights tear on your knee where you land. And your face ends up almost under a kitchen chair, eye to eye with a delightful little gift that Zinnia must have left you sometime while you were trying to get dressed.

You pushed yourself to your feet, eye your ripped tights and then the clock, and burst into tears on the spot. “Zinnia!” you wail. “I do not have time to go change! And I definitely do not have time to scrub the carpet right now!”

You do both, shooting the puppy death-stares as you scoot out of the apartment twenty minutes late with a blotchy face. You’d better not meet Seokjin in the elevators today, like this.

Luckily you don’t - but that’s about the last good thing you can say about the rest of your day. You get a nasty email from your boss for arriving late, you realize once you get to your office that you’d left your thermos of tea back on your kitchen table after you’d tripped, and Ry texts you to say she’s got a flu and she can’t take Zinnia out to pee after lunch the way she usually does. 

You can’t leave early to handle it; you’re already in hot water for being late. You have to accept the fact that you’ll be going home to a mess - Zinnia can’t be expected to hold it that long, and it’s your fault, not hers. You just hope that, without someone there to play with her, her tiny, baby bladder is the only mess you’ll find, and not more ruined furniture. 

It sucks, and you feel horrible - hoping she doesn’t cry and bark all afternoon, alone - but there’s nothing you can do about it.

When you get home, it’s about what you expected. You spray the carpet, hurry to change clothes, then come out to scrub where the spray had been sitting. You clean this up, and then the shreds of paper towel from the paper towel roll that Zinnia somehow got from the kitchen table, and face the puppy, utterly exhausted and at wit’s end. Somehow, you find yourself wanting to cry again.

“Maybe,” you tell her, as she looks up at you expectantly, “I am just not meant to be a dog parent. Maybe you need someone who knows what they’re doing. Or works from home. Or has a roommate to help. Something. Something that isn’t this.”

Oblivious to your emotional spiral, oblivious that you’re questioning your place in her life, Zinnia lays down and yawns, pink tongue curling and paws stretching as far as they can reach. 

You skip the dog run. You think she probably needs an actual walk since Ry didn’t play with her this afternoon, and you don’t think you can face Seokjin in your current mood. He’ll either be friendly or sympathetic, and you can’t handle either of those with grace right now. 

You strap Zinnia into an actual harness, not trusting her on just a clip-leash off the apartment property, and head towards the river. You detour through the park on your way, hoping the fresh air, exercise, and sunshine will work their magic.

They don’t. You fight back tears all the way to the riverside, Zinnia trotting along at times, pulling the leash towards passersby and random garbage at others. 

Near the river, you spot a restaurant with outdoor seating. A few tables have brought their dogs; they lay on the pavement next to their humans’ tables happily, causing no fuss.

“What do you think?” you ask Zinnia wryly. “Can you be good long enough for one drink?”

You don’t give her the choice, getting yourself a table and tying her leash securely to your chair. One drink turns into two, then somehow you’re working on a third, your chin resting in your hand, a little stormcloud brewing above your head. 

You’re startled when a body drops into the chair across from yours. You reach for Zinnia’s leash, alarmed, and then you realize it’s only Jin.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, at the same time that he says, “You look miserable.”

You stare at each other, not sure who should address what first. 

“I was on my way home,” he explains. “The subway stop here isn’t that far from our place, so I’ll take it sometimes when the weather’s nice.”

You nod, accepting this. Then you decide to address what he’d said. “I am miserable,” you admit. “I am the worst dog owner on the planet. Come see me in five years, I will have one hellion of a dog, and exactly zero unruined square inches of apartment.”

Jin looks at you with an expression that’s both amused at your hyperbole and a bit sympathetic. You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it isn’t this - he leans forward, brows furrowing seriously, and asks you, “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Please,” you say, somewhat desperately. “I will take any suggestions.”

He sits back, the intensity leaving his face. “I have a few friends who work at this place in town? It’s called Paw Prints Academy.”

You chuckle. “Is it for bad dogs?”

He flashes you a smile. “Their secret, unofficial motto is there are no bad dogs, only bad owners.”

“Sounds like the place for me,” you admit. 

“They’ve got it all - obedience classes, experts to run your questions by, groomers, boarding, day care.”

“It sounds great,” you say. “I obviously need some expert help. I’m a disaster.”

“I’ll send you their website,” Jin promises, and then pauses, his hand halfway to his phone. He seems, suddenly, less sure. The tips of his ears are suddenly red. “I… that is… if you’re okay with giving me your number?”

You hide your smile behind a hand. “Sure,” you say, trying to bite back the grin. “You can have my number.”

“For puppy purposes,” he clarifies with a cheeky smile. As if you both know that’s a lie.

“For puppy purposes,” you reassure him, feeling your little stormcloud start to dissipate.

–

Seokjin doesn’t abuse having your number. He sends you the website to Paw Prints Academy, and adds, “my friend’s name is jimin, tell him you know me” and then you don’t hear from him again. You call the academy and get Zinnia registered for obedience courses. You also sign yourself up for a seminar called New Puppy 101. 

Slowly, things actually start looking up. It happens in a trickle, so gradually it’s barely noticeable. You don’t notice - until the first morning your alarm goes off and you realize with a jolt of terror that Zinnia hadn’t woken you up in the middle of the night, even once.

But when you trip over your own feet in a panic, throwing open your bedroom door, terrified of what you’ll find… you find Zinnia lying peacefully on her side in her crate. She begins to thump her tail happily when she sees you, and you nearly sag with relief. 

Things improve for you at work, too; it’s almost like getting a full night’s sleep makes you more productive or something. 

You go a full five days without scrubbing your carpet or throwing away any shoes.

And, of course, it doesn’t hurt that you meet Seokjin and Blue up in the dog run nearly every evening after work. 

It’s during one of these unscheduled, yet oddly routine instances that Jin points out Zinnia’s progress. 

You’re leaning against the fence together, watching absently as the dogs run around, as you have almost every day lately. Sure, you take Zinnia up as soon as you get home from work for her sake. But the coincidence that Jin is usually there around the same time doesn’t hurt.

“She seems way better,” he observes, turning his head to watch Zinnia zip by. “I can’t believe how big she’s gotten, too.”

“I know, right?” you explode, responding to both observations at once. But you can’t help it - you’re proud. “Watch this! Zinnia! Zinnie!”

And Zinnia, your wild baby, stops running and turns to look at you eagerly, waiting. 

“Sit!” you call.

And Zinnia sits.

Seokjin whistles low, appreciative. 

“Jimin’s a miracle worker,” he says. “I’m glad you called them.”

“Me too,” you admit. “Did I ever thank you for sending me their info? Because, seriously, I think you saved my life.”

Jin laughs, full and deep.  

It scares you how much you like the feeling of making him laugh. It makes you want to sprint out of there, with or without Zinnia, hopping the fence if you have to.

–

The next afternoon, you get home and get ready to head up to the dog run. It’s a beautiful day, but you barely notice as you rotely go through the motions - change shoes, clip Zinnia’s leash, grab your keys from the countertop, head for the elevator. You keep your phone in your hand, hoping for a vibration, terrified of the vibration.

The dog run is empty when you get there; normally you’d be a little bummed that Jin isn’t there with Blue as he is almost every weekday evening, but today you’re relieved that you don’t have to try to carry a conversation. You unclip Zinnia, who darts away, and give a heavy sigh, leaning heavily against the fence, your phone still between your white-knuckled fingers.

Your relief is short-lived, because the building door opens less than two minutes later and Blue leads Jin out into the sunshine. 

He smiles when he sees you, loping over and taking his now-familiar spot next to you as Blue sniffs the ground next to the metal bench to your left. 

He’s chattering at you, and you think you’re answering, but it all kind of flows around you. After a few minutes of this, he pauses mid-sentence, brows furrowing.

“Hey,” he says kind of softly - there’s a definite change in his tone, which is honestly the thing that grabs your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer on instinct. “All good.”

There’s something sharp in his sideways glance. “You sure? You seem distracted.”

You wave the hand holding your phone a little, nodding your head toward it. “My dad’s at a cardiologist appointment right now. I’m waiting to hear if everything is fine… or if everything is not fine, in which case I probably need to go pack a bag and look up train times…” You trail off. Seokjin is listening intently, his face serious. You feel a flush of embarrassment anyway. “Sorry. I shouldn’t unload on you. We’re practically strangers.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens with his frown.

“Well, now my feelings are hurt,” he complains. 

You blink back at him, surprised. This was not the response you were expecting. 

“I thought we were friends,” he continues, an exaggerated pout creeping into his tone and onto his features. “I don’t keep a steady schedule at the complex’s dog run for just anybody, you know.”

Your heart trips over its own feet and faceplants in the dirt. You feel your eyes go wide as he puts words to something you’d suspected but had been afraid to assume - that you’d both been coming here at the same time on purpose. Not just you, but him too.

The playfulness melts away with the fake pout, and he’s back to looking at you seriously. “Have you had dinner?” he asks. There’s something gentle about the way he says the words; you feel something warm drop to your toes, intoxicating. “Let me cook for you.”

“You cook?” you blurt. 

He smiles warmly, a touch of amusement in it. Like he’s thinking, but is too polite to say, how much you don’t know about him. It’s definitely what you’re thinking. 

“Come on,” he says, heading around you towards the gate, giving your elbow a gentle touch on his way by. “I’ll make you something good.”

–

Jin’s apartment is cleaner than you’d expected, to be honest. He sets you up at his breakfast bar with a generously poured glass of red wine and gets to work in the kitchen. 

“Is Zinnie okay?” you ask him, looking over your shoulder anxiously as Zinnia sniffs his couch frantically, like the fabric is holding every secret the universe could ever hold. “She tends to… chew. It’s been better since we started classes with Jimin, but nobody’s perfect.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jin says, waving a hand at you. “Blue did her share of damage to my stuff when she was a baby.”

You watch him in comfortable silence as he dices vegetables, a pot of water heating on the stovetop. Maybe it’s the wine talking, but it’s lowkey pretty sexy how he works a kitchen knife. It’s almost enough to distract you from the churning pit of anxiety in your stomach as you tap your fingers absently on your darkened phone screen.

“So it’s been going well with Jimin, huh?” Jin asks over his shoulder, and you tear your gaze away from your phone and try to catch up to the conversation.

“Oh,” you say, once you’ve processed. “Really well, actually. I think he’s a dog genius.”

Jin laughs at this, lifting the cutting board to slide what he’s chopped into the pot of water. Then he comes over to his side of the breakfast bar and picks up the other glass of red wine, still untouched. 

“He’s good at his job,” Jin agrees. “I don’t know about genius. Did you know he’s secretly a cat person?”

This makes you giggle a little, your eyes falling back to your screen. Again, Jin tries to pull you back.

“Is she following any other commands now?” He eyes you over the top of his wine glass as he takes a long drink from it.

You smile a little, well aware that he’s distracting you on purpose, well aware that you aren’t sure you deserve this level of care from him. 

But apparently you’re friends.

“She’s pretty good about here, and sit,” you say. “Not so good with stay. It’s a work in progress.”

Jin grins at this, something sparkling in his eyes. 

“She’s sleeping in her crate at night, too,” you add.

“Wow,” Jin says, eyebrows raising. “That must be nice.”

“I don’t know how I was surviving before,” you tell him seriously, and he laughs again as he turns back to the stove to handle something.

You chat like this, in starts and stops, until the meal is done. Jin slides a steaming bowl before you and sets up a few sides before coming to take the seat to your right. Zinnia appears underfoot, nose sniffing wildly.

“I agree,” you tell her seriously. “It smells amazing. Who taught you to cook?”

His smile softens, going a little sideways. “My grandfather, actually. Weird, right? He was widowed when my dad and my aunts and uncles were all pretty little, so he had to learn, had to feed all those kids.”

“That’s not weird at all,” you tell him. “It’s actually kind of beautiful.”

Emboldened, Jin continues, the fond smile remaining on his face. “He’s a brilliant cook - we’ve told him forever he should have a cooking channel.”

You laugh a little. “People would probably be into that. Especially if you were the assistant.”

This comes out of your mouth without you realizing; the second you register that it has, you feel yourself blush furiously. And, dammit, Jin clocks the whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, that soft smile turning razor sharp. “Why’s that?”

You’re saved by your phone buzzing on the table, the screen coming to life, illuminating with the notification from your messaging app: Mom.

Frantically, you swipe to open the message, eyes flying across the screen as you read her update. Then, you close your eyes, pressing your forehead to the breakfast bar, the fake granite cool beneath your skin, letting out a shaky exhale.

You feel Jin; he’s instantly in your space, one large hand resting lightly over your shoulder as he hovers closer to you. Aside from his hand on your back, comforting, he’s not touching you at all. But somehow it feels like he’s surrounding you.

He says your name quietly, inquisitively. 

You reach out blindly, your hand finding his knee. “It’s okay,” you say, taking a deep breath and sitting up. Your head spins. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes and take another deep, bracing breath. Seokjin’s hand stays on your back. “It’s good news.”

You hear Jin exhale beside you, his fingers twitching against your shoulder blade, almost like he had the reflex to squeeze you and fought it just a second too late. It strikes you, deeply, that he’s relieved. He doesn’t know your parents, has no real stake here. But his relief is palpable next to you; your worry had become his own. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Your problems shouldn’t be his to bear. “I know I wasn’t great company tonight.”

He shakes his head, following your lead and placing his hand back on his own legs, as if wanting to cover the spot on his knee that you’d left vacant. “I enjoyed your company,” he says openly. “I’m glad you came over.”

You sit in silence, both sneaking glances, neither knowing what move to make yet. You feel like you’re playing Chutes and Ladders and a chute just sent you sideways around the Peppermint Forest and dumped you seven spaces ahead when you don’t really belong there yet. Or maybe you’re mixing up your board games. 

“I should probably go give them a call,” you say reluctantly. “Can I help you clean up? You cooked.”

“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head. Both dogs look up at this familiar word, gauging if they’re the ones in trouble. This makes you smile, and it breaks you out of the weird headspace you were in. “I’ll clean up.”

You rise, calling to Zinnia as you grab her leash. You clip her up and head for the door. Jin trails behind you, walking you out. You pause near the door, looking at him balefully.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Seriously - for everything. For… caring about my problems. For the delicious food. For cooking and cleaning up. You should have let me do the dishes.”

He smiles at you, sunlight spun into the quirk of his lips, the soft wrinkle at the edges of his eyes. “If you’re that worried about it, I know how you can make it up to me,” he says, his voice a little teasing. 

“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow. You’ve got emotional whiplash; in the last three hours you’ve gone from flirting to panicking to soft to awkward to flirting again and you cannot keep up.

He leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, that smile turning sharp again. God, you like his face so much. You like him so much. “Mhm,” he says, mock seriously. “I found a trail I want to check out with Blue, but as a general rule I don’t do mountains alone.”

“Sure,” you deadpan. “You need an Adventure Buddy.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly, snapping his fingers in excitement. “Exactly. So, what do you think? This weekend? The weather’s supposed to be great.”

“Can I let you know?” you ask. “Text me the details.” Truth be told, you want to look up the trail first and decide if it seems too challenging. 

Jin slips out of that teasing, flirtatious mode easily. “Sure,” he says, all casual again. He’s so hard to keep up with, you think you’ll never get used to it. “I’ll text you.” 

You open the door, tripping over Zinnia a little as she pushes past you into the hallway, but you’re stopped when Jin says your name one more time. You look back over your shoulder, curious.

“I’m glad your dad’s okay,” he says, giving you a rueful smile.

You give a tiny smile back before Zinnia bodily tugs you further away, spurring you into movement. “Thanks,” you say, and turn to go.

–

[9:19 PM] You: idk about this trail…. looking at the elevation… do you think it’ll be too hard for Zinnie? she’s just a baby :’)

[9:21 PM] Seokjin: the elevation’s misleading, it’s honestly not that bad

[9:22 PM] Seokjin: you’ll be totally fine

[9:23 PM] Seokjin: oops i mean “Zinnia” will be totally fine 😏

[9:23 PM] You: … what exactly are you implying here

[9:24 PM] Seokjin: just that any and all babies will be fine :) 

[9:25 PM] You: …….i think we’re fighting

–

Seokjin drives you - and the dogs - to the trailhead early Saturday morning, the low rising sun dodging in and out between buildings as they pass you by. The forecast calls for a beautiful day - bright and clear, not too hot to hike, but not so chilly that you’ll shiver the whole first leg. 

As Seokjin parks and organizes his backpack, you stand next to the car, shielding your eyes and peering at the top.

He laughs when he notices, the sound alive and as bright as the weather. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promises, coming close, looking at the top with you. His presence, so close to you, feels thrilling - like electricity, like a promise.

“You keep saying that,” you deadpan, “but if Zinnia conks out on me, you’re carrying her up the mountain and back.”

“Have some faith,” he teases, and heads for the place where the trees split, the path tamped down from many feet, leading into thick forest.

Zinnia keeps up pretty well, actually, and you and Seokjin set a steady pace up the trail. 

About a half a mile in, he asks, “How’s your dad?”

It startles you, and you look over at him kind of wildly. He looks back at you like it’s nothing - like it’s nothing that he remembered and thought to ask - waiting for your response.

“Fine,” you say, a habit. Then, reconsidering, you add, “I mean, the same. He’s got more tests and stuff lined up, but the verdict from the cardiologist was that there’s no immediate concern. So… that was a relief. His primary care doctor looked at his EKG results and said to go immediately, so we were pretty scared.”

“I’d be scared, too,” he admits. “I’m glad you got good news. I would have been a wreck.”

You continue talking as you walk - about your families, your parents, your siblings. This moves into a conversation about things you both remember from growing up, until the conversation has delved into you both laughing too hard to get a sentence out as you manage, “Wait - wait, do you remember -?”

This takes the conversation to old movies you remember fondly.

“Can you believe my ex had never even heard of those?” you ask a little indignantly, before registering that maybe that was a weird thing to say. 

But Seokjin takes it in stride. “The one who cheated on you? We’ve established his poor taste already.” 

This makes you giggle. “Yes, that winner.” 

He looks over at you, as the trail veers left and sharply steepens. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he says evenly. “I can kind of relate. It’s not fun.”

You peer back at him, not sure how heavy this conversation is going to, or should, get. 

Hesitantly, you ask, “Do you want to tell me about it? I don’t want to… y’know. Pry.”

He shrugs. “At the end of the day, there’s not much to tell. My last girlfriend… I don’t think she cheated - or, well, I never had proof that she did.”

“You suspected?”

He wiggles his head, indicating a maybe. “I think it was heading that way with her and a co-worker. It’s possible that I ended things before it got to that point. But she started lying to me about him - about little stuff, stuff that shouldn’t matter. And I just… I’m a pretty understanding, easy-going guy, but I’m not going to tolerate someone lying to my face.”

You continue in silence for a few minutes, weighing these words in your mind, adding this new knowledge to the idea of Jin that’s in your head. 

Then, he flashes you a cheesy grin and says lightly, “And that’s my sales pitch! Want to date me?”

You laugh out loud, mostly in surprise. But he’s still looking at you, and you feel your eyebrows raise.

“Was that a real question?” you ask, a little disbelieving. God, he’s the most unserious person you’ve ever met. 

“A little bit,” he admits. 

Stunned, you manage, “You might need to do a harder sell.”

His brows furrow dramatically. “Please, I’m a catch. Didn’t you taste my food the other night?” 

“That’s true,” you muse. “The food was bomb. I’ll think about it. Gotta decide if this purchase will break the bank or not.”

While you’re just going along with his little bit, it kind of feels like code. You do need to consider if you can afford dating Jin - emotionally. Mentally. Are you ready for a relationship again? Would that even be what he wants?

“That’s fair,” he says easily. “Crunch some numbers and let me know.”

You think with anyone else it would be awkward the rest of the way, but Jin doesn’t allow it to be. He carries the conversation onto the next topic - gossip about your dog-trainer, Jimin - without a hitch.

You follow the conversation somewhat absently, still in your head, questions rising up to stare at you like Marley’s ghost, covered in chains. What do you want? What are you ready for? 

You aren’t sure - about any of it. But Seokjin’s presence feels like warm rays of sunshine, warming you from a chill you didn’t know you had, and his laugh feels like the toll of city bells, telling you it’s time to come home. 

–

Zinnia doesn’t conk out on her way up the mountain, but she definitely slows. Jin ties the girls’ leashes to a low branch near the trail and fishes a collapsible water bowl from his backpack, filling it with water and setting it down.

“Wow, that’s fancy,” you marvel, as Zinnia attacks the water bowl with vigor, water splashing the rock beneath, painting everything a darker shade of grey. “If we’re gonna keep doing this, I might need to get one of those.”

But Jin’s attention isn’t on the dogs anymore - it’s on the view. He’s wandered to the edge of the flat expanse of rock, where grey meets the green of far down below. You join him, and he puts an arm around your shoulders, glancing at you to make sure this is okay. You look out at the view, and it is beautiful… but your mind is too busy to appreciate it.

“Jin…” you say slowly, and he looks down at you, hand tightening against your shoulder almost reflexively. 

“Hm?”

“If I were interested… what exactly are the terms of sale?” you murmur, feeling kind of shy. 

Jin laughs, delighted, throwing his head back with it. His hair falls away from his face and he uses the hand that’s not on your shoulder to push it back. “What do you want them to be?” he asks, and you feel a tingle down to your toes at the dangerous undercurrent that flows along with the question. 

“I’m not totally sure,” you admit quietly. “Is there any kind of… trial period? Any way to start is slow and see how it goes?”

Seokjin gives you an understanding squeeze. “Listen, as much as I love the bit and your dedication to it, I really want to communicate clearly about this. So - just to be very clear - I’d really like to date you. If you’re more comfortable starting slowly, I’m okay with that.”

You press your lips together, reaching a hand up to gently touch his fingers where they rest on your shoulder, considering. 

Seokjin watches your face, then says, “I know a great burger joint on the way home. Let me buy your dinner, and we can call this a first date. What do you think?”

You turn to face him, looking up and up into his warm eyes, and his hand shifts from your shoulder to the center of your back, holding you loosely enough that you don’t feel held in place, feel free to go if that’s what you choose. 

“That’s a pretty good first date,” you say seriously. “But it’s really gonna depend on how the burgers are.”

He grins, cocky. “They’re pretty good,” he says. “But, honestly, mine are better.” Then, he presses the knuckle of his index finger gently to the bottom of your chin and kisses you gently - again, so gently it’s barely there, so gently it would have taken just a breath of space for you to pull away if you wanted to. 

You don’t; instead you press forward, pressing your lips more firmly against his, your hands coming to rest on his upper arms, feather-light. Behind you, Zinnia begins yipping - loud, insistent, each sharp sound piercing the silence around you.

You pull away from Jin, flushing, pleased to see a smile on his face. “She’s just jealous,” he deadpans. 

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Please. She gets to kiss me all the time. She can share.”

Laughing, Jin heads for the dogs, ready to head back down to the cars. “Come on,” he says over his shoulder. “Let’s go get some pretty good burgers.”

–

They are good - better than pretty good, you think, and you tell Seokjin so after a beer and a half at the burger joint’s outdoor patio. The mountain you’d tackled looms in the distance, blue and shadowy.

“I’m telling you, mine are better,” Jin insists. “I have a secret method.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “Taking it to the grave?”

“You say that like it’s a joke,” he says seriously. “But I am.” 

On the wooden deck beneath you, Zinnia lays on her side, eyelids fluttering and paws twitching as she dreams.

“We really knocked her out,” you observe.

Jin laughs, reaching his arms over his head to stretch, the movement causing his shirt to ride up just enough to show a slip of belly before it falls back into place. You try not to look, try not to remember kissing him at the mountain’s top. 

“That’ll be us in a few hours,” he jokes. “I always knock out after a hike like this.”

“I’m going to be sore for days,” you agree, rubbing your calves in anticipation of the aching muscles you’ll have tomorrow.

“I have a suggestion,” Jin says, voice low. You flush, expecting him to flirt, to offer to rub your tired legs or something suggestive. Instead he says, “You ever try epsom salts?”

You blink at him, bamboozled. You just can’t predict him - he zigs when you expect a zag every damn time. 

“I have, yeah,” you finally stammer. “I don’t think I have any left, though.”

“I have a huge bag,” he tells you, finishing the last of his second beer in one long draught. When he sets down his glass he tells you, “I’ll bring you the bag later. It’ll help a lot, I promise.”

You look him over. “You’re a guy with a lot of solutions, huh?”

He coughs, averting his gaze. You notice the tips of his ears turning pink and you hide a smile behind your hand. So cute. 

“I try to be solution-oriented, yes,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

There’s no sign of that - the pink ears, the averted eyes, the mumbling - when he shows up at your door about twenty minutes after you arrive home. Zinnia is passed out on the floor behind you, having first lapped up her body weight in water from her silver bowl in the kitchen. As for you, all you’ve managed to do so far is shed your sneakers, your jacket, and the tshirt that had been sticking to your back, leaving you in athletic leggings and a sports bra. 

Jin’s gaze sweeps you from head to toe and then settles determinedly on your eyes, like he’s got to work at it. “I brought the epsom salts,” he tells you unnecessarily, holding up the bag. 

“I see that,” you murmur, feeling warm under his gaze. “Thanks.”

You reach to take the bag from him, but he tugs back on it a little, effectively pulling you to him. You trip into his arms willingly, ready for it this time when he kisses you. 

He walks you backwards into your apartment, out of the threshold, letting the door close behind him. You hit the wall of your entryway, let him cage you in against it, his lips insistent against yours. When he runs a hand softly up your arm, summoning a wave of goosebumps in its wake, you sigh against his lips. 

He takes advantage of the opening, teasing your bottom lip with his tongue before venturing further. You open for him happily, leaning back against the wall, reveling in the feeling of his strong arms on either side of you, the feeling of his tongue sliding against your own, the feeling of his hair between your fingers - when had you grabbed his hair?

You kiss him until you’re dizzy, until your legs feel weak beneath you, until you feel his hand travel from between your shoulder blades, to the small of your back, to the side of your ribs.

You break the kiss gently, nearly panting for breath. You can feel Jin’s pulse jumping as he does the same.

You look at each other for a long moment, communicating silently, weighing options.

You could invite him in. He’s here already, Zinnia’s unconscious, you’re holding a bag of bath salts (wait, no, the bag is on the ground - when did you drop it?). But something in your stomach tugs, tells you not yet. So that’s what you tell him, on a whisper, your teeth coming to toy with your swollen bottom lip as soon as the words are out - not yet. I’m sorry.

“Hey,” he says, cupping your cheek with a hand, so soft. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anything. Don’t apologize.”

You glance around the room, desperate for a distraction, but nothing comes. “I, um,” you say, looking anywhere but him, “I think I’m gonna try the salts now. My legs are like jello.”

He gives you a tiny grin, and you roll your eyes. “From the hike!” you protest.

He gives you a playfully disbelieving look but backs off, giving you some space again. “Sure, of course,” he says, smirking. 

You bend to pick up the discarded bag, holding it in your hands, feeling along the rubber zipper. Then, you cross Jin’s path and open the front door again, looking up to find him still watching you.

He gives you a playful smile. “I had a nice first date and a half,” he says, losing the fight against a pleased smile. 

You huff out a laugh. “This was the half?” you clarify.

“I don’t kiss like that on the first date,” he sniffs in mock indignation.

You giggle, following behind him as he heads to the hallway. “Goodnight, Seokjin. Thanks for the salts. And the date and a half.”

–

You soak away your sore muscles and sleep deeper than you have in months. 

Your days continue this way as April’s grey and rainy afternoons give way to sunshine, bright afternoons, trees starting to bud as the temperature grows milder. You meet Jin at the dog run every afternoon unless you text to make different plans - sometimes a walk with the dogs through the park nearby, sometimes dinner out, sometimes dinner in. 

Dinner in usually means more kissing.

Sometimes, dinner out does, too.

In retrospect, you should have known. You should have known that as you fall for Seokjin little by little something else must be coming. Things can’t just be bright sunshine and Seokjin’s laugh, Zinnia’s wagging tail and linked fingers under starry skies.

Your brother shows up at your door, unannounced, almost a full month after your first date with Jin.

You almost don’t recognize him; it’s not that you haven’t seen him in that long - you have. It’s just that he’s still a kid in your head, a gangly, acne-prone teenager with earpods and a scowl. The man who stares at you, a rolling suitcase in hand, is in a suit. He looks put-together, and grown.

You say his name nervously, and he sort of grimaces at you. 

“Sorry I didn’t call,” he says. “I’ve been on the phone with Mom and the doctors.”

“Doctors?” you echo, backing up to let him inside. 

He gives you a look as he wheels his little suitcase inside. You don’t like the look. It says something bad is coming. 

“It’s Dad,” he says.

–

You end up going out to grab dinner - you have no groceries to cook him a meal, and you’re a terrible cook anyway.

Your little brother fills you in - that cardiologist appointment over a month ago had ended with a positive outcome. They’d told your parents not to worry, there was no immediate danger, but there were certainly concerns.

Concerns that had worsened in the following month, apparently.

“They’re going to see a cardio team at the hospital here in the city,” your brother explains. “Mom was going to call and explain all of this to you, but I told her I was coming here anyway. She can focus on them - getting a hotel set up, packing, all that stuff. It looks like he’ll probably need surgery - they’ll decide at his appointment tomorrow. If that’s the case, they’ll stay in the city for a little until he’s recovered enough to go home again.”

You feel like you’re in shock; it’s a lot all at once. Your whole family suddenly in your city, under terrible circumstances. Surgery? Heart surgery?

“I’ll get a hotel, too, if it turns out they’ll be here a long time,” he says.

You come back to earth sharply. “You don’t need to do that. You’re welcome with me and Zinnia as long as you need, okay? Seriously. I’ll talk to Mom in the morning. We’ll get everything figured out.”

Just like that, the toughness drops out of him. Somehow he’d been the one your mom had called, the one responsible for relaying the information, the one responsible for making and supporting medical decisions. You’re the elder, it should have been you. As soon as you take the reins again, he folds, pressing his hands to his face and letting out a shuddering breath. 

You feel horrible, instantly. He’s the baby, he’s not supposed to have to shoulder the responsibility. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “It’s gonna be fine. Dad will be fine. We’ll find out tomorrow what his treatment plan is, and how long they’ll need to stay. You’re fine staying with me, okay? It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he says, uncovering his face and reaching for his water glass. “You’re right.” Then, quieter, “You’re right.”

At the end of the meal, walking back to the apartment, you stop near the door and give him a hug, your brave little brother.

“You did well,” you assure him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He hugs you back, holding you like he’s been drowning and you’re a buoy. It breaks your heart to think that may sort of be the case.

Neither of you notices Seokjin and Blue pass by, glancing at you curiously over his shoulder on his way into the building.

When he texts you that night, not long after you’ve set your brother up on your couch and crated Zinnia for the night, it’s not entirely unexpected, considering you’d skipped your normal trip to the dog run earlier, and you’d been too spun in circles to text him an explanation.

His message lights up your screen - “missed you earlier. everything ok?”

You hesitate, nibbling at your lower lip as you consider. What could you really tell him right now?

Not really, my baby brother showed up unannounced and emotionally hanging by a thread, and we’re waiting to find out tomorrow if a team of surgeons will be opening my elderly father up for heart surgery. 

Not really a text message conversation, right? Honestly, you’re not sure it’s an in-person conversation, either. The relationship - if you can call it that without having discussed exclusivity yet - is still new, blooming, fragile. Is it too much, too soon? Would you be better off telling him later, when things are settled, when you can tie up the story nice and neat?

We had another health scare with my dad, but it’s okay now. He’s recovering. 

Isn’t that less heavy? Your problems should not be Seokjin’s to carry, and you know he’ll try to carry them. He’s wonderful that way, always doing. There’s something scared and snappish inside you that wants to keep him far away from this until you’re sure you can look brave, until you’re sure you won’t fall apart in front of him. 

In the end you send back, “all good! just got busy. how was your day?”

It strikes you as a little weird that he hasn’t answered by the time you go to bed. But as soon as you’re up the next day, you’re completely focused on your parents. You call them before you’re even out of bed, checking up on where in the city they’re staying, what time your dad’s appointment is. You call out sick from work, glad you hadn’t wasted sick days back when Zinnia was keeping you from sleeping - even though you’d definitely considered it more than once.

You and your brother both go to the cardiologist appointment, you two and your parents squeezing into the little consultation room as the surgeon examines your dad’s results on his computer screen.

Your heart hammers as you wait. You see your mom’s foot tapping, tapping, tapping, and you reach to hold her hand, hoping to comfort her, calm her down.

The surgeon removes his glasses and looks at your father seriously. “I do think surgery is the best course of action,” he says calmly. Your heart drops. The doctor continues, “It’s a pretty routine procedure, as far as these things go. Nothing to worry too much about. I’m confident that a stent will work.”

You lock onto the words minimally invasive, listening eagerly as the doctor continues to outline the plan he thinks will work best. 

“I think it’s best to admit you today and schedule the surgery as soon as possible,” you hear the doctor says, and the rest of the day is a blur - signing papers, answering doctors’ questions, running back to your parents’ hotel to throw together a bag of personal items for your dad, running to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee that has been your only meal all day, more papers, waiting room after waiting room after waiting room.

When you finally get home, long after dark, your brother trailing wordlessly behind you, you’re so mentally and physically exhausted, you could cry. Zinnia waits for you in her crate - Ry had luckily been around when you texted, and came to take her outside a few times while you were gone. You let Zinnia out of the crate and collapse on the couch. Your brother takes the recliner, staring at you like you’ve both emerged from a warzone. 

As you unwind, try to unclench your brain and your jaw and your shoulders, you think to check your messages. Part of you hopes Jin’s sent you something.

But your messages are empty. Your heart sinks with disappointment. You plan to go to work tomorrow; your dad’s surgery should end midafternoon and you can go straight to the hospital from work. It’s another day that you’ll miss Jin at the dog run. You think about texting him with an explanation, but that last message you sent him still sits there, unanswered, calling you a fool. So, instead, you slide your phone into your pocket and ask your little brother if he wants you to order delivery.

–

It takes you two more days to really get the message - Jin’s silence is deliberate. Your father’s surgery goes well, and if all goes according to plan your family should be heading back home in just a day or two. Crisis handled, on the day after surgery you swallow your pride and send Jin, “Sorry I’ve been MIA - family thing. All good now. What’s new with you?”

Not only does this go unanswered - like the one before - but another three weekdays go by and your trips up to the dog run at 5:15pm remain devoid of company. 

Your father heals. Your mother takes him home. Your brother packs up and leaves just a folded up blanket on the couch he’d occupied for almost a week. April turns rainy, like the children’s rhyme says. And you… you slide back into your old routine, sans Seokjin.

You’re sad - of course you’re sad, you liked Jin. He was funny, charming, and so ready to do for you. You’d gotten used to having him around - his windshield wiper laugh, his great cooking, the way he’d carry the same joke or bit with you for a whole day before letting it go, the way the monotony of your day to day seemed interesting again once he was in it.

And you missed Blue, too.

But it wasn’t that deep - not yet. You’re not sobbing, heartbroken, into your pillow or anything. You feel disappointment above all else - disappointment at the loss of what could have been something. 

You really do think it could have been something real. 

You also feel… confused. What had happened? Had Jin seriously gotten mad at your silence for a few days and just ghosted you? You replay your last few conversations in your head, scour your last few text exchanges for anything that would make sense, but nothing does. 

Some little part of your brain niggles, suggests that you’ve been wronged, somehow. That something had happened to you that you didn’t deserve. It’s enough to start just the tiniest flicker of anger, deep in your belly. 

Thursday brings rain - relentless, cold, the kind of rain to make you wrap up in a jacket and tell Zinnia to hustle when you bring her upstairs to pee. 

For the first time since the day your brother showed up at your door, you run into Jin and Blue. Jin is coming in from outside, both he and Blue soaked from the rain. His jacket sticks to his chest, his drenched hair pushed away from his face. He pauses as Blue shakes the water from her fur, and that’s enough time for your eyes to catch his.

You freeze, not sure what will happen - will he talk to you? Should you say hi?

His face, already blank, somehow slides blanker, like something falls away from it and leaves it even more empty. Then he pulls his gaze away from you, orders Blue to his side with a single, muttered syllable, and turns on his heel to walk to the stairwell at the end of the hall. 

He’ll take the stairs, you figure, so he doesn’t have to walk past you to get to the elevator.

That little flicker of anger builds into a flame, and even the mid-April downpour can’t put it out.

–

It rains for days, your apartment cast in grey. You don’t know if it contributes to your mood or if it’s just mirroring it, but you feel grey, too. You quit using the dog run and start taking Zinnie on loops around the block, instead. After her walks, you lay on the couch, cheek pressed against the soft material, dramas playing on the screen without your attention.

Zinnia lays on the floor against the couch, occasionally whining and licking your hand. Sometimes she digs out toys - rubber kongs, plush ducks she’s practically decapitated, rawhides - and drops them at your feet, looking at you hopefully. You toss them for her or play tug each time, but you think she knows your heart isn’t in it.

Later, when you try to remember April, all you can think of is grey and rain.

–

It seems, though, that you’re not the only one who gave up on the dog run. On the first weekend in May, on a day that is - yes - grey, but thankfully not rainy, you run into Jin on the sidewalk a few buildings down from your own.

Blue wags happily when she sees you, but you feel yourself frown, already sliding your gaze to the ground. You don’t want to watch his face go ugly again, like last time. You can’t bear it, you think you might snap. That indignant little flame tickles in your veins. 

You have to pass each other unless one of you turns around, so you grit your teeth and push on. It feels like an imminent collision, tension and anxiety building in you the closer and closer you get - and then Zinnia decides to make it an actual collision, zigging sharply towards Blue at the last second, knocking you off-balance right into Seokjin’s space.

His hands take you by the upper arms, steadying you, placing you back on your feet. There’s something tender in his touch, you think, and then you glimpse his face. That blankness again, the flatness nastier than any scowl he could send your way. 

His hands are off you quickly, and he’s pushing past you, not a word spoken.

That flame bursts from a tickle to a storm.

“Hey!” you shout, the word tearing from your chest like it had to detach from something, burning up your throat like the burn of liquor. Seokjin turns, that flat expression starting to border on a defensive sneer. “What the hell is your problem?”

Now it is a sneer. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” you shout, stomping closer. Zinnia follows, her tail down, sensitive to your tone. “What exactly is the problem, Seokjin? I’m dying to know.”

He opens his mouth to answer you, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh. “No, seriously,” you say, that same bitterness marinating every word. “I’m dying to know. I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I can’t. So please, enlighten me. What did I do?”

Your body sings with adrenaline, your chest heaves with quick breaths as your body tells you it’s ready to fight. 

Seokjin lets out a single huff of a laugh. “What did you do?” he echoes sarcastically. “Literally the only thing I consider a hard no.”

You don’t follow. “What?”

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe that you don’t get it. “I saw you hugging that guy,” he says evenly, “and then I texted you to see what -.”

“That was my brother,” you blurt furiously, eyes narrowing. “Is that what this was all about? You didn’t strike me as a jealous, jump-to-conclusions kind of person -.”

“I don’t care about that,” he says over you, tone stoney. “You lied to me - right to my face.”

You stare at him blankly, trying to put the pieces together. He’d seen you hugging your brother, and then he’d texted you “everything ok?” and you’d said… “just busy”. It was a lie, sort of - barely. 

You laugh - actually laugh. “You’re out of your mind,” you say coldly. “You dropped me over that? I had things going on that I didn’t want to get into. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t care,” he says, not cruelly, just truthful. “It was a lie.”

You heave a frustrated breath, casting your gaze at the full clouds above you. “Seokjin,” you say slowly, “you’re not being fair.” It feels suddenly very important to you to defend yourself, to explain it all away - even if he still walks away after, you want to be sure he knows he was wrong. “I wasn’t lying about, like, where I was, or who I was with. It was just… omission. The situation felt… too heavy for whatever this is. Whatever this was,” you amend. 

He just looks at you silently, but you can see the changes in his expression - that flatness melting away almost imperceptibly, making way for something chagrined. You take this as a good sign and continue, explaining what had happened - from your brother showing up, to the surgery, to your family heading home again - leaving your space emptier than they’d found it. 

Finished, you look at him silently, watching him process. Then, everything off your chest, you move to continue on. You feel, suddenly, like you have nothing else to say to him. “We were just casually dating,” you point out as you take a step away. His ears are red again, but he hasn’t tried to speak. “At no point did I lose the right to choose what to tell you and what to keep to myself. You acted like a child when you could have just communicated with me.”

You give Zinnia a gentle tug and she follows as you head back to the apartment’s front doors. You don’t look back; you don’t think you can.

–

Upstairs, you unclip Zinnia and sink into a kitchen chair, head in your hands. It felt good to yell at him, felt good to find out the reason for his silence. You’d made your peace already with losing him - so why do you feel worse now?

You’re there only minutes when you hear a soft knock on your door. You sigh, knowing exactly who and what it is, and forcing yourself to rise anyway. All the anger you’d felt outside seems to have leaked out of you; now you just feel resigned.

Jin’s ears are still bright red. “You’re right,” he says in greeting. Then, he waits, leaning against the door jamb as you process, as you decide how to respond. Blue stands just behind him patiently, the leash slack. 

Mouth twisting, you look at him flatly. “Care to elaborate?”

“Ah,” he utters. He looks embarrassed, one hand still absently on the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “I owe you an apology.”

When you still say nothing, he continues. 

“You’re right - you don’t have to tell me your business. I’d like you to - or, I’d like to feel like you can - but you’re not obligated to. I… overreacted. And then I was being too rigid to look closely at what was going on. I just…” 

He trails off and looks at you balefully. “I’m not trying to make an excuse,” he tries to explain. “I know I was wrong. I just made myself a promise years ago to never let anyone lie to me again… hoping I’d never feel so stupid again… and I let it… take over. I’m sorry.”

You consider this, foot tapping nervously. “Okay,” you say finally.

Something hopefully breaks over his face; he moves minutely closer to you. “I feel horrible,” he admits, voice hushed suddenly. “You were going through all that, and I absolutely made more problems for you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice echoing a little flatly to your own ears. “I forgive you.”

He takes a step back, like the unbending insincerity of your words actually knocks him off balance. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice somehow small. He starts to back away from your door, Blue scurrying out of his path, but his eyes remain on you. “I’ll, uh… I’ll probably be at the dog run tomorrow? Normal time?”

The way he says it, a question, asks if you will too.

“I don’t know,” you answer, even though he didn’t technically ask. “I don’t know yet. Maybe. We’ll see.”

You agonize over it all night. You’re mad - mad that he reacted childishly, mad that he added stress during a hard time for you, mad that he doubted you and judged you and didn't give you a chance to explain yourself. Mad that he let you down. 

But, something logical inside you counters, he’s apologized. He’s taken accountability for it, admitted he’d behaved immaturely. Didn’t people, generally, deserve second chances? Didn’t you want to give him a second chance, regardless?

By the time you get ready for work the next morning, you still aren’t sure. Your stomach churns with indecision all day. When you get home, you sit on the couch, still in your work clothes, and eye Zinnia thoughtfully. She sits and cocks her head to the side, almost quizzical. Like she’s asking, okay, boss, what’s the plan?

You still don’t know. With a sigh, you change out of your office attire and take Zinnia out. At the elevator, you stare at the buttons: physical embodiment of this choice.

In the end, you hit down, taking Zinnie out through the lobby and heading down the street. The idea of Seokjin up at the dog run, eyes on the glass doors - hoping to see you, makes you hunch your shoulders up against a wave of guilt.

You feel like now you’re being the childish one. You know you want to give him another chance. Pretending otherwise just to punish him for hurting you… it’s not a good look, and you know it.

When the knock on your door comes, several hours later, as the sunset casts your apartment in deep blues and shadows, you feel like you were expecting it the whole time. You feel like it’s your own second chance.

“You didn’t come,” he says, frowning adorably. 

You sigh, taking a step backwards to let him inside. He does, the door shutting behind him.

“Why are you here?” you ask; not demanding, not to fight - you want to know. You want to know what he’s hoping for right now, what he wants to happen, so that you can decide if you’re game or not. 

He seems to understand, seems to hear the question for what it really is. He says your name, still hushed, like if he says it with too much force the letters will blow away like dead autumn leaves in a November squall. 

“Well?” you prod.

“Please,” he says, something so desperate playing on the notes of the word. 

“What?” you repeat, hating that your voice is choked. “What do you want, Seokjin?”

He closes the space between you, one hand coming to cup your jaw so light you aren’t sure he’s actually touching you or if you just feel the warmth of proximity. “Forgive me,” he whispers. “I want you to let me try again. Let me do better.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, but you lean into his touch, closing your eyes. He strokes your cheek gently with his thumb, then pulls his hand away and cups the back of your head, guiding you close enough to press his lips to the top of your head, the kiss lost in your hair.

“I promise,” he whispers, “I won’t fuck up like that again. I want to try again - I like you so much, I want to do everything right for you. I feel like such an idiot for wrecking it.”

“You are an idiot,” you say, and you feel him smile against your forehead before he laughs. 

“Never again, Jin,” you say sternly, leaning back to look up at him. His hand slides down to the back of your neck, resting comfortably. “I don’t do bullshit like that. We’re adults. We have to communicate. We have to speak -”

Behind you, Zinnia barks once, sharp and proud. 

You and Jin both dissolve into giggles, both of you praising Zinnia for following the command. 

When you turn back to Jin, he’s looking at you warmly, eyes shining with fondness. He dips his head to kiss you, and when he feels you kiss him back he tugs you closer by the small of your back, grunting into your mouth when your bodies collide. 

He breaks the kiss and whispers against your jaw, “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You let out a breathy sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, tilting your head to give him more room as his lips go from whispering his desire to kissing your pulsepoint, teeth barely there before his lips soothe the spot. 

You fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, holding on tight, relying on him to hold you upright as his mouth makes you dizzy. When his lips make it back to yours, you tug on his shirt and walk him backwards towards your open bedroom door. You giggle against his lips when he kicks it shut behind him. 

You’re kissing again as you shed layers in tandem, breaking apart to pull shirts over your heads, kissing messily again as you balance on one foot at a time to remove socks, giggling as you lean back to get a good look at him as he undoes his belt. Would it be crass of you to whistle in appreciation? His shoulders are just... so… wide.

When your leggings pool on your carpet next to his blue jeans, he backs you up to the bed, where you sit heavily. He crawls over top of you, mouths clashing again as he holds himself over top of you. You feel like you’re spinning - you cling to his shoulders, focus on the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours, his fingers tracing the outline of your breast, the insistent press of his clothed erection hot against your thighs.

He kisses you like he’s devouring you, like he’s claiming you, like he’s pouring out every frustration into his lips and teeth and fingers and tongue and they’re all spinning you in bigger and bigger circles, ever widening.

Then the spinning crashes to a halt, because his fingers are meandering lower and lower, skimming your last rib, skating over your lower belly, sliding over your cotton panties and hovering just out of reach from where you want him the most. 

He presses kisses down your jaw, down your neck, goosebumps rising up your arms as his breath ghosts along your throat. His fingers skim your slit over the damp cotton, making you moan shamelessly against the top of his head, but his hand travels back up, fingers sliding up your stomach and back to your chest. 

“Jin,” you breathe, as he rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of electric delight clear down to your toes, and he answers you with a low groan before capturing your mouth in another deep kiss. 

You’re spinning again.

Then his hand is back where you want it - fuck, you want it everywhere - fingers sliding through your folds before pushing deep into you. You gasp, but your body shifts to meet his knuckles, hips tilting to let him deeper still. 

It takes you only minutes before you’re begging for him, unashamed, whispering his name around a litany of please and I need you and more, please, more.

He rolls away from you wordlessly, shifting to dig through his wallet. You hear the telltale sound of foil ripping and then he’s back over top of you, lips marking a path from your stomach, up between your tits, past your collarbones, before latching onto your neck as he gives you exactly what you asked for.

The stretch stings but you don’t care, moving to meet him, to take him all the way. Seokjin buries himself deep with a throaty groan, the sound mingling with your own whine.

He keeps a slow pace at first, content with exploring every new everything - every new sound he can pull out of you, every new spot he can touch that makes you arch your back and moan a little louder, every angle that makes you pitch go high and your nails find his shoulders. 

It’s not long before his resolve breaks, his pace quickening as his hips snap into yours, the room filled with the sound of his thighs slapping yours. The tightening ball in the pit of your stomach swells, and your fingers find your clit as you careen towards the edge. Seokjin talks you through it when you crash past the precipice, calling you beautiful, telling you that you feel so good as you clench around him in waves. 

Your limbs feel like jelly as you come down from the high, but Seokjin isn’t done with you. He presses kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the space just beneath your ear. Then, he whispers, “Can I go behind you?”

You nod - words are still too far away, slipping just outside of your fingertips. You can touch them, but can’t pull them close enough to use. Jin uses gentle hands to roll you over and backs up to stand next to the bed; he guides your hips backwards until your knees rest on the edge of the mattress. Still boneless, you fold your arms and press your face into them, moaning loudly when he enters you slowly. 

At this new angle, you feel like he’s somehow, impossibly, deeper, and it’s all you can do to dig your fingers into the sheets beneath you and survive. His pace is slow for only a moment, letting you adjust, and then he’s pounding into you again, hands tight on your hips, pulling you backwards to meet each thrust. 

You can tell it immediately when he’s close - the sounds spilling out of him turn from deep grunts and quiet gasps to lengthier sounds that verge on whiny. You gasp in time with him as he pumps into you more shallowly, barely pulling out at all, as one last strangled, broken sound leaves his mouth. 

You collapse forward onto the bed the second he releases you, your heart hammering. Behind you, he must be handling the condom because when he flops next to you, eyes searching for yours, it’s gone.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. 

You laugh. “Hello there.”

He rolls onto his back next to you, radiating happiness. “So?” he asks your ceiling. “Am I forgiven?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t erase the smile from your face. Oxytocin is a bitch. “I guess,” you allow. “But you’re on thin ice for a while.”

He makes a thinking sound. “I’ll have to fix that,” he muses, one arm thrown over his head. He looks over at you. “How about you go shower, and I’ll cook you something?”

You twist your lips, considering. “Mmm,” you say. “I think I’d rather you join me in the shower first.”

His smile grows impossibly wider, and his hand creeps to find yours, his fingers lacing between yours and squeezing tight.

–

When you think about May, you remember pink. 

Pink flowers blooming on the trees outside. Pink sunsets as you and Jin walk Blue and Zinnia through the park in the evenings. The pink of Zinnia’s tongue, lolling out of her mouth as she pants happily at your feet. The pink of Seokjin’s ears when you tease him or call him handsome in front of your friends. 

You started things slowly - even slower than the first time; you’re nervous that something will happen again, that this second chance was indeed a mistake. But, true to his word, Seokjin shows up for you every day - he misses no chance to remind you that he’s here, and he’s got a score to settle with his past mistakes. 

As the month comes to a close, spring teasing at tepid summer, you make a decision. You head to Seokjin’s place before dinner, as you do most evenings lately, letting yourself in with the door’s code. Blue is resting on a dog bed near the kitchen, placed there so she can see Seokjin even when he’s cooking and doesn’t feel lonely out in the living room. Zinnia slips through your hands the second the door opens, zipping into the apartment wildly.

“Zinnie!” you call.

Seokjin’s voice carries out to you from the bedroom - “Yeah?”

You laugh, shutting the door behind you and heading to where you’d heard him from. “I said Zinnie, not Jinnie!” you clarify. 

He comes out of the room, laughing at the miscommunication, pausing to kiss your cheek. “How was your day?” he asks, before heading around you into the kitchen, where he had apparently been halfway through chopping some veggies. 

“It was fine,” you hedge. “There’s something I was thinking about today, though.”

“Oh?” he says, looking over his shoulder at you as he picks up where he left off with the chopping.

You lean over the kitchen table, palms a little sweaty with nerves. Below you, Zinnia zips around, chasing a rubber ball of Blue’s, barking loudly as if scolding the toy for fleeing.

“I was thinking about us,” you say slowly, and Seokjin stills, setting down the knife and turning to face you, sensing that this talk is serious. His ears tinge pink almost instantly. 

“Okay…” he says slowly. 

You take a deep breath and push forward. “I was thinking about how I asked if we could do this slowly. How we were taking it one day at a time, not putting a name to it or anything.”

He nods, eyes on you, listening.

You shrug, look away and lick your lips. “I think I’m ready - I think what I want is…”

Behind you, Zinnia’s repeated yaps overtake the room, echoing through Jin’s kitchen. 

You try to speak over her, stumbling over your words. “What I’m trying to ask you is… will you…”

Zinnia’s barks get louder; the ball is stuck under the couch and she is pissed. You turn, calling to her, “Zinnia, sit!” 

The command works. She plops onto her butt obediently, and silence descends on the room like a sprinkle of snow. 

You turn back to Jin, heart racing, to finish your question. “...stay?”

--

Thank you so much for reading! <3 Please look forward to the other fics in the collab and support those excellent writers as well!!!

all you’re giving me is friction | ksj x f.reader

Summary: You’ve graduated! Congratulations - you’ve got one thing checked off your parents ten year plan! Now all that’s left to do is start your dreary office job, drag yourself up the ladder to CEO, marry your (as yet unknown) dream guy, and carve out some time to pop out a few kids before your ovaries shrivel up… Except all of that sounds horrendous, and you’d much rather spend the next three months at Hoseok’s beach house with your closest friends - relaxing, partying, and sleeping late while you still can. And it would be your last perfect summer break, if it weren’t for the most irritating man on the planet (and his chickens) living next door.

➾ pairing: surfer!seokjin x lifeguard!f.reader

➾ genre(s): lovers to enemies (lite) to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, happy ending

➾ rating: explicit, minors DNI

➾ warnings: cursing, incessant talk of the bloody ocean, reader is a total idiot, seokjin is nauseatingly in love but he’s also hot so he gets a pass. no use of y/n or variations thereof. reader and jin are not always kind. briefest mention of historic alcoholism (parent), side yoonmin, pet names - mostly baby. kissing, SO MUCH KISSING, author uses weather as a plot device

➾ smut warnings: oral m & f receiving, PIV, handjobs, fingering, barebacking (but reader has an iud). author prefers the word cunt over pussy, sry. minor smut tags: face sitting, taking pictures, briefest mention of consensual!! somnophilia (ksj rec oral)

➾ word count: 28.3k (complete) (i am so sorry)

➾ written for: catch of the century collab - thank you so much to @raplinesmoon​ @joheunsaram​​ and @kithtaehyung​​ for letting me join in (and massive apologies for posting this 2 days late)

➾ thank you to: my loves @ugh-yoongi​​ @the-boy-meets-evil​​ & @effortandmore​​ - without you three i would never have finished this fucking beast, you are the best! shout out to my uncle (who ofc won’t see this bc he thinks tumblr is a type of glass) who answered my surfing questions (cause, yanno, he surfs) and didn’t care enough to ask why.

➾ authors note: i am dehydrated and it’s 2am. pls throw my body in the ocean. phew - this one really ran away with me. i really hope you like this <3 reblogs are much appreciated & asks are welcome!

ps: i edited one of the smut scenes in church, do u think i’ll go to hell?

pps: all my italics disappeared??? i wanna say i’ll go through and fix that but it’s late af rn. tomorrow, maybe

➜ 14

Hoseok’s place is a no go zone. Which would be fine - if you hadn’t already driven for five hours with Taehyung and Jimin snoozing in the backseat from the very start, and were just fifteen minutes shy of arriving when Yoongi got the call. 

Keep reading

a/n: Ironically, I got this idea while listening to Fukaimori by Do As Infinity. Please read the translated lyrics if you’re interested. Also, I started this as a drabble actually. I don’t know why I always write angst :’)

Summary: Kim Seokjin wants to chase his dream of exploring space. It’s all he ever wanted. And you only ever wanted him but you will not stand in between him and his passion. But there is a secret that you kept, too afraid it might hold him back.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x you

Tags: Sci-Fi AU! Astronaut Jin! Childhood lovers AU! angst, drama, heartbreak, read only if you want to feel sad. Bittersweet ending.

Word count: 7k

“It’s so wide it’s kind of scary, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and one day I’m going to be among those pretty lights.”

“You are a pretty light.”

– – – 

Jin’s eyes blink open and it takes him a while to find his bearings, remaining on his bed a little longer, staring up at the ceiling. He can hear his work partner moving around in the next room before he hears the man exit. He should, too, even if he rather pulls the blanket over his head and just disappears.

Getting out of bed, he gets ready to start the day. The first place he visits is the kitchen to get some caffeine into his system. He remembers dreaming but can’t remember what the dream was, only that it left a foul taste in his mouth and an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Morning,” Hoseok greets, standing in the middle of the kitchen area with a mug in both hands. He doesn’t look like he had a good sleep either. 

“Morning,” Jin replies, taking out his mug and pouring himself a good helping of steaming coffee. He stands there, blowing the coffee to have it cool down a little before taking a tentative sip. He looks up at Hoseok, who is buried in some research papers. “Is that a new one?”

The second-in-command nods, not looking up. “Yep. They have a new location for us to check out. I’m just checking to see how much bullshit is in this one.” He rolls his eyes but focuses back on reading, eyebrows knitting together, mouth downturned.

Jin chuckles. “Well, have fun and update me later if there’s anything worth noting.”

He leaves Hoseok and heads towards the front of the Freljord, the huge long windows that line the walls showing him the dark and vast universe outside. A big fat nothing, you used to tell him when he would send pictures earlier in the first year of his voyage. He used to argue with you about it, trying to educate and explain to you that it’s not nothing but a whole new possibility of finding a new planet to call home. That is Freljord's mission, started seven years ago when everyone on board had been excited and full of hope. 

 Now, not so much, Jin thinks as he enters the main control room, or the cockpit. He finds Namjoon there, looking at a chart hovering inches from his face, the soft glow casting his face blue. “Anything of note?” he asks as he steps up to his chair in the middle and starts up his console. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing much. Just,” he looks up towards the big glass window ahead, “forward, I guess.”

“Hoseok got some new materials,” Jin says as he busies himself with the blue screen that illuminates holographically in front of him, moving his hands deftly across it in front of his face. “Maybe he’ll have some new coordinates for us.”

Namjoon hums a response before putting away the chart with a flick of his wrist. The two men sit in silence, both tending to their own tasks before Namjoon sighs. Jin glances at his Chief Navigator. “Problem?”

“No,” replies Namjoon with a shake of his head. “Just…”

Jin fully turns around. “What is it?”

“Sometimes it just gets to you, you know,” Namjoon says heavily, rubbing the point in between in his eyes. “It just feels…pointless.”

Jin doesn’t reply but turns his chair back around, looking at the hologram in front of him but not really seeing anything. He understands exactly what Namjoon is saying because he feels it, too, more so recently. It’s just one of those days where he wakes up with the thought of you at the forefront of his mind, unable to push you to where you should be, at the back of his mind, buried with time. His shipmate is right; it does feel pointless. Seven years in space with nothing yet command centre still insists on going further out.  

And every year, Jin only grows bitter and bitter. The project was only supposed to be a five-year plan but in the fifth year, a research paper came out about the possibility of finding a habitable planet in Andromeda and they were ordered to head that way. The excuse was that Freljord is advanced enough to make the trip, the first craft to reach the edge of our galaxy in half a decade! So it must be able to travel towards Andromeda, right? With a few stops along the way, because why not, right?

Jin is starting to think that the command centre forgot that there are real life humans in this spaceship, that this isn’t their own science fiction novel that they can write however they pleased. But Jin doesn’t have the power to turn them down. If they turn back around, they’ll be welcomed back as traitors. He had been subtly warned as such. 

According to the calculation, they should break into Andromeda’s galaxy in a few more years, five the maximum, three if they’re lucky that nothing gets in their way. But judging from the asteroid shower six months ago that deviated them from their straight path by a year, three years seems unlikely.The idea that they all might just die in space is growing more and more solid in Jin’s mind, the Freljord forever floating, lost in space.

It’s Jin’s turn to sigh, heavy and long. He goes back to his console, typing and clicking on certain things to make sure the ship is running smoothly. Hoseok comes in a few minutes later, a bagel in between his teeth. He removes it before speaking to Jin. “So basically, they want us to head on to this new coordinate.” He points to a long string of numbers on the paper.

“And you don’t look too happy about it,” Jin notes, looking at his face.

Namjoon comes over to peer at the coordinates and his face scrunches up. “Are they fucking with us?”

Jin lets out a humourless laugh. “They’ve been at it for a couple of years now I thought you’d notice.”

“This is way out of our way,” Namjoon points out, annoyed. “This would set us back from the main mission, like, two years the least!” 

Namjoon throws himself back into his seat, face buried in his hands. Hoseok gives him a sympathetic look but turns back to Jin. “It’s not set yet. This is just their proposal. But from the sound of those papers, it might already have been decided.”

Jin rubs his temple with two fingers. “And what’s over there?”

Hoseok bites the inside of his cheek before answering, “Water.”

Jin regards him through a frown. “What the fuck.”

The other man shrugs. “Seems like another craft researching asteroids found traces of it.”

“The same ones we passed by six months ago?”

“Seems like it,” the second-in-command answers. “And according to their calculation, this would be the general direction where they came from.”

Jin shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense. They want us to head straight to an asteroid belt for all we know. Can you reconfirm?”

“Already did. Might take a while until we hear back, though.”

Hoseok watches his captain contemplate, his forehead creasing over. Jin throws his gaze back outside to the abyss in front of him. Honestly, he’s not thinking of anything much. His mind is blank. To him, two years or five years don’t make much of a difference now. Any motivation that he had at the start of this mission to go home and resume the life he left behind is long gone. There’s nothing left for him back on Earth, therefore, nothing left for him to lose. To go or not to go no longer bothers him. But he still has other people to think about, crew members of seventy to weigh in on that decision. They are his main concern. 

Hoseok recognises that blank expression well. “I’ll call for a meeting with all the heads during lunchtime.”

The captain merely nods. 

***

The seven chief officers sit around the table.

Jin sits in the middle and Hoseok and Namjoon on either side of him. The Communication Officer, Min Yoongi, is to Hoseok’s left and the Chief Science Officer, Park Jimin, is to Namjoon’s right. Kim Taehyung, the Chief Engineer and the Chief of Security, Jeon Jungkook, brings up the total of the leaders on board. Each man is responsible for at least ten other crews under them but the whole weight of the ship falls on Jin’s broad shoulders.

Hoseok finishes the debriefing, keeping it short and simple. He now poses the main question. “We need to know if all of us are in favour of going off route to check out this supposedly new source of water or if we should just remain our course for Andromeda.”

“I say we stay on course,” Jungkook offers first. “We’re already in the second year of a five-year plan for Andromeda. I rather we don’t lose any more years on something so vague.”

Kim Taehyung nods. “I agree.”

“But what if we do find it?” Jimin implores, looking around the table. “The possibility of being the first to find water in space! Imagine that! I say we go check it out.”

“If we do, we’ll be set back by two years at the least,” Namjoon adds. “Would that still be okay?”

Jimin nods. “So what? We’ve already been here seven years. What’s a couple more?”

“Easy for you to say,” Taehyung argues. “Some of us have people waiting for us back home. I promise my fiance at least five more years. Five more years and I’ll be home and I can marry her.”

Jimin pulls a face. “I told you to break it off before we go onto the ship. You’re just stringing her along at this rate.”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung growls. “A playboy like you wouldn’t get it.”

Jimin opens his mouth to retort but Jin slams his fist on the table. “Enough. I’m giving three days for each of you to explain this to your crew and come back with a unionised decision. Majority wins.”

“Come on, captain,” Taehyung pleads. “Let’s not. Let’s tell Command we don’t have enough resources to prolong this voyage. The craft behind us can do it.”

Yoongi nods, agreeing. “It’s their area of study anyway.”

“Their craft isn’t built like ours,” Hoseok interjects. “They wouldn’t make the trip nor would they even make it further out of the Kuiper Belt.”

“Which is why this is coming to us,” Yoongi concludes to himself, silently understanding. Freljord is one of a kind, a miracle created that couldn’t be replicated as close as to the original. It’s high-tech, advanced and self-sustaining in terms of fuel. Shaped like a sperm, the front part is a spherical globe with a bridge connecting a smaller-sized one that makes the tail where the engineering team is. 

“Truthfully,” Namjoon pipes up. “I’m with Taehyung on this one. I want to go home, Captain. Don’t you?”

Jin is caught off guard that the navigator would target him, staring at Namjoon like a deer in headlights. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear Taehyung saying something about Jin having left a girlfriend back home, too, so naturally, he should be on their side. But Jin’s mouth is dry. They knew he had someone before they started this mission, he had talked about you, had even had a few grainy video calls with you with them present, had always run back to his room to check for mails from you every night without fail.

Suddenly, Jin is brought back in time.

– – –

“When are you leaving?”

You looked at him through wide, teary eyes, standing at the kitchen island of the apartment you shared with him. He stood on the other side, arms hanging limply on both his sides. He had anticipated that you’d be upset but he didn’t think it would be this bad. He had excitedly come home to show you the letter of acceptance for the Andromeda mission, unable to hide the wide smile on his face. You had read the letter but your face had crumpled. By the end of it, your eyes stung by how much tears are pooling in them.

“It’s a good opportunity,” he had said, trying to convince you. “It’s once in a lifetime and there’s only one spaceship that can do this. It seems I’m the only one compatible to steer it and they need me. It’ll be good for-”

“Is that all you care about?” you wailed. “That they need you? What about me, Jin? What about us?” You waved the letter in his face. “It says here it’ll take ten years. You’re going to be gone for ten years!”

“I know, I know,” Jin tried to placate, putting his arms around your waist. You pulled away moving towards the kitchen, the letter still scrunched up in your fist. He followed you. “Baby, it’s ten years maximum. It could be less. This new spaceship is something no one has ever seen before. It’s much faster, much more-”

“I don’t care, Jin! I don’t fucking care how fucking awesome the ship is! I don’t want you to go!” 

You were fully crying by then, leaning against the island top as you tried to get your breathing under control. You placed one hand against your chest, feeling the pain about to rip you apart. You know that he’s been training for this, dedicating most of his youth to the space centre in hopes that one day he’ll get to go. And now he could but you didn’t think the day would come and that it would come so soon. 

“When are you leaving?” you asked through shaky lips, your voice barely coming out. 

Jin scratched the back of his head. “Well, there’s still more training to do and-”

“When?” you insisted. 

Jin studied your face, feeling his hands shake. Mere hours ago, when he received the letter, he had been almost bouncing in his seat, unable to focus on anything except to go home and break the news to you. But now, the excitement had dissipated, replaced with nothing but a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, the kind that made him think that his heart had fallen out of its place. There’s a lump in his throat and he swallows it. “Next year.”

Your face fell once again, crumpling to the floor as your body heaved with every sob. Jin rushed forward, collecting you in his arms and pulling you into his lap. He didn’t have any words to say, didn’t know what he could say to comfort you. He thought you’d understand but understanding and accepting are two very different things, he realised. 

Jin knew that as much as this news had been an amazing one, something no one else has ever done before, it’s also something very agonising, now that he’s actually thinking about it. But the pros outweigh the cons, he had selfishly thought. All his life, he had wanted nothing more than to be able to go into space on one of his own missions. He had dreamt of this since he was a little kid, since they were little kids. All those nights of camping in the backyard of your house in the small tent your dad pitched up counting stars, you both had talked about it. Or at least he did. 

And you had been supportive of his dreams. You had been the one person in his corner to push him to go into astronautics after high school, the one person who helped him study for exams when he thought that he couldn’t do it because it had been too damn hard. You were the person that packed his lunch on days when he had been too tired to even remember to eat, painstakingly shaping the sausages and eggs and sandwiches into little stars and moons and a rocketman. You had cheered the loudest when he got accepted into the Aerospace Research Institute, taking him out to dinner at one of the most luxurious steakhouses in town. It had cost you three of your part-time paychecks to pay but it had been worth it.

A week after his first paycheck, Jin finally had the balls to ask you to officially be his girlfriend but it had almost seemed that that had been the case for most of your university lives, you two joined at the hips even when you were studying at different universities, that it felt natural to just say yes. He bought you a promise ring three months later and you both had planned out the rest of your lives together. Not once did it occur to both of you that it might not come. Not once did either of you ever doubt a future together, the names of your kids picked out and carefully written in a journal you both shared. 

Not until that night of the acceptance letter. It felt like the whole world upended for you, ripped out from beneath your feet. Is this what it felt like for Jin to be in that zero-G simulator day in and day out? Because to you, it feels like nothing is reliable anymore; up is down, left is right, right is wrong. It made you feel like throwing up, your head spinning from the sudden unknown of what’s to come. You didn’t like it and you hated that Jin went to work living off of this feeling. He loves it so much he’s willing to leave you behind for more and that's what hurts the most, unfair as it was.

If truth be told, you never expected for Jin to go into space, not that he was incapable but that it had been difficult to be picked. And it’s not everyday that they were sending people into orbit. When Jin told you about the Andromeda Project, you had secretly doubted it. No other country had ever had the technology to make such a craft that can easily travel into interstellar, never mind one big enough to carry close to a hundred crew. But the Andromeda Project had been going on far longer before Jin joined and by the time he had enough experience and knowledge and whatever else requirements needed, it was time to start choosing and training the right people.

Even then, you had your doubts. According to your brother, Hoseok, the competition was tough and they usually go for those with no young family left behind. Jin might not have a family but he wouldn’t abandon you, right? Only you were wrong. So arrogant you were to think that you could compete with his childhood dream, so you relented. 

“Okay,” you said, one night as you were getting ready for bed and Jin was propped against the headboard, reading an article on his iPad. He looked up, confused. “Okay,” you said again. “I’ll support you.”

It takes a moment for Jin’s brain to finally click, throwing down the iPad and crawling over towards your side of the bed. He hugged you from behind, pressing lingering kisses on your shoulder. “I promise it’ll go by faster before you know it.”

You didn’t believe him. Who would? Space exploration is the one thing that no one can really tell on, especially one like the voyage he was about to embark on. It’s never been done before so what precedent can anyone refer to? Everything is a blank slate and yes, he would be making history. You’re proud of him for that but at the same time bitter that it had to be him who goes. What’s worse, Hoseok got in, too, so you’ll be left all alone, the one left waiting. 

Jin could see how much you were trying to play the supportive girlfriend role. You never complained about his late nights, you never asked more than what you wanted to know, never burdened him with anything you can handle yourself. You took care of his lunch and supplements and as the months went by, you took care of everything in regards to the household, everything so that Jin didn’t have to think of anything else except his oncoming mission. 

And the busier Jin got, the heavier your heart grew. When you had a falling out with one of your close friends, Jin didn’t hear about it. He didn’t have to, his mind was preoccupied enough already. When your mother called one day asking if you were still with him when he was going to leave, you had hung up on her. You cried yourself to sleep because you couldn’t distract him. He needed the rest, he needed the clarity. All that he needed, you gave it to him and with that, he never noticed that you were barely keeping your own head above water as you held him afloat.

Three months before his take off date, Jin went down on one knee. The ring he proposed with had been his mother’s, tweaked to have a new diamond installed, a diamond that resembled the north star. “So I know where I’m heading to. You are my last destination,” he had promised. You said yes, because what else could you have said? Like the rest of the issues that were building, this was one of them that he didn’t need to contend with, not when he was about to leave. The preparation had been tough and Jin was stressed out enough, hardly even home for him to notice the change in you, both mentally and physically.

The first year of the Freljord take off had been excruciating. You only received two emails forwarded through from ARI; one from him and one from Hoseok. It’s the year that they had gone into cryosleep. Jin’s email had been a long one, detailing all the little things saved up in his heart that he never had the chance to tell you while still on Earth and all the little details of his voyage so far, the latter more than the first, and that was when you knew. 

But a year wasn’t long enough for you to be sure. You were a good girlfriend so you waited, giving it more time, hoping that with time, you can learn to accept reality. But the next email came almost three years later when he was finally awake again. Moving on was harder than it sounded. It wasn’t an actual break up nor a death but a sort of limbo that your fiance might or might not return. You wanted so much to let him know but it never seemed appropriate to tell something so important via email so you waited for a video call chance.

Video calls are much harder. His crewmates would sometimes pop in and out of frame to say hello, teasing him in the background. But the worst part was the fact that Jin looked happy. He would talk on and on about the ship, the crews, the vast nothingness he could see out the window, none of which you cared for. He did not, in fact, ask anything about the life he left behind. The video calls were short, too, more static than anything else, so never a good time to bring up the subject of the one thing he should know about. But letting him know could cost him the project so you couldn’t do it, didn’t have the heart to. 

When you’re on a spaceship that travels on hyperspeed, time completely changes between space and Earth. In his excitement, Jin had completely forgotten about this one important fact. And that was one of his many mistakes.  

– – –

Hoseok, who knows more than the others, pulls their attention away from the captain. “Jin already said majority wins. So go back to your units and let us know in three days. We’ll decide from there. Meeting adjourned.”

The others left, talking among themselves but Jin remained at his seat. Hoseok stays next to him. He doesn’t speak, letting the older man decide for himself whether he wants to share whatever that was on his mind or not. Hoseok and Seokjin have been friends since high school, too long to even count the years now. He could tell right away this morning when Jin came into the kitchen that something was wrong and had been wrong for a while now, at least for this past month. 

“Is it y/n?” Hoseok broaches, growing a tad bit impatient. If it is, then Hoseok can worry less. If it’s something to do with the mission then he should know about it, too. 

Jin slowly looks up. His eyes are clouded over, making it hard for Hoseok to read his best friend. What in the world is he hiding? What is it? 

Without speaking, Jin takes out his mobile pad from his belt, swipes around on it and then passes it over to Hoseok, looking down at his lap. The Chief Officer silently takes the device and looks at the screen. The first thing he sees is the sender’s name: y/n l/n. The body of the message is short. A simple, ‘I’m sorry, Seokjinie.’ There’s an attachment at the bottom and he taps on it. At the sight of the image, Hoseok whips back around to Jin. 

“When did you get this?”

“Last month,” Jin croaks out, still looking down. When he speaks again, his voice breaks. “The further away we are from Earth, the longer it takes for messages to arrive.” The tears flow, dripping down Jin’s face and into his lap. He has yet to raise his head.

Hoseok looks back down to the picture. He recognises it, receiving the same one in his email at the same time Jin did, he bet. He hadn’t said anything to the captain, didn't know how. But Jin also had been quiet, too quiet, he thinks but if the man wasn’t ready to talk about it, Hoseok isn’t the type to push. Now, he thinks he should’ve. 

Yes, the further away they move from Earth, the harder it is for any communication to happen between Command and the ship. It just takes longer for anything to arrive. Not only that, Freljord moves at the speed of light, warping the concept of time for all its crew. If Hoseok’s calculation is correct, this email is five years late, which means-

Jin’s crying grows harder, sobbing so hard he doubles over. Hoseok can only put one hand on the man’s back, rubbing up and down but not really doing much to calm his friend. Jin had never experienced such pain, his chest aching so much he wishes he could tear his skin off if it alleviates the hurt. Jin has always been good at bottling his feelings, he’s done it his whole life. He’s not an emotional person (wouldn’t be able to be an astronaut if he was). 

When you were kids and he skinned his knees from falling over his bicycle, you were the one who cried while he stood there stoically as his mother slaps on a cartoon band aid. When Hoseok would get angry at him for hogging the PlayStation, he would just drop the controller in the midst of the boss battle so Hoseok can have a turn. When you were angry at him for something he had said, he had sat there calmly listening to you ranting at him why it was the wrong thing to say, mentally noting to not say it again. When you had broken down over the news of his acceptance to the Andromeda Project, his eyes had been dry.

But right now, it feels like the whole ship could go down and he wouldn’t give a fuck if it meant he would stop feeling this ripping pain. If a window of the ship had been breached, he would run towards it and lunge himself out. If there was anything on the manual about how to numb the agony coursing through his veins, he would tear out every nook and cranny of this ship to find it. But all he has is Hoseok, silently rubbing his back.

“I’m too late, Hoseok,” he keens, the note of his voice breaking Hoseok’s heart. “I’m too late. I was so stupid. So fucking stupid. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve stayed behind. I should’ve been with her.”

But Hoseok’s not sure if time would reverse, Jin would choose differently. He knows the man too well. Space is all he has ever talked about, he’s sure even you knew that. Hoseok also knows that if Jin had decided to not go, you would’ve changed his mind. You love him too much to not let him live his dreams and Hoseok thinks it’s only fair for Jin to do the same. But he guesses the difference was that one had seen it coming long before while the other had been too blinded by passion. Neither was wrong, though, he thinks.

As Jin continues to bawl, loud enough for Yoongi to come back to the kitchen to check on the noise but retreat back out once he sees Jin, Hoseok looks back at the picture still on the screen of Jin’s communicator pad. The cream-coloured background with the gold emboss of the wedding invite stares prettily back at him. Hoseok wonders how old his niece and nephew are now.

– – –

The house is finally quiet, the only sound being the clinking of dishes as you wash them, humming to yourself softly to a song you can’t quite remember the title of nor the actual lyrics. 

Every once in a while, you catch yourself looking up into the window above the sink and only seeing your reflection, the necklace around your neck glinting everytime it catches the light. The north star diamond rests just right on your sternum, lightly thudding against your bone whenever you move.

You’re lost in your own thoughts, your hands moving automatically, the sound of the tap water running a background noise. Your husband is already in bed; he’d had a long day at work. You’re sure that when you go up to bed, he’ll stir awake before pulling you to sleep in his arms. He told you once a long time ago, six months into the relationship, that he cannot sleep without you any longer. You’re his comfort then, his comfort now fifteen years later. But you probably won’t go straight to bed when you’re done with this. 

You put the last dish on the rack and wipe your hands. The letter that came in today sits on the table in the hallway, untouched. You had taken one look at the logo stamped on the front left corner of the envelope and had almost dropped it, feeling like the piece of paper had burnt you. With shaky hands, you had picked it back up and placed it where it is now, hoping that when the recipient sees it, he’ll take care of it. 

But he hadn’t so now you have to make sure that he does before he sleeps. You make your way up the steps, one hand running up the bannister, not for support but mostly because if you don’t have your hand on something solid, you’d feel like you might float away. The skylight installed years ago allows the bright light of the full moon to cascade down into the house, illuminating your way perfectly fine. You look up at the sky, noticing the tiny little sparkling stars and you can’t help but feel bittersweet, a sort of melancholy you thought would have faded in time. The letter is clutched in your other hand.

Up the stair, you make towards the first door on the left. You take a deep breath, send up a silent prayer and knock. 

“Yeah?”

You open the door and peer in, finding your son sitting at his desk, his laptop opened. He leans over his chair to look at you, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah, sure. ‘Sup?”

You walk in and look around the room. For a seventeen-year-old teenager, he’s pretty tidy, tidier than his twin sister, surprisingly. The many books on the shelves are arranged in order of genres; fiction, non-fiction, and school books. The fiction section consists of about fifteen books right at the bottom. Two-third of the tall shelves are full of non-fictions, mostly science related, almost all on space and astronomy. When he had expressed interest in that specific area, you had been hesitant, but you’re not one to stand in the way of the people you love. It has always been like that.

Above his bed, stuck to the ceiling, are a constellation of stars and planets, glowing green in the dim lighting. Among them is a rocket-shaped one. 

That’s why when the letter came today, you knew what it was. Your heart and brain war against each other; one tells you to rip it up to miniscule pieces and throw them away, the other already knows you’ll do what’s right. Because you’ve done it before. 

You sit on his bed, careful not to mess up the covers too much. The laundry basket is full and you point to it. “I told you to bring it down, didn’t I?”

Taejin pushes his chair away from the desk and swirls it around to face you. “You didn’t come here to lecture me about my laundry, omma, did you?”

You look at him, noticing that his hair is getting a little long around the ears, poking against his neck and fluffy at the top. Except for his eyes, he looks nothing like you and very much resembles his father more than anything. It’s a haunting image sometimes. There’s more of his father in him than just the look, apparently. You smile and shake your head. “No, I didn't.” You produce the letter. “I came to give you this. It arrived earlier today.”

His eyes light up before it dims again. He opens his mouth then closes it, shaking his head. “I was waiting for it but now I don’t know if I’m ready to know.”

You mull over his words, nodding to yourself. “But how long are you going to put it off? Even if you don't, time will still continue to flow, you know? It’s not going to stop just because you’re not ready.”

He looks a little confused, his head tilted to one side. You let out a soft laugh. “Look, Jinnie, if you get in, that’s great. If you don’t, it’s not the end of the world. You can choose another school, another programme.” You doubt the latter half of your words, knowing him well enough that it wouldn’t be that easy for him to give it up. “Or would you want me to look for you?”

He thinks about it before shaking his head. “No. I’ll do it.”

You hand him the letter, watching him tear it open with shaking fingers. He pulls out the piece of paper inside and unfolds it. He gives you one last look and you nod with encouragement. “It’s not the end of the world.”

He reads it, eyes going over the words with such speed before he looks up, eyes wide. Curious, you get up and stand next to him, reading the content of the letter from over his shoulder. A small part of you withered, noting that this is how it had started, too, back then. You beam at Taejin, ruffling his hair. “Congratulations, my little spaceman. You got in.”

While your daughter pursues music, your son follows his dream. As Areum debuted in a girl-group in South Korea, Taejin finishes his internship with the Aerospace Research Institute. As you cheer Areum at her first stadium concert, Taejin is wrapping up his initial training as an astronaut as one of the top trainees in line for the space mission, Andromeda II. On the day that Areum flies back from her Grammy performance show, she heads straight for ARI, breathless and still very much jetlag to say goodbye to her twin before his thirty days quarantine starts. She might not see him again, ever, but that’s something you did not mention to either of them. 

Areum had to leave earlier, tear-stained face waving goodbye from the door, unable to actually leave. You watch as Taejin gives her one last, long hug, the kind of hug that clearly communicates the amount of love he has for her, the kind of hug people give when they know it might be the final goodbye. She leaves then, hiccuping and sobbing, and you wished you had left with her. But not yet, you still have one last thing for your son, a parting gift.

“I want you to have something,” you say, unclasping the necklace from around your neck and placing it in his palm, closing his fingers onto it. “I want you to hold on to this for me, okay?”

Taejin looks close to tears. “But, omma. I know how precious this necklace is to you. Are you sure? Shouldn’t you be giving this to Areum instead?”

You smile at him. “I have something else for her, don’t worry. I want you to wear it, always.”

He doesn’t ask questions but puts it around his own neck, placing it safely inside his T-shirt. “Will Jackson be okay with you giving me this?” he laughs, only jesting.

You shake your head. “It wasn’t from him.”

He looks surprised. 

You let out a soft sigh. “Taejin-ah,” you say, trying to arrange your words carefully. “Do you remember that astronaut story I used to tell you when you were little? The one that went on to travel the universe, in search of his north star?”

He nods hesitantly, probably the memory of the story faded with time. “I can recall bits and pieces. Why?”

“Well, what if I tell you he had been a real person?”

Taejin stares at you. “What do you mean?”

Suddenly, the intercom in the lounge room crackles to life and a disembodied voice echoes throughout the whole arena. “Five minutes until quarantine starts. All trainees are required to check in at seventeen hundred hours.” The announcement is repeated once more and you grip Taejin’s hand, your heart breaking. How many times can it break the same way in a lifetime?

“Listen to me,” you say, speaking urgently. “You told me that your mission is to-”

“Converge with the crew of the first Andromeda mission on Planet-”

“Yes, that,” you interject, waving for him to stop. Time is running out. “There’s someone on that mission that I want you to find, someone who will recognise the necklace I gave you.” 

“Someone other than Uncle Hoseok?”

You nod and smile but the tears are creeping down your cheeks. Taejin catches them with his fingers but you ignore him, ignore the tears. “When you find him, you’d know. All the questions you’ve been asking me that I couldn’t answer will be answered, I promise you.”

The announcement reverberates through the air one more time and the whole room flutters with activity as family members and friends and loved ones of those taking off next month hurry to leave or give one last hug or kiss.  

Taejin looks a little lost. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. What are you-”

“Trust me, okay? Wear the necklace always and you’ll know when you find him,” you repeat, getting up and pulling away but your son wouldn’t let go of your hands.

“Omma, please,” he begs. “I need more explanation. Why tell me this now?”

You manage to free your hands from his grasp, the tears blurring your vision. You pull him in for one last hug and hold his head in place as you place a kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Taejinnie. All I did was out of love. Tell Hoseok I love him and miss him so much. We all do. Tell them all about us.”

Taejin relents, letting go of you and finally moving towards the door that will take him and the others inside the building to be quarantined pre-flight. He has his suspicions on who you meant but the name was never mentioned, or it was in the story you’ve told that he had thought fiction. But that was a story when he was a child, something that’s only a vague memory in his head. Now, he racks his brain for it. 

For the next thirty days of quarantine, Taejin obsesses over remembering the name. In a bout of desperation, he manages to pull up the name list of all the crews of the Freljord, the predecessor ship of the one he will embark on. He doesn’t have to look far, the name jumping out to him on the first line, noticing the similarity immediately. Captain Kim Seokjin. To confirm it, he finds a picture of the commanding officers of that spaceship and he almost falls over his chair. 

It’s like staring at a picture of himself. The father that he had been looking for all this time, the father that he had given up asking about by the time he was eight, is one of the men that he is going to meet in another galaxy. He grabs ahold of your necklace, his fist wrapping around the north star diamond. 

“I’m coming,” he whispers to himself, his fingers rubbing against the diamond softly. “Please be there. I'm coming to find you.”

a/n2: I might have ended this a little too abruptly but I was running out of motivation lol lmk what you think of this one shot in the comment or ask. Like and reblog will be much appreciated :)

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

Forever | ksj

☆summary: three years ago, your relationship with jin ended in fights and tears. When life puts him back on your path, you catch a glimpse of light in his eyes that you thought had died when you broke up. Will your relationship blossom into a well-deserved forever or will you lose the love of your life again?

☆pairing: Kim Seokjin x female reader

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: ex-fiancés to lovers, idol!au, angst, smut, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol consumption, oc and jin fight a lot and don’t talk enough, oc is a little mean to jin and jin is a patient angel, cursing, inaccurate cooking terms, oc gets wounded on a nail, a bunch of nostalgia and regrets. explicit content: choking kink, grinding, a little bit of tits play, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), a little bit of dirty talking, dom!jin, big dick!jin, protected sex

☆word count: 25.2k words

☆a/n: here is the jin fic! I hope you will love itttt, it was really fun to write even though it’s sad. I love nostalgia and I hope I was able to write it well. Thank you to my beautiful beta reader @moonleeai for helping with this story once again. You are the best and I am so blessed to have you <3

☆a/n pt2: enjoy reading babies!!

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⊶ small tuna fish (m). ⊷

Kim Seokjin is a really nice guy. (Not to be confused with a ‘Nice Guy’). Too nice for someone like you, you’re sure. Which is why you’ve been attempting to ignore what’s going on between you. He couldn’t possibly be flirting with you. He couldn’t possibly like you. Could he? 

It the end, it takes one charity car wash event and one – or two, depending on how dirty your mind is – soakings to make things very clear. 

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader  au/genre; college au, friends to lovers, romance, smut  warnings/notes; inexperienced! jin, kissing, so much kissing, groping, dry humping, lots of cute reassuring, this jin might be more of a boob man (shock horror), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, protected sex, sweet and soft, jin has a big dick (don’t let the title mislead you lol)  words; 17,103

listen to; blanket kick 

author’s note; thank you to @tan-dulset​ 💖 I can always count on you to shower me with ideas and inspiration! This wouldn’t exist without you <3 I hope everyone enjoys because I had great fun writing it! (And FYI, Seokjin is inexperienced because his dick’s too big lmao poor baby 🤧) Also, yes, I am highly aware of how much the word count grew… who is even surprised anymore 🤣

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Ramyeon Meokgo Gallae? (ksj one-shot)

pairing: ceo!jin x ceo!reader

genre: slice of life, angst, smut, exes to lovers, arranged marriage au

summary: when you fall into a trap that can ruin your life and the empire that you’ve built over so many years, your best way out is to marry the person your parents want you to marry. except that your parents want you to marry jin. who you have history with. who you’ve never quite gotten over. and who has led you to become the heartless woman you are today. 

word count: 11.5k

rating: 18+ 

warning: explicit sexual content, foul language, slow burn, a lot of angst and heartbreak, slight side sope *heart eyes*, namjoon can drive in this au!!

a/n: i’m sorry if there are tense and verb errors! i didn’t write the whole thing in one flow, and editing it all again at the end gets really confusing and cumbersome. i’ve tried to edit and rectify as much as possible, but please bear with me if there are grammatical errors! do let me know your feedback! it took me about a month to write this, and i haven't written something in so so long, i feel rusty. thank you for reading!

___

You pace in your room, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Your mind is racing at a million miles an hour, but you can’t see any solution. Not a single fucking one. You feel like ripping apart everything, but that won’t solve the problem. You’ve given so much to build your world, your empire. You won’t let it come down so easily. 

“You have-”

“No options left. I know, Yoongi, stop trying to remind me every minute!” Your voice becomes shriller with each word, but you know that your lawyer, your best friend and closest ally, is right, and that irks you the most. The television screen in front of you is still blaring out the news that threatens to bring down everything you’ve built with your blood, sweat and tears, and you feel like a helpless maniac. 

“Why can’t you marry him?”

You stop in your tracks, turning to look deadpan at the man sitting on the couch in a dark blue suit, his white hair parted and neat, making him look fairer than he is. “You know why.”

“Yes, but it was so many years ago. Y/N you’ve matured enough to move on.”

“STOP trying to counsel my feelings. I know I should move on. I know I need to. But, I can’t…” you falter, and Yoongi steps up, holding your arm and steadying you. He looks straight into your eyes and forces you to look back at him by putting a finger under your chin. “I’m not counselling your feelings. I know you hate him. And I know everything else too. I’ve heard enough of your drunken rants. And, I think, hell, I think it’s fair that you feel that way. But, now you have no other options left. And you can’t let everything go because of that one person, who broke your heart so many years ago. Be the stronger person, and use this opportunity to protect yourself, Y/N.”

You look at him, and breathe in. Deep breaths Y/N, use the one trick you’ve used to calm down your temper. “Okay.” You whisper quietly. He looks at you, eyebrows raised, clearly asking you to repeat. “Okay. I’m ready.” You nod, as he begins to nod. “That’s my girl.” He pats your hair once, and you know that his affection display metre has already broken and he’s going to go underground for the rest of the month. 

___

“Hmm.” you speak into your phone when you’re awakened by your sister’s call at 7 am, which was definitely early morning to you on a sunday. Considering that you had just gotten to sleep three hours ago. “Have you seen the news?”

“Nope.” You sit up in your bed. That was a bad starter. “Why?” you ask her. “Go switch on your telly. Don’t cut the call.”

You grunt and swing out of bed. You were already annoyed- your sister was unpredictable, you expected this call to be anything from a prank call to the announcement of the marriage of her favourite movie star. 

What you did not expect on the television, was a leaked video of a man speaking loudly to someone sitting next to him, “Such a slut- sucked my dick and begged for the money.” Everyone in the room erupts into laughter. The video gets changed to a reporter’s video who is supposedly making comments on the truth of this video. 

And, suddenly you can’t breathe. 

Somewhere, your sister speaks. Your phone buzzes with her voice. “Did you watch it?” You can’t even pick up the call. You whisper to yourself, “What do I do?” And you keep repeating it, like a mantra. Your sister keeps calling out your name, but you don’t care about her. All you want to do is to sink back into the same hole you crawled into twelve years ago. You can’t see the light that you grasped for yourself when you finally overcame it all. You can only see darkness. Pitch black. 

___

“I didn’t sleep with him before the deal. I swear I didn’t.” You explain for the third time to your father. You’re sitting in your office, and you can hear the people from the press right under your window. You may be on the tenth floor, but you can still hear the ruckus in the streets. It’s almost funny. This is not a rare sight to you, you’ve faced flak from the public and the media before, but this one is different. You couldn’t be brought to give a fuck for the past times, but this, it threatened to bring you down. Everything you had built would be ruined. And you couldn’t imagine living without the work you were so proud of. 

“Okay, then do you have any kind of proof that any intimate relations between you two began after the loan was sanctioned?” Your lawyer, Yoongi, asks you. He’s sitting right next to you, and out of the four people in the room, he has the least tense expression. The slight furrowing of eyebrows seems like he’s just annoyed to be woken up so early, but you know he’s concerned from deep within. He’s your best friend. 

That’s why he can read your eyes when you don’t respond to him. “Y/N, I need you to be honest.”

“We… had some conversations while the loan was still being sanctioned. It was a couple of days after we met for the first time, and we’d gone out for a drink-” you see everyone’s eyebrows raise, “but I promise, it was innocent! We didn’t have any physical interaction. Honestly, no touches. Just business.” 

“Then?” Your sister asks you, steely. 

“Umm, you know…”

“Sexting?”

“Let’s just say it could put me in a bad position.” You look at your fingers in your lap. 

“This is bad.” She sighs. 

“What do we do now?” Your father asks Yoongi.

“Nothing. We publicly deny it. We don’t show the chats unless he brings it up. He won’t bring it up, because he knows it’s gonna expose that he was equally interested in getting his dick sucked by you, irrespective of the loan.” 

Everyone looks at Yoongi, who’s calmly explaining everything while typing something on his laptop. “And then, you return the loan. With interest. Immediately.” 

Your protest, instantly, “I can’t, Yoongi, you know! Even our stocks have fallen in value since today morning, and I don’t have that kind of money. I can’t even take another loan from anyone. Not that anyone would be willing to give me any loan now.” 

“I’ll arrange-” Your father starts. You flinch, “No, papa. I’m not going to make another mistake by taking your filthy money.” He smiles, without any mirth. “You think I’m going to give you my money? Huh, no you fool. I wouldn’t associate myself with this scandal. You separated yourself from me ten years ago, I see the advantages of it today.” You stare at him. He has no idea how much his words sting you, how cruelly tears threaten to pass the threshold of your eyes, how nauseous you feel. 

“You’ll marry and get the money.”

At this even your sister’s jaw drops. “Papa-”

You laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the only way for you to get the money quickly, you silly girl. And I have the perfect candidate in mind.”

Yoongi asks, seriously. “And who is it?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

___

Madness. Sheer madness. You must be going crazy. Congratulations, Y/N. After years of people predicting it, it must have truly happened to you. Because there is no fucking way on earth you’re hearing Yoongi say to you, “I think he’s right.” 

You throw another book at him. 

“Violence isn’t the solution, Y/N.” “Oh yes, you motherfucker. It is the only solution.” You seethe in anger, ready to punch him again. Thank God that your cabin has blinds drawn. 

“I think your father is right.” Thankfully your father isn’t in the room, because if he heard the curses you emit at his mention, he’d straight up disown you. And while you’d love that at any other time, this is not the time for that. 

“You need to marry someone to get the money. Marry rich. Instant money. Boom, return loan. Divorce him after a couple of months, huh? Not so bad.”

Yoongi has the audacity to smirk, for which he is rewarded with another book. 

“Y/N, please talk to me. Normally.”

You take a deep breath. 

“What are my other options?”

“None.”

“What?” You spit. 

“You can’t get a loan. You don’t have that much money. Your company is going to come down in two days when the stakeholders back off. You’re probably never going to be trusted by anyone ever again because now everyone sees you as a slut.” You know that well, the television screams at you- “Y/N selling herself for her company?” Ridiculous. Far-fetched. Ugly. You had always been the business world’s most hated bitch for being a woman who had alone made it this far, without any help from her father, without any support from a man, in a world of suited men with egos the size of Antarctica. And now everything you had proved wrong in this world was coming crashing down on you.

“Furthermore, I think that by marrying him and falsifying a story of how you had known each other since childhood, which is not fully false though, we can create an angle showing you as pure. You never wanted to sleep with him, because you were devoted to your childhood love.” You stare at Yoongi, who was staring back at you with his cat eyes. It sounded perfect. And you had full faith in Yoongi. He’d handled your PR forever, from making you class president at school to now in your company, and you trusted him to execute this perfectly. 

There was just one problem. 

“Yoongi… I can’t marry him. I can’t marry… Seokjin.” The word feels oddly natural although foreign to your tongue, like the taste of blood. Your breath was cold, your body shivering.

“Y/N. I can’t pressurise you about this. But you know you have no options left. And Seokjin… may have changed. You definitely have changed. You won’t fall for his games again.” 

He looks at you earnestly, but you can’t see the hope he wants you to see. All you see is the end of the tunnel. The end of your glorious life of thirty years. You begin pacing in the room, a clear indication to Yoongi to shut up now. 

___

When you’re ready, Yoongi brings you out of your cabin, which was becoming stuffy. Your secretary is waiting for you. She looks at you with wide eyes. You laugh internally. She had always thought of you as her role model, and you knew well how it hurt to see the image of someone you saw as perfect to break. As Yoongi briefed her about your new schedule, you walked around in your office, full of people, who were usually dedicated to their work, but today everyone seemed more interested in gossip. Which immediately shut up as soon as you came into the vicinity.

“Ahem.” You cough slightly, getting everyone’s attention. 

“I have a few things to say. I believe you should know the truth first. Before the rest of the world does.” You breathe in deeply. You had no idea how to do this, it wasn’t even on Yoongi’s plan. But you ran on instinct. 

“What the video says, is a lie. I guess you expected me to say this, but it really is. I don’t know how to prove it to the world, nor can I prove it to you. But I did not sleep with that man, and I have never wished to do it either. What you did not expect is the incoming storm that our company will face. I’m well aware that we will go through pressure now. From all ends. I’d like to reassure my employees that no one is going to get fired. No layoffs at my place, please. I’ve seen the damage those can create.” Everyone murmurs, smiling softly.

“I just ask that you stay with me in this storm. We will brave through it together, and get out on the other side… with a big bang.” Everyone cheers, someone says “Fighting!” 

And you smile for the first time in the day, a smile of true joy. 

At least not everything was lost. 

___

When the press conference ends, Yoongi drops you home. “Rest well. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

But rest eludes you, as does peace of mind and any kind of serenity. You have one black hole of fear growing in the pits of your stomach, roaring to you one name. “Kim Seokjin”. As you finish bottle after bottle of soju, and drink yourself to sleep, you dream of him. It’s been four years since the last dream. They’ve always been bad dreams. Dreams that left you perspiring and breathless. Dreams that were reminiscent of reality, and memories you couldn't erase. You’re sure that tonight will be the same type. Nonetheless, tonight, when you dream of him, you smile in your sleep. 

He smelled of roses. Strong but enticing, just like himself. All evening he had done nothing but steal glances at you, and you’ve openly stared at him. The soju had opened up your inner desires too much, and you can’t stop staring at your two-month long crush. A solid year after you had joined college, you had seen him for the first time. He had been dribbling the basketball, while talking to his friends. And you had fallen in love. He was the first crush of your life, and you had no idea how to proceed. Except that you had put all hope on fate, which had brought you to this party with him. Not with him, obviously, but this party which included him too. 

And now he was looking at you. Everyone else was drinking, laughing, tipsily gossiping, even making out. But Kim Seokjin only had eyes for you. His ears were red, perhaps from the soju.Your entire body was red, because of his attention. You knew it probably meant nothing, but it didn’t stop your body from going on fire. You’d never felt anything like this before. Nineteen year old you didn’t know what desire was until you had met Seokjin. 

And now the basketball player, with the broadest shoulders in the team, was standing in the doorway, laughing at some joke cracked by his friends, none of whom you cared about. You were ready to leave, having had your fun for the night. You had met this very nice girl, and chatted with her. She seemed just as crazy as you were, and you had exchanged numbers. Once she bid you goodnight and left, you were ready to disappear too, for it was getting late. 

But then he called you from behind, his deep voice echoing in the cool night air that surrounded you two. Suddenly, it was just the two of you, and your skin burnt with his gaze. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You turned around, pretending to be nonchalant, but failing at it. 

“Ramyeon meokgo gallae?”

You had stared at him for a good thirty seconds, before fully comprehending his words. He had continued to stare back at you, refusing to blink. 

Finally you answered, “Sure.” You tried to hide your smile, but he quickly took your hand and led you to his car, whispering something about not standing in the cold for too long. 

He made sure you wouldn’t feel cold all night. That night when he took all of your firsts. Your protected life had been broken into by this wonderful man who made you feel like you were in heaven, and you had no complaints. He took it slow, staring at you in between sloppily kissing your cunt, letting you scratch his back when he thrust into you, biting gentle marks onto your neck. When he whispered praises to you of how good you’d been to him, and how thankful he was that he was your first, you had been giddy with pleasure erupting all over your body. 

You prayed, before going to sleep in his arms, that you could spend your life with him like this. 

The next morning, he was gone. But he had left a note for you. “Dear Y/N, I made ramyeon. Please eat it before leaving for college! I’ll see you at seven tonight?” You had smiled at the thought of tonight, smiled when you saw his marks all over your body, smiled when you ate the ramen. Later he would tell you, between kisses that made you forget your name, that he had to leave in the morning for a run in the field. He had to keep fit, else the coach would kick him out of the team, and the two of you would giggle. He would laugh with you to sleep, telling you joke after joke of what happened that day. It made your heart warm, when you heard him laugh with you, when you heard him call you baby with genuine affection, when he cooked meals for you before leaving every morning. 

Oh, what a fool you were.

And you were a fool again, waiting for him for the past half an hour, in a fancy restaurant. You half expected him to not turn up, without any reason, and your other half expected him to send someone on his behalf to eat with you. Both things you’d experienced before. 

You hadn’t seen him in years, except in your dreams, and occasionally in the news. He had founded a startup after college, which had soon become a reputed, well-established big business, and he was often on television. 

That’s why, when you saw a man with the broadest pair of shoulders you had ever seen, the plumpest and pinkest lips, and a broad expanse of forehead exposed by his gelled up hair, walking towards you, you didn’t know it was him. It was only when he pulled up the chair in front of you, that he said with a smirk. 

“Funny how whenever we meet you’re staring at me.” 

Instantly, everything clicks. His swagger, his ruthless smirk, his dark burning eyes, his glowing confidence. You knew it all too well. 

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you, baby.”

You flinch. He takes the hint, but he doesn’t drop the pet name. He simply smirks and calls for the waiter. Again, no explanation as to why he was late. No apologies. No excuses. 

“Please get us your finest wine. And two plates of fillet mignon.”

You’re still dazed by how he’s sitting right in front of you, and you’re not combusting into flames, nor launching yourself on him to punch the hell out of him. Funny how things change with time. 

“I heard you’re in a mess.”

“Everyone has heard that .”

“Why does your father need me then?”

You’re surprised. “Wait, you don’t know?”

“And how do you expect me to know?”

“I thought you’d know. Or you know, something of the sort. I don’t know why else my father would suggest you as the perfect man for me to marry right now.” You scoff, as he instantly retorts, “Perhaps he’s fallen for my handsome face too.”

“Spare me that nonsense, please.”

“Oh, baby girl’s all grown up.”

“I’m not going to be your little doll forever, manipulating me and feeding me lies.”

His smirk disappears.

“I never lied to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N-”

“Hiding truths also count as lies, you brat.”

“That was necessary for me to survive.”

“You’re lying to me again. Huh! Even now you can’t speak the truth.”

You stop talking when the waiter brings the food and wine. When he is finally gone, you look up at Seokjin, and you see something new in his eyes. Hurt? Regret? Sadness? You don’t know. And you couldn’t care less.

"You've got it all wrong Y/N," he whispers to you before sipping his wine. 

___

You don’t know when you got out of that restaurant, and ended up at a bar. The two of you had eaten your dinner in silence. For you, it was too difficult to talk to him, even look at him for too long, without tears hurting your eyes. You don’t know about why he didn’t talk though. 

But when you get to the bar, and gulp down your first glasses of martini, he starts talking. 

“Why does your dad want me to marry you?”

You’re sitting on stools next to each other, some would probably mistake you for colleagues. Your knees could’ve touched, your eyes could’ve met his. But you stared at your empty glass. “I don’t know. How does he even know you?”

“I’ve done business with him. Many times.” “Aah…” You grow silent, and he speaks, “Isn’t thinking of marriage too far-fetched? Especially since it’s just a professional relationship.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh?”

“Did you ever mention… that we… knew each other in college?”

Seokjin’s eyes never leave you. “He asked if I knew you, since we’re both from the same college. I had to say yes.”

You smirk. “Then he must’ve done some digging and found out that we…” you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Dated? Went out? Fucked? 

“But we covered everything up well?” Seokjin is puzzled, as he motions the bartender for another round of martinis. “Papa … has his ways and means.” You want to laugh at the universe. This was all your father’s plan to spite you. Force you to marry someone who he knew you had a bad history with. He must’ve found out somehow that your… relationship hadn’t ended… well. It was quite a ruckus in college when everyone had found out that The Seokjin was sleeping with Y/N, who was the daughter of the owner of all the top hotels in Seoul, Mr. L/N. And an even greater chaos when you two stopped seeing each other. 

Someone must’ve spilled. 

This time, you really do laugh out hysterically. 

“Everyone hates me.” 

“Stop being paranoid, Y/N.”

“I’m not!” You laugh again, “You hate me. My father hates me. He knows that you hate me. He knows that if he can force me to marry someone who hates me, he will have taken his revenge for the huge mistake I’ve made of outshining him in the corporate world.” 

You look at the man next to you. The first two buttons of his black dress shirt are open, revealing beautiful collar bones. He had always been gifted with the best body structure you had ever seen. “Let’s not get married. Please. I can’t marry… you.” You can’t stop the tears this time. “I’m not ready to go through this again. I’ll only end up with more scars. And I really don’t… wanna….” And you hide your face on the counter, putting your hands around your face. 

Seokjin is silent. He’s never seen you so bitter. He can’t help but think of what you’ve gone through these past years. What he’s put you through. And even if you don’t know it, he wants to take this opportunity to make it right. 

“You’re tipsy. Go home. Let’s meet tomorrow and finalise the contract.” You sit up at his strong, steely voice commanding you. “Contract?” “Yes, the contract of our marriage.”

He stands up, pays the bill with his black card, and takes your hand, pulling you away from the bar counter. When he drives you home, you fall asleep in his car, inhaling that scent of roses you had fallen in love with. Moments before you do, you ask him, as he puts on your seatbelt. “Just give me the money, why do you need to marry me?” You don’t hear him whisper back, “Because I’ve always wanted to marry you.”

___

You’re thankful that Yoongi is sitting next to you. Doing all the talking for you. After last night, you can’t stop thinking about how this is the worst thing that could happen to you. All your enemies were ganging up against you. When you said this to Yoongi, along with how your ‘date’ with Seokjin had gone, he merely smiled at your crazed whispers, “I don’t think so, Y/N”. You had felt like screaming at him, but you were too sleepy. 

Seokjin is sitting on the other side of the table, with his lawyer. It seems like a divorce, but it’s funnily a marriage contract. 

Seokjin and you have decided on all the rules already. The marriage is going to be for precisely 26 months starting from the month of the contract. You would get married in two weeks, and you’re going to shift to Seokjin’s condo. You would argue that your house is definitely bigger, and better located than his, but Yoongi insisted. The contract involved going to parties, events, social occasions together. Celebrating anniversaries, initially bimonthly, then two public anniversaries. Private events too, dreamy pictures of an ideal couple in love. 

“How about a honeymoon?” Seokjin’s lawyer, Hoseok, asks casually. Your jaw drops, eyes widening. You’re looking at Yoongi, then at Seokjin, but no one’s batting a lash. 

“I’m okay with it.”

“I’m not!” You lash out at Seokjin, who’s stunned. You wish Yoongi would stop staying silent, but he’s too busy staring at the other lawyer’s fingers. “I can’t go on a vacation with you.” 

This time Yoongi speaks up. “Why not, Y/N?”

“Because I can’t stay in a freaking honeymoon hotel room with this man. Plus, going on a trip would mean doing things together-”

“Not necessarily.” Seokjin’s voice is steely. “We can stay in separate rooms, do different things. No one will notice, if we arrange it well.” You’re still in disbelief.

“He’s right. You’ll have to make this believable, Y/N, to completely disassociate yourself from the scandal.” 

His words hit hard, and you find your courage recoiling. 

Seokjin is staring intently at you, he can see the wheels turning in your head. “What’s the loan amount?”

“Sixteen billion won.” 

He nods his head. “It’ll be arranged to be given all at once. Y/N can repay me in instalments, does that work?” He slowly reaches his hand across the table to hover over your hand, and you flinch. “Yeah, it’ll work.”

“Great!” Hoseok flashes you all a smile, that’s quite starkly different from Yoongi’s calm and grim attitude. Your best friend does seem quite captivated by the smile. “We have a deal?” You nod, as Seokjin signs the papers, followed by you. When you shake hands and look into his eyes, you hope he can see the resentment in your eyes and expect no forgiveness. 

___

Your father doesn’t walk you down the aisle, on the day of your marriage. You walk down it yourself, in your elegant white dress that has roses embroidered in beautiful colours and patterns all over the bodice. You don’t wear a veil, your hair is let down, and you’re walking with a stone cold face. As you near the altar, you can see a man looking impeccable in a suit, looking at you with focus and intent. Seokjin looks as fine as ever, and you’re suddenly conscious but you don’t care less. This is not your wedding, it’s just an act. And you’ve always been able to act since you were a kid. First in school plays, then in real life, when you’ve had to hide your fury and tears and put on a smile for your Papa’s sake. He doesn’t even smile seeing you getting married, although your mother and sister are already tearing up. You see Seokjin’s parents sitting right next to them, beaming. You don’t understand why. 

Yoongi is your maid of honour. He’s wearing a baby blue suit, and looking dashing. Hoseok is Seokjin’s best man. He’s smiling brightly at everyone in the room, but he doesn’t know that Yoongi keeps looking at him. You smile at the sight, at least someone’s happy in this arrangement. 

When you stand in front of Seokjin, you feel his stare burning down into you. It wasn’t necessarily negative or angry, it was simply… curious. Hesitant. Shy, but eager. You hadn’t seen this side of him earlier. He looks perfect, his black hair pushed up to expose his forehead, strong shoulders the focus of his suit, and his posture straight. You look like a nervous wreck, barely holding up. 

You deserve better from fate. 

The priest begins to read the vows, looking at Seokjin, who’s looking at you. When he reaches the crucial part, the words roll off his tongue, smooth like butter, as if he’s practised: “I do.”

It’s not so smooth for you, even though you have practised. You stutter, stumble, and force yourself to smile. The nerves have never got you this bad. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you hate the man you’re marrying? Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re Alice falling down the rabbit hole? Maybe it’s because this feels too realistic? Because you’ve dreamt of this over and over again when Seokjin would whisper secret wishes of putting his babies into you when you were young, wild and carefree? 

Maybe because you’ve always wanted to marry him. No one but him. Even if you hate him. He’s the only man in this world who you’ve ever really cared about. The flings who came and went after that were nothing but sexual encounters you needed for your body. Your heart had never been aroused by anyone but… 

“Do you, L/N Y/N, take Kim Seokjin, as your lawfully wedded husband?”

You realise that the priest has been repeating this sentence. You’re brought back to reality, and you’re hesitant, until…

Seokjin winks at you. 

Fucking winks at you. 

Your mind cannot process it, and you blush out of instinct. 

“I do.”

The man standing in front of you smiles with his eyes first, then his lips part in a beautiful smile. 

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest addresses the groom, who bends down, hesitant, eyes full of questions. You blink once, indicating you’re ready. He smells like roses, when his rosy lips press a kiss to yours. His hands grip your waist, and you melt to his warm touch. When he moves back, you’re both smiling. You don’t know what you’re thinking about. 

The past? Or the present? Or the future?

Your heart beats fast. 

___

After the ceremony is over, there’s an elaborate lunch. Your father sheds fake tears, you drink a lot of wine, and there’s many wishes for a happy married life. You smile too much, your jaws hurt. When Seokjin kisses you softly again mid-dance, when everyone is waiting for you two to show some affection as a newly-married giddy couple, he makes you forget everyone else. He’s always had this effect on you. You want to protest but you like it a little too much for even your own liking. Everyone is happy with how your wedding went, you can’t wait to crash at Yoongi’s place with soju and drink yourself to sleep. 

Since you’re too tired from the stress of the wedding, Hoseok drives you and Yoongi to the latter’s house. Yoongi’s house is radically different from your own. While you had gone for light pastels and airy sunshiney shades, Yoongi had the walls painted a dark grey. But you had to admit, Yoongi’s minimalistic art sense made even the grey look elegant. 

When you reach his house, you spot Yoongi trying to say something but hesitating. Reading his mind, you say, “Hoseok, join us!”

“No no, I don’t wanna barge into best friend time, I’m leaving!” Hoseok smiles widely, his entire face so bright even after the exhaustion of the day. Yoongi speaks up, finally mustering some courage, “No, Hoseok, you don’t have to leave! We’re just going to drink up. It’s cool if you stay. The more the merrier.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yup yup.” Your best friend needs no more confirmation. He’s already setting down three glasses and bottles of soju, and arranging the snacks. 

“Thanks!” 

Six bottles of soju disappear fast. You quickly learn that although initially, Hoseok is the one chattering the most, laughing out loud and basically hyped at everything, he eventually slows down his incessant flow of talking as the alcohol increases, and Yoongi fills in the gaps as he’s more talkative when drunk. They sit next to each other, unconsciously touching each other, and Hoseok is definitely looking at Yoongi with puppy eyes as he’s more and more drunk. 

You learn that Hoseok has known Seokjin for the past five years, and has now become his business partner and lawyer. Also his best friend. Naturally he knows everything about his past. Well, not everything. Even he doesn’t know exactly why Seokjin disappeared on you. He never got to that part of the story when narrating history in drunk rants. 

It’s fun bitching about Seokjin. Hoseok has a good sense of humour, and together the three of you have endless jokes about his narcissism, his stuck-up attitude, his babyish nature, and his winks. When you tell them that he winked at you during the ceremony, Hoseok falls into Yoongi’s lap, laughing. You’re too intoxicated to know if the fall was intentional. 

Ten bottles down, you’re too sleepy to continue talking. Your jaws hurt even more now because you’ve talked so much, but it’s a good pain. Your ribs hurt because you’ve laughed so hard after so, so many years. 

When you’re falling asleep on the floor, putting your arm below your head as a cushion, you see Hoseok already sleeping on a cushion right next to Yoongi, who’s staring at him intently. You smile at your best friend. Yoongi’s always been shy about any ideas of romance, and you think Hoseok’s the same under the mask of that bright, smiling face. It’s a nice thought to fall asleep to. 

___

Things don’t go back to normal immediately. After about a week, the media ceases to talk about the scandal. And more about other things, like how you’re spending your newly married life with Kim Seokjin, who had been dubbed as “Worldwide Handsome” after he had overtaken some famous K-drama actors in terms of looks in a recent poll. Although you had shifted into his house, you had yet to have much conversation with him. This was because his house had a convenient feature- it was a duplex. So the second floor was completely yours, and you also had a separate door to it. There was no need for pretence either when friends (read, only Yoongi, and sometimes Hoseok) came to visit. They all knew about the arrangement. The only people who didn’t know were Seokjin’s parents, but they had returned to the USA soon after the wedding so there wasn’t any undue intrusion from them either. To the outside world, you were a couple in their honeymoon period, rarely going out of your house because you were busy doing… coupley things? 

But in reality, you both were stuck up in your rooms, working from home. You barely came out of your new room, which you had quickly furnished as per your taste and brought your belongings over to, and Seokjin never came up to your floor. You would often get take-out, or make something easy in your shared kitchen, but your routine was quite different from Seokjin’s. You were more of a night person, so you’d wake up later than him and your entire day would go by on a +2 hours schedule than his. You never clashed. 

In that week, you had four encounters in all. The first day, Hoseok and Yoongi had come over, signing more contracts ensuring that you got the money to pay off the loan from the scandal. Seokjin made lunch for you all. Surely it was just a coincidence that it was the same thing he had made for your one year anniversary back in college and you had enjoyed it so much that he had made it every night for the week after that too. 

The second encounter was three days after that, when you had to talk to him about bringing over your furniture to your new room. It was a ten-minute discussion, with you standing in the doorway of the hall, him sitting on the sofa, and you couldn’t help but notice, wearing a dapper white suit that made his skin glow in the morning when you were barely awake and simply dressed in a blue dress.

The third and fourth encounter happened on the seventh day. Early in the morning he had appeared at your door, asking you if you were free for lunch. You really weren’t free, because of a meeting… that you could have rescheduled, to be honest, but he didn’t press about it when you said that you were not free. You were quite thankful that he had not insisted. Later, you had ordered pizza, and you were waiting near the door because the delivery man was about to arrive at any moment. Suddenly the door burst open and a very sweaty Seokjin burst in. It was nine in the night, and you’d expected him to have fallen him asleep because of his regular schedule, but here it seemed that he had just come back from… gym? “I didn’t know you worked out?” “Nope, that’s too much hard work. I run.” He leans on the kitchen counter, getting back his breath, and you ogle at his lean figure. “You’re…?” “I ordered pizza, waiting for that.” “Oh.” He proceeds to drink water, and in his hurry, he drips some of it on his shirt, which is already wet from sweat. “Would you like some? I’m not going to be able to eat it all anyway.” “Nah, thank you.” He smoothly walked away into his room. Maybe to shower? You didn’t want to think about it. 

That night, the dreams returned. The first time you had seen him play basketball in your college campus, his muscular arms on display in the sleeveless tank top he wore. Three weeks after that, he had given you that tank top. When you woke up, the dream still fresh in your mind, you walked up to your wardrobe and found the tank top. It had been too loose for you, and that was your excuse for never wearing it since he had left. But now, you suddenly wanted to wear it again. If it was yours, you had every right to wear it, didn’t you? Plus, it was a Sunday, he was most probably not at home. You had heard from Hoseok that Seokjin often spent Sundays with him and a few other friends from his work. You had the entire house to yourself, and frankly speaking you had been waiting for this day. 

It seemed, nothing was going to go according to your plans. 

On getting out of your shower, you decided to go down and make coffee for yourself. Putting on music on your phone, you walked down slowly. Wearing the tank top and shorts, you had gone into chill mode, finally getting a day to yourself when you didn’t have to work nor would you have to worry about anything else. 

You walk down the stairs in a house of complete silence, but when you put your foot on the first floor, four men pounce out of a room, showering you with bursts of laughter and boisterous shouting. You stare at them in complete shock, faces you do not recognise at all, except two. You notice now that there are more than four men- four stand in a line, shy but still giggling, among which Hoseok had his hand over his mouth hiding his smile.The other three were unfamiliar, until you see Seokjin step up from one side, his entire face red and embarrassed. 

“Noona!” All the three men who you didn’t recognise call out your name with adorable smiles. They’re grown up men, wearing adult clothes, but when they call you out, they sound like children and the smiles on their faces are childish. You want to squish their cheeks. Seokjin shushes them with a finger, and you smile at him. 

One boy steps up and bows to you. “Y/N Noona, I am Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!” He’s tall, but not taller than Seokjin. He has many piercings and is wearing an all black outfit, but his entire demeanour is smiley and cute. Another boy steps up, “And I’m Jiminie, and this is Taehyungie!” They have smaller builds than Jungkook but Taehyung is definitely taller than Jimin and Jungkook. They stand with the brightest smiles on their faces. “They’re here from Chicago. They’re my cousins,” Hoseok explains, “but they love Jin hyung more than me! They’re here to see you specially.” You smile instantly, your heart having already warmed towards the boys. You love the bright positive energy that they’ve brought into the house, that’s otherwise so silent and boring. One-by-one you hug each of them, but before you can talk to them, Seokjin asks them to sit in the living room, and pulls you away to his room. 

“What’s up?” His hold on your wrist softens, but his thumb lightly grazes on it. “They know… about the arrangement… and the past.” You look up at him, and gulp. “Okay.” “Yeah- and they may say stuff that’s…” “They’re kids, I won’t blame them.” Seokjin scoffs, “Jungkookie is 24 now. Not a kid anymore. Not that he’ll say anything. It’s Jimin and sometimes Tae- they don’t know where to draw the line sometimes. They can be blunt.” You furrow your eyebrows. “But I won’t feel hurt about anything. Nothing was my fault.” Seokjin’s eyes become stern, and you feel him pushing you gently to a wall. “Are you sure? Let’s not blame everything on me.” “I’m just speaking the truth.” You don’t back down, and stare back at him. His hand slips higher up your wrist, to your arm, and he lifts it to check on a bandaid that you had put on your arm last night. He raises his eyebrows. “I cut myself while shaving my arms.” He sighs in relief and rubs it softly. “Be safe.” Before moving out of the cage he had enclosed you in, he picks up your arm and places a feather kiss on the skin just below the bandaid. It sends shivers down your spine, especially when he leaves you abruptly after that, leaving you cold and exposed. 

You waddle your way back into the living room.

___

You learn that although the plan was originally that the boys would meet at Hoseok’s place, the Maknaes had arrived at Seokjin’s apartment and had insisted on surprising you, in spite of your husband’s protests. You were thankful that they were high, truly. They had a lot of energy and made the house seem like a home again with their childish and chill behaviour. Hoseok was your age, but around the Maknaes, he was also young and wild. Now you see why Yoongi liked him so much. Even Seokjin was laughing, although there were multiple times he spoiled the laughter in the room with his awful jokes. 

You end up ordering pizza, and lounge in the living room. The television is blaring out some music, and in a corner, Hoseok and Jungkook are dancing like maniacs. Taehyung is clicking pictures of everything, laughing to himself. Jimin is busy making amazing cocktails for all of you. And what about you and Seokjin? You’re probably sitting this close after years, and finally doing an inkling of what the newspapers expected y’all to be doing. But you were overthinking it. He was merely sitting next to you. So what if you were slightly leaning into his body, attracted to the warmth? So what if you could smell the roses on him? So what if he had wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and was gently patting your hair? Nothing suspicious. Jimin was wiggling his eyebrows at you both for nothing. 

___

“Y’all are comfy.” Taehyung asks out of the blue, when you all are huddled around the pizza, on the carpet. Instantly you’re blushing, and Seokjin moves away from you by an inch. “It’s nothing,” But Tae doesn’t stop. “Even if you’re upset about the marriage now, Jin hyung, you and Y/N have great chemistry.” Jimin nods and pipes in, “And great history.”

Hoseok pinches them, but they seem oblivious to it. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice as he’s wolfing down the pizza slices. But there’s an odd tension forming between you and Seokjin. You can’t deny that although you tried to stay away from him, you had often unconsciously leaned into the familiar comfort that Seokjin provided. It was something your mind did not control, it was something your body caught on to by default of memory. 

It was awful. You hated that you felt nice by sitting next to him, not even exchanging words. Merely the idea that he was there with you being comforting made you hate yourself. 

Hoseok broke the silence by asking Tae if he wanted more pizza, and the young boys continued their excited chattering again. 

But your mood did not go back to what it was before Taehyung ruined it by speaking the truth. The truth you detested. 

___

The weeks after that passed by smoothly. You began to go back to work, people congratulating you on the wedding, and smirking at you when hinting about your super-secret honeymoon. The media went back to talking about things unrelated to you, your life was functioning just fine. 

Except one thing. 

Seokjin. 

You two had fallen into quite a rhythm. You would get up, shower and go down to the first floor. You would find Seokjin almost leaving the house. He’d look at you once before leaving, and you would find breakfast on the kitchen counter. After finishing breakfast, you’d leave the house. In the evening, you would ask Seokjin if he would be eating at home, to which he would reply in monosyllables. Since you generally returned home earlier than him, you would do the dishes, order some kind of takeout if you didn’t feel like cooking, or try to cook something and end up making a mess of it. Then you’d eat dinner by yourself, and go up to your room. If Seokjin did return home for dinner, he would eat whatever you had conjured and then go into his room. 

Then repeat the entire routine the next day. 

It wasn’t a bad routine. All your life you had craved to live alone, and for the last ten years you had enjoyed that. You’d feared marriage would take away that independence, but this arrangement worked very well for you. Too well, in fact. You probably would never want to change it. 

There was just one issue that irritated you. 

It had been three weeks since the last time you had gotten laid. And the last time was with the motherfucker who began the scandal. So when your hormones decided to go berserk, you had little to help yourself with. 

On one hand, it felt weird to go find a random date. Firstly, if the media found out, it would be the end of your life. And … perhaps less importantly, and honestly, you didn’t even know why it came up in your mind, but it felt strange to fuck someone else when the man you had always wanted to fuck was literally in the same house as you. 

On the other hand, you found no sensible reason in your mind when your hormones hit the horny extreme of the scale at midnight and you felt your finger inching downward and your panties slick. You knew very well you could use your vibrator to relieve yourself, get yourself just one high and that would be all. But you didn’t want to. Mostly because seeing Seokjin every day made you think of him. And how he felt. And how he had loved you. Once, before it all went wrong. 

___

“Three cheers to Y/N for coming back with a bang!” 

Everyone cheered loudly, clinking glasses and you smiled. It was a work dinner, one after many days. Everyone wanted to drink their recent stress away by getting together. Most of your floor was here at this work dinner, but you were paying for it all. It hurt your pocket, but it was a good move to keep morale boosted. Naturally, everyone was drinking without any control. Soju, whisky, beer, vodka, tequila, cocktails. Nothing was banned from the table tonight. And to be fair, even you enjoyed unwinding with your colleagues after a stressful month. 

Pretty soon, you all were drunk and chaotic in the bar that you had booked for your party. Despite some of them being older than thirty-five, almost everyone was dancing and chaotically singing to the karaoke in the corner. Some had fallen asleep on the couch, one was crying as they were missing their ex-boyfriend, and only one person was barely drunk but they were wolfing down the samgyeopsal with too much fervour. 

You were among those people who were drunk-dancing and singing in the worst tunes. You had always been close to your colleagues- not particularly friends, but you knew you could count on them. So now, when they compelled you to do girl-group dances with you, you didn’t think twice before joining. When a boy-group song came on, you all swooned at the visuals of the handsome idols, laughing and dancing to the beat. It was quite the mood, lasting till 2 am in the night, when the bar owner came to ask you to wrap up, as it was getting too late. You were too inebriated to understand his words clearly, but you got the gist from what your colleagues explained to you in spite of being equally drunk. Some readily bid their goodbyes, bowing to you for such a good evening, and clicking selfies with you. Others were drooling on the couch, and sending them home was quite the task. You didn’t want the drunk-daze to wash off you, but all these efforts made you more and more sober. 

When you came out on the street, opening your phone to call Yoongi to pick you up, you found a text from him, saying that he was busy tonight. Puckering your lips in an irritated expression, you considered who else you could call. You briefly considered Seokjin, but it would be too much of an inconvenience for him. Plus, you didn’t want to risk being around him when you were drunk. You’d either get incredibly desperate to kiss him, or kill him. 

Kim Namjoon. Your finger hovered over the contact one time before you decided to hit the call button. Namjoon was used to this, anyway. 

“Hello?”

“Hi-” you could hear your words slur, and slight shuffling from his end indicating that he was probably sitting up from bed. 

“What’s up, Y/N?”

You giggle at his concerned voice. “Nothing babe.”

“Y/N, are you drunk?”

“Is it that evident?” You giggle again. 

“Where are you?” You could hear him getting up and walking. You look up at the flashing signboard of the bar, which was now closing down, and tell him the name. 

“Okay, hang on. I’m coming.”

______________

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in Namjoon’s car, smiling at how he was focusing on driving through the dark streets of Seoul. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“But it’s so past your bed-time.” He laughs. “You remember?” “Of course, Namjoon.” It’s a red traffic signal. He looks at you for a second too long, and you know what he’s thinking. 

“I miss you.” You lean over to kiss his cheek. You can feel that it’s warm, but he’s always been like this. Quietly shy. He clears his throat and drives on as the green light flashes.

“How’s Seokjin?” He asks you after a while. 

“He’s … fine?”

“I’m happy for you.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to be.”

“But I’m not pretending. Really!” He smiles at you, his eyes honest. You can see that he’s not lying. Namjoon has never lied to you. Unlike Seokjin.

“I know you love him. Even after all these years.” You smile at him fondly. You can’t even be mad at Namjoon for speaking the truth that you’ve tried to hide so desperately. He knows enough of your past to have figured out the truth of your arranged marriage with his intelligence. 

When he looks at you again, staring deep into your eyes. You can feel the blood rush to your face, and you don’t know what you’re thinking but you ask, “Can I kiss you?”

He smiles, his eyes bright because of the lights on the streets. 

“No, Y/N. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

You can see the pain in his eyes. But this is why you love him. He knows what’s good for you, and never pushes you to do what he wants. 

Oh, how you wish Seokjin could be like this. 

That’s the last thought before you fall asleep in his car. 

___ When you wake up the next morning, everything seems to be aching. Your head, your arms, the soles of your feet. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a sight that intensifies your headache. 

“Seokjin?” 

He’s literally staring down at you, sitting next to you in your bed. You realise you’re still wearing the clothes you wore at work, and then to the party, last night. You probably smell awful, and look even worse. You’re half scared that Seokjin will scream at you for waking up late and missing work. 

But that’s when it hits you. There’s enough sunlight pouring in from the window for you to understand it must be at least past 10 am. And Seokjin is sitting in a t-shirt and shorts, his hair ruffled, and a frown on his face. Isn’t he also missing work?

“Where were you last night?”

“There was a work dinner.”

“But whoever brought you home was not your colleague.”

Your eyes widen. “How the fuck do you know?”

“I know every employee that works in your company. I’ve never seen this one’s face before.”

“What the hell, Kim Seokjin,” you groan, while trying to sit up. But he’s sitting too close for you to sit up without kicking him. 

“I’m asking you something.”

“What?” you snap.

“Who was he?”

“Namjoon.”

“Yes, he said that. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“He’s a friend.”

“Really?” He raises his eyebrows. You lean in, taking his challenge. You’re almost breathing the same air as him, and your breath hitches slightly. “Yes,” you tell him, not looking away. “Then why didn’t he come for our wedding?” You’re a little stunned, but you retort. “He’s not that close.” “Yet, you called him instead of me to pick you up when you were drunk. Yet, you clung to him when he brought you home when you weren’t sober. Yet, you’re defending him, right now as we speak.”

“Ugh!” Seokjin’s rapping at this point, his words coming out so fast. He’s always been good at arguing. 

“Why are you so interested to know?” You stare back.

“Why are you defending him?” He stares back. 

You stay like that for two minutes. Two solid minutes, because it’s so silent that you can hear the clock. 

You’re the first to give up. “Okay! We were a little more than friends.” 

His jaw clenches, you can see the cogs turn in his head. 

“So what?” 

“Nothing.” He gets up, walking away slowly. His long legs on perfect display as the shorts hang low on his hips.  

You ask again before he can leave the room. 

“Seokjin?”

“I didn’t know you dated after me.”

He pauses, looking back at you, his hand on the half-open door. 

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” 

And he leaves you speechless. 

___

The next few days, you and Seokjin hardly spoke to each other. Even if you were sitting together on the couch watching the news, even if you were both making coffee in the kitchen, even if you accidentally bumped into each other in the house. He seemed to be purposely silent. Every effort to start the conversation was made by you, but whenever you asked him anything he’d either grunt or nod. 

“I don’t know why he’s behaving like this. I mean, it’s not like we’re talking a lot anyway, but this is just too odd. He’s never this silent. Even last week, we were joking while watching a movie together. He bought me food last Thursday. But now- it’s all back to zero. No progress. I don’t know what’s up.”

You rant to Yoongi, who’s furiously typing on his laptop, next to you. 

“He’s acting up.” “What?” You gulp your coffee. “Why would he do that?”

“He wants attention. Y/N, is it that hard to understand?” You scornfully laugh. “He has enough attention. All the media can do is talk about him anyway.” Just a couple of days ago, Seokjin had modelled for a magazine featuring his success story. “Why do you need to model? It’s a fucking business magazine, publishing a business article. Why do they need you to wear Louis Vuitton and pose?” Seokjin had merely smirked, and said, “Because I look good.”

“No, you thick headed girl. He wants attention from you.” 

“Why?” You’re genuinely annoyed at Yoongi now for his ridiculous statements.

“He wants you to give him a chance to explain. For the past.” Yoongi finally looks up from his work. “Talk to him, maybe. Tell him why you feel what you feel. Give him another chance.”

You scoff. “Not even in his wildest dreams.”

“At this point, you’re just being unreasonable.”

“Huh?” 

“You can trust a random guy like Namjoon enough to drive you home when you’re drunk, but you can’t trust your husband?”

“Namjoon is not a random guy!”

“But you’ve known him for just a year.”

“He treats me much better than Seokjin, anyway. That’s what counts.”

“Sure, Namjoon is a great guy. No denying that. But Seokjin deserves another chance, I think.”

And with that, Yoongi went back to his laptop.

___

But you had no idea what Seokjin had been up to recently. When you were talking to Yoongi, he was sitting in his car, waiting for a certain individual to show up. He was wearing his shades, although he was sitting inside his car. He had worn black on black, to bring out his most formidable side. 

“Hello?” Namjoon got into the car, looking quizzically at Seokjin. He was wearing a loose plaid shirt and shorts, his hair cropped really short. How did Y/N even like him? “Why did you call me here? And how did you know how to contact me?”

He pressed a finger on his lips, shutting Namjoon up. “You know very well why.” Namjoon stared back at him. “... no?”

“Are you this dumb?”

“Generally, no. Your presence has not changed that status, contrary to what you might be thinking. Seokjin scoffed and got straight to the point. “How do you know Y/N?”

“Huh?” Namjoon was a little taken aback, but recovered quickly. “We’ve known each other for a little over a year. We dated for a few months, then we were friends.”

“Just friends?”

“We did sleep together occasionally. But we were both too scared of commitment to date seriously. Especially because I knew that if I date her, I would fall in too deep to ever be able to move on from her. I couldn’t do that to me, nor to her, not when I knew that she still loved you.”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to look incredulous. 

“She does not love me.”

Namjoon smirks. 

“Sure. That’s why she’s cried endless nights for you, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you left her.”

Seokjin is too surprised to continue. 

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Namjoon scoffs again, but before Seokjin can recover his senses, he stepped out of the car. “If your little interrogation is over, I have somewhere to be. Talk to her. Goodbye.”

___

“To Y/N!” The menace known as your husband winks at you again, and you can’t help but choke on your wine as you drink to the toast he raised to you.

It’s been two months since your marriage, and your father insisted that you two host a two month-anniversary. You don’t know why you agreed to it, maybe because you didn’t want the rumours to come back. You wanted your marriage to last. At least in the eyes of the public. Not in your own life. 

Everyone claps, and someone begins whistling, “Kiss! Kiss!” as if it’s a bloody kiss cam in a baseball match. Shockingly, everyone, including Hoseok, the Maknaes whom he brought along to the party, and Yoongi, join in the chant. 

Jin’s lips twitch slightly. You know he doesn’t like this either, but when he leans in, you close your eyes and let him take over. 

And take over he does. 

He doesn’t let you breathe as he kisses you, his mouth slightly open, his breath sweet like roses, his tongue barely prying into your mouth but you part nonetheless because you like his gentle force on your small lips. His tongue swipes over your lips once, making you gasp and smile into the kiss. It’s a close like old times, you can taste the wine on your lips and you can’t help but want more. 

“Y/N…” he whispers as he moves back slowly. 

You bite your lower lip. 

“I love you.”

It’s awful timing, and you almost miss the words. It slowly registers into you what he just said. And you breathe in, parting your mouth to stay something, but he interrupts you. 

“And I’m sorry.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you just stay silent. He looks at you in expectation, but there’s too much going on for you to comprehend. You’re overwhelmed, and right now the dominant emotion is one of extreme longing. So you do what your heart and body tells you to do, instead of what your brain asks you to do. 

You pull his hand, and take him away from the banquet hall where you had organised the party. Once you’re outside on the isolated stairs, dimly lit and no one’s around you, Seokjin looks at you with confused eyes, looking like a tiny puppy. You smile in endearment, before pulling his lips into yours. And he doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Y/N…”

“Shhhh…”

He kisses you harder, pushing you against the wall, your bare back hitting the cold stone, as his hands slide up your ribbons along your waist. You know how turned on he is by the growing force in his touch. When he pulls back, you’re unable to breathe, and you visibly pant. You’re sure your lipstick is ruined, and he smirks at you. 

“Ramyeon meokgo gallae?”

___

You know that everyone back at the party must have a million questions, with the host couple disappearing in the middle of it. But you couldn’t care less. Not when his lips are on your neck, sucking and biting softly, and your hands are tangled in his smooth locks. You’re already turned on beyond control. It’s only now that it hits you with full force how much you had missed him. For the longest time, you had been too shy to expose your body to anyone else and tried to take care of your needs by yourself, the memories of Seokjin were too strong. But when you did allow someone else to touch you, you became reckless and thoughtless. You stopped caring about making love. It was just fucking someone new every weekend, and then moving on. Namjoon had threatened to change that, but he had stepped back in time. He knew that he would be the only one falling in love, and you did not want to break his heart. 

But tonight brought back the memories of your first night with Seokjin. The night when you had lost your innocence and your heart forever to the one man who could make your heart warm with a simple smile and wash away all your worries with just a cute face. 

He’s struggling to take off your dress, and you giggle at how concentrated he is, his eyebrows furrowed. “Seokjin-” “Hmm?” He looks at you, his gaze soft and tender. 

“Can we take it slow?” 

Realisation hits him like a storm. He steps back. “I’m so sorry-” “No!” “No, I’m sorry if I rushed you.” You cup his face in your palms. He continues to whisper apologies, but you press a kiss onto his lips to shut him up.

“Stop.”

He looks at you, his face small in your hand. He looks just like he did all those years ago, cute but handsome. 

“No, let me explain.”

He takes your hand and brings you to the couch. You both sit down, your hands clasped in his own. “Let me explain why I left you in my last year of college.” You shake your head, not ready to ruin this moment, but he doesn't stop. 

“When I started seeing you, I did not know who your father was. I was scared- when my mother took ill, I had to peddle drugs to continue my education and provide her with a decent treatment. When I found out that your father was a big-shot businessman, I had to detach myself from you. Because if he knew that we were together, he would’ve hurt you. And it was easier for me to see you hate me rather than hate everyone else around you because of me. But…” You stared at him, waiting. “Go on?”

“There’s, umm, more.”

“Yes?” You ask, your mind hazy with all the information. 

“But I was not able to hide from your father. He found out about us, and he threatened to send me away from the country to separate us. I didn’t have any option but to move away from you. I’m sorry.” His voice wavers when he notices the silent tears falling from your eyes, you biting your lips. 

“Y/N… don’t cry, please.”

“No no, but there’s something I don’t understand…”

“How I founded the startup and the story moved on till here?” You slowly nod your head. “When your father forced us away, I was hell-bent to take revenge. I needed to show him that I was worth his daughter’s hand in marriage, even if we never ended up together.”

You gasp. “So the scandal…?”

“When I disappeared and came back after a few years to start my company, you father had not recognised me at all whenever we met.” Seokjin laughs, “but I had never forgotten him. The scandal was a coincidence. But even if it hadn’t happened, I was determined to find my way back to you, Y/N.” He picks up your hand and kisses it softly, and you feel a single tear fall on your fingers. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

You have nothing to say, you’re rendered speechless. You simply lean forward to kiss his forehead, and stay like that for a while. “I’m sorry if I ruined the mood.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh out loudly. It’s good to hear his high-pitched laugh after so long, and you look at him fondly. “I’m sorry too, Seokjin,for hurting you.” “Don’t apologise, love.” He hugs you gently, and you melt in his embrace. 

“Thank you.” You whisper in his ear.

“For?”

“Spoiling the mood. We needed to have this talk now. We can always do the nasty later.” He laughs out again, your bodies shaking. He presses a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you, baby.”

You smile, your heart finally at peace.

“I love you too, Seokjin.”

The IKEA Test (M) | KSJ

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: established relationship au || smut, fluff

word count: 9.1k

summary: One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

warnings: dom!seokjin, sub!reader, sir kink, use of slut/whore, dirty talk, spanking, but spanking with a belt 😳, impact play, oral (f receiving), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, hair pulling, IKEA-induced frustration, non-sexual talk of pegs and holes, seokjin ultimately being Best Boyfriend Material™

notes: inspired by how I’ve never felt more grateful to be single than when I had to assemble some IKEA furniture. I promise I’m not getting commission from IKEA for product placement.

When you had told Hoseok that you wouldn’t be able to hang out this weekend because you and Seokjin had plans to assemble your new bed frame, he had laughed at you and said that it was nice to have known the pair of you as a couple. 

You had taken his joke in stride and laughed with him, knowing that for any couple to truly go the distance, they would need to pass the IKEA test: make it through an IKEA store and assemble an IKEA product without breaking up.

You and Seokjin had passed the first part of the IKEA test with flying colors. You both had easily agreed to purchase the BRIMNES storage bed, liking how the drawers underneath the bed would help you maximize the space in your bedroom. Although, your easy decision might have more to do with the fact that you had simply ordered your bed frame online rather than spending a whole afternoon in IKEA. 

All that was left was for you to actually assemble the bed frame. Surely the two of you could do that. 

Or so you had thought.

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The Truth Untold | ksj

Pairing: bestfriend!Seokjin x singlemother!reader, singledad!btsmember x female!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 22,340

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): profanity, mention of divorce, mega angst, mention of child birth, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), shower sex woop woop, nipple play, morning sex, dirty talk, slight fem!dom, it took me three years to write this story and I am so thankful that it is finally finished Rated: 18+

Summary: When a job opportunity arises in the hometown you left seven years ago, you return with the gift that was never made known to the one person who hasn’t left your mind. Despite the love interest tugging on your heartstrings, you wonder where he may be; tired of suppressing the guilt for hiding the biggest secret you have ever withheld. Now, after all this time, the truth is approaching much sooner than you anticipate, and the untold story of why you left will soon be revealed.

Co-author:  @yoonoclock​ (suhflix) is the first human whose writing I fell in love with and her talent never ceases to amaze me! This collab right here is an absolute dream come true and this story can finally be told after years of the idea living rent free within my brain. I love you so much my Monnie! Seriously thank you so much for cowriting this piece with me. 

Credits to: @dee-ehn​ for making such a beautiful cover, it truly embodies the story. Thank you so frickin frackin much!

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𝐋𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝙆𝙞𝙢 𝙎𝙚𝙤𝙠𝙟𝙞𝙣 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚑𝚞𝚑? 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝙹𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝…

                      Pairing: Seokjin/Reader

Word count: 10k Warnings: friends to lovers, soft dom!reader, sub!Jin. teasing, oral sex (f), orgasm control/denial, messy sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, overstimulation and aftercare.

a/n: This work was a paid commission. If you would like me to write you a full length smut that’s designed for your tastes (scenarios, kinks, biases) then please feel free to message me for a quote, or contact me via Twitter (RatedxBangtann)

                    “You know that you and wine aren’t a good mix, y/n…” Jin chuckled and yet, he continued to pour a large glass of red wine for you as you leaned over the kitchen island, watching him.

“Depends on your perspective, my friend!” you laughed, “I say we are a good mix. What’s wrong with a little liquid confidence, hmm?”

“Everything, when it makes you confident enough to dance on the bar at the BigHit Christmas party…” he reminded, eyebrows raised as he slid the glass across the counter towards you.

“Okay, you need to stop using that as an example every time I have a glass of wine, Jinnie. One glass is harmless!” you brought the lip of the glass to your own lips and took a sip, savouring the bitterness with the fruity aftertaste. Delicious.

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borderlines I ⤑ ksj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝years after your confession to seokjin was rejected, you both are in line to take over your family’s respective businesses. despite being his brother’s best friend, seokjin has heard neither hide nor hair from you, nor has he made any substantial progress in his romantic life after a failed engagement. when his family suggests an arranged marriage, he agrees it is for the best. when they suggest he marry you, well, that’s when things get interesting.〞best friend’s brother au. betrothal au. arranged engagement au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: ceo!seokjin x ceo!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ∝ fluff ∝ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 28k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: hard dom!seokjin, big cock!seokjin, possessive!seokjin, bratty sub!reader, making out, heavy petting, teasing, marking, scratching, biting, grinding, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, degradation, light humiliation, wet and messy, praise, begging, praise, fingering, handjob, edging, orgasm control,  male masturbation, cumshot

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: SCREAM FINALLY PART FUCKING ONE !!! i was SUPPOSED to post as a oneshot but honestly this fic is way too big to do that 😭 either way!! I hope you enjoy this!!

⤑ Part I | Part II ⇥ coming soon

⏤ edited by the wonderful @guktro​ / beta read by the lovely @yeoldontknow​, @nightshadevinter​, @jeonsjiddies​, @inthecrescentmoonight​ and @sunshinekims​

“Um… I- I l-like you,” you mumble out with a stammer, your eyes are downcast and fixated onto the marble flooring as you shuffle from foot to foot. However, the moment you utter the words, Seokjin’s eyes widen.

At the age of twenty-one - and soon nearing twenty-two - the last thing Seokjin had anticipated, was spending one of his few days off from university at the eighteenth birthday celebration of his younger brother’s best friend. Realistically, he only attended out of obligation: you’re the only daughter and heir of the Seo Group, while he’s the oldest heir to the Kim Empire. The two different conglomerations ran two completely different businesses, with the Seo Group focusing on the global hospitality industry, while the Kim Empire had a monopoly on the global aviation industry. Despite their differences, however, the two went hand in hand. After all, most people flying abroad would need to stay at some sort of hotel or lodging.

Thus, unlike his younger brother, Kim Taehyung - who attended the party in order to celebrate his best friend’s birthday - Seokjin had only shown up in order to network and form contacts for business. Especially since, in spite of this being your birthday, it was still a lavish affair with various different affluential families, and business partners attending. That had been his sole purpose for attending. In fact, if it was anyone else, or any other event, he’d skip it in order to spend time with his friends. However, soon, he’d inherit the presidency of the main company from his mother, and then eventually, the entire empire from the chairman, and his grandfather. 

Nonetheless, the last thing he anticipated, was this.

Keep reading

The Horrible Un-Haunting of Elliot House

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Ghost!AU / Romance / Comedy (?)

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Some houses are harder to sell than others but you, Y/N, are determined to find the (supposedly) haunted Elliot House a new owner. That is, until it's very real and very hot exceedingly well-dressed ghost decides to make himself known. If only you didn't find yourself enjoying the knowing.

Rating: PG-13 (kissing but nothing beyond that)

Word Count: 6,214

Author's Note: hope you enjoy this random Halloween "drabble"! This got oddly angsty? I suppose that happens with ghost love LOL

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

“Through here,” you say, leading the Gundersons through an arched door. “You’ll find the most adorable sunroom.”

The Gundersons both gasp, appropriately awed by the tall walls of windows. Each panel is topped with stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the checkered floor. Technically, the sunroom isn’t part of the original house – it was added in 1975 during a brief period the address was owned by a cult – but you rarely disclose this fact during tours. Most people don’t care which parts of the house are original, so long as they can say they bought a 19th century Tudor.

Not that you blame them. Most people (or at least, sane people) appreciate the romanticism of an old structure without actually wanting to live in one. Modern amenities are the top benefit of progress, after all. The government couldn’t pay you to live without modern heating, plumbing, or refrigeration.

“Margaret, did you see?” Arthur Gunderson, a slightly rotund lawyer, and husband of said Margaret, gestures emphatically. “I’ll be damned if this stained glass isn’t Tiffany! See there, see that stamp in the corner?”

“Good eye, sir!” you chirp, barely glancing up from your clipboard.

Truthfully, you aren’t sure whether the glass is authentic. The cult that installed could hardly be called profitable (they sold the house at a loss after less than ten years, although this likely had more to do with crimes committed on said property than their income, but you digress), so you’d be hard-pressed to believe they could afford real Tiffany.

If this is what convinces the Gundersons to buy though, you’re hardly a realtor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ticking a box in the upper right corner – sunroom – you look up. “Right, well. That’s most of the lower level.” Pivoting on your heel, you head towards the corridor. “If you two will follow me upstairs, we can –”

“What’s that?”

Steps slowing, you stare at the plaster wall. A moment passes, then two before you convince yourself to turn around. When you see where Arthur Gunderson points, a relieved breath leaves your lips.

“Oh, that?” Floorboards squeak as you cross the room, sounding almost like laughter. “That’s the cellar. I’d offer you a look but unfortunately, the staircase isn’t quite up to code. You’ll need someone to look at that ASAP if you buy.”

Hovering at the wooden door, you grasp its bronze knob and pull. Tugging the cord for the light, you briefly scan the stairs but spot nothing unusual. Mostly convinced, you dutifully step aside.

“Feel free to look,” you say brightly.

The Gundersons crowd the landing you vacated.

“Careful, honey,” Arthur warns, holding Margaret’s elbow. “These stairs are steep.”

Standing on tiptoe, Margaret peers beyond him into the basement gloom. It could be your imagination, but she almost seems disappointed. A few cobwebs and shadows line the staircase, but nothing more sinister.

Hiding a smile, you check the next box. Cellar. Sometimes, people request to see this house not because they’re interested in buying it, but for the thrill. Entering the haunted Elliot house and surviving will make a great tale to tell their friends over cocktails.

Lowering your clipboard, you glance upward. So far, everything has gone to plan, which is partly the problem. You must’ve shown this house thirty times and always, something has gone wrong by now. Before being assigned its realtor, you believed in the paranormal, but only in a theoretical way. Not because you’d witnessed anything spectral.

Your opinions since then have changed.

Turning sharply, you plaster a smile on your face. “Shall we?”

Stepping back, Margaret pulls wiry frames from her jacket pocket. “I must admit,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Based on what our last realtor said, I was expecting far worse from this property.”

Although your smile tightens, you nod. The other realtor had a point – Elliot house could be temperamental, at best. Downright petulant, at worst. You glare again at the ceiling.

“We get that a lot,” you say, ushering them down the hall. Best not to linger. “Whenever a house sits too long on the market, you know – people talk. Lots of rumors!”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, passing you with a chuckle. “We’re not superstitious, don’t worry.”

“Oh?” you say lightly, remaining behind. “That’s good to know. Now, if you head down the hall, you’ll reach the foyer. All the crown molding you pass is original. The house’s first owner and builder, Daniel Baker, was something of a craftsman. He –”

Abruptly, you cease talking and stare at the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, where before there was nothing, sits a perfectly ripe orange. Eyes narrowed, you stare at this a long beat before yanking the light cord down and shutting the door.

Glancing upward, you hiss, “Not today, I swear to – well, whatever hellish being you worship.”

The wind sounds almost like laughter, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. Shaking your head, you traipse down the front hall in search of the Gundersons. Luckily, they’re too busy taking pictures of the aforementioned crown molding to have noticed your absence.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing at the front stairs.

Pocketing their phones, they begin their ascent. You wait at the bottom, giving them space to discuss the house. From personal experience, buyers tend to appreciate when you don’t hover.

Besides, the grand staircase is your favorite feature – equal parts artwork and functionality. From your place at its bottom, you admire the craftsmanship. Starting the climb, your fingertips skim whorls in the wood and for a second, you feel a phantom hand rest over yours.

Scowling darkly, you yank your palm away. Reaching the landing, you clutch at your clipboard tighter and walk forward.

“This way!” you say, practically shoving the Gundersons into the first bedroom.

While they ooh and ah about the bay windows, you tick another box on your spreadsheet. Master bedroom.

The second you’re done, the pen slips from your grasp and hovers in mid-air. It then turns, point-down, to scrawl something in the margin.

‘Master’ bedroom? Kiiind of racist, don’t you think?

Teeth gritted, you snatch your pen back. “I wasn’t the one who created the spreadsheet, okay?” you whisper. “And while, yes, I agree, and other realtors are moving away from that language, I don’t–”

“Pardon?” Arthur Gunderson peers, confused, over his shoulder.

Somewhat manic, you smile. “Oh, nothing,” you say, the words sounding high-pitched, even to you. “I was just reminding myself to show you the main bathroom. Beautiful claw-foot tub.”

“Oh. Sure,” says Arthur, returning to his wife.

Head whipping sideways, you glare at the most likely place Seokjin would be. A chuckle drifts past your ear on the other side, and your scowl deepens.

Once an appropriate amount of time goes by, you usher the Gundersons into the next bedroom. Hovering outside, you calculate how quickly you can convince them to leave. The longer they stay, the worse the so-called haunting will be.

You should have known better than to show them this house, but they were insistent. Or at least, Arthur was. Margaret seems reasonably paranoid, which you deem a positive quality. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius has heard of the haunted Elliot house.

Even the name is confusing, since it doesn’t bear the name of its builder, Daniel Baker, nor its longest resident, Mr. Josiah Whitley. Instead, it’s named for Nathaniel Elliot, the cult leader who murdered a man on its premises in 1978. Obviously, this fact wasn’t known to the public until after the cult sold the house and moved far away.

Eventually, Mr. Elliot was tried and found guilty of murder, but this was much later. Wincing a little, you glance at the ceiling. Seokjin has said many times that ghosts can’t read minds, but you wouldn’t put it past him to lie for a punchline. Even if he can’t read your mind, the faint scent of cedar lets you know he’s nearby.

Quickening your stride, you show the Gundersons the next bedroom. “This is one of my favorites,” you say, pulling hard on its warped door. “The view from that window is stunning. You can see all the way to the brook!”

Taking the bait, Margaret crosses the room. “Oh, look, Arthur!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “There’s a gazebo!”

He follows at a more leisurely pace, frowning when he spots a lone cobweb in the corner. Sighing, you swipe at this as you pass, almost certain the web wasn’t there this morning.

While the two converse, you pull out your clipboard and run down the list again.

Most days at your job are like today – running down lists and waiting for other people to make their own life decisions. Becoming a realtor wasn’t so much a choice as it was thrust upon you. When your mom got sick your senior year of grad school, you returned to take care of her and finished your coursework remotely.

There were only so many jobs with flexible hours, and you ended up getting your realtor’s license to support her on the side. When your mom passed, you stuck around to sort out her paperwork and affairs. Two years later, everything is in order and still, you remain. Stuck in a holding pattern, showing houses and too afraid to try your hand at anything different.

BANG.

The sudden noise from above plunges the room into silence. Both Arthur and Margaret swivel, wide eyes landing on you.

Margaret’s glasses chain trembles. “What was tha–”

“My assistant,” you blurt, backing towards the door. “He mentioned he would stop by to drop off some keys. That must be him – I’ll go and check!”

“But…” Arthur stares. “The noise came from above.”

“Be right back!” you call, stepping into the hall.

As fast as possible without raising suspicion, you rush down the hall. “Seokjin,” you hiss, hand skimming the banister as you descend. “Stop that right now!”

No one responds – not that you thought he would. Crossing the foyer, you reach the cellar door and yank it open. Flicking the overhead light, you see the orange has disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door.

“This isn’t funny,” you huff out loud to no one.

Far above you, a low groan shakes the house. Honestly, it sounds more sexual than scary, but you suppose that only makes it more sinister. Reaching the foyer, you slow your pace and set down your clipboard. Suppressing a sigh, you glance at the clock. This has happened enough times that you can predict things to the minute.

Crossing your arms, you tap your foot and count down in your head.

One – increased groaning. Sometimes from the cellar, often the attic and, during one memorable visit, from behind a locked bathroom door.

Two – shuffling feet while the Gundersons (insert buyer’s name here) debate whether to run or wait it out. They hastily whisper, wondering if it’s their minds playing tricks.

Third – laughter. Seokjin will say it sounds lilting but to you, his laughter is more akin to a car’s windshield wipers. Today, said laughter drifts from the main bedroom, immediately followed by the Gundersons’ screaming.

Directly above you, Margaret’s heels pound wooden floors. Wincing, you make a mental reminder to buff the scuffs from the wood.

“ARTHUR!” she calls, her voice pitching upward.

“Right behind you!” he bellows.

When the lights in the foyer flicker, you lean against the grand railing. In your experience, there’s nothing you can do now to save the showing. As soon as Seokjin reveals himself, it’s only a matter of time.

“Whoooo dareeessss to disturrrrrb meeeee!” he wails, and you try not to laugh. “This is MYYYY homeeee and you are nooooot welcomeeeee! OoOOOOooooOOo!”

Arthur is first down the stairs. Reluctantly, you step forward – as their realtor, you’ll try to calm them down and get them out. All part of the plan. What’s not part of the plan is Arthur’s blind panic, elbowing you – hard – in the stomach as he runs past.

Concaving, you stumble, your foot catching on a loose floorboard as you fall backwards. Suddenly, a pink cushion slides between you and the floor. You land in the middle of it, shocked but unharmed.

Arthur yanks open the front door. “You!” he blurts, whipping around to point. Blinking, you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder. “Yes, you,” he scoffs, spittle flying as Margaret runs past. “I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or what, but your manager will be hearing from me!”

Before you can formulate a response, Arthur is out the front door. You hear the sound of their car starting, exhaust billowing behind them as they speed down the street.

Propping yourself on one elbow, you release a sigh. The house has fallen silent, almost sheepish in its total lack of sound. Head lolling back, you glare at the ceiling.

“You are so annoying,” you groan, well-aware you sound crazy. “I honestly don’t know what you’re looking for, Seokjin. The Gundersons were fine.”

The front door slams.

An outline of a person materializes between you and the living room, seeming composed of dust motes and sunshine. Turning your glare in their direction, you tap your fingers against the oak floor.

Seokjin solidifies fully, rakishly leaning against the paneled wall. He’s dressed in the same navy three-piece suit he wore when he died, albeit with his hair styled in this century’s fashion. Seokjin once said ghosts are able to change their appearance, but most choose not to. There’s little point to it, and it wastes precious energy.

Sadly, he shakes his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seokjin says, his deep timbre resonating through floorboards beneath you.

“Show off,” you mutter.

Lips twitching, he crooks a finger. The foyer light ceases to flicker, and Seokjin straightens. Dusting invisible dust from his shoulders, he walks forward.

“The Gundersons were tiresome,” he says. “I would’ve been bored of them in months, started haunting again, and this house would’ve gone right back on the market. Really, I saved you trouble in the long run. You can thank me later.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan. “Two commissions on the same property. What a horrible fate.”

“Exactly. You’re welcome.”

Fighting an eye roll, you push yourself upward with cushion in hand. At least Seokjin was kind enough to break your fall, even if he caused the circumstances which led to it in the first place.

Brushing the dirt from the cushion, you shake your head. “You do know that eventually, someone will buy this house and you’ll have to make peace with that fact. Right?”

When Seokjin doesn’t immediately respond, you look up. His dark gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, briskly looking away when he catches you watching.

“I know,” Seokjin says, turning around. “Might I point out though, that I don’t have to make peace with anything. Ghost,” he adds, pointing at himself. “Not making peace with things is our bread and butter.”

“People have owned this house before, though.”

“Boring people,” Seokjin mutters.

“That didn’t seem to bother you back then!”

Seokjin enters the living room. “Ugh,” he groans, dropping onto a chaise. Dust motes spiral around him, as though he were solid. “If I must be trapped on the material plane, Y/N, the least the material plane could do is provide some entertainment. And the lovemaking of two seventy-year-olds doesn’t count,” he adds, fixing you with a glare.

Stifling laughter, you follow him into the parlor. Fluffing the cushion, you replace it on its chair and survey the room. Seokjin lounges dramatically and it could be your imagination, but he almost looks solid. More so than the first time you met, anyways.

He nearly scared the shit out of you, back then. Everyone at the firm warned you this house was haunted but were purposefully vague on the supernatural. The warnings they gave you were borderline mundane.

Oh, yeah, that house has been on the market forever. People say that it’s haunted, but I’d honestly be more worried about rats. Or asbestos – popcorn ceilings didn’t age well for a reason. And I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard a convict once lived in the basement for three months before the cops caught him. Watch out for that!

You entered this house with more than your usual trepidation, pepper spray in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Apparently, the wiring wasn’t all up to code – something you’ve since rectified with the city.

The sound of the door creak could’ve been written by the Brothers Grimm themselves, textbook gothic. Your flashlight swept over dusty floors, faint footprints remaining to remind you of its past. Spine steeled, you forced yourself to continue.

Finding a light switch, you flicked upward, and the chandelier came to life. The lighting was dim, barely enough to see by on a rainy day. Keeping your flashlight, you wandered into the parlor and came to a sudden stop. Forest green wallpaper lined the walls, remarkably intact for its age. Stunned, you turned in a slow circle.

Moody maximalism was one of your favorite design styles, and this room was made for it. With a slightly better attitude, you resumed your walk-through, discovering a hidden cupboard in the kitchen and a dumbwaiter to nowhere. The second-floor entry point had been boarded up, but that could be rectified.

Some of the woodwork of the house was scuffed, and a few corners held fallen leaves, but overall, it was in great condition. None of the realtors had prepared you for that – you arrived expecting a war zone and were pleasantly surprised.

On the second floor, you found a library – or what had once been the library, given the shelving was empty – that made you audibly gasp. Blue-black custom shelves extended along three of the walls. Closer to the door, a bright square of color remained from where a painting had hung.

Curious, your fingers traced the edges. “This place is unreal,” you murmured to yourself.

“I know, right?” said a voice directly in your ear.

Like any sane person, you screamed and jumped skyward. Your flashlight fell, its beam rolling over and over until it hit a baseboard. You didn’t stick around to find out, turning fast on your heel and bolting into the hall.

Thundering down the front stairs – wincing as the wood groaned – you nearly reached the foyer when Seokjin appeared.

“Boo,” he said calmly, between you and the door.

Coming to a shuddering halt, your hand gripped the railing. The ghost was impeccably dressed, if slightly invisible, and raised a dark brow in response to your flight.

Gaze darting sideways, you sought a second exit but all you could recall was the cellar and that wasn’t an option. Years of training from watching scary movies kicked in at that point, and you slowly straightened. Running away would do nothing – a ghost could follow you anywhere – so, maybe reasoning with him would be the best option.

“What do you want?” you asked, masking your fear to plant both hands on your hips. “Who are you?”

Surprise flared in his – admittedly attractive – gaze. Some of the shock had worn off by then, and you could admit to yourself (if to no one else) that the ghost before you was hot. Even thinking this felt ridiculous, and you wondered if your already-fragile grasp on reality was slipping.

Taking a single step forward, the ghost cocked his head. When you stumbled back, his lip quirked, and he appeared by your side.

“Who am I?” he mused, walking in a slow circle. “Awfully strange to ask me that, when I’m the person that died here, and you’ve never stepped foot in this house until now. I would know.”

Started, you turned your head.

This was a mistake since it allowed you to see every ridge of his features. The rounded tip of his nose, his enviably full lips, and a curve to his jawline which could likely cut glass.

Forcing your gaze upward, you found him focused on you. “You… died here?” you asked before you could think better.

His lips thinned. “You know, it’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s personal.”

“Oh,” you said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask,” the ghost replied with a sigh.

Your eyes narrowed, hearing barely hidden laughter in his tone. This ghost was making fun of you. The audacity!

Incensed by this, you lifted your chin. “Wouldn’t asking you whether it’s polite to ask about death be asking you about death, though?”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, slipping both hands in his pockets. “There really isn’t a good way for you to bring up that conversation.”

A laugh escaped, despite yourself.

His gaze flickered, as though oddly pleased. Quickly, the ghost scanned you from your shoes to your face, where he lingered.

“I’m curious,” he mused, resuming his walk in a circle.

Despite your discomfort, you forced yourself to stay still. Even though you could feel each place his gaze lingered – your shoulders, your collarbone, tacing the slope of your cheekbones.

“What are you curious about?” you asked, pushing the words past your lips.

He stopped between you and the door again. Slipping both hands from his pockets, he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his biceps strained against his suit was intriguing, implying there was something to strain against. Dimly, you wondered what a ghost’s gym routine looked like.

Your lips twitched at the thought, and the ghost scowled.

“Stop that,” he commanded. “You should be terrified. I was curious about why you haven’t run yet. Anyone else would’ve by now.”

“Would they?”

“Based on my experience, yes.” He tilted his head. “This is the first time I’ve introduced myself to someone and they stayed. Well,” he amended through teeth. “Stayed without crucifixes, holy water, and a priest.”

“Does that really work?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Does what work – exorcism?”

You nodded.

“Clearly not.” He waved a hand down his body. “At least, not in my case. When I first died, I wanted to move on. I was even excited when the first priest arrived, but he did nothing, and neither did the next one… eventually, I stopped hoping. Started haunting, instead.”

“Well, sure,” you said, dazed.

His lips twitched. “My name is Seokjin, by the way. Not that you asked.”

“That was literally one of the first things I asked!”

Ignoring this, Seokjin stuck out his hand. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, ignoring the impossibility of what you were about to attempt while extending your palm. “Nice to meet you.”

Your hands met in the middle and, instead of passing through, you felt your palms brush. For a moment, you touched calluses and warm skin, smelling the faint scent of cloves.

Seokjin went utterly still.

Chin jerking down, he stared at your joined hands. “That’s… never happened before.”

Retracting swiftly, you said the first thought that came to mind. “What? Never touched a woman?”

Scowling, he retracted his hand as well. “I was thirty when I died, Y/N. Not thirteen.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, then paused. “You… haven’t been able to touch anyone since you died?”

“Things, yes. People, no.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “A psychic visited me once. The owners at that time brought her, wanting to see if she could get rid of me.” Seokjin snorted. “She got them to pay her, then said, ‘No.’ Hilarious. And interesting,” he added. “She told me she’d met other ghosts, ones that could interact. Never seemed to work for me, though.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. For it being your first encounter with the supernatural, nothing about this had gone as imagined. You weren’t sure how to converse with a ghost who, for all intents and purposes, seemed fairly normal.

Except for the whole ‘being dead’ part.

“Well.” You shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

His expression remained inscrutable, but for the faintest of seconds, you thought Seokjin looked intrigued. After a moment, he moved closer and leaned in. You caught the faintest whiff of orange, cloves, and cedar on what could have been his breath.

“I suppose there is,” he murmured, and then disappeared.

Since then, Seokjin has appeared each time you returned. The second time, you were halfway convinced your first visit was a hallucination. A theory Seokjin seemed content to feed into, refusing to show himself until you were about to leave. Then, he jumped through the hall closet to yell, “MUTINY!” and cement his presence in your mind.

Seokjin doesn’t dress the same every time. A few weeks into your friendship (if one can call it that), he informed you he could change his appearance but hadn’t done it much. It took energy to appear on the mortal pane, more so if his appearance was altered.

Still, you’ve learned Seokjin will do pretty much anything to commit to a bit. His brand of haunting tends to border on comical. Putting his arms on backwards, headless juggling, vomiting wine – really anything is fair game if not truly grotesque. By now, you’ve seen his whole gambit, which is how you can say today’s performance was lackluster.

Sprawled on the chaise, one foot dangling, Seokjin looks every bit of the tragic lothario. Again, you can’t help but wonder whether he’s gained permanence since the last time you saw him. You could almost swear the chaise sinks under the weight of his frame.

“What is it?” he demands, lazily pushing himself upward.

Something in your chest flutters, although you ignore it. Arms crossed, you fix him with a look of disdain. It’s sinful for Seokjin to look as good as he does – and the worst part is, you know it’s not an illusion.

After you met the third time, you Googled his name along with the house and found multiple hits. Seokjin Kim was killed on October 31st, 1978, by Nathanial Elliot, the leader of the Sunny Days cult. Both Seokjin’s parents joined two years prior, and he’d tried unsuccessfully to convince them to leave by mail and phone.

Eventually, he visited in person and convinced them to go – unfortunately, Nathanial caught wind of the situation and killed Seokjin before this could happen. You saw photos of Seokjin from then and can confirm he was always devastatingly handsome. Often, you’ve wondered if he left someone behind – a wife or a girlfriend – but can’t bring yourself to ask. You aren’t sure which answer would hurt more.

Regardless, you know Seokjin was missed. His parents were the ones who took down the Sunny Days cult, putting their leader behind bars for killing their son. Seokjin admitted once that they tried to tear this house down. They didn’t know he was tied to the grounds, and he didn’t want to tell them. It would’ve been harder for them to move on, he explained, and your heart broke a little.

Not long after that, you accidentally let it slip that Seokjin had a scent. It made him howl with laughter, nearly falling down the front stairs – not that this would’ve hurt him. From then on, Seokjin showed off his growing ability to move solid objects by leaving oranges for you in the house whenever you came. Only another of his practical jokes but lately, it’s made your skin hot to think of.

You realized you felt more than you should for him last month when he saved you from falling. Determined to clear out the cellar, your entire foot went through the first step and Seokjin pulled you to safety.

“Careful,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around your waist. Gently, he eased you backwards and onto the landing. “The top step is rotted through. You’ll need to call in someone to fix that.”

Unable to speak, you nodded and quickly disentangled. Each place he had touched, your skin tingled, and not at all unpleasantly. Since that day, your feelings have only worsened. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.

Sometimes you wonder whether he feels the same, no matter how hopeless it is.

Heaving a great sigh, Seokjin stands from the couch. Lifting both arms, he stretches this way and that like an overgrown cat. The end of his shirt comes untucked, displaying a flat strip of skin you refuse to acknowledge.

Forcing your gaze to his face, you lift a single brow. Weeks after meeting, you considered Seokjin your friend, or at least an acquaintance. Now, you can’t call this friendship, but not because things between you have worsened. It’s because the more time you spend together, the more you find yourself wishing for something impossible. Something more.

“You know what,” you tell him. “There’s no need to scare off every potential buyer.”

Seokjin pauses, then lowers his arms. “There’s a need when they’re terrible. I’m the one forced to live with them for eternity, not you.”

“It’s not an eternity, though,” you tried to joke. “Eventually, they’ll die – or, so one would presume.”

Seokjin’s face hardens. Before you can take another breath, he’s standing before you. “Much better,” he says, his voice like steel. “I love being reminded that, while the world continues to age around me, I never will. I’ll simply stay on this godforsaken plot of land until the earth is destroyed by its own inhabitants. How long do you think that’ll take, Y/N? One decade? Two?”

Eyes wide, you stare at him in shock.

Seokjin has never spoken to you like this before. Usually, he’s far more cavalier about his reality, easily accepting the fact that he’s a ghost. Never once has he ranted about the world passing by. In fact, Seokjin frequently throws in your face that you’ll soon have more wrinkles than him.

For the first time, you wonder if all that is a front. If perhaps, deep down, all his lackadaisicalness is merely a cover for a deeper kind of fear.

Slowly, you move closer. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive,” you murmur. “Of course, I don’t want you to be forced to live with people you hate. I just meant…”

You trail off, uncertain and Seokjin’s face softens. He moves even closer, his scent comforting you in a way you can’t explain. In a way it shouldn’t be.

“I’ll never get used to this,” you sigh.

You aren’t sure why you’re speaking so softly. Possibly due to his proximity and possibly due to the look in his eyes, studying you as though you’re the impossibility, and not him. Dust motes trail through the air when Seokjin lifts a hand.

With bated breath, you watch as he reaches towards you. At the last second, he shifts and lightly brushes your jaw.

Sharply, you inhale because you feel it. You feel him.

“Seokjin,” you whisper. “What are you…”

Gently shushing, he leans in, and you feel his breath, feather-light, across your skin. Utterly shocked, you go still. It’s his breath that you feel. Breath that shouldn’t exist, according to logic.

Slowly, his gaze drops and stays on your lips. If Seokjin can’t read minds, he must hear your heart racing. The sound of it is all-consuming, drowning out rational thought.

“You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he murmurs, his gaze lifting. “I’m waiting for someone to look at this… house the way you do.”

“A lot of people have liked the house, Seokjin. People who –”

“I don’t want you to sell this house."

Startled, you stop. “Why not?”

His expression twists, revealing his vulnerability. “I think you know.”

Roughly, you exhale.

Yes. You do know. It’s the same reason you’ve half-assed the last six showings at this address. It’s why you keep people from looking, and when they insist, barely attempt to stifle Seokjin’s shenanigans. You could have come earlier today and requested Seokjin to be on good behavior. He would have done it. For you, he would have.

Which is exactly why you didn’t ask.

“I… want to hear you say it,” you say, so low, you’re surprised that he hears.

Achingly slow, Seokjin’s hand slips from your jaw to your neck. When he pulls you closer, you can feel the weight of his hand, the solid pressure that comes from his fingers on your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want you to go,” Seokjin murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “If someone else buys this house, you’d stop showing it. You wouldn’t come here again, and I can’t leave these grounds. If someone else buys this place” – his breath hitches – “I won’t see you again. I can stomach eternity, Y/N, but not without you.”

“Seokjin.” His name leaves your lips as a whisper, or prayer.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever…” Eyes opening, you look up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Your voice breaks. “That might make it real. What I want can’t be real, so if I say it out loud, it might vanish and right now, it exists in this tentative space. We exist in this space.”

Lightly, his thumb strokes your throat, and you feel your knees buckle. Every callous, every touch feels so horribly real, it’s making it difficult to remember why this can’t be.

“I’ve stopped wondering what’s real and what’s not,” Seokjin murmurs, his gaze tracing your mouth. “Most people say I shouldn’t exist and yet, here I am. They say I shouldn’t be here, able to touch you like this and yet, I am. They say I shouldn’t–”

Rising on tiptoe, you cut him off with your kiss. Seokjin shudders, his lips parted and warm in the shock of the moment.

 “Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to stare at you in wonder.

Before you can respond, he returns, his kiss wild and fierce. Your own desire surges, touching him hesitantly at first, and then with full abandon. Hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, your fingers curl in his hair to anchor him to you.

Cupping your face, Seokjin pulls your body to his. His touch is reverent, deifying while his hands travel lower to land on your waist. His body curves above yours, catching your gasps with the tip of his tongue. Seokjin feels solid beneath you – solid, and warm, and painfully real.

His mouth moves to your jaw, trailing heat down your throat and across your bared collar. Shivers of pleasure shoot through you as he walks you backwards, pressing your spine to the wall. Briefly – wondrously – you laugh, the sound caught again by his kiss.

Within minutes, you’re panting, heart beating wildly as you grip his hair tighter. Seokjin’s leg presses forward, pushing your thighs apart and you nearly dissolve. He moves harder, faster, as though scared that you’ll vanish. This is the opposite of disappearing, though.

This is together, beneath, and on top as –

“Shit,” Seokjin growls, the sound torn from his throat.

Dazed, you look sideways and realize his hand has gone through the wall.

Seokjin stares at his wrist, his chest rising and falling. Everything you can feel is solid, but his hand sinks through the wall about an inch deep. It’s hard to concentrate with him above you, looking like that. Seokjin’s hair remains mussed by your hands, proving you touched him – however briefly.

Lips thinning, Seokjin pulls his hand out. Purposefully, he lays his palm flat on the wall but it’s clear to you both that he’s concentrating. Some of his pressure dissipates.

“I – fuck,” he exhales, dropping his chin.

Gently, you soothe a strand of hair behind his ear. This is the first time you’ve seen Seokjin anything less than immaculate and goddamn, if it doesn’t look good on him. That’s making it difficult to focus on the matter at hand.

The matter at hand. Ha.

Thinking this, a snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. Stunned, Seokjin glances up with wide eyes.

“Did you just… snort?” he asks, incredulous.

You shake your head, and then nod, sheepish. “Um, yes. I did. It’s just…” Now that you’ve started, you can’t help but continue. “I can’t believe the hottest make-out session of my life ended with your fucking hand through a wall.”

Seokjin stares for a long moment before – impossibly – his chest starts to shake. Before long, you’re both laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Once your laughter has faded though, comfortable silence remains.

Pulling you into his chest, Seokjin’s hand strokes your neck. “I don’t know what this means,” he admits with a sigh.

“Me, either.”

“I do know I want to do that again.”

“Same,” you say, pulling back.

“But…” Seokjin hesitates. “Y/N. You know I’m not… real, right?”

Your heart sinks to your shoes. “You’re real to me.”

“I know.” He speaks softly. “But I –”

Lifting a hand, you press a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” you warn. “Please. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I know I don’t have eternity, but I don’t want what I have without you.”

Something in his gaze breaks but Seokjin merely nods, letting silence fall again. You fear that he’ll vanish, leaving you alone but he merely exhales. The breath brushes your skin.

“Alright,” Seokjin murmurs, winding his hand with yours. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

The ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “What if… we talk about me buying this house?”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!

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

✦Seokjin x OC* ( ft. OT7) 🔞 

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

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

✦ Read on Ao3

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

✦Word Count: ~15K

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

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

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

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

ENJOY! :)

Keep reading

Would you rather be arrested by Jin or Tae?

▨ Arrested ▨

Pairing: Detective Kim Seokjin x Criminal Reader (Reader has a nickname)

Genre: Fluff • Angst • A Bit of Humor • A Hint of (Light) Smut

Word Count: 2690

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS PROHIBITED. I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY INTERACTIONS WITH PERSONS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Rating and Warnings: (M) for mature themes, innuendo, and light smut • mentions of heartbreak • criminal activity • morally questionable choices • a bit of rough contact and manhandling (very minor) • not as dark as it seems at first I promise • handcuffs obviously •

Author’s Note: This was my first time doing one of these and it totally ran away with me… 🙈 but I really enjoyed writing it and I can’t wait to tackle the next ones. I actually received two anon asks with this same request, so - to whoever you lovelies are, I hope you like it.

“You always did look good in red.”

Your fingers froze for a fraction of a second on the final button of your shirt.

You knew that voice. For years it filled you with warmth…

Now there was only dread.

“And here I thought saintly policemen preferred nice girls in white,” you drawled coolly, in stark contrast to the chaos his proximity had unleashed within you.

Your eyes did not seek him out, but every other sense stretched toward him with painful intensity.

“I should,” he shot back sharply, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice, “I should want someone else.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at his words, letting them pour over you with guilty pleasure. His effect on you was potent as ever. If anything, the time away had sharpened your awareness of him.

“But you don’t want anyone else,” you whispered, unhooking the last button and finally letting your eyes meet his, “…do you, Detective Kim?”

Seokjin swore as your shirt hit the floor, removing the flimsy barrier between his gaze and the scarlet lace of your lingerie. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair and for the first time you noticed something in the harsh slant of his brows and the subtle clench of his jaw that you were not entirely prepared for.

Fury.

He was across the room before you could draw a full breath and his hands -  hands that brought your body to the heights of ecstasy more times than you could count - hands that moved tenderly over your skin in stolen moments from the time he was a rookie beat cop and you were just a resourceful thief with no connections and limitless ambition…

Those hands gripped your jaw with uncharacteristic cruelty, forcing you to meet his blistering gaze.

For a few excruciating seconds he said nothing. Not a word.  

But you knew what was coming. You were a fool to think - even for a moment - that you could pretend the last several months hadn’t happened. Your mind began to race. You weren’t ready. Not yet-

“Where is the child, Scar?”

Your face gave nothing away. Only the fluttering of your pulse beneath his fingertips hinted at the storm raging in your chest.

“You haven’t called me Scar since we were kids.”

He’d given you the nickname after some regrettable experimentation with homemade fireworks left a star-shaped scar on your right palm.

“Don’t change the subject.” His grip tightened ever so slightly, “You disappeared for months-”

“What are you talking about?” You were impressed by how steady your voice sounded - even as your knees began to shake, “I’ve been more active than ever. The DeVeer family vault, the Reisgard Gallery, the museum in-”

Seokjin surged forward slamming your back against the wall. The force of the impact momentarily knocked the breath from your lungs. His fingers gripped into your hair, forcing your head back as he growled against the sensitive skin of your neck. Your traitorous body - so long deprived of his touch - melted into him hungrily.

“Who do you take me for?” he snarled venomously, “I know every inch of this body.” His hand trailed possessively down your side, “I know how you move. I know how you breathe. Every unconscious tic - every off-hand gesture - I know them better than I know my own thoughts.”

His thumb brushed over the soft curve of your hip, slipping beneath the elastic waist of your skirt. “The woman in the security footage from those jobs wasn’t you.”

Heat began to ripple out from the slow strokes he brushed over your skin. You were so weak for him - even now.

“Jin,” you whispered, torn between arousal and shame.

“Don’t call me that!” His eyes closed for a moment, but not before you saw a flash of raw pain flicker over them. He shook his head - desperate to ward off the crushing flood of betrayal. 

 “Not now,” he whispered finally. “Not when you’ve done what you’ve done.”

The harsh sound of ripping fabric split the air. Your mouth flew open in a silent gasp as he tore the waistband of your skirt.

Cool fabric pooled around your ankles, but Seokjin’s gaze fixed on the delicate spider web of stretch marks decorating your abdomen.  

Your eyes flew shut.

“I can explain-”

“Explain what-” he exploded, wrenching himself away as if the feel of his skin against yours revolted him. “Explain how you were going to keep the existence of my child from me?! Explain how you disappeared and I tore apart the city looking for you only to find-” the words choked painfully in his throat. Tears of fury and anguish burned in the corner of his eyes and your heart splintered.

“I was afraid,” you whispered. “I - I never planned on being pregnant. We never spoke about children - you’re a detective - I’m a thief and-”

“You’re lying!”

He pushed forward again, bracketing his hands on either side of your head. “I have protected you every step of the way. I’ve destroyed evidence, tampered with security footage, betrayed my oath, lied to my partners and superiors again and again and again to keep you safe. After all of that - why wouldn’t you come to me-”

“I DID!”

Seokjin drew back, tilting his head in confusion.

“Wha-…What?”

You rehearsed what to say a thousand times, but here - with him in front of you again - everything was so sharp… so painful.

“After three months - when I was sure the pregnancy would last - I came back to tell you… But then-”

Memories you desperately tried to avoid overwhelmed you. The tenuous grasp you maintained over your rioting emotions began to slip-

… until a surprisingly gentle touch tipped against your jaw, drawing your gaze up once more.

For the first time that night, his eyes met yours with a hint of familiar softness.

“But then…?” he coaxed quietly.

“I… I saw you - at the Palace Bistro.”

Seokjin paled.

“I was meeting a contact. I planned to eat then go straight to your house… but when I looked up - you were there-”

Tears flowed freely down your face now. You didn’t bother to stop them.

“You had a woman in your arms… and you were laughing and kissing her neck like you always did to me-”

Your hand flew to your mouth involuntarily as your mind and body relived the devastation of that moment.

”It hurt so badly - and I was pregnant and-”

There were simply no words adequate to describe the chaos you’d been plunged into.

“…so I ran.”

Seokjin stumbled back into his chair while you spoke. Now he cradled his head in his hands looking oddly deflated - as though the fire and fury of moments ago had dissipated to leave behind a tired, broken shell.

“Jung Hoseok.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. “…What?”

“It’s the name I used operating undercover for almost 2 months last year.” He sat up momentarily only to slump his head back against the seat in exhaustion.

“I was sent in as an arms dealer. The woman you saw me with was another cop posing as a paid escort -” his tone hardened “-all of which I could have told you if you bothered to trust me at all! If you bothered to ask me at all!”

You were sobbing now. At some point your legs had given out and you were curled up in a ball on top of your ruined skirt.

“I know,” you whimpered - coughing as the tears overwhelmed your voice. “I know that now-”

Seokjin straightened, scooting forward with renewed intent. “How did you-”  his eyes widened and he let out a deprecating snort, “Yoongi.”

He sighed deeply, carding his fingers through his hair then down over his face in frustration.

“Yoongi handled forensics on that case.“

You shrugged, “He’s my brother.”

Technically he was your foster brother, but that tiny detail never mattered to either of you. 

He was family.

“What he is - is dead meat. I asked him for months where you were. He told me he had no idea - and then he told me to go-” Jin cleared his throat and blushed a bit, “- needless to say his suggestion was graphic and unrepeatable.”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch up in the beginnings of a smile.

That sounds like Yoongi.

“You can’t blame him really… I told him we were done and he could see I was hurting. It wasn’t till after Soojin was born-”

“Soojin?”

Everything from his eyes to his tone lit with desperate hope. You hated yourself all over again for keeping her a secret…

For not trusting him as you should have.

“A girl,” he breathed out a quiet laugh, “I have a little girl…”

You nodded, letting out a small laugh of your own in spite of everything. Soojin filled you with awe and the strangest, fiercest adoration you’d ever known.

The same adoration shone clearly on her father’s face… And he hadn’t even seen her.

“She looks just like you.”

Jin sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes welled with tears. You could tell he was fighting to stay calm.

The urge to touch him became unbearable. 

Your limbs unfolded in slow deliberate motions. Jin watched you move towards him with tentative wariness, neither encouraging nor preventing it. 

The longing in your chest was palpable. Only the crushing weight of your own guilt restrained you from collapsing into his arms. 

Instead, you lowered yourself to the floor between his knees - bringing your gaze up until it locked with his. It was an intimate position, made all the more so by the wounds between you. 

Ever so carefully, your hand reached out for one of his and - to your surprise - he allowed it - hooking your thumbs together so his larger fingers engulfed yours.

You had hurt this man; a man who loved you deeply.

He deserved the truth.

“Every time I looked at her - all I could see was you. I loved her so much, but I was falling apart …and Yoongi was so angry at you. He insisted that I tell him what you’d done and when I finally did-” you chuckled perversely. “-then he was angry at me. He told me everything-”

“Then why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you come to me right then-”

“I was coming to you! My body needed time to heal. I came here as soon as I was strong enough - but…” you drew your bottom lip between your teeth, “I kept losing my nerve… I even did a job tonight to keep me occupied while I worked up the courage-”

Seokjin laughed. The sound was unexpected and wonderful. Your body reacted instantly to its familiar warmth.

“Only you would rob someone to blow off steam.”

His eyes were still red with emotion, but the rage was gone. The heaviness in your chest lifted just a little.

“Where is she?” he whispered. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Yoongi has her tonight. He always takes her when I have a job.”

Jin drew a long deep breath… and nodded. Once.

Then he pulled you into his arms.

His mouth came down on yours brutally - desperately - as if he’d rather kiss you than breathe. You met him stroke for stroke - scrambling up over his knees to press yourself against him.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your mouth, “You don’t know how I missed you.”

Teeth scraped down the column of your throat and the raw pleasure of it tore a pitiful whine from your lips. Jin answered with a possessive growl. His hands hooked the back of your knees as he wrapped your legs around him.

“How could you think there was anyone else?” he groaned between sharp nips along your collarbone. How could you not know?, he wondered, as his heart pounded to life beneath your slightest touch.  

He had always been yours, body and soul. 

The anguish and heartbreak of the last few months slowly melted away as you lost yourself in one another - demonstrating once and for all that the bond between you ran deeper than the pain.

You were afraid that he would reject you for what you’d done, but Kim Seokjin was a man who frequently exceeded expectations. You had underestimated him.

In fact… you were still underestimating him.

The chorus of moans and needy keening Seokjin was methodically drawing from your body could be heard in all the surrounding rooms (and probably the parking lot). You almost didn’t notice the cool grip of industrial grade steel closing over your wrist.

“Handcuffs?” you gasped - still reeling from Jin’s thorough tour of your erroneous zones.“Is this the game we’re playing tonight?”

He grinned. 

That should have been your first clue really - that things were about to take a radical turn.

“Oh we’ll get to that soon enough.”

He looked far too pleased with himself. Your mouth dropped open.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Kim Seokjin-”

The grin was positively diabolical now.

“You’re under arrest.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, twisting to dive off his lap - but your baby daddy was way too fast.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chucked, hauling you effortlessly onto the bed where you landed with an indignant squeak.

“You can’t-”  

You struggled up onto all fours, but Jin delivered a sharp smack to your backside that sent you sprawling forward on your tummy again.

You didn’t know which was stronger; the urge to moan for him or the urge to murder him.

“Of course I can,” Jin explained as he began rolling your prone body in the top sheet like a burrito. “I’m a detective.”

He leaned down to kiss you on the nose, and you howled in frustration.

“You’re gonna take me in wearing hotel bedding!?”

“The last time I arrested you, you were dressed as a slutty mermaid. I’d say this is a definite improvement.”

“Hey!” you shouted as he tossed you over one of his absurdly broad shoulders, “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again!”

“You agreed never to speak of it again. I didn’t participate in that conversation. I just listened to you have it with yourself.”

You continued to squirm against his hold, but it was no use. He was too strong and he’d effectively turned you into a human inch worm.

“Senator Barkin has particular tastes.’ -*grunt* - “The only way I could properly rob him was to score an invite to one of his aquatic orgies.” -*more grunting*- “How was I supposed to know that you and the entire 5th precinct were planning to kick down the doors and book the whole house for racketeering.”

“How indeed,” Seokjin chuckled as he continued to drag you toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this!” you huffed, leaning into your inchworm handicap by wiggling down his back. “You know I’ll be out in two - three days max. Yoongi will-”

He landed another solid crack on your rear.

“Soojin and I will be waiting for you at home while you spend two - three days max - in time-out. And then-”

He broke off momentarily to parade you across the parking lot and toss you in the back of his unmarked squad car.

“- after you’ve spent a suitable amount of time begging me on your knees to forgive you for this nightmare-”

(You tried not to moan - you really did - but honestly you could not wait to beg him on your knees - and he knew it too - the cocky bastard.)

His eyes sparkled with amusement as they met yours in the rear view mirror. You pouted haughtily and made a show of ignoring him-

Until his next words flooded your heart with overwhelming warmth. You had to smile - in spite of it all.  

“…then maybe the three of us can figure out how to be a family.”

Ask My Muse: Have a question for the characters in this work? Send it to my ask box and hear their side of the story.

Endnote: Thank you so much for reading! Feedback, likes, and reblogs mean the world to me and more! Let me know what you thought pretty please? Much like Jimin I survive primarily on takeout and praise.

We Choose You

Summary: Being a babysitter isn’t the most glamorous job. When you get referred to a friend of a friend your life turns upside down when you start looking after an impudent child in the home of a wealthy CEO. Things get even more complicated when you start falling for the kind and devilishly handsome single father.

Written for the BTS Ghostie Writers Dynamite Dad Challenge, collaborating with @chelsea-chee​ (read her fic here), beta read by @yoongs-jeontae​

Pairing: Jin x f. Reader, Hoseok x f. OC (chelseachee’s character)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Warnings: Language, divorce, oral sex, masturbation, penetrative sex, angst, kissing, unprotected sex, someone gets punched twice, they/them pronouns

Word Count: 35,350

A/N: I want to give a big thanks to @chelseachee and @yoongsgguktae for all the help on this fic, I would have gone crazy without yall and submitted a way shorter and not as developed story. It’s 2-3 months late about and 3.5 times longer than it needed to be, but I’m really happy with how it turned out. If you give it a read I hope you enjoy and thank you for your time!

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fools - k.sj.

genre: angst, fluff (6.7k)

summary: only fools fall for you. (fools!universe)

masterlist     series masterlist

the first time you saw jin, it was at 4 am in the ‘24/7’ library you liked to go to. he was sitting all alone at a circular table, staring intensely at the books in front of him, his eyebrows had scrunched up and his lips were caught in between his teeth in concentration. he only strayed his eyes away from them to see you enter the room. blinking owlishly, he gives you a one over, curiously but then returns back to studying, seemingly not paying anymore mind to you.

you set your books in a table far away from his, and sat down in a huff. you don’t like being around people and even if this man is pretty, prettier than you’d like to admit, he still was no exception and you snort when you see all the sticky notes and highlighters he has out on the table.

what a dork.

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you suck! | ksj

(or, the one where everything goes very wrong but a lot more goes very right.)

→ pairing: vampire!seokjin x f. reader → genre: supernatural; strangers to lovers; roommates; crack, fluff → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex work, taekook are also chaotic vampires, a lot of twilight references for someone who has never seen or read it, completely made up and non-canonical vampire lore, a teeny-tiny bit of angst, jin’s forehead has powers or something, jin takes dick pics on a polaroid (canon), one very purposely awkward smut scene that includes: slight praise kink, unprotected sex, oral, kissing. overall this is very soft and they are just two idiots very in love, your honor. → wordcount: 18.3k → a/n: i started this almost exactly a year ago after buying this print from @yelhsaart​ and becoming completely obsessed with it. i just wanted to write jin as a goofy, idiot (affectionate) vampire. as i said in the warnings, the vampire lore is completely made up here. some of it is canon, some of it is inspired by the wayhaven chronicles, some of it is just plot device. don’t take it too seriously. → thank yous: lauren, for once again being my beta and telling me when my brain writes sentences that don’t make sense. jess, for being born today — happy birthday, this is my lame and completely self-serving gift to you. bee, for always encouraging my chaos.

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