Buy physical media. Buy CDs. Buy records. Buy tapes. Buy books. Buy physical artwork or prints. Take photos of yourself and get them developed at a photo processing booth. Write your thoughts down in a journal. Why? Because as this world get more digital, what's physical will slowly but surely disappear. There will be less things you can touch and feel, and more things that you can see and not touch. You can post all the digital pics you want on social media...nothing is assured and those pics and those platforms could be gone in an instant. An album on streaming platforms will never be the same as the original album in your hand with the liner notes, as versions of that album can get removed, and/or replaced with re-recorded material (since the artist doesn't own their masters). Books go out of print. And staring at a jpeg (no matter how much you paid for it *cough cough* NFTs) of an artwork will never be the same as owning the actual artwork or a print of it.
Preserve these things. If not for yourself, then for future generations.
jimin and taehyung are only two months apart but jimin sounds like hes 12 and taehyung sounds like he’s gone through puberty twice and this is why i have trust issues
seriously and jin is older than yoongi by a year but yoongi looks like he’s been through multiple economic crises and built a home with his bare hands or something idek
And namjoon and hoseok are only 7 months apart. Namjoon talks as if he’s been reincarnated like 8 times while hobi is still using the \@_@/ emoticon idk
reading: nothing currently, but the last physical thing i read was textbooks 😵💫 lol
last series: secrets we keep on netflix. 10/10 recommend if you like crime/thrillers/mysteries. the themes are so real and terrifying bc this all happens in real life. i believe it’s danish, and the acting was amazing! 🤩
last move: anemone on netflix. tbh, i didn’t even finish this because i could not get through it. my mom fell asleep even. it’s so sad bc we both love daniel day-lewis and sean bean. it was very slow-paced and almost awkward. the cinematography was beautiful and the story could have been amazing…but yeah. ☹️
last song: body to body by bts. this was on my kpop playlist while i was making the banner for my last fic. i’m trying to memorize the korean lyrics to the ‘arirang’ sample bc i think it’s so beautiful and a perfect homage to south korea in the new album ♥️ so grateful hobi fought for it 🤺
working on: skz daddy series 👀 so excited for the next part and so unbelievably happy that people are enjoying it. i’m also working on a request and a 🤫 secret project
sweet or salty: salty all the way. i have to crave something sweet and it’s very rare haha but put a plate of food in front of me mama and i’m chowin’
coffee or tea: both lol coffee to get me through the day and tea to wind down and relax. i chug a cup off iced coffee most days to keep me energized 🧋and i drink a cup of digestion tea every night so settle my stomach and help me 💤🫖
reading: currently reading the death note manga for the first time after all these years lol
last series: i'm not a big tv series watcher bc im super slow but two of my fav netflix shows (xo kitty and running point) are coming back in april so i'm rewatching a little bit before the new seasons come out!!
last movie: pretty sure it was the bts doc lol i haven't even finished it yet bc again im so slow
last song: i'll make a man out of you from mulan because this is THE stairmaster song idc it goes on repeat when im doing cardio and makes me feel like a powerful woman or whateva :P
working on: technically my camp rock inspired jk fic but i haven't been writing at all these past few days bc i needed a break haha
sweet or salty: definitely salty 90% of the time but if there ever comes a moment where i want a sweet treat you best believe im tearing up the room and doing anything in my power to get it
coffee or tea: tea by default i can't really have any caffeine except for matcha and i do like hot brewed tea but i have to be in a very specific mood for it yk i do like put a decaf tea bag in my iced water though
no pressure but i'm tagging these baddies @words-in-purple @cupidsbling @siucde @matchastwb
Ahh thank you for the tag @cupidsbling I'm sorry it took me a sec to get back to this 🥹
reading : Crescent City: A House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J Maas. (It's taking me forever to get through but it's a good book 😭)
last series : Bridgerton (twins hehe)
last movie : Pinocchio...maybe? Honestly I don't watch movies that often lol (I watched it with my niece 🥰)
last song : Merry Go Round by BTS (Arirang has been on repeat since day one!)
working on : Faking It Part 4, a whipped popular jk x mean loner f!reader fic called Offside Love (he's the university's soccer team captain hehe) and a whole bunch of other nonsense lol
Sweet or salty : Salty for sureeee. I like sweet things too but yeah salty any day
Coffee or Tea : I prefer tea. Coffee gives me anxiety lmao
yoongi's interlude: fugue pt. iii (3tan) (m) | myg
title: yoongi’s interlude: fugue (pt. 3)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: mlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken pt. 1 | broken pt. 2 | fugue pt. 1 | fugue pt. 2
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: he would do anything for you, even if that means leaving your light... to venture into his dark.
note: fugue—in music, a compositional procedure characterized by the systematic imitation of a principal theme in simultaneously sounding melodic lines ; a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity, often coupled with flight from one's usual environment.
note 2: we are almost there. the second to last part of yoongi’s second interlude. it’s heavy, it’s deep, and it’s a lot.
warnings: language, time skips, angst, brain fog, reader being an angel but what's new!!!, fugue state experiences, ruined instrument, depression allusions, fight scenes, trauma, bro is a real one, drugs mention/use, threats, the demons are being fought y’all, among other things😔, blood/wound mentions, yoongi please get up😭, darkness, jimin being his ride or die self, anxiety, ptsd reflexes, friendship is truly power, yoongi just needs a gd hug😭, dark thoughts, tension, reader is never giving up and we love them
drop date: january 28th, 2026, 7:17pm est
word count: 12.6k
-
-
He’s gonna make this work. Because he’s done fighting this shit.
Waking from a dreamless sleep, Yoongi stares at the empty half of his bed, fingers gliding across untouched sheets to seek warmth he knows isn’t there.
But it will be. Yours will be. Because he’s fucking done with his own bullshit and will now trek the depths of his soul with a purpose redefined. The demons awaiting him have no chance, they have no say.
Softly grabbing chilled cotton, Yoongi breathes in, the subtle heat of his own rest permeating his cheek for a few moments more. It isn’t until a few slow blinks and a million thoughts of you that he turns over, patting for his phone on the nightstand and immediately clicking the one notification that’s yours.
Hustler [05:45]: 1 Attachment
Mm. You sent him the dawn.
He’s gonna give you the world.
For a long stretch of time, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is stare at the way the sky blooms in pastel hues, admiring the framing you captured so perfectly from your front porch.
Is there anything you aren’t good at? He can’t keep losing to you.
Flopping back onto his pillow, Yoongi aims his phone upward, eyes still caked with sleep and drowsiness.
Yoongi [06:13]: 1 Attachment
Yoongi [06:13]: Mine’s better
The photo’s so dark you might not be able to tell what it is. But you’re smart, so you probably will.
Fuck, he needs to get up.
Squeezing his eyes once before rubbing out the crust, Yoongi slowly vacates his warmth, grabbing a chain from the nightstand to clip it on.
Everything reminds him of you, even in the quietest and most mundane parts of his day. But the links around his neck are extra special. Because your blatant fascination with his jewelry will never, ever get old.
If you only knew what else he wants to do with you involving the weight around his neck.
Yoongi’s mouth cracks into a sleepy grin as he heads to his bathroom. That particular fantasy will have to wait until much, much later.
And unlucky for you, he is more than willing to wait.
He wonders if you know he notices. How he drinks in that sparkle in your eyes, shivers at those fingers you slide along his silver. Even if you never will, it’s fucking adorable either way.
Yoongi goes through his morning routine, and it isn’t until he takes vitamins in the kitchen—a part reinstated into his ritual ever since the mental turnaround—that he hears his phone buzz.
Hustler [06:34]: is that your ceiling?? lmao
Of course. He never doubted you for a second.
A small smile curves before Yoongi drinks another swig of water, holding the glass to his mouth while another message slides though.
Hustler [06:34]: i wish i was there :((
Fuck.
You will be. You’ll be there much sooner than he originally planned, and the thought makes him anxious and restless in the best ways.
Yoongi [06:35]: Same
Mm. He can do better than that.
Yoongi [06:35]: I’d say meet me for lunch but then you’d be gone the rest of the day🤷♂️
Pocketing his phone, Yoongi grabs what he needs before heading to the studio. Because there are still projects to work on and things to plan, with a high possibility he won’t even get a lunch to begin with.
Good problems. Lucky problems. He cannot take any of this for granted.
Hustler [06:38]: worth it😩whisk me away
And there’s no way he can take you for granted anymore, either.
Yoongi [06:39]: Careful what you wish for
If he got to see you, he’d be gone the rest of the day, too. Until you scolded him to get back to work, at least.
The thought pulls out a tiny huff.
After grabbing his wallet and keys, Yoongi plods to his shoes before the door is cracked open, crisp morning air wrapping around his features.
He’s not alone.
To his side, Miss Dion stops watering her plants, donned in a fluffy robe and a shit grin that Yoongi has to look away from out of pure… Is he being shy right now? “Morning.”
“Good morning to you, too, sugar,” she says through satisfied teeth. “I told you. What did I say?”
Yoongi can’t help but shine his own set to the sky before looking her way. “Mm. Depression and isolation can mess with memory, so.. Can’t recall. Looks like you’ll have to tell me again.”
With creased eyes, he braces as his neighbor lightly threatens with an air swipe of her arm.
“A smart one, huh? Figures. Glad to have you back, son.” Miss Dion shakes her head, one hand propped on a hip and staring low. “Looks like your little rascal is back, too.”
“My what?” Yoongi looks down before seeing a cat emerge from the nearby bushes, opting to walk on the sidewalk at the sight of people. Silent, he watches his neighbor tsk at the retreating culprit,
“She keeps messing with my plants and making my poor Zeke antsy. Get her some better food, okay? Go with your girlfriend before I charge you for garden damages.”
A full laugh bursts out of his chest, realizing he’s got a little in common with the feisty, older woman. Is Zeke the name of a dog or something? “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Settling into a warm smile, she radiates serenity with sparkles in her eyes. It’s a look that reminds Yoongi of his own mother, and his heart suddenly yearns to go back home. “Now shoo and get on with your day. Don’t let me keep you.”
Turns out, there are plenty of good people in this world.
And maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to feel like one of them, too.
“Yes, ma’am.”
—
—
On his drive to work, with morning air breezing through open windows and bottom lip between his teeth, Yoongi decides that you’re gonna hear everything from him from now on. Every single day, he’ll reach out every moment he can.
He knows it won’t ever, ever make up for the months he fell off the planet, but he’ll abruptly switch up his behavior because you deserve his full extent of communication and he has been severely lacking.
And the first thing he will hound you about is getting in a good meal today.
—
—
Work flies by, which is another sign things are looking up.
During a break, Yoongi fishes out his phone to continue a search he started earlier. And seeing your nickname on his screen sends wings beating around his chest like a fucking lovesick fool. Will he ever get over this feeling? Fuck no.
You [13:25]: Which one were you looking at? I wanna see!
Cute. It’s one of the keyboards he’s been looking for, but definitely out of his price range—for now. But it’s whatever. He knows what he can do with bare bones and minimal tools, so anything a step above worn-down pads and keys is just a plus.
Yoongi [14:30]: This is the one I really want but not right now
Yoongi [14:31]: 1 Attachment
Honestly? Just the fact that you’re interested in what he’s talking about is enough for him. This is leagues better than anything he could’ve imagined, and now he doesn’t know why he didn’t start doing this sooner.
Well. He does know why.
Hustler [14:33]: Responded ❤️ to an Attachment
Hustler [14:33]: HOTTT GET IT NOW!!!
Yoongi [14:34]: It’s expensive!! Gonna save up.
Shit, his cheeks can’t hide. Grinning like an idiot and you’re gonna get him caught in this fucking studio.
But your next text? Your question? Wipes his whole expression and squeezes his lungs shut.
Hustler [14:35]: how much? i might be getting a raise already so i can spot you🤪
Yoongi damn near drops his phone.
Are you serious? You’d be willing to do that? For him? You see the price on that. You know how much it is.
A shimmering feeling spreads throughout his chest, and he’s fighting everything to keep his vision from blurring. You have no idea how much this one text means to him. After all that fear and trauma that shattered his soul, you’re slowly stitching him back piece by piece. Even if his chest is constricting so hard he has to clutch it to keep it from breaking for an entirely different reason.
Fuck, you’re everything. His beginning, his end, his every sleeping and waking moment.
And you don’t even know how many of his lives you’ve saved.
Hustler [14:38]: hey i’m sorry if that was overstepping.
Hustler [14:39]: obv i know you can get it on your own, but i just got way too excited and wanted you to get it asap haha.. but yeah it’s a great investment either way so i say go for it!
Oh, fuck. Screw it.
Rushing out of his swivel chair, Yoongi walks out of the studio, past a curious Jungkook and Namjoon with a finger already on the call button.
Walk, walk, walk, get as far out as he can. The rings are blaring in his ears and his chest is on fire but this couldn’t wait. It’s the twentieth step that falters as you timidly answer with,
“Hello? Wait, are you okay?”
Instead of saying the first thing that comes to his mind, or even the second, Yoongi goes with the third. Which is fucking nothing because his mind is where his heart is and his voice is nowhere to be found.
“...Hello?” From the ruffles on the line, he can tell you’re getting up and going wherever the fuck you need to go. Because Yoongi knows he’d be doing the exact same thing. “Where are you.”
He can only manage a slight chuckle before asking, “What are you doing to me…”
Your sigh of relief turns into a soft laugh. “I really am sorry. If you felt some type of way, I wanted to say that. Shit, I thought you were… I don’t know.”
“Just had to get some air cus of you,” he admits with a huff and shake of his shoulders. “Gonna ban you from my phone.”
“There’s a word for that, you know.”
There you go again. Boldly teasing him while he’s on the clock? How you hit all of his hidden buttons so effortlessly, he really needs to know. Cheeks tight in a grin, Yoongi fires back, “You wanna try that again?”
“Oh, you don’t know? It starts with a B, too, you were so close!”
You are so fucking lucky you aren’t here with him. The urge to grab and attack your sides until you can’t stop laughing hits Yoongi like a wave, and he scrunches his nose until he counters with feigned nonchalance, “Okay, I see how it is. That’s fine..”
“No, wait, I—”
“I’ll remember that.”
“No!” That laugh is always contagious as hell. “Ah, whatever, you won’t do anything anyway.”
Nah. Even during his goodbye, Yoongi is already plotting. Because while you call his bluff on many things—a surprising amount of them—about this, you couldn’t be more wrong.
“Guess you’re right, baby girl,” Yoongi says, using a low tone that always makes you shiver just right, “I sure won’t.”
He doesn’t have to tell you it’ll take four days to make that a blatant lie.
—
—
During the next studio session a few days later, everyone starts hanging out and messing around since things got wrapped up fairly quickly. Something about being organized and intentional can free up time or whatever. Yoongi just laughs at how simple yet how rare that really is in the industry he chose.
As they jam with Woosung and the guys, he lets himself truly let go, feeling the flow of music and rhythm and playing away on one of the lingering guitars. It’s his first time touching one in so long without it cutting deep into his skin.
It feels good. He’s not even that rusty. This is the best development in a long time.
Even the band has compliments running all throughout the session, and it takes everything for Yoongi to not grin too wide or strain his cheeks in shyness. He knows he’s good, but hearing it from them is a little too much to handle.
It also doesn’t help to feel a pair of eyes look his way a little too strangely.
But soon after it ends, Yoongi finds himself out back again with Woosung, leaning against bricks as smoke fills the alleyway.
“You seem okay today,” the singer notes through a small smile. “You gonna be alright?”
“I am.” Yoongi watches the afternoon skies. “And I think so.”
A small hum. “You have to say it like you mean it. Even if you don’t believe it, you have to try.”
Shit, that’s a lot easier said than done. But Yoongi keeps his mouth shut and his eyes blinking, looking down and smelling wisps of tobacco. “What do you do when you..” Fuck, how should he say it? “What do you do when you keep falling back down?”
Woosung takes a drag, and he seems to know what that means. “First I’d tell you the obvious. Keep picking yourself back up.” Coughing, he continues in a much more relaxed manner. “But honestly, you gotta figure out why it’s happening in the first place.”
Yoongi looks his way.
“Once you deal with the reason for the fall, you know how to fight the push. The slip. Whatever you wanna call it.”
With a deep inhale, Yoongi slowly focuses back on the sky, wanting to lose himself in the clouds drifting pass.
Without a doubt, he knows what his push is. He’s just been too weak to fight it. Now that he has people helping—and you—it shouldn’t be as hard. “Thanks.”
“You learn a lot on the road. And I can tell you wanna be on stage, you know. You’d kill it.”
“You think so?”
“I think you think so.”
Yoongi laughs with him. Because the guy's not wrong. “I’ll get there. There’s not really any other options for me.”
Woosung appraises him with pride. “There’s a few camps that are opening up spots. You guys should go to one. It’s good networking, if anything.” After flicking his cig, the singer then turns to fully face him. “Who knows? We might end up opening for you someday.”
Huh? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Brows furrowed, Yoongi blinks before getting confused at the guy’s laugh.
“I’m not kidding. There’s something special about you, I can tell. You just need more time and space to let it grow.”
Mulling it over, Yoongi knows where the conflict is coming from. Yes, he does need to learn more and pretty soon, they could all outgrow that studio and move into another. But they have to push forward and try, even if they’ll be out of their element at these networking opportunities. “I’ll let them know,” he finally says.
“Good.” Woosung pushes off the wall with a shoulder. “I know you’re doing this for you, but… Is there someone else you’re doing all this for, too?”
Yoongi nods without hesitation.
“Then don’t leave them in the dark for much longer.”
What the fuck? How did he know?
“If they catch you in a bad moment… You might lose them before you can even say sorry.”
—
—
Yoongi strolls across another aisle before halting mid-stride, tugging himself into the seasoning and oil section to grab more of what he needs.
After work, he chose to stop by the nearest supermarket to grab things. And the more he walks through the different areas, the more he realizes just how much he’d been needing. Fuck, the damn bill is gonna be huge.
But it’s all worth it. Surprising you with a hearty meal? Yoongi thinks he could do that every day for the rest of his life.
If only there was a nice spot in town you could also go. The ache he has to take you out and show you off has been reaching record highs, but he knows it’s not possible right now.
Yoongi just wants to show you he’s cool with bringing you outside of his place. Never mind that it feels less like home, he’s more concerned about you thinking the worst. Thinking that things are over or limited when he has plans that extend beyond—
Jimin: Incoming Call
A brow is raised before Yoongi answers, “Hey.”
“When’s the release party again?”
That was definitely not what he expected to be asked. Especially when Jimin has been texting him about movies and reminders about practice all day. “Uhh. In a couple weeks. Why?”
“Okay. I.. I dunno.”
Yoongi checks the expiration date on a carton before flat out blurting, “Just date him.”
A groan sounds on the line. “I just.. What if he doesn’t want to? Then I’ll look like an idiot.”
Putting back the first, Yoongi pulls out a second, approving the better date and lowering it into his cart. “Then he’s the idiot.”
“Well. He is.” A rueful laugh crunches through as the smell of cheeses and bread fill the air. “But only because of the way he looks at me.”
Yoongi’s heart clenches. He feels the same about you, wondering how you could still regard him with those beautiful eyes and make him feel more than wanted. “If it helps, you look happy with him.”
“Ah, throwing my own words back at me now?”
“Guess so.” Yoongi flexes his jaw. “I just know how this feels.”
“When are you gonna tell him.”
His whole body locks. “I don’t know.”
“Dude.”
And his eyes slowly shut.
“It’s been long enough, you know that, right?”
Stopping off to the side, he leans onto his cart swallowed in his hood, ignoring a few passing looks and gnawing into his lip. “Course.”
“So do it. I get that you don’t want to, but you have to.”
A hand angrily rakes through his hair, and he lowers his head to speak to the ground. Of course he would get this lecture in the middle of a fucking store. “He’s gonna fucking kill me and who knows what he’ll say to—”
“And I’ll be sending flowers and Tae will write you a song.”
A pause. Then a huff. Yoongi almost feels like it could be that simple.
“She deserves this. You deserve to finally make this.. I dunno, real. Official, if you wanna call it that. Blessed? Wait, is that only for weddings—”
“Chim.”
“You get what I mean. And the most important—and I’m sure you know this because you’re not an idiot—he sure as fuck deserves to know.”
“I know. We both do.” Yoongi sighs, hearing wheels squeak around him and various chatter. He knows he should move before weirding people out, but his feet feel glued to tile. “It’s just.. gonna be shit for all of us.”
“…At least it’ll be less shit if you tell him before he finds out on his own.”
Jimin is always right.
“Also, I might need that keyring back soon if you aren’t even gonna put it to use. I wanna practice after work for the last game.”
“I am using it.”
“Not how I planned.”
“How you planned?” What the hell does that mean? It’s just a set of keys that unlock the gym a ways away, and Yoongi uses it to play by himself after it closes so he’s alone.
When he’s alone. Wait.
“I’ll give it back,” Yoongi finally speaks. “After the game.”
There’s an audible groan on the other line. “Can’t believe I have to spell everything out around here.”
Mustering enough strength to prop his head up, Yoongi finally rolls from his spot and heads to the front to pay. “Thanks, Chim.”
“Use it well. Make her happy, make you happy, make babies, make me a fun uncle, I don’t care.”
Yoongi outright laughs, heart beating a little faster. And he thought just shopping for groceries with you would be enough for him. Gotta hand it to Jimin for getting miles ahead of everyone else. Although…
“But you have to tell him.”
Dreams dashed through, he murmurs a quiet, “I know.”
“Yoongi… I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me, too.” Yoongi slips into line, waiting behind a young man giving his girl a cheek kiss and laughing at her dramatically wiping it away. “Thanks for everything.”
“You can thank me by telling someone you need help next time. Even if it’s not me.”
As the girl goes to lift food to be scanned, she gets stopped by her boyfriend, watching with a small smile before helping him anyway. “I will.”
“Good. Love you.”
Yoongi swallows, eyes a little prickly for more than one reason. “Love you, too.”
—
—
Even though Yoongi has been getting small evidence of your eating habits—as instated by him this past week—he’s still determined to get you more nourishment.
He’s pretty sure you like the restaurant next door, so despite knowing this could get him in a world of trouble, he uses his lunch time to bring you food.
Writing a note and some groceries he forgot to get last time, Yoongi sets it in the paper bag and walks to your building, still in disbelief that you’ve been this close this whole time. The pain of remembering how much of your life he missed while he was unreachable pangs his chest. But he deserves it, and you deserve a lot better.
Finally on your floor, he walks up to the receptionist before immediately ignoring their wide eyes.
“Who are you looking for?”
“My girlfriend. Just dropping this off.”
“Oh.. This is so sweet of you.”
Yoongi doesn’t even give that declaration a second thought. It came out so naturally.
Maybe he really is ready to move on.
You aren’t there at your desk. Which is probably best because he’d just steal you away. So Yoongi quietly sets it on your empty space, looking at all the trinkets and pictures you have in your little world. Some are just adorable, but he spots a polaroid of your brother that clenches his chest.
He was there for that. You both had matching cameras and took an impromptu picture of each other at the same time. He’s pretty sure your brother has yours very visible somewhere, too.
But there’s no time to think because he’s gotta bounce.
Walking fast past reception, he hears a quick, “Wait, are you not gonna wait for her?”
Pausing, Yoongi turns. “I….”
On second thought? Yeah. Because fuck this sudden shyness, he's gonna take any chance to see you.
Be it from being impatient, or just really nervous, Yoongi waits around a nearby corner until you find your food. He needs to see your reaction to the note, because if you throw it out or ignore it? He’ll take that as the most glaring sign to give you space.
But when your hand slowly covers your mouth and your body quietly buckles, his heart beats so loud he thinks you can hear it, and his soul pulses so fucking hard his vision glosses over.
You will never know what you truly do to him.
Back at the studio, Yoongi is locked in the rest of his shift. Because he isn’t just doing this for him now. There’s another reason he’ll be making it big.
You’re still believing in him after all this time. You still stayed.
And Yoongi will take over the whole world just to kneel at your feet to give it to you.
—
—
The entire night is perfect.
In fact, Yoongi’s entire life feels like it’s where it should be. Hanging out with you in a gym, starting another water fight because he still dreams about the one you sprung on him that day? This is what life is about. There are no shadows with him now that he’s fully in your light.
And that carries him through the night and up until the game the next day. His sleep was restful, his spirits are high, and his mind is completely spotless.
But with one glance at the man from Dalo, all the darkness comes rushing back in.
—
—
Did you just tell them all to play?
Even though the guy that assaulted you is on the other team, you want everyone to stay? To play out the game?
Seeing you look so folded in on yourself, Yoongi’s chest feels twisted with immediate rage. How the fuck are these guys allowed to even be here? How did they make it this far? That fucker is staring him in the face and he’s trying unbelievably hard to not go over there and commit felonies.
Honestly? If you’re really about this and want them to go ahead and play, Yoongi knows exactly how it’s gonna play out. All the scenarios are manifesting in his head and he can’t help but feel a sadistic elation knowing how fucked this other team is gonna be.
But he looks at his best friend with heated eyes. “What do you wanna do?”
It takes him awhile, but your brother responds exactly how he thought he would, “Fuck this shit up.”
“Exactly.”
At your addition, Yoongi looks your way, liking your spark but hoping you’re not overcompensating for anything. If you’re uncomfortable, they should just forfeit the game and bounce.
You aren’t budging. You’re clearly shaking and yet, you are immovable in your decision. And it’s so like you and fuck he wants to kiss your fears away in front of the whole gym just so everyone including that dipshit knows you’re forever untouchable. “The fuckin’ nerve.”
“Bold,” Jimin adds from where he stands, turning to you and dropping into oblivion to say what they’re all already thinking. “Don’t worry, love.”
Yoongi turns to the other bench.
“This will be over soon.”
—
—
Everything starts off exactly how they want it to.
Turns out, Jimin’s regimen and practice schedule worked out in everyone’s favor. Now that they’ve played multiple games with each other, Yoongi and the other guys can communicate with just looks and moves alone. Which proves a huge advantage because they’re making the other team look completely unorganized.
All those nights alone in that gym have also contributed to Yoongi’s form. This is the quickest it’s taken him to be in the zone and he’s even impressing himself with how sharp he is.
No one can guard him. No one can stop him. It’s painfully obvious to them and he can’t help but laugh at their shock every time, shrug at their little team squabbles, smirk at the way this idiot can’t even keep up with him. Tragic? Worse.
But things get dicey when Rohan fouls a little too hard, everyone nearly converging on him and the guy selling his pain as if it wasn’t just a normal swing. On cue, shoving and pushing happens, Yoongi being on the outskirts since he’s the last to get there.
It’s over when the coaches come separate, but amongst all the racing heartbeats, your brother looks really focused coming out of the fray. Really calm. Which means something went down and he is fighting to keep his attitude in check.
As they both head to the bench, Yoongi immediately gets the rundown. And his whole attitude ices over with a snap.
“They know which car is mine.”
Fuck.
That means one of two things. One, these guys just happen to really like knowing who drives what. Or two, this isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t the matchup—the real one is not going down on rec center floors.
Yoongi is already repeating his apologies to you.
Well, shit. May as well have some real fun with it now. If they can get the other team to call it quits here, they may have a shot at an easier standoff later.
Right.
—
—
Yoongi doesn’t like this one bit. The other team was too quiet to just have left without a word.
They really will be meeting them in the parking lot. And suddenly, things get a little too real.
This walk could be the last, depending on what they may have on them. The only shit those guys have against them is that this is a public center, and there could still be a lot of witnesses walking by—
Thunder rumbles as they reach the end of the long awning jutting out from the rec center entrance, and Yoongi looks at the dark sky with lidded eyes.
Fuck. So much for people passing by. They may be left out there on their own for real.
“Still?”
At Jimin’s question, Yoongi nods. Because they still have to confront this group of cowards one last time, pouring rain or not. Revenge is never one to raincheck.
Maybe they bluffed. Maybe the storm settled in some seconds thoughts. The lot still looks fine, with cars emptying out one by one as they walk and the space getting more scarce. Your brother’s car and Jimin’s exist in the same spot a ways down near the end.
With more than an alarming number of guys surrounding them.
Is that a whole fucking crew? Fuck, this was not the plan you need to get out of here and anywhere else but your place.
Before Yoongi can say anything, your brother beats him to it. “Taehyung. Get her out of here. Now.”
And your scream of resistance tears through every cell in his body.
Yoongi can’t even fucking look at you, even if to burn the image of your face in his mind to get through this bullshit. Because if he does? He’ll be the one hauling you away and bringing you both to the safest place he can think of without a second or third thought.
But he will not inconvenience his loving mother with a sudden visit just yet. When he finally brings you home, it will be for a different reason entirely.
“No! What the fuck—”
“We’re leaving.”
“Please—! No, let me go!”
This is the thought that will keep him grounded. It has to. He has to face this situation because from the way things are looking, if they don’t settle this now, it will only get worse. For them, for you, for everyone.
Fuck, your voice. It’s taking everything for Yoongi to keep his anger in check because, despite his malice, he’s the one that ultimately started this. He thought he was in the clear. What a fucking joke fuck you’re clawing at his ducts and he doesn’t need to look at your brother to know what he’s thinking.
The man is fucking silent.
And this is the one Yoongi remembers with full body shivers. The protector. The one that will do whatever’s necessary to save the ones he loves. This is the guy Yoongi has to eventually confront, if they—when they—get out of this situation in decent pieces. If your brother did what he did for him? What the fuck is he gonna do for you?
But in all fairness. For the first time, Yoongi understands this side of his best friend. Because for you? There’s no limit to what he would do to keep you safe. What a fucking shame he’d left you in the dark for that long. If you hate him after this, he’ll deal with it. At least that means you were safe enough to say it.
Woosung warned him. And Yoongi still didn’t heed the signs.
But no use dwelling in it now. Your screams have morphed into sobs as Taehyung hauls you away. And with quick observation, Yoongi notices that even some of the faces he’s watching falter.
You’re his everything. Your brother’s everything. And he fucking hates himself for all those opportunities he had to be by your side, all those times he could’ve just confessed but couldn’t because of his own damn faults.
Rolling his shoulder, Yoongi braces for the storm, your brother finally speaking with a clutched phone behind his back as soon as you’re out of earshot,
“Last chance.”
The man from Dalo shoots out a huff of disbelief. “For what, motherfucker.”
“To back off my fucking car.”
Thunder rattles some of the guys into a step back, but your brother doesn’t move. Resolute, he brims with sinister energy, its bristles curling around Yoongi’s legs and hardening Jimin’s shoulders. Even some of the guys from the team have stayed behind, which doesn’t come as a shock seeing as how close they are with your older sibling.
“That’s your play?” Dalo guy drawls before looking around. “Outnumbered and you’re worried about a little paint scratch?”
Your brother only smirks like he has a secret. And Yoongi knows full well that it’s a bluff that always works like a charm. “I mean, I’d be worried if I were you, but. If you can skip a few months’ rent to pay off the damages, go ahead.”
More of the guys shuffle in nervousness, which is the sign they all need. If they actually leave, things should end quicker. All they have to do is hold it out long enough for them to talk.
“How about this,” the man suggests, poison trickling down his curve before he swings his bat right into the side mirror of your brother’s car fuck. “Let’s see how many swings it takes for you to stop me.”
“I’m gonna guess a few,” your sibling drawls under the blare of his car alarm, expertly hiding the fact that he’s pissed as another swing hits the passenger door. “Give or take.”
“You shut the fuck up,” the leader growls, smashing the nearest window right out and grinning into the vehicle. “Oh, what’s this? I’ll take that, thank you.”
“Don’t.”
Yoongi’s blood freezes as he sees exactly what the guy takes, noticing the matching polaroid that your brother has of you that’s always on the dash.
Oh, fuck this noise and fuck this guy. Now he’s waving it like a little trophy? All bets are fucking off. No amount of morals will help him now and your brother turns downright murderous.
“Think I’ll get a lot of good use out of this,” the assaulter boasts with a sinister grin, shoving the picture in his pocket that Yoongi can only assume reeks of sweat and cowardice. Thunder booms once more, and droplets start pinging off shoulders and sweaty heads.
He wants to hurl thinking of what the guy means, and he doesn’t even realize he’s one step further than before until an arm stops him at his chest. Turning, Yoongi sees his best friends’ eyes ablaze but still facing forward, and he stops his strides—mind racing with rage.
“Your girl looked good today, by the way!” The Dalo guy appraises with a lift of his chin, rain running down his angular cheekbones and staining his dark mesh. Yoongi snaps his gaze forward again because shit this is being addressed to him. “We got a nice view from our bench.”
Fuck this dude. What the fuck is happening to his spiking heart rate? Is it anger? The rain? A thunderous mixture of both?
On heavenly cue, thunder tears through the sky again, raindrops starting to pick up just to drown this guy’s talking,
“Think it’s time for me to see her again? Her skin’s so soft, bet it feels like heaven when y’all fuck, huh?”
“Not gonna share?” The man turns to your brother with the evilest glint in his eye. “Guess I can always stop by and ask her myself.”
When the sky rains down in sheets, everything erupts at once.
—
—
Gritty, darker days of the past melt into Yoongi’s vision as the night blurs and roars around him.
For a brief moment in time, he doesn’t think they’ll make it. Youth has slipped its protection from their bones, taking the recklessness of their souls with it. They haven’t done this in ages. And it fucking shows.
Because Yoongi’s side hurts like a motherfucker and his palms sting with white hot singe. Rain and bodies slow in their motion as he takes it all in, and his eyes droop as he shifts closer to his friends—mind swirling like the lights pulsing down the street.
Your brother smacks into wet ground before wrenching himself back up, and a Jimin sporting a botched eye yanks him backward before distancing them all from another hit. The other guys from the team shield their blind spots, everyone now mangled and boxed in tighter and tighter.
This is because of him. He did this. He did all of this.
Mind and skin slick from the rain, his guards crumble. Dark thoughts flood back in and inundate his every crevasse. You deserve to hate him and you should you should you should.
A prideful laugh erupts before yelling out, “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”
“You aren’t gonna do shit,” your brother taunts.
“Think so?” As the man reaches behind his back, Jimin’s voice pierces like an arrow,
“Watch it!”
Acting without thought, Yoongi bolts to his friend, knowing what to do but not having a plan for what’s next oh fuck what’s this guy pulling out—
“Yoongi!”
If anything, he can at least go out with the knowledge that he kept your brother safe. You’ll be safe with him. Yoongi will find a way back to you even if it takes another lifetime or two.
Rain roars down as something dark is pulled from the man’s pants. But Yoongi can barely make out what it is as he shoves your brother out of the way.
"No!"
He's frozen. He can't fucking move. Your bright light is the only thing that flashes into his mind as he stares into glinting, vengeful eyes.
But everyone else will be safe. That is the most important. The only thing that matters.
Suddenly, sirens sound from a ways down, everyone flinching in the downpour. Lights swirl and swirl, and it’s your brother’s exhausted admission that shocks everyone,
“Those are for you, by the way.”
“The fuck?” The man backs up immediately, shocked when half the guys are already scrambling off. “You fuckin’ snitched?”
“What can.. I say,” your sibling huffs through heavy breaths. “Don’t mess.. with my fuckin’ car.”
“Bullshit.”
“Stay if you want.” Straightening with a repressed wince, your brother sets a hand on Yoongi’s good shoulder before walking right up to the man that assaulted you, weapon in hand be damned. “It’ll make it easier for them to spot you. You know, with all the cameras and shit.”
“…Huh?”
“We’re in a public lot, genius.” He wipes blood from the side of his face, looking up behind him at the very obvious camera positioned on the nearest floodlight. “And if we run the tape back, y’all smashed my property.”
The man slowly smiles. “And you’re on the same footage instigating a fight. What if I just…” Something happens between their bodies, but Yoongi can’t see what. “Do it right here? Defend myself?”
Your brother raises his shoulders before exaggerating a sigh. “See, the thing is…” Hands on his hips, he reminds Yoongi of you, flinging him back to a very similar rainy afternoon with much less harrowing stress. How he’s remaining so calm is unfathomable. “You broke into my car and stole from me. Anyone seeing that footage—you know, before the rain—is just gonna see… Well, us trying to stop you.”
The sirens get louder and louder, and more of the guys have long gone by now. But your assaulter stays in disbelief, eyelids blinking away rain and arms shaking. “They can’t catch me from those cams.”
“Probably. But they can pick up your voice from my recordings.” Looking down, your brother finishes with bored finality, expertly ignoring the fact that he's millimeters from death. “And you have my picture in your pants, dumbass.”
Yoongi’s never seen someone slam a hand into their pockets so fast. As the polaroid falls into puddles, a voice quivers while something is tucked back in wet pants, “Fuck you.”
Before he can run, the man gets snagged by his jersey, sirens blaring closer and closer as your brother unleashes his final threats, “Since you did the smart thing and spared me, I'll be nice. But I don’t wanna see you, I don’t wanna see any of them. Come around again, and I’ll make sure you never see daylight, you understand?”
Fully rattled, the man throws his hands up with a growl, “Fine, I got it! Fuck!”
With the last dashes of a coward, the team is left alone in the lot.
Turning their drenched heads and shoulders just in time to see the cops fly by.
—
—
After a quick check to make sure no one’s sporting a major injury, all the team members that stayed are told to go home before any other cops come to ask what’s up. Your brother finishes calling a tow truck for his battered pride and joy, and Yoongi rejoins him with a very silent Jimin.
Even though the rain never stops, the three of them wait until everyone else is driving off. Until everyone else is safely on the way back to some place dry.
When alone, the three of them turn to each other without a single word.
It’s done. It’s really done.
—
—
Just sliding into the passenger seat of Jimin’s car makes Yoongi hiss in pain.
Groans from the others fill the humid space, and Jimin makes sure the lot is completely cleared again before watching his rearview mirror. “How the fuck did you know the cops would come?”
“I didn’t.”
Jimin’s good eye widens. “That was just coincidence?”
“So was the rain being this bad.”
Fucking hell, they lucked out on every single thing they could’ve lucked out on. If it went down any other way? At least one of them would’ve been lying face down on pavement.
Swallowing, Jimin clutches his wheel with one hand before asking next, “Well.. What are you gonna do? You leave tomorrow, right?”
They’re about to talk about the towed, smashed car he called in. So Yoongi’s just gonna lean into his seat and try to fucking breathe.
“Yeah,” your brother huffs out. “Umm. I’m not sure. There’s no getting out of this trip, and I can’t exactly tell my boss what happened.”
“Need us to bring it into the shop tomorrow?”
“Really? Damn, that’d be perfect, thanks. I’ll just get a ride to the airport in the morning then.”
Yoongi winces to himself as he adjusts, hearing a groaning curse from the backseat at the same time. “You sure you’re good to leave tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” The man sighs. “Couple hours of ice and some bandages should do it. And the suits will cover most of me up.”
“K.”
Jimin starts the car, hand gripping the center console so hard his veins pop. “I gotta say… That was the first time I’ve been that scared. In a long time.”
The whole space falls silent in agreement.
It’s your brother that croaks out next. “The last time we were in shit that deep.. Yoong got his back thrown into that barbed fence.”
At that, Yoongi looks out the window.
“But the important part is that we made it. And they won’t be coming around now that we have shit on them. Fuck, the way I wanted to just—”
Yoongi cuts his sentence off immediately, “Luckily you chose logic.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“We just all have someone to live for now,” Jimin grits out with frustration. “So can we just.. Not do this anymore?”
Another hush of understanding falls over the group, and everyone quietly agrees.
“Good.” Jimin rolls his car forward and starts calling someone, setting his phone down while Taehyung’s name shows on his car screen.
“Hey.”
He answered. Which means you’re right at his side. Fuck, Yoongi’s heart is pounding so hard it’s drowning out the rainfall. Your voice. He needs it. He’ll take anything you have to say.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
Jimin’s tongue prods his cheek. “Yeah, we’re all alright, but…”
“Say it.”
As Jimin relays the damage, Yoongi starts picking at his fingernails in nervousness, something he hasn’t done in so long but still feels like second nature. “My eye is pretty fucked. Yoongi’s face is cut up and he’s got some nasty bruises on his—”
“Where is he.”
Oh. That’s really you.
Shit.
Jimin audibly pauses on the line before having the audacity to chuckle. What the fuck is he laughing for? What about any of this could possibly be funny?
“This isn’t funny, Park. Where the fuck is he?”
“With us,” Jimin slowly answers, as if this suspense is good for anyone. “In the car.”
At least he has enough mercy to start out with including your brother. Hopefully that first response was enough to clue you in before saying anything more damning. Not that something damning wasn’t already said. Fuck, this wasn’t exactly what Yoongi meant when he said he wanted to hear you. But goddamn if his soul isn’t already pulsing at the thought of you asking about him.
After another beat, Jimin decides to spell it out for you. And Yoongi feels like he’s about to dangle from a precipice. “Your brother’s here, too.”
“Ah… Am I on speaker.”
Both Yoongi and Jimin look at the center screen, already knowing your brother is looking, too. “Umm.. Yeah.”
Whatever Yoongi thinks you’re gonna do or say? Is nothing compared to what you actually do. He hasn’t been this chewed out in ages and the pit in his stomach morphs into a void.
“Actually, you know what? Good. Now I can say you’re all idiots and immature as fuck.”
The man in the back tries to cut you off to no avail. “Hey, wait a damn minute—”
“I waited long enough!”
Yoongi physically feels his whole soul sag with guilt, guilt, guilt.
“I know this shit isn’t new to y’all, but really? You didn’t need to do this.”
“He was gonna—”
“All you had to do was play the game! Why’d you have to make them mad? Do you even know what could’ve happened back there?”
Yes, they all know. In fact, Yoongi is still mentally running from that one split second of terror. If the dude from Dalo was reaching, that could only mean a couple things and he doesn’t wanna think of either one. How the fuck is he supposed to face you now? When he almost got—
“Just tell me one thing… Is this gonna happen again?”
That one your brother answers with finality. “They won’t be coming around anymore.”
Yoongi hopes to everything in the universe that it’s true. Judging by the fear in those eyes? The way they all ran? There’s no way they’re coming back. But the adrenaline pulsing through his cuts and bruises gives some room for doubts.
“Okay… Are you okay?”
Your sibling answers yet again, making things seem much less concerning than they really are. As usual. “Me? Yeah, the hits I took were weak as fuck. I’ll get home soon so if you wanna order in tonight we can.”
“Fuck that.”
“Huh?”
“Bro, you don’t even know how fucking mad I am. I’m going to Yuri’s.”
That shake in your voice will stay for a very, very long time. Even as his best friend dares to question you, Yoongi’s throat remains shut. “What? Nah, come home tonight and we’ll talk.”
“I just—No.” Fuck. Your pause is the loudest thing. It’s long enough to make them all think you’ve hung up, but he has a feeling the next thing you say will crush him.
And he’s right.
“I’m not talking to any of you for awhile.”
You mean that. There’s no doubt in Yoongi’s mind that you’re dead set on cutting them all off with no hesitation. And they all deserve it, especially him. What they did tonight was idiotic and could’ve been avoided in a thousand ways. You have every fucking right to be furious. Truthfully, you’re kinda letting them all off easy.
Once again, your brother is the spokesperson for the car. Because why would anyone else be, right? “…Fine. But go asap then. I don’t want you out late on your own.”
“…Of course you don’t.”
And you hang up so fast it cuts Yoongi’s breath in two.
Silence follows. Followed by a multitude more. Unspoken thoughts are forming dark clouds in the car, stuffing the space and jamming cotton in everyone’s ears.
In the rear view mirror, Yoongi watches his friend rub both hands over his face before a fist bangs against leather upholstery, Jimin reacting immediately with a quick,
“Behave.”
“Sorry.” A rustle of clothes and guilt follows. “I just… My sister’s right. What the fuck are we doing anymore? This one was stupid.”
“All the fights we’ve been a part of have been stupid,” Jimin tuts, looking over his shoulder and wincing before turning a corner. “Fuck, my eye.”
Yoongi offers with a hand still slung over his waist, voice hoarse, “Need me to drive?”
“No one with a death wish gets to drive my car.” Jimin hisses out another whoosh of pain. “But no, I can make it to his place.”
“K.”
“And she’s right.” Jimin rolls to a stop at the next light. “Even if tonight was coming, this could’ve been prevented. Or done another way. Honestly, I’m surprised we made it out.”
“Same,” Yoongi agrees.
“Glad I got his shit recorded,” your brother sighs, wincing while adjusting his seat. “They shouldn’t be able to refute the recordings in court—fuck—if it gets to that point.”
“What happens if they—”
“Forget about them,” Yoongi interjects, earning two looks of shock and feeling a little surprised himself. When the car starts moving again, he works his hurt jaw, trying to figure out how to word his ever twisting thoughts. “We didn’t tell her anything and that’s where we fucked up.”
Did that come out too upsetting? Can he blame it on his aching side? Does it even matter anymore? Does anything?
“How do you know that.”
Stiffening ever so slightly, Yoongi uses his battered side as an excuse to shift. Wincing, he looks at the center console, choosing not to peer out the window on purpose. Face this shit now. Tell the truth in parts to control it,
“She told me.”
Jimin doesn’t acknowledge that answer, instead turning at the next corner and checking his mirrors.
“When.”
Motherfucker. Yoongi’s mouth is drying out so fast he doesn’t taste the blood anymore. Everything feels like sandpaper, scratching his tongue, tearing his esophagus to shreds. The rasp that results rips his throat red,
“After—”
“After I told her everything,” Jimin jumps in, throwing a blanket over his fire. As Yoongi gives him a look, he continues with eyes on the road, “At that party you hosted a few days after you came back.”
Thank god the blond knows to step up when he’s needed. Yoongi still can’t think straight and was about to admit he called you during that party. Full on busted. And how would that have gone?
“The party I…? Oh, the one that Sunday? Fuck.” Your brother wipes his lower face before shutting tired eyes. “I remember now. Cus I was gonna tell her back then, but everyone started coming over.”
“We should’ve told her before Dalo even happened,” Yoongi says with a sag to his voice.
Thankfully, all suspicion and tightness is gone from your sibling’s voice. Only agreement resonates. “Yeah.. Yeah.”
More silence washes over the car, sweat and rainwater caked on skin while blood hardens in layers. Though Jimin makes no comment, Yoongi knows he’s gonna pay for any damages just sitting in here will accrue.
Rolling up to your house, Jimin parks in the driveway, all of them still wordlessly suffering because of all the shit he started.
Yoongi can’t see it any other way. This all happened because of him, whether his best friend says so or not. Yeah, he threw that punch on the court back then, but Yoongi’s the one that fell for the taunts. How fucking stupid. And to think he thought all of this would just, what, go away with time?
You reached for him on the court this last game. You were begging for him to tone it the fuck down. Once again, he didn’t listen, blinded by the anger boiling over—at that coward, and at himself.
But you’re safe, your brother is safe, and everyone that fought today is fine. Yoongi’s gonna count every blessing that he can before the darkness wins again.
“Thanks for driving, Chim,” your brother grunts as he opens the door. “And Yoongi?”
He turns to look his way. Staring right into those eyes laser focused and exhausted to hell all at once. Not even the pouring rain can divert either of them from breaking contact.
“Get out of the fucking car.”
Fuck.
Yoongi works his cheek before grunting out of the doorway, winding the car and knowing Jimin is on high alert inside. If this is about you? If this is the battle he was supposed to fight for months?
Maybe he’s not making it out tonight after all.
As soon as Yoongi gets close, he’s yanked forward by the collar, eyes unmoving as he knows not to flinch. He’s gonna own his shit, as much as he’s scared out of his fucking mind right now.
Words rip low from your sibling’s lips, “Whatever the fuck you did? Don’t even think about doing it again.”
And there it is.
The door he’d been so desperate to open has been sealed completely shut, caught in this torrential downpour and retreating so far back he can’t see it any longer. “I’m sorry,” he rasps out. “I was gonna—”
“Jimin’s right. You got a fucking death wish? What the fuck is wrong with you? How would you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
Ice blocks all his veins, freezing his chest over and chilling him below his bones. Everything from the moment you knocked on his door to now comes rushing past his vision and breaking in lightning quick snaps.
All Yoongi wanted to do was protect you. And now he’s gonna lose both of you.
Shoving him backwards, your brother growls out. “I just… Are you fucking serious?” He sighs to the ground, rain drenching his already slicked head and steaming shoulders. “You got one life, and a future bright as fuck. Stop throwing it away so easily, or we’re done.”
What?
Now Yoongi’s eyes jolt for another reason. Shock thrums and resets his body, forcing it to grapple with the real conflict between them. “This is about me saving your life?”
“What the fuck else would it be!” Your sibling rushes forward and shoves him again, and Jimin is fully springing out of his car now. “The fuck were you thinking?”
“What the hell are you two doing?”
“You’re fucking kidding me. Are you serious? He was about to—”
“I can handle my own shit!”
Jimin keeps a bull from charging again, full on forcing him back. “What the fuck!”
“I can save you from an idiot with a gun,” your sibling grits out like it’s hurting him from the inside, “But not her, dude.”
Her? What the fuck?
“Yeah, don’t think I believed you for a fucking second. She’s still there, huh? I can see it all over your face!”
As Jimin stills in his pushing, Yoongi’s feet start to get tugged into the earth.
“Look at you. Gone for days at a time, starting shit on the court, and just—throwing yourself out with no plan? Do you even care about your life anymore?”
Thunder cracks the sky once more, punctuating his words on impact.
And it's Jimin’s turn to shove his friend back, voice tightened in ice, “I suggest you choose your next words very carefully.”
“Do you?”
Life slows around Yoongi, magnifying the pain he feels in his side and the blow he took straight to the lip. Everything hurts. Everything’s numb.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, this isn’t what he bargained for at all. And even though it’s been forever since he’s seen his ex, he can feel her ghost howling and grinning like a victor, tearing his heartbeats to shreds.
Your brother’s right about her still being burrowed in his place. That has been the case for months and he needs to fix that. But caring about his life? Of course he does. Did it look like he was just throwing himself out? Truthfully he doesn’t remember everything he did he just acted on pure instinct. “That’s not.. It’s not like that—”
Shucking off a persistent Jimin, your brother straightens and backs up a step. “Someone to live for, huh? Yeah, count me the fuck out. Her? What the fuck, Yoong?”
No. Not this again. Say something. Say fucking anything to fix this shit. The dread that settles into his stomach is finding permanent residence because he’s about to lose his best friend for the wrong reason, “Listen, I—”
“Save it. As long as you’re still with her I am done.”
The panic in Jimin’s eyes matches his own, his hands trembling as he keeps them separated, “It’s not like that, okay? Both of you need to—”
“Get out.”
Yoongi and Jimin still, with the latter asking a shocked, slow, “What?”
“You heard me.” Your brother backs up towards the house, rain falling in rivers across his skin and failing to hide the streams from his eyes. “Get his ass home. I’m not saying shit until she’s gone.”
“But she’s—she’s not even—”
“I’m out.”
—
—
Rain stains the windows of Jimin’s car in splotches.
After the entire drive goes by in silence, Yoongi slides tired eyes up to see his place coming into view.
“Yoongi.”
He doesn’t respond.
“I’m staying with you tonight.”
Shutting down, he gives his friend a shoulder so cold even he regrets it. “No.” He knows Jimin’s already red-rimmed and teary. So he keeps his head down and arm slung over his waist. “Taehyung needs you.”
“Please,” Jimin begs, voice wavering and full of fear. Which is justified. He knows what will happen if he’s left alone. “I’m staying. I can get him and we can both stay, just—”
“Not tonight.”
A sniffle is the only response. “I fucked up. I’m so sorry I messed it all up, but please don’t do anything when I’m not there to—”
“I’ll be fine.” Yoongi clicks the door open, greeted by the boom of thunder and endless rain. He can hear the desperation in his best friend’s pleas, but this is something he can’t let anyone witness. Not feeling in control of his body is frightening, and he needs to be isolated. Again.
Before shutting the door, he turns. “This is something I have to do alone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll… I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
More sobs wrack Jimin’s body as he wipes his bruised eye with shaky fingers. “Promise me there’s a tomorrow.”
Oh. Jimin thinks the worst. Fuck, Yoongi is hurting all of his friends in every fucking way possible. “Chim,” he sighs, rain lowering his temperature so much he shakes. “It’s not like that at all. K?”
“Okay.”
“I just… Yeah. We’ll talk about it when I’m ready.”
“Yoongi,” Jimin halts him right as he’s closing the door. “I really am sorry.”
And he looks down at the seat he just occupied, rainwater and sweat and regret and relief all sunk into leather upholstery,
“Me, too.”
—
—
As Yoongi stumbles into his apartment, he doesn’t bother to turn the lights on. Why would it matter if all they’ll do is highlight the repercussions of his decisions? The stupid fucking decisions ever since the day he damned you all.
A shadow snickers, wrapping around his brain and forcing him to recite them all once again. Just like he had been over the last three months.
Yoongi’s shoes trip over nothing as he stumbles, careening to the floor and smacking a bruised shoulder on impact. White hot pain zings up his limb, shoving out a curse and a wheeze as he lies still because he can’t. Fucking. Move.
All he wanted to do was protect you. Those guys were loaded with dark intentions and he lost it defending your honor. But that doesn’t negate the fact that he put you and your brother in danger. He’s the one that started the fight on the court that day, he’s the one that messed up by making you feel unwanted. Danger? He put you in that. The club? He put you in there, too, and almost tore his mind apart when he saw what happened to you there. What did you say to him afterward? When you both were in the safety of your own bed?
“I was so scared.”
Yoongi punches the floor, gritting his teeth before willing himself to get. Up. Limb by limb, muscle by muscle, he slowly rises to his feet, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his damp, bloody clothes. Because it’s done. The danger won’t reach anyone he cares for any longer, and yet…
He can barely change into new garments as his mind flashes with more reminders, like how he messed up rushing to defend you at the party, making his best friend silently size him up and wrenching daggers in his side. Even leaving you to deal with his shadow fucked you up, because he couldn’t bring himself to tell you why he even left in the first place.
But there’s a lot of that hesitation going around. After all, he hasn’t even confessed to you brother yet. Just the thought makes him want to hurl, and he almost does.
But Yoongi quickly shakes his head, as if doing so flings the memories away. He stalks through his living room, his path illuminated by the flashes of lightning and shaken by the booms of angry thunder.
You may as well command the very skies. Because your rage seems to mirror them tonight, and he cannot blame you one bit for tearing them all apart. God, he can’t get that tremble in your voice out of his fucking head. You sounded so hoarse, so broken, so defeated and yet so strong.
In a screwed up way, Yoongi is proud of you for telling them off, setting off a new conversation that ended in them making amends to how they settle things from now on. They all deserved that as much as they needed it.
You’re too good for him. Yoongi has thought this once before, but it’s more than true now as he stops at the corner of his living room. The darkest one. The one that's been driving him to the brink of insanity and back again.
It’s so loud right here.
Darkness winds around him in waves, only fleeing when lighting floods the room. His face pulses in pain just as much as his side, and he hunches forward, almost touching the neck of his black guitar case.
Yoongi can only stare.
He messed up a lot of things. He knows that. And yet, you haven’t run from him once. Even when he fucked up again, and again, and again, you never ran. That day you almost walked out the door? Yoongi’s heart crumpled and squeezed when he saw you turn right back, eliminating that stabbing fear in his chest and replacing it with a heal of hope.
But you finally cut him off tonight.
And honestly, that was the best decision you could’ve made.
Gripping the firm cloth of the case, he unzips from the top, moving in slow, calculated motions. Thunder rumbles overhead, and he almost flings back to the first time this instrument of disaster was gifted to him. But he fights the memory, quietly choking the guitar by the neck and lifting it from its confines.
He hears it gasping. Fuck, he hears the screaming.
And therein lies the root of his manic war.
This isn’t just an instrument. This isn’t just an object.
It’s a life.
If he does anything to it, the guilt will forever mar his conscience. He’ll carry this violence wherever he goes.
But what else can he do? If he throws it out and someone finds it, the shadow can come back to haunt him. Or inflict its power over someone else. Is that too much of a stretch? Is he truly going insane now?
A fuck up. A screw up. For as long as he can remember, Yoongi believed those were all used to describe him. However, if you have taught him one thing in the time he’s orbited your presence, it’s a simple fact. He may be a fuck up, and he may be a screw up…
But he was still a good person.
Those labels plagued him for years, had him questioning his very existence and rocked him off balance every time he stepped out of line.
All this time, those words were a projection, flung at him with the intention of making them stick until he couldn’t rub them off. Mud, mud, so much mud had been flung onto his brain and buried his very essence so far deep that he couldn’t even find it anymore. Even his vision dulled, colors looked less vivid, life didn’t feel worth living.
But Yoongi has fucking had it with the sludge. He already faced your nightmare head on just to keep you safe. If he had to trudge through a thousand miles of sludge next just to get to you? He’s doing it. Because you’re so fucking worth it and he’s not wasting anymore fucking time on these lies, these half-truths, this bullshit.
Tightening fingers around polished wood so hard that strings bite into his skin, Yoongi turns, lightning flashing and casting his own shadow into his room.
His shadow. No one else’s. He’s not letting there be two of them in here any longer.
The screaming reaches a shrill cry.
A dizzying thought roars in his brain once more, crumpling him at the waist and making his ribs sting. Breaths ragged, he squeezes both eyes tight and heaves at the painful pulse of his head.
That whole time away didn’t even matter, did it? All it took was one phone call to have your brother on his ass yet again.
Fuck. Is he gonna have to keep his distance again? Shit. He didn’t think about that under all the pain he’s sporting right now, all the mental assault he’s enduring because it is relentless tonight.
Goddamn it. He can’t deal with another three months away from you. Even three days without you sounds like agony and death right now, because he has to spend his days and nights with the monster in his hand. The dark will await him once more, but he doesn’t want it anymore. It’s not part of him. It’s not it’s not it’s not.
Eyes slowly opening, Yoongi slowly straightens as much as his ribs allow, shifting his lidded eyes to the weight he carries.
Get rid of it.
Throw it out, all of it, all of it.
But how? He can’t move to throw it away. His feet stay glued to the floor as he struggles to even carry it another second. His chokehold slips, staccato notes giving way to a cacophonic hum as the bottom of the instrument hits the floor.
Get rid of it.
It’s like you’re speaking to him. But how is that possible? Is this what happens when one descends into madness? Because that’s what Yoongi feels in the marrow of his bones. Burdened by the fact that no matter what he does, he’s gonna mess it all up. No matter what he tries, it will be in vain. He’ll never be happy. He’ll never get the future he wants. The future with you. With you, with you, with you, wasn’t he just fighting for you? What the fuck is happening to his brain?
Get rid of it.
He can’t.
Get rid of it.
He can’t.
Throw it out. All of it, all of it.
…Can he?
Yoongi struggles to breathe, heaving out dry, bitter struggle once again. His limbs almost give under the weight of the mud, the pile of sludge. The door seems so far away and he can’t crawl to it any more. There’s too much trash. There’s too much pain.
Your voice rings across his mind one more, desperate time.
Get rid of it.
And someone’s wise words from awhile ago echo right behind like a ripple. A mantra. A reminder.
“If there’s something you need to get through...”
Manic resolve seizes the reins.
“Hit it until it breaks.”
Lightning flashes in slow motion as Yoongi doesn’t even feel himself. He hears the bangs, the crashes, the splinting of wood and shrieking of glass as something enormous tramples through his living room. But nothing feels real, his vision isn’t his, those lifts of his arms aren’t his doing as swing, after swing, after heavy final swing hits in front of him.
This is everything he wanted to unleash in that parking lot. Every movement swathed in rage.
Strings snap, whipping out in all directions as glittery rain falls onto his rug and his floors, skittering in all directions and glinting off the storm light outside.
His throat is hoarse. His ribs are worse.
And his brain goes completely dark.
—
—
When Yoongi blinks, his living room looks unfamiliar.
Until he wakes amongst millions of shattered pieces, surrounding his bloody limbs in a descent suspended in time.
Somewhere, what was once a guitar is split in pieces, slain in cold blood to be rid of the shadow inside. A death necessary for life. Yoongi vows to never break an instrument like that again.
He did it. It finally happened. The only shadow he can see is his.
…Right?
Yes. Yes. It’s over.
—
—
Floating.
Endless, endless floating. The ocean of his mind is calmer without the scepter in the room, but he’s so exhausted he can only move his eyes.
There’s a voice in the dark box he puts himself in. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? When he’s supposed to always end up alone.
Jimin did his best. So did everyone else. But it’s a simple fact that, in the end, it’s only gonna be him here, listening to you call out to let you in.
Wait. That’s really you. You’re calling him? Has he been responding? When the fuck did he even answer his phone?
No. You shouldn’t be here tonight. Not tonight. Not like this.
Regret and anger fill him to the brim as he screams at himself to not push you away. But he will, breaking his own heart to save you from seeing him in his aftermath. You don’t need to see this. You should be miles from where he lies.
“Not tonight.”
But on the other side of his door, you are fighting like you never have before.
“Yoongi, I swear to god—”
“Not tonight—”
“—you don’t let me in I’m—”
“Go home—”
“I’m fucking staying out here until you open the goddamn door!”
Why? Why are you still there? Why are you trying so hard and why does your effort hit him square in the chest? In his mind, he’s reaching for the door but he can’t get there. Still so far away. But you’re screaming for him to try. Begging.
“I’m serious.”
“No.”
“Go home.”
“No!”
It takes everything for him to utter your name, because he feels like even that he doesn’t deserve to say.
He could hang up. He could just shut you out. So why isn’t he? Is he turning away, or clinging on to your outstretched hand?
Yoongi knows why he’s still on the line. It’s because he needs you. Fuck, he needs you and yet he wants you the furthest distance possible. You can’t see this. Any of this. You’d cast him away and never look back.
Which is why he finally reaches the point of begging, “Please.”
Your silence drags on. Only the shaky, quick breaths you exhale fill the deadened air and squeeze his lungs.
Go. Don’t go. Stay. Run.
No matter what Yoongi begs you to do, he’s already screaming at himself to do something. Because even if he doesn’t let you in, you’re just gonna keep standing there. Three months you kept your distance, and you’ll wait another ten until he lets you in. That’s just who you are.
And that’s the you he fell in love with.
But Yoongi feels the most broken he could ever feel. The most damaged, though the worst is over now. What are you going to say? How are you going to react? Will you run?
Will you leave?
Don’t leave.
Don’t leave him alone.
Heart on its last desperate breaths, Yoongi lies still, hoping you say something yet begging for you to take one last chance.
He thought it was best to be left alone. And now he’s silently calling out for you to open the door.
“…No.”
His heart pulses waves throughout the living room, beating stronger and stronger and yanking his limbs into action.
Breathe. Focus. Get the fuck up and walk, crawl, do anything but just get to the fucking door.
So crawl he does. Across shards, across rainwater, across the damage he dealt to the last piece of him that needed breaking. Your effort cannot be left alone and he’s going to meet you halfway.
Fuck, he’s still cold. Still wet. But he will keep crawling on forearms until he can muster the courage to stand up and let you in—no matter how long it fucking takes. The ground feels like sludge and dirt and blood and it’s so dark. He may drown here. But that won’t stop him because he will trudge through hell to reach your voice and this is one and the same.
Almost there.
Stand the fuck up.
Unlock the door.
As soon as your face comes into view, Yoongi doesn’t quite register what you say but he’s already preparing to—
With a sudden fit of strength, he grips your waist and tugs you back into him, both to keep your feet from danger and to selfishly feel the warmth of his only source of sunlight.
You’re silent. You’re still.
“I told you, doll.”
Your sob is all he needs to know. Instead of the pain of you choosing to leave, Yoongi gives you the out one more time.
Despite desperately wanting you to stay right by his side.
“Go home.”
-
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tbc in fugue, pt. iv
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so... thoughts before the last fugue? | join the server! | fugue pt. iv
a/n: we have one more part to fugue left, and if you guys remember everything that happens after reader sees the wreckage.. let's just say the rest is gonna be the most important, most heartfelt parts from yoongi's pov. i seriously cannot wait to share this last fugue chapter with you all, and i wanna do it the most justice i can offer.
a/n 2: i love you all so much, and i've missed being here. thank you all again for being so patient with me as i work through an entire inner working of 3tan yoongi. i knew i wanted to take this on, but i did not account for how much it would affect me mentally. it's been a rough but necessary journey for the both of us. all we know for sure is that we needed to brave the sludge to end in full bloom. and that's where we are finally heading next.
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feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like!
⇥ here!
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more links:
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a/n 3: we have a slight goal to hit before 3tanfugue4 is posted! i want to make sure we have activity here before posting the next part, and some of you guys suggested that we have post goals to encourage interaction. so we're gonna try it and see how it goes! if we don't dig this idea, we can go back to normalcy after fugue4.
note goal: 800 notes is the goal, so when we hit that, 3tanfugue4 will be dropped as planned! thank you all for reading and would love to hear any thoughts: what did you like about the chapter? how did a certain scene make you feel? what are you excited to see next? any shares, comments, tags, and reblogs with commentary count, and i appreciate anything you guys have to say.
These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)
Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.
16.5k
Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol
Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.
-----
He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.
It was foul…
It was taboo…
It was…..
Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.
Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.
Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.
There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.
That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.
Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.
You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?
You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.
Writer’s block was a bitch.
Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.
Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.
You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.
‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.
When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.
Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.
When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.
The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.
Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.
He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.
Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.
The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.
You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”
Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.
You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.
“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”
It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.
He then turned to face the window again.
You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.
Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.
You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”
You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.
The front door was opening.
Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.
The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.
His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.
“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”
Time stood still.
Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.
Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.
The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.
There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.
No one can be in two places at once.
What the fuck was going on?
You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.
Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.
“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.
“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.
“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”
You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”
Your boyfriend’s face dropped.
“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”
You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”
“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.
Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”
Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”
You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.
Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.
“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”
He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”
“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”
Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”
“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.
“Which isn’t possible!”
“Go look then!” You relented.
Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.
He found no such person.
It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.
“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”
You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”
“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”
You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”
Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”
That was the first incident.
—
Dinner that night was a tense affair.
At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.
He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.
Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.
Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.
Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.
And just like that your first couple fight was over.
Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.
You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.
You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.
You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.
And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?
It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.
You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.
It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.
–
A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.
I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.
Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.
Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.
Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.
You and Taehyung have been off too.
There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.
Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.
Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.
Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.
Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.
You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.
You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.
Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.
Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.
Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?
You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.
You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.
He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”
You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”
“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”
You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.
He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”
“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”
Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”
You just nodded and left him to his work.
Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.
Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.
Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.
You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.
It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.
You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.
“What’s that?”
He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”
You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”
Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.
“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”
“For what?”
He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”
You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”
“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”
A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”
Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”
You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.
You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.
“What did you put in this?”
“Oh just some cinnamon and-”
“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.
“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.
“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”
Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”
“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”
“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.
“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.
Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”
“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”
Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”
“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”
His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”
You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.
You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.
Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.
You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.
“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.
“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.
You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.
Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.
A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.
Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(
Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.
That was the second incident.
–
“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”
The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”
You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.
“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.
You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.
Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”
“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”
“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.
“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”
She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”
Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”
“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.
“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.
“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.
“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”
You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”
“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”
“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”
“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”
“Yes.”
A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”
“None.”
“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.
You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”
“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”
“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.
“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.
“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.
“Yeah, maybe.”
–
Mom: Look what I found!
The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.
A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”
The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.
The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”
The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”
The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”
“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.
“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.
The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.
While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.
Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.
Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.
You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.
Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.
Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.
The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.
The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.
He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”
You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”
“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”
You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”
“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.
The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.
You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”
Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”
You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”
“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.
You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.
You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.
Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”
You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”
“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.
The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.
You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.
Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.
His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.
As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.
A tug at your clothes.
Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”
Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.
It sounded like a…bang?
From somewhere deep within the house.
It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.
Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.
“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.
You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.
Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.
But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.
This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.
Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.
But nothing ever came.
Your worry grew tenfold.
The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.
‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’
Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’
At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.
Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.
“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.
“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?
You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.
Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.
The easel held a half-done canvas.
It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.
It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.
It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.
If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.
“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.
You didn’t even know what to say.
All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.
It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.
Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.
You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.
Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.
“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”
You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”
Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”
“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.
He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.
Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.
You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.
But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.
Then, he spoke.
“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”
It wasn’t a question.
He knew.
He believed you now.
–
It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.
You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.
Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.
You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.
Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.
You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.
Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.
Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.
Your boyfriend was understandably furious.
For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.
You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.
One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.
“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.
You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”
The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.
“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”
“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.
“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”
“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”
“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”
“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”
You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”
Taehyung didn’t say anything.
It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.
Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.
Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.
Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.
You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.
Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.
No one was there.
When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.
A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.
Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.
It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.
The sage didn’t work.
–
Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.
Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.
Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.
The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.
You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.
“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.
He followed you wordlessly to the car.
The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.
You both were still angry at each other.
Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.
The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.
You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.
If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.
You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.
He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.
“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.
“Fine. What do you want me to get?”
“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible
He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.
You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.
“Y/n?”
The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.
No way.
It can’t be…
You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.
Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.
“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”
You managed a wry smile.
Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.
But hey, who was counting?
“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”
The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.
“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”
You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”
He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.
“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”
Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”
“Y/n.”
A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.
Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.
“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.
You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.
“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”
The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.
A pregnant pause hung in the air.
“So…how long have you two been together?”
Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.
“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.
“Oh, um, this is Molly.”
“His girlfriend! And you two are?”
“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”
“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.
Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.
“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”
“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”
“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”
You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.
From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.
Even, right?
Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.
You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.
When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.
The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.
You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.
Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.
Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.
You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.
“What is it?”
Taehyung didn’t answer.
You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.
It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.
“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”
–
If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.
The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.
Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.
Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.
“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”
You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.
“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”
“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”
Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.
You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”
She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”
“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”
At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”
“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”
You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.
Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.
Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.
If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.
You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.
“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.
You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.
Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.
Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.
Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”
You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.
“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.
Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”
You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.
You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.
It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.
But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.
And it was almost as if Jimin never left.
You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.
“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.
Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”
“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”
“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.
You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.
Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.
You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.
Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”
Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.
When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.
“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”
“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.
“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.
“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”
She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”
You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.
“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”
“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.
A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.
Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.
–
The clock was nearing midnight.
Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.
Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.
“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”
“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”
“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”
“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.
Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.
You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”
Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.
“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.
You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.
Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.
“Yes, handsome?”
His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”
“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”
He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”
“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”
He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.
Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”
You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”
“Damn, trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”
“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”
You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.
When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.
“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.
“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”
“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”
He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”
“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.
She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.
He blushed, “Thank you.”
“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”
Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”
You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.
You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.
Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.
Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.
Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.
Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.
And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.
The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.
When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.
Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.
A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.
Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.
The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”
Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.
The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.
“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”
“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”
Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.
“Ghost?” Jin laughed.
“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.
“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.
At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.
“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”
Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”
Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.
An awkward silence.
“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”
She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.
“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”
She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.
“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”
A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.
“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.
Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”
You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.
But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.
If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.
Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.
Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.
You felt even more cold.
“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.
You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.
You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.
“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.
Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.
You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”
“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.
The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”
Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.
Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”
Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”
“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.
The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.
Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”
You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”
He tiled your head to make you face him.
Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.
It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.
You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.
You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.
Black and white, really.
‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.
“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.
“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.
The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”
“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.
You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”
He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.
You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”
That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.
With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.
Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
“So….”
“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.
Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”
You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”
You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.
It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.
“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”
“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”
“I broke up with Molly.”
“…What?”
“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.
You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.
He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”
“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”
“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”
You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”
“No.”
You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.
How did he get there without being spotted or heard?
It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.
“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”
Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”
“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”
“Please, Taehyung-”
You were cut off.
His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”
The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.
In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.
No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.
You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.
Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.
And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.
How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?
“Hey what’s going on here?”
Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.
You felt your body lighten in relief.
Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.
Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”
Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”
Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.
He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.
“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.
Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.
What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!
Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?
You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.
If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.
Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.
About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.
You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.
Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.
“So…that got a little out of hand.”
You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."
“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”
“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”
“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”
“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”
A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”
You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.
“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”
“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”
You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.
He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”
“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”
“Done.”
“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”
He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”
“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”
His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”
You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”
“…anything else?”
“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”
He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.
Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.
Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?
If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…
Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.
You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?
Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.
You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.
A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.
“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”
He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.
“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”
You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding.
“Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight baby.”
“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.
You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.
Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.
Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.
The light under the basement door…it was on?
“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”
It couldn’t be….could it?
Your intuition was hollering at you from within.
A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.
Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…
And choked back a horrified scream.
At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.
Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.
It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.
So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)
Fulfilling your parents' wish to see their only daughter get married was impossible. Especially since you didn't have a partner. So you come up with a plan. Pretend to get married to someone and then get divorced one year later. But countless blind dates don't seem to present you with the perfect pretend husband. Until your next-door neighbor, who always gets underneath your skin and drives you insane, offers to help. How hard could it be? It's only pretend, right?
enemies to lovers ⋆ next-door neighbor jungkook au
You cursed the heavens, and the heavens sent him. Apollo descends — golden, wrathful, and obsessed— to claim the girl who dared defy the sun. In your grief, you become his divine fixation… and his inevitable possession. s, a YANDERE! (On-Going)
The Five Labors
Sun Spoken
The Hyms of Calliope: She sings for joy, not praise. For children, not kings. But Zeus hears her. Watches her. Wants her. He will show her— To be loved by a god is to be claimed by a storm. s, a YANDERE! (On-Going)
The Flight of the Stag: They called you a prodigy of the woods — sharp-eyed, steel-hearted, faster than even the wolves. And he is the silent god cloaked in silver light, who watches you from the dark pines with a bow at his back and blood on his palms. a,s YANDERE! (On-Going)
When the God of War sets his eyes on a mortal sworn to another, the battlefield is no longer land or sea—but her body, her vow, and how long she can withstand his obsession. a, s YANDERE! (On-Going)
Plight of the War God
The Flame and the Laurel
He heard her song in the forest and followed, unseen. She sang for no one, yet he listened like it was a prayer. Eros does not fall — he chooses. And once chosen, she would never be free of him. a, s YANDERE! (On-Going)
Of Honey and Hemlock
The Breaking of the Harp
As Above So Below: Promised to a man she did not love, she whispered a prayer in the dark. Hades answered, not with rescue—but with a ring. Now bound to the god beneath the earth, her freedom lies beyond shadowed rites, but Hades holds his chosen as the night cradles stars. a, s YANDERE! (On-Going)
You were born with salt in your veins and wind in your hair, a lighthouse girl cradled by tides and raised by the hush of waves—unaware that from the depths, a god with storm-eyes watched you grow, and claimed you long before you knew what it meant to be wanted. a, s YANDERE! (On-Going)
summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life?
pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader.
content. cursing words, angst, suffering, slow burn, eventual-really eventual fluff, mature themes such as drugs and violence. every chapter will have their own warnings at the very top.
a/n. this is the first bts related fic i've ever posted and i hope for the best!! ofc this is inspired by i can fix him by taylor swift in case you were wondering. and this story wasn't really planned (no news for me), but it's all i've been thinking and writing about all this week, so i decided to post it! the chapters list will be posted as soon as i can! love you all and thank u for the support!
bts masterlist
chapter list.
i. absence
ii. coincidence!
iii. injustice
iv. intrusive
v. remorse
vi. disclosure
vii. greatest
viii. coming soon...
updates will be weekly or biweekly, depending on the progress of each chapter.
synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.
❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable
❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
The Kim Empire.
Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.
They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway.
He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums.
Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is.
Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass.
You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath.
The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god.
You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety.
You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.
Love is something you will never be granted the property of.
You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper.
You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed.
One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor.
Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene.
You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath.
You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on.
A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced.
It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain.
For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time.
Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe.
How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that.
“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.
You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should.
Prince Kim has never been known for being kind.
Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face.
“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again.
Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.
You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.
“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want?
All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you.
Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action.
The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone.
You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.
Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.
You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful.
Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again.
A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before.
He desires an answer.
“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height.
You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive.
You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way.
You think you dislike the feeling.
“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.
You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart.
“I suppose so.”
He frowns. Try again.
“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel.
The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down.
Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you.
“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead.
You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment.
“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants.
“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you.
“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage.
“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it.
All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady.
You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.
“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top.
He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it.
You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.
Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely.
He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.
“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.
When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens.
“Purity.”
Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon.
He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.
It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions.
Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status.
The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive.
It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.
You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything.
The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones.
You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs.
It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one.
Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter.
A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons.
“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor.
You simply shake your own.
“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again.
“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.
“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is.
“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation.
You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace.
You had not been optimistic since then.
She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks.
“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.”
You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.
“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?”
You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design.
Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world.
You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.
“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.
“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.”
Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before.
Ah. It all makes sense now.
“Oh.”
“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.”
Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him.
However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut.
“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.”
She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.
“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.
“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.”
You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement.
“Good.”
Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest.
Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest.
You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable.
Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.
Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall.
Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway.
You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them.
You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms.
Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why.
His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status.
He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that.
You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!
You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught.
His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back.
Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before.
“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.
It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion.
“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy.
He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being.
“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place.
You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.
“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam.
His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features.
Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.
Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.
They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?
“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.
“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic.
“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.
You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.
“Yes. Thank you.”
You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms.
Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.
However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.
“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.”
You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone.
“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.”
“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.”
He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.
“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.
“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.
You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is.
“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too.
“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.”
He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.”
You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.
Ah. Right.
The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown.
He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother.
All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise.
Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white.
How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing.
“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares.
If he does, he doesn’t show it.
“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips.
Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it?
“When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast.
“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them.
“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.
“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him.
“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head.
“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more.
“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.
“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.”
He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.”
In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway.
The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night.
You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible.
It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions.
Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined.
In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach.
Why did he know your name?
It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in.
This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages.
He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby.
You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort.
Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.
You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else.
Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath.
Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on making his war for you.
Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne.
You only wish it was that easy.
“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that.
The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths.
At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position.
A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door.
Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster.
A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears.
She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen.
You do not like to think of them.
Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess.
“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away.
Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm.
“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading.
“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.
This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!”
“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before.
“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls.
“And what am I meant to do?”
“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!”
Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!
You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?
“I understand. It will be dealt with.”
The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart.
At least that is what you hope.
The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents.
A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month.
He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible.
Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid.
What a strange feeling it is.
The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.
You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.
Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake.
His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend.
Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered.
You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–”
His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own.
His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.
Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own.
You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people.
But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain.
You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance.
They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible.
You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire.
“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems.
“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.”
You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales.
The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body.
“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction.
You pause.
“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer.
“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would.
You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.
“But if someone were to see them–”
“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.”
Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut.
You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.
“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear.
“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone.
He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.
“Good lamb.”
You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge.
Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else.
That is the only logical solution, at least.
But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well.
Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week.
It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect.
You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can.
His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name.
You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.
You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior.
His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has.
You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away.
The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.
More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.
Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor.
She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.
Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form.
You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being.
Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose.
Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them.
Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for.
You reach to spray your second favourite perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.
Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.
It is all too strange for you to want to understand.
Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible.
The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.
A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can.
But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?
A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you. It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed.
So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?
No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.
Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn.
Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it.
You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.
A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it.
You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.
Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open.
There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.
But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you.
The future king would be a fearsome thing.
“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore.
You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…”
“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.
“I– Prince Kim…”
“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.
“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of.
“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.
You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse.
That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape.
“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it.
He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you.
Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof.
“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal.
Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.
“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore.
His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?”
“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”
You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room.
“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt?
Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country?
You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft.
“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.
“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft.
It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever.
“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.”
You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment.
A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh!
He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?”
A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable.
Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before.
“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine.
“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you.
“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.”
You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.
Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.
“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day.
“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own.
He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself.
“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.”
What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?!
Oh heavens, oh gods.
“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.”
You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be!
Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.
It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place.
Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.
“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”
The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long.
“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating.
“What…?”
His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.”
“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again.
You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order.
In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him.
You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare.
You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory.
You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do.
As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.
When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it.
His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core.
“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.”
“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest.
Only words you can manage at the revelation.
“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself.
The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen.
You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–”
“Taehyung.”
“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.
He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth.
“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”
He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well.
He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly.
“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”
You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more.
With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours.
Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own.
His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it.
His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body.
Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse.
The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.
The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.
This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince.
The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste.
“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own.
Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him.
When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him.
Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.
For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well.
He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever.
He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.”
He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him.
God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.
“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.”
O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god.
His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left.
When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort.
“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core.
Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal.
You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.
His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being.
“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.
“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else.
The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting.
“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige.
His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him.
You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you.
Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth.
He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal.
A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything.
Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life.
You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible.
His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.
All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting.
He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.
It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.
His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit.
A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt.
You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact.
Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering.
His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue.
Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.
“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him.
He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high.
It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle.
Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form.
Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled.
He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them.
“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt.
You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place.
He will not have you running away.
Not now.
Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters.
He is.
He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows.
Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.
He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.
“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels.
Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality.
He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good.
His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”
Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through.
Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.
You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want.
“Please.”
He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.
Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you.
But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.
One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for.
Not yet.
He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it.
He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity.
“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes.
He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more.
He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk.
So sensitive. So ready for him.
As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet.
He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck.
His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls.
He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take.
A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock.
He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort.
You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there.
Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity.
Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.
“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.
But he holds restraint. Just enough.
The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more.
He is falling apart before you, because of you.
He has gone mad because of you.
The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.
You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.”
He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.
You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs.
“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.”
He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.
“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly.
Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?
His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.
You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused.
With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop.
“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.”
He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him.
Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.
He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.
Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.
“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit.
“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.”
He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him.
“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul.
That is close enough to the truth, anyway.
“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him.
Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.
“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!”
He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.
His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more.
“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body.
“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!”
He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter.
It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.
“Who are you going to marry?”
You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?
“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by.
“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him.
“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel.
“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore.
Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.
“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck.
“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.
“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment.
His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.”
Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe.
You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide.
Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise.
“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing.
Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body.
“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.
Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.
“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright.
“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already.
“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.
You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.
“Goodnight my lamb.”
The Kim Empire.
His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.
Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you.
When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.
He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.
At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.
Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases.
It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games.
But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.
He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.
He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it.
Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night.
But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you.
Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time.
God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.
If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.
You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him.
It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth.
He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.
Synopsis - You find you have no one to turn to except, Jeon Jungkook!!
Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader
Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance
Warnings- Yandere (Mentions of kidnapping/ Emotional manipulation/ Toxic and unhealthy love/ Obsessive Love/ Threats against loved once/ Forced Intimacy/ Abusive behavior/ Controlling behavior/ Power play/ Jeon is the same sweet asshole/ Unhealthy coping mechanisms/ Reader is broken/ Possesiveness/ Hope I haven't missed anything) SMUT (Making out/ Finger suckings (Palm too)/ Dry humping/ Humiliation/ Begging/ Groping/ Heavy degradation/ Dirty talking/ Unprotected sex/ Rough sex/ Multiple orgasms/ Begging for cum/ Chocking/ Creampie/ Shower sex/ Threats during sex/ Crying during sex/ Daddy kink!!/ Sex tapes/ Mentions of bondage, shoe ridings/ Again I hope I missed none) Please remember this is yandere!!!
Word count- 18.7K
a/n- Hello there babies!!!! My apologies for splitting the sequel into two parts but I had to considering this was getting too long (we have 18K words already). If I contniued to write untill the end, I'd have ended up writing 50K words and we all would've be in our sixties by the time I uploaded it. So,bear with me while I first upload this one and let's wait for the next one. Also, in this one I paid more attention to SMUT (like half of this is smut), so it might looks like nothing is happening. But I promise, the sereis will end with the next part. (Let's hope Daebi gets what she deserves!) Thank you so much for reading and the support you've shown. I love you all sosososososooo much ❤️.
RUNRUNRUN
This is the second sequel, read the first part here -
You open your heavy eyelids, feeling as if they are glued. Every inch of your body is sore. Head throbbing. Unmistakable signs of heavy crying in the previous night. You wince in pain as the bright sunlight leaking through the ashy curtains strikes your eyes. You groan softly as you try to move your body,only to realize you can’t. That’s when you realize that you’re not even in bed. In fact, you can see the empty spacious bed right across you.
You’re sitting upright. A soft gasp escapes you. Memories of the previous night slowly start to flood your mind.
The call.
Jungkook.
The video.
Daebi.
Hoseok.
And your little breakdown!
The last thing you can remember is you crying ugly into Jungkook’s oversized t-shirt. His words which didn’t quite reach your ears. His soft kisses on your hair. And his arms that were safely wrapped around your petite figure. The very same arms still wrapped around you.
You’re still in his lap.
Still in the same position where you sobbed like a grieving widow. Your head pressed against his chest. One of your hands is still clutching the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, curled up like a wounded puppy. Jungkook’s cheek is propped up on your head. And judging by the way his chest heaves ever so gently, you know he is asleep. He has fallen asleep while keeping you on his lap. For the entire night. The realization almost makes you feel bad. Almost though. Because no matter what, he is still your kidnapper and waking up in his arms it doesn’t bring comfort.
Absolutely not!
It sends a chill down your spine. You need to get away from him. It was a moment of weakness that you had the previous night. You were heartbroken. Devastated. It was unbearable pain that you endured. It pained you more than how it pained you the day Hoseok told you that he needs to break up. That he’s in love with someone else. Having your boyfriend cheated on you was another thing. But the woman who he cheated with to be your best friend? That’s a completely new territory of pain.
Then she helped this lunatic to get you into this situation? The thought alone makes you want to laugh aloud. How crazy is that? How pathetic is your life?
You ran to Daebi when Hoseok broke up with you. And she had you crying on her shoulder while she was the reason for your tears. She trashed Hoseok like she genuinely despised him with her guts. She got wasted with you on your hardest nights. Only for everything to turn into a lie. One blatant lie.
It’s humiliating when you think about those moments now. How oblivious you’ve been. Hell, you even ran to her when the AI Jungkook started to scare the shit out of you. AOnce again, you ran to the very person behind it all.
Will there be anything harsher that can happen in your life? You don’t think so. So, of course, you were hysterical last night. And this motherfucker, who thought he had the right to drag your already pitiful, pathetic life even lower- had taken advantage of the situation. You would’ve never allowed him to even lay a finger on you if it wasn’t the pain that numbed you of the other senses.
You wish you could just storm away from his hold. Scream at him. Let all your pain, anger and frustration out on him. The thing is though, despite everything, he is still the same Jungkook who managed to get you here. The same man who looks at you with a crazed look in his eyes whenever you act stubborn. And unfortunately, you are still the same person you were yesterday. Broken. Weak. Scared. Trapped. You are still afraid of this man. Very. Hence your weak attempt of stretching your body slowly. Trying to pry his arms away without waking him. You just want to get out of his hold.
It doesn’t work. Just as you try to move an arm, his grip tightens around you. A soft whimper escapes him as he rubs his cheek against your hair. “No..” He breathes. A quick kiss to the top of your head follows that. You freeze. “Five more minutes please…” He adds again. Voice soft and hoarse and his words are nothing but a quiet murmur. There was a time that the same hoarse voice in the morning had made you blush violently. Made you excited. Made your pussy clench around nothing. And you would like nothing more than to say that it doesn’t do anything like that to you anymore. Nothing even closer. Then why are you clutching his shirt like your life depends on it? Then why does your breath catch up in your throat, that way?
Well, it’s because you are scared. Right? Especially, after what you did yesterday, you have all the reasons to be scared. What if he decided to lock you up in a room? What if he decided to chain you to a wall? What if-
“You hungry?” JungKook brings a hand to push back your hair from your face. Doesn’t take his hand right away. He starts to gently massage your scalp. His voice is still sleepy. His movements are deliberate. “Hm? Pretty?” He questions again in your silence.
“How?” You don’t answer his question. Instead you throw another one at him.
“How, what?” He still doesn’t loosen his grip. Not even a little bit. Keeps you pressed against his body.
“How come you have that v-video?” You manage to get your words out without breaking down. A pang shoots across your chest. You’ll never get over that. No.
“I just happened to have it.” He answers vaguely, much for your displeasure. Yet you decide not to question further about the matter. You change the course instead.
“How lon-” This time your voice cracks up. New lump forming in your throat. It pains you. Even the memory of it pains you as if you’re physically bleeding. Even though hours have passed, the pain returns to you fresh. Just like how it was the first time you saw the video. “L-long?” You clutch Jungkook’s t-shirt even tighter, looking for strength from a piece of fabric. “Ho-how long have they-”
“Longer than you think.” JungKook answers you, saving you the misery of having to ask it aloud. “It doesn’t matter, princess. It’s all in the past now. You need to let that go, you know. They don’t deserve you. You deserve much better. They can fuck off.” He finally loosens his grip a little bit. Just enough for him to bring his hand which was in your hair to your chin, and lift your face up. You just let him. He gazes deeply into your eyes. His eyes glowing golden in the morning light. “They aren't worth your time.” Smiles at you softly.
Easy for him to say. It wasn’t him who had been madly in love with the same person half of his life. It wasn’t him who trusted someone so badly that the very obvious signs have become obscure. You bite into your bottom lip to stop the trembling. To stop the sting in your eyes. You are exhausted. Can’t survive another crying session.
“Hey, hey!” Jungkook sighs. “Don’t cry please. I swear, I didn’t want to hurt you, baby. But you weren’t trusting me enough to know that I’m not the bad guy. You were thinking that bitch of a friend of yours could do any good to you. I had to make you see things clearly. I’m so sorry that it hurts. But I’ll make it okay, yeah? I’ll make sure you’re okay. Don’t cry now. Hate seeing you cry.” He rests his forehead against you. You hate to be so close to him. You’re tired, however. So, you give up. Just focus on trying not to cry. Focus on pretending that his presence actually calms you down.
It’s all because you’re heart broken. Once you’re healed, you’ll never feel comfort in him again. Then, you don’t plan on living this life for that long anyway. It’s not like you got much to lose at this rate. And, besides getting out of this luxurious prison, now you have a confrontation to do. You have to meet Daebi and Hoseok. You have to slap Hoseok hard across his face.
You have to call Daebi a ‘bitch’ to her face.
…………………
You eye your breakfast wearily. Even the sight of the delicious- looking pancakes makes your stomach churn awfully. You have no appetite at all. Jungkook, however, never was a fan of you skipping meals. He’s annoying. Too freaking annoying. All you want is to fall deeper into the hole of misery. Just sulk. Be alone with the pain. Such a shame that you’re not allowed to make even simple decisions for yourself.
It’s ridiculous really. Jungkook hasn’t done anything bad. He’s been nothing but kind to you. Caring. Ever so gentle. Loving. Warm. But you’re still afraid. Maybe that fear is deeply rooted somewhere in your brain. With no way of escaping. Maybe it’s because you’ve experienced how much he can change when it’s needed. How he’s turned into a monster when things aren’t going in his way. He might not have done anything bad yet but deep down you know he will, if he wants that.
So, of course you slightly flinch in your seat when Jungkook suddenly sighs. You know exactly what is coming even before Jungkook opens his mouth. That’s why you instantly dig your fork into the soft pancakes. But then he surprises you with his words.
“You loved him that much? You loved him so bad that it still hurts you? After all this time? It’s been years, isn’t it?”
Yes!
That’s the simple and direct answer. You don’t say it aloud, however. See, the fear. Jungkook will not appreciate that answer.
“Why?” Jungkook asks again. You don’t look at him. Just keep picking at your food. Trying not to think too hard about his question because it’ll surely make you cry again.
Why? He asks. You can come up with a list. You know you can but you don’t want to. Jungkook grabs the stool next to you. It screeches against the floor, making you flinch.
“Tell me, baby? What does that motherfucker have that I don’t?” He bends down in an attempt to look at your eyes. You don’t avoid his eyes nor do you look at them. He won’t like the answers if you tell him. For a start, you would like to bring up the fact that Hoseok hadn’t kidnapped you. How he hadn’t created a damn app to traumatise you. But Jungkook won’t like those answers. Besides, it’s not like you’ve hurt completely because of love. No. You are hurt about many things. You loved Hoseok, yes. Maybe you still do. The thing is, though, you’ve come to the conclusion that he’s a cheater a long time ago. And you’ve been loving him less each day ever since. This is not about that. No. This is about trust and betrayal.
“I don’t love him anymore.” You simply mumble before stuffing your mouth with a forkful of pancakes. Jungkook scoffs.
“Yes, but you did.”
“People make mistakes. It’s just past.”
“Yeah? Then why are you sulking? Why is my pretty girl’s eyes all bloodshot and why does she look so tired?”
You put the stupid fork down. It looks like you will have no way of escaping this conversation. “I hate them,” You exhale. Close your eyes. “I hate them and I hate myself. I hate you. I hate how I trusted them ever so easily. I hate that I trusted you. I hate how much of a stupid, pathetic loser I am. I fucking hate my life.” You blurt out before you can even process. Just as the last word leaves your mouth you feel insanely calmed. As if you’ve put down a heavy burden you’ve been carrying around. Just for a minute, however. In the next minute, your face is caught between Jungkook’s rough fingers. He turns your face toward him. That strangely soft and warm look he had in his eyes all this morning has vanished. In its place now is that madness. The look you fear so much. It’s just like the time you told him that he’s sick and he didn’t love you. He’s staring you down just like he did that day. You gulp harshly. A shiver runs down your spine.
Jungkook brings his face closer to you. Close enough until you can feel the tip of his nose nudging against yours. “You,” he grits. “Can hate them all you want. That is what the bastards deserve. And baby,” he squeezes your cheeks hard. Hard that it hurts you. “You can hate me too. Because like I said, you will learn to love me one day. But,” he pauses for a moment. “Don’t ever fucking say you hate yourself. You hear me?” Questions. “Do you?” Shakes your head. “Do not ever fucking talk bad about you.”
All you can do is stare back at him. Wanting badly to glare. Wanting badly to scream. He controls everything in your life. From what you eat to what you wear. Now he wants to control your thoughts as well? You’re already physically trapped. He wants you to be mentally trapped as well?
“I can do whatever I want.” You spit back. God, you wanted to sound as how you feel. Angry. Spiteful. Powerful. But the way you say it is completely the opposite. You sound weaker than ever. Instead of a statement it sounds like a question. And all that it does is make your eyes well up. How helpless you are.
“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “No you can’t, Pretty. Because, guess what? You are fucking mine and I don’t like when people talk bad about what’s mine. Even you yourself.” He lets go of your face. Just to pick up the fork. You stay motionless as he takes a piece of pancake in it and brings it to your mouth. “Now just eat like a good girl.”
You turn your gaze away. Oh, the way you want to throw a tantrum. The way you want to stand up for yourself. “I’m not hungry.” You use your palms to wipe away the unshed tears from your eyes. Jungkook exhales in frustration.
“If you want revenge, I can make that happen, you know. I can avenge you.” He drops the fork without any further fuss, which surprises you. Yet again. But that’s not what makes you snap your head toward him back. He’s controlling everything. And you’re too weak to change that. But… But this is something you’ll never want. You don’t know if you want revenge. Maybe. Maybe not. All you know is that you want a chance for a confrontation. You want to scream at Hoseok. Then above everything, you want Jungkook to stay away. He won’t rob you of your chance for salvation.
“No!” You gasp. “No Jungkook,” Finally, you manage to glare at him. “I’ll never forgive you if you lay a finger on one of them. I’ll hate you to my grave and I promise you, you’ll never see the day I’ll become yours.” You don’t say the part where you’ll never be his either way. Following your words a heavy silence falls. A deafening silence. Just the gentle sound of the heater filling the air. And Jungkook’s glare.
You expect him to get mad. Expect him to threaten you with something bad. Yet it seems, this day is full of surprises. He does nothing sort of that. Simply gets to his feet. Waste no time as he rounds the kitchen island and walks past you toward the doorway. Almost leaves you to be. That’s when you suddenly burst out another question. Or a request. You don’t know where it came from.
“I just want to meet them.” Your voice makes Jungkook halts in his track. A soft yet bitter chuckle escapes him.
“Not a fucking chance.” He informs you before leaving this time for real.
Of course. Who were you kidding?
………………….
You haven’t seen Jungkook all day. Mainly because you've been holed up inside your (his) room. Just after your little but not- so- civil chat in the morning, you stormed into your room. Have spent the entire day in bed. Just like you wanted. Morphing. Sulking. Reminiscing. Going through your memories, looking for signs and clues that you must’ve missed. Completely drowning in your misery.
And Jungkook hasn’t even poked his head in. Not even once, which is very unlike him. He never does that. Never allows you to be alone for more than five minutes unless it’s really necessary. Like when you are in the bathroom or he is. He would always breathe down your neck. Not giving you any chances to try anything funny. Or he just wants to be around you. Even though you don’t talk to him let alone entertain him.
Then there is the fact that he hasn’t been worried about your meals today. Sometimes, he acts like your father. Always making sure you eat well. Not today. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday and there is no Jungkook to nag you about it.
You find that awfully weird. Odd. Even your insides churn. It’s nearing midnight now and the entire apartment is in eerie silence. You sit back on Jungkook’s bed, letting the dark grey silk sheets fall across your body.
When you first realized that Jungkook wasn't going to come and bother you, you were happy. Grateful. It was exactly what you wanted — a moment alone. You expected you’d feel better. At peace. Because you hate Jungkook’s ever- looming presence. This was the day you’ve been dreaming about ever since you woke up in this apartment next to Jungkook. The thing is, however, you feel neither. You feel worse to be honest. Feel anxious. So fucking restless. If you're being honest with yourself, all this time, you’ve been waiting for Jungkook to barge inside the room. You were expecting him. When he didn’t it had put you on edge. Now you can no longer just sit back and wait.
You remove the sheets as you place your trembling feet on the warm carpeted floor. This is truly maddening. How Jungkook is affecting you, even when he is not around. You don’t like this silence. It’s unsettling. You don’t want Jungkook, but at the same time you want him. At least you’ll know he’s not planning to kill you or something when you have eyes on him. Right? That’s why you feel like you’re losing your mind. That’s the only reason you step out of the room and walk toward the living room in silence. That’s exactly why a breath of relief escapes your lips when you spot the said man sprawled on the couch.
The TV is on. Muted. Luminous colors of the screen are flashing across Jungkook’s face. His eyes are deeply fixed on the screen. You can only see the side of his face. Chiseled jaw. Prominent nose. Glinting eyes. Pink pretty lips. His lip ring glistens in various colors. His hair has turned purple since the person on the screen is standing in a purple background. He is ethereal, isn’t he? Simply not human. Can’t be human. Oh, you hate him. Hate how good looking he is.
Jungkook turns his head slowly, obviously sensing your presence. Or he must’ve heard you approaching. His eyes meet yours. They are still not soft. Still angry. Still stiff. You stay that way for a long minute. Then you turn around. Fast. Making a beeline for the kitchen.
……………………….
Despite feeling very anxious and restless without your captor around, the other major reason that forced you out of the comfy bed sheets was hunger. It doesn’t matter how stubborn, rebellious, and alone you want to be, in the end, you’re just a human who needs fuel to function. An entire day without food isn’t serving you well. Your stomach is grumbling. And you feel weak.
You scan your eyes around the now familiar kitchen. Clean and tidy. Spotless. Jungkook is the tidiest person you’ve ever seen. Yet today it seems like no one has used the kitchen at all. It’s funny how you’ve never cooked anything in this kitchen. It was always Jungkook who cooked for you. Now, after all this time, it feels ridiculous to even think about making your own food. Besides, it's not as if you want to cook in this place anyway. It makes it oddly homey. When you start to cook in a place it means you are going to stay there for a long time. Not just a couple days like at a hotel. But in a place where you’d come back every evening. No. You don’t want that at all. You’ll never get used to living in this prison.
Your body, however, doesn’t care what you want or not. Another growl erupts from your tummy. It’s getting unbearable. Like you are starting to eat yourself from the inside out. Maybe you can eat cup noodles. That’s not similar to cooking, right? All you have to do is boil some water. You give yourself a tiny nod before turning toward the pantry where you know noodles are.
“Are you hungry?”
A loud scream leaves your throat as you turn back at light speed. Almost lose your balance at how startled you are. Jungkook just stands in the doorway, completely unphased at the fact that you lost your shit because of him. You clutch your chest with both your hands, scowling at the man in front of you. He and his damn sleazy movements.
“Want me to order something?” Instead of any apology for startling you, Jungkook fishes out his phone. “What do you want?” Asks again when he has the device on his hand. You take a minute, gaping at his face. Even the sound of that makes your mouth salivate. Yet you shake your head. You don’t want to look even weaker in his eyes. Someone who’s incapable of anything. How shameful that you have to seek him for every little thing.
“I’m not hung-” You start to refuse his offer just to get cut off when he suddenly closes the distance between you. Two long strides and your feet are touching.
“For fucks sake, (___), don’t fucking make me the bad guy.” He barks. “Don’t make me force things on you. I,” He pauses for a long breath. When he speaks next his voice drops an octave lower. “Really hate it when you’re freaking stupid to see things clearly. And I’ll hate it even more if I have to fucking knock some sense into you.” His eyes bore into yours without even blinking. You feel your heart skip a beat before starting to go mad. Even your stomach churns awfully. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the shaky breath you let out even if you tried to. Fear rises up in your throat in the form of bile, even when you haven’t had anything in your system. “Don’t make me do things that both of us will regret.” Jungkook adds lastly. Doesn’t step away from you. Just keeps his ground, clearly expecting you to answer. You don’t know what the answer he’s looking for. Yet you answer with another question. Your voice is quiet and meek.
“What are you going to do Jungkook? Hit me? Kill me?” You bite back the tremble in your voice with much struggle. Jungkook looks at you for a second like he’s surprised, then he shakes his head.
“You? Never. But I can certainly make everyone else in this world suffer. You don’t even have a single idea about what I'll do for you baby. Even for simple things. You refuse to eat? Lemme just make you want to eat.” He finally steps back. Scrolls through his phone and then turns it around to show you the screen. A picture. Photo. Of someone who’s dearly familiar to you. Hair dyed in silver and an earring on one ear. Smiling to someone hidden from the camera.
Park Jimin!
You gasp aloud. That picture looks new. Last time you saw him, he had black hair. Park Jimin is someone who’d dye his hair a new color every month but you haven’t seen him with silver hair before. You know it’s a new picture.
Did Jungkook take it?
Does he know Jimin as well?
Did someone else take the picture and send it to Jungkook?
Why is he showing you this now? Is he threatening you?
Your eyes dart between the screen and Jungkook’s face. Jungkook smiles softly. “You won’t want me to just make any of your loved ones hurt now, will you?” He locks the device. You watch as your friend’s image disappears. “Because, I will, pretty. I fucking will.” He pockets the device back again. You feel nauseous. There’s a sickening joy in Jungkook’s voice.
“Y-you- you wouldn’t.” You stare at him. That smile on his lips never even falters.
“Oh, but I will.”
“I told you, if-if you ever lay a finger on anyoneー”
“Do you think I’d just listen to you threaten me? Pretty…” Jungkook clicks his tongue in displeasure. “You are already here, aren’t you? You are already mine. You might not want to acknowledge it yet but you. Are. mine. And I know you’ll come to admit it sooner or later andー” He taps the pocket where he just put his phone. “Meanwhile, we can play it easy or hard.”
“But why- why Jimin? He never did anything wrong to you.” You hastily take a step forward. To be honest, you have no idea of what this man is capable of doing. Not all of it at least. He kidnapped you, yes. He’s sick in the head, yes. But that might not be all he has. He can be even more ruthless. He can be capable of murder even. You need to make sure that isn’t the case.
“But he did.” Jungkook smirks. “He fucking did. If I have to make him suffer, I have all the reasons to do so. Just because I haven’t done anything, that doesn’t mean I can’t, baby. The only reason why I haven’t done anything to anyone, yet,” He brings a hand up. Grabs a loose strand of your hair between his fingers. Plays with it. “is because you are too precious to me. I mean it when I said I don’t want to hurt you, Pretty. But don’t test my patience too much.” His eyes go from that stiffness to softer like a flicker of a switch. So does his daunting smirk. Instead, he smiles at you gently again as he pushes that strand of hair behind your ear. Gently. His fingers grazing over your ear and face ever so lightly. Then he drags those fingers over the side of your neck. And a shiver runs down your spine electrocuting your whole body. You tremble visibly, your breath tangling in your throat.
It’s fear, right? It’s just fear.
“Now, you're a big girl. It’s ridiculous that I have to threaten to take away your toys to make you eat.” Jungkook takes his hand back. Just as his touch disappears you feel insanely cold. Hollow. A longing stirs your insides.
It’s just the fear. You’re awfully scared of him. That’s it.
He just threatened you with your friends’ life after all. You don’t know what Jimin ever did to Jungkook. Jungkook sure does hate Hoseok because he is your ex. Then you know Jungkook hates him because he hurt you as well. Just like he hates Daebi despite her role in getting you in his hold. Then maybe… Could it be the same reason he hates Jimin? Can it be that Jimin knew too. He knew about Daebi and Hoseok. What if he knew about your kidnapping as well? What about Nina? Did they all know about what was going to happen to you and turn a blind eye?
You feel your heart clenches painfully at the thought. There’s a huge chance that it might be the case. Yet still, you don’t think any of their misery would bring you any satisfaction. No. Revenge is a strange word for you. All you want is a chance for a confrontation, which you know you might not have. Unless you work for it, of course. And after everything, you want all of them to be in a position where you can talk to them. So, you fear Jungkook without a doubt. Yes. This is all about that.
The midnight dinner had passed in utter silence where you watched a crappy late-night reality show. It was a very uncomfortable hour where you sat idly next to Jungkook, your mind screaming with unasked questions. You wanted to know. Wanted to ask. How did he know Jimin? Was it just like you thought? How did he know Daebi? When did they meet? Lots and lots of things. In the end, however, you asked nothing. Simply because you feared the answers. And after that hour, you decided it was enough. That it was time to crawl inside your room back again.
See now, while you spent an entire day starving yourself, you at least hoped to come up with a plan. A plan that is meticulous enough to free you from this shithole. But you managed nothing close to that. All you did was cry, being depressed, then anxious. Now, just as you close the door behind you and stand in the darkness, you know you’re about to do the same thing all over again. This time, however, you feel it ten times harder. New suspicions about your other friends’ participation in your misery has made it worse.
The lonely feeling freezes you to your marrow. The pain splits your heart in two. The restless feeling makes it hard for you to breathe. It all hits you like a freight train.
Oh, you shouldn’t have been this quick to return here. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt an extra hour watching that crap show.
Fuck, it’s hard.
You actually can’t breathe.
You turn around to stare at the closed door. The room is in pitch darkness since you’ve not bothered to switch on the lights and the curtains are drawn. Still you can see the outlines of the closed barrier that isolates you in this room. You close your eyes for a second, letting the pain engulf you whole again.
Memories.
Memories of shared laughter and tears.
Moments spent together.
Drunken nights and awful jokes.
Friends. Lovers. Betrayal!
A tangled sob leaves your throat. You reopen your eyes, allowing tears to roll down your cheeks. The cruel reality of how alone and helpless you are once again registering in your mind. If what you think was true, if Jimin and Nina knew this from the beginning, then you’ve been alone all your life. No one has been on your side. Ever. You are all you have. No one has ever cared or will care about you. You bet that they’ve already forgotten about you. They probably have. You will never have someone to wipe down your tears when you cry. Offer you a shoulder to rest your head when you’re tired. You have no one. No one…
Except….
You don’t even wait a second to think what you’re doing or to consider the consequences. Simply can’t afford one more minute of this loneliness. Of this pain. You yank open the door and run out. Tears streaming down without a break. Heart violently pounding against your ribcage. Your hurried footsteps muffled against the marble floor.
No one has been on your side ever. You have no one to turn to. Except this one man, who’ll hold you tight when you cry. And all you want is that. Someone to tell you that it’s going to be okay. That nothing was your fault and they are there for you. You don’t care for the fact that the man you’re running into is another one who caused your demise. It’s fine. You just need comfort. A bandage to cover your wound. It’s fine that it’s not a permanent solution and you’ll regret ever doing this in the morning. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you need someone to be on your side.
So, you don’t stop until you barge into the living room again. You don’t stop until you’re met with the man you were looking for. Just about to leave the room himself. You only give him time to just turn around when you stand in front of him. Jungkook’s innocent- looking, doe eyes, which don’t suit a person like him, go wide at your unexpected sight. You disregard his surprise. Instead you wipe your tears away with both your palms. Drop your hands down. You have no idea what you wanted from him or from just barging in here.
“I- just- ca-can you- uh-” Hence your pathetic stuttering. Your hands clenched around your cozy shorts to gain a strength that you didn’t know you needed. But for your luck or not, you don’t have to elaborate any further. Jungkook’s eyes soften as you watch. A kind of hurt flashing across them before he closes the distance between you in a flash. And you find yourself crushed between his strong arms. One arm wraps around your waist, the other cradles the back of your head.
“Of course I will, Pretty. Of course I will…”
…………………
Whatever you expected when you ran to Jungkook, it certainly wasn’t this. Sharing the bed? Maybe. You fell asleep on his lap last night for the sake of fuck. Maybe you wanted to have someone to lie next to you, filling the empty side of the bed. But this isn’t just sharing a bed. The way one of his arms is curled under your head isn’t just sharing a bed. The way his other hand is thrown across your waist and holding your hand isn’t just sharing a bed. Nor is the firm press of your back against his broad chest or the tingling sensation of his breath against your neck.
But the problematic part of this situation isn’t just how he’s holding you close. The problem is that you're not completely opposed to it. You’re enjoying it to be honest. You blame it on the emptiness inside you. On the craving for a caring presence. Not an AI this time but a real person because the way Jungkook’s heart is beating is real. How his chest is heaving when he breathes is real. How his thumb is gently rubbing your palm is real. That’s the reason for you to like this.
Then why does your heart pound in your poor ribcage?
Why does your breath hitch with every rub of his thumb against your palm?
Why does your whole arm feel numb—in a good way?
Above everything else, why do you want him to keep doing it? No. That’s not the case after all. You want him to just do something more.
You close your eyes for the hundredth time, hoping you would actually be able to fall asleep this time. To act like your stomach isn’t doing weird turns. You fail. Miserably so. All you manage is a blink before you reopen your eyes when Jungkook pushes you back more into his body. His thumb keeps rubbing your palm.
It feels good. So damn good that even a moan nearly slips through your lips. You have to bite your bottom lip so hard not to let that happen. You can’t risk it now. Can’t let him know that he’s affecting you. Because you don’t want to get affected. No. You can’t. You are not feeling a fire travelling across your veins. Starting from the spot where he’s touching you. He’s touching your palm for God’s sake and you’re doing your best not to moan?
What is fucking wrong with you?
Jungkook sighs dreamily behind you, pressing his body more and more into you. He changes the pattern he is rubbing your palm. Instead of circles, he starts to rub back and forth, making you squeeze your thighs desperately.
No. No. No….
This can’t be happening. You are most definitely not getting wet. Not because of this psychopath. Not because of a simple touch.
“Why aren’t you sleeping, Pretty?” Jungkook suddenly questions. His voice is raspy and thick. Even his voice sends a tingle between your legs.
What the actual fuck?
“Not sleepy.” You answer him with your own hushed voice. Or is it hoarse too? Thick?
“Why not? It’s late.” Jungkook raises his head a bit. As if he wants a look at your face. His thumb is still playing with your palm. “This doesn’t help?” He questions as he lifts your hand up. “I’m trying to help you relax.” Explains though you don’t ask. Well, you don’t know ‘relax’ is the right word to use in this context. Jungkook doesn’t let you question it. He lifts your hand up and up then back, behind you and over your shoulder. “Gentle touches help people relax, you know,” He keeps explaining while you wait with bated breath. Clueless but also excited about what he is doing. Then you feel the cold touch of his nose nudging against your palm. “Doesn’t it work for you?” Gently questions. That’s all he does before his nose replaces his lips. He kisses your palm softly. Hesitantly. Carefully. As if you’d break if he presses a little hard.
He waits for a minute while keeping his lips on your palm. Then when he gets no reluctance from your frozen body, he does it again. Another kiss follows. Once then twice. Three times and four times. Slowly. Sensually. His lips brush over your palm like a feather. And you shiver. Eyes fluttering close at the heavenly feeling.
“Huh, Pretty? It doesn’t help?” Jungkook repeats his earlier question in between his soft kisses. You don’t know how to answer that. So you keep quiet, letting Jungkook kiss your hand. Over and over. And with every kiss it turns a bit tender. His lips linger on your palm a little more than before. As if he’s losing his mind and getting caught in the moment. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Damn it! Why’s your hands so soft?” A soft groan accompanies his words. Words that go straight to your lower belly, igniting a fire there.
And you fail to keep your reactions neutral. A heavy, shaky sigh escapes you even without your knowledge. Jungkook takes that as a good sign. His kisses grow more deliberate.But what truly breaks you is when you feel the tip of his tongue grazing over your hand. Gently and lightly. Circling across your skin, just like how he did with his thumb.
“Jungkook…” You mumble which comes out as a desperate moan. You swear that you don’t intend to do that. Jungkook, however, groans. Applies more pressure into his action. His other hand curls even more under your neck, dragging you insanely closer to him. Practically starts to make out with your palm, shifting between open mouthed kisses and licks. You feel your whole body go weak. Blood pumping across your veins extra fast. “Y-you- you can’t.” You weakly whimper once again, half turning toward him despite your words.
“Yeah?” Jungkook relents. Pushes your hand away from his mouth. You find it amazing how he’s breathless. Cold air replaces the warmth where his tongue had just been, making you already miss the warmth, the tingling sensation. “Then ask me to stop.” He pants. Gives you time to do as he says.
And isn’t that easy? Just ask him to stop. You know that he’d listen.
Ask him to stop.
All you do is whimper.
You can’t let this happen.
You press your palm into his mouth.
Fuck, you need to stop.
“Oh, Jungkook….” You finally moan aloud at the same time he kisses your palm again.
“You don’t want me to stop, Pretty?” Jungkook shifts his attention from your palm to your fingers. Wraps his lips around your thumb and starts suckling gently, almost making you cry. “Answer me, baby. You don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep going?” Even during your filthiest sex calls, Jungkook’s voice hadn’t sounded this thick with lust. It gets your head spinning. Rest of the world and everything else disappears from your mind.
You don’t know how you responded to him. If you said yes or just nodded. But in the next moment you find your back pressed against his chest once again. This time, however, instead of just keeping you close, Jungkook is rocking his hips against your plump ass. You can unmistakably feel the hardness that is being ground against your flesh, creating an insatiable desire inside you.
All you can manage to do is whimper. Stay still and let him grind against you. His cock rubbing against your ass firmly with every thrust of his hips. He stopped playing with your hands sometime ago, for much of your dismay. Not that you can complain about the change, however. This is better. Even though you know it shouldn’t feel great, you’re slowly slipping into a blissful numbness.
You would blame this on not having any actions in your life lately. True that with Jungkook- when you thought he was a mere AI- you brought yourself into mind shattering orgasms more than one time. That somehow doesn’t match the sensation you’re feeling now. That fire was nowhere near the wildfire rapidly spreading through your nerves right now.
Well, if Jungkook managed to make you cum hard just by his voice, why would you be surprised of him being able to get you drooling just with his cock grazing over your ass.
Of course, he knows what he’s doing. One hand splayed across your waist to keep you in place. Face hidden in your neck. Lips occasionally touching your skin. His soft grunts a beautiful melody in your ear. His hard cock a sin in your body.
This is wrong.
But you need more.
Otherwise you’ll explode from the pressure inside your tummy. You’ll die from neediness. It’s crazy how desperately your pussy has been clenching over nothing. Embarrassing how much you’ve soaked your panties.
“Jungkook…” You moan out his name once again. Jungkook doesn’t stop his firm grinding as he answers you.
“Yes, pretty?” He plants a kiss under your ear. “What is it?” Asks through clenched teeth.
You don’t know how to ask him what you want. It’s humiliating. You swore you hate him, didn’t you? You swore you will never be his. Technically, this is nothing like that. Just because you’re horny, it doesn’t mean you’ve entered a truce with this guy. Still you feel like crawling into a little hole at the prospect of being this needy for him. Being at the peak of begging for more.
“What do you want, baby?” Jungkook questions again. You don’t answer. Still not knowing how to phrase your words. Jungkook doesn’t have much patience, though. “Nothing?” He slows down his movements, making you nearly panic. You don’t want him to stop. No. “If you don’t ask, I can’t give it to you.” He stops rocking his hips against you altogether. “Do you want to go to sleep—”
“No!” This time you actually panic, turning your head around to look at him at light speed. “No, no, please..” Words leave your mouth before you can process it. Jungkook raises head again to take a proper look at you.
“No?” He arches a brow. You freeze, suddenly realizing that you had said that. But it’s out anyway and you really don’t want him to stop. It’s too late for that now. “Then what do you need, pretty? Use your words, huh?” As if to give you what you’d miss, he presses his hardness a little more into your ass. Or it is to show you how hard he is. Either way it forces the words out of your mouth that he, oh so badly needs.
“Y-you..” You manage breathlessly.
“Me?” Jungkook tilts his head. “You have me here, don’t you, pretty?” You nearly cry in frustration.
Why would he want to make you say it aloud?
“W-want you to to-touch me.” You stutter around again, growing impatient and more needy with every passing second. It’s funny how the day has turned into this. Haven’t you hated him with a passion until now? Well, you still hate him. Maybe even more because he has this much influence on you. To make you say things that you don’t want to say that easily. Of course, you hate him. But that hate drowns in a lake of desire. Deeper and deeper. Disappears somewhere in the murky depths as soon as Jungkook suddenly grabs one of your boobs, making you gasp aloud.
“Yeah? Like this?” He makes sure with his hand already starting to mold the soft flesh beneath his palms. You shudder, eyes fluttering close. You answer him in a gentle hum and for your pleasure Jungkook takes that as enough an answer. Just for a minute, however. Then in the next, he is questioning you again. “Is that all you need baby? Just this? Want me to touch your tits?” He begins his slow grinding back, massaging your breast with just the right pressure.
You’re almost drooling. Just with this. His hands and his cock grazing over your body through all the clothing. Pathetic. But you can’t care. Too horny for your own good. You would hate yourself at the way you shake your head. Not Jungkook though. The guy loves it judging by the way he kisses your cheek with appreciation.
“No? You need more? What do you need, pretty?”
You’re pushing back on his cock, not knowing exactly what’s happening. It sure feels like a dream when this time you open your mouth without much persuasion.
“To-touch me pro-properly… please… god, Jungkook…” You complete the rest of your sentence with pulling your t-shirt up. Initiating what you want.
And Jungkook laughs. Fucking laughs!
Rich sound of his laughter vibrates across your body. It’s sinister. Cruel. Taunting. He’s letting you know how pathetic you’re being and how it amuses him. You should feel embarrassed. Ashamed. And you do. Of course, you do. Your face reddened at the sound. A strong urge to hide your face somewhere getting to you. But with shame, you get that familiar stirring on your lower stomach.
Desire. Burn.
Burn for Jeon Jungkook.
Jungkook knows how to play you. He had played you even before he got to lay a single finger on you. He played you like you were a guitar. And now he’s slowly dragging you into that same headspace.
Making you his little play thing.
Someone who’s completely lost their senses.
“Pathetic, princess. So fucking pathetic. You have no shame!” Jungkook grunts before giving into what you asked him to do. His hand snakes under your t-shirt, finding your bare breasts. “See? Have no shame at all. You came to bed with me, without wearing a bra?” Mocks. His voice is contemptuous. He instantly starts to mould, his thumb flicking over your nippels occasionally. Pays equal attention to both of your tits. Pinches your perky pebbles. “Such a slut!”
In your defense, you didn’t expect this to happen. You expected to go to sleep alone. It’s not fair to assume that. But who would care? Certainly not you because every demeaning word of him is making your body shudder. Your pussy aches. Your empty hole clenches around nothing. And all you want is that emptiness to go. Want that to change. Desperately want to be filled. Especially, since Jungkook is back to grinding.
“Oh, god… Oh, fuck!” You moan aloud, throwing all the remaining sanity and care into the wind.
“Yeah? Does this feel good, pretty?”
You nod violently.
“How good? Are you dripping already? Are you making a mess for me?”
You nod again, followed by another needy moan. Jungkook curses before he stops playing with your tits. You try to protest which just dies in your throat when he drags his hand down through your stomach. Down and down, and stops just below your waistband.
You wait patiently with a bated breath. Completely still despite your heavy breathing. It feels like your skin is burning where his fingers are drawing lewd patterns. But he doesn’t take it further. No matter how long you wait, the next step doesn’t come. Not even when you start to whimper. So, you decide you have no other option but to become even lower.
“Oh, please… Jungkook…” You beg, all the while spreading your legs as much as you can.
“Holy fuck!... You want me to touch you? Want me to touch your filthy cunt?” Jungkook squeezes you in his hold, finally starting to lose it.
“Yes, p-pl-please, yes. Touch me.”
“Touch you where?”
“M-my… fuck.. Jungkook please…” You trail off, burning with shame. How degrading it is to say that. You feel like words are turning into dust in your mouth. Jungkook, though, isn't letting you off the hook that easily.
“Touch you where you filthy whore?” He barks, practically crushing you into his body. You inhale a sharp breath in a fruitless attempt to find the courage. Despite everything, despite the shame, you want him to touch you.
“M-my c-cunt…” You manage to push the bitter words out of your mouth, pleasing Jungkook immensely that he doesn’t even waste a second. His hands go inside your cozy shorts within a beat of a heart. He cups your pussy without further ado. Then his middle finger is sliding along your slit, poking at your entrance and gathering up the wetness. It all happens so fast. The next thing you know is he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit. Occasionally shifts between slightly pressing at your hole. His hard cock still scouring against your ass. And you’re dangerously nearing that peak. Every flick against your clit makes your head spin.
Only if Jungkook allows it, though. He doesn’t. Each time you start to tense he slows down. Changes his rhythm. Then stops altogether, just to start the same thing all over again. Gets you literally drooling. Leaving only him and pleasure in your mind. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing that you don’t even realize when you start to cry for his cock.
“Please, please, please…”
“God damn it, pretty.. You need my cock?”
“Yes, yes, yes… Want you… please…”
“But I thought you didn’t want me to even touch you?”
“Bu-but I wa-want you to… n-now.”
Another laugh. “Do you even know how miserable you sound?” Jungkook pinches your clit, making your thighs shake. “But it’s okay baby, you’re being such a good girl for me. Maybe, you deserve my cock.” He rasps in your ear. You almost fall into a false allusion that he’s finally going to give it to you when he pushes the next words out. “But I’m sure, you said you hate me. You said you never will be mine. You fucking flinched away when I was just trying to touch your hand. Now you want my cock?” Flickering of his finger over your clit comes to an abrupt stop. Before you can even comprehend it, he pulls his hand out of your pants. “I don’t think you truly want it.”
It’s ridiculous the way you panicked. Undignified, how you grab his hand, not letting him take it away.
“No, no, please, no, Jungkook. I want you.. I promise.. I really need you.” Mortifying, when you open your mouth.
“You need me? Yeah?” Jungkook leans into you again, closing the short distance he created. Mumbles in your ear. “Then prove it, princess. Beg!”
This time it doesn’t take much more persuading or convincing for you to actually do it. Words start to flow out of your mouth like a broken damn. Even out of your control. Yet, no matter how much you plead and beg, all he gives you is more teasing. His hand back inside your pants and melting your brain and soaking your thighs. And just as he edges you for what must be the hundredth time you snap, falling into the lowest you can go.
“Oh, god pl-please.. Something… Gi-give me something Kook. At least the tip. I need just so-something…”
And with that you break Jungkook as well.
“Holy fuck! You little slut!” He curses aloud. But he finally relents. You don’t even get to comprehend what’s happening before he is yanking your pants down and doing the same to his as well. All you can do is inhale a shaky breath before you feel the tip of his hardened cock at your sloppy entrance.
Finally! Fucking finally!
You almost sigh in relief when he pushes inside you. Slowly. Agonizingly so. An inch by pleasurable inch he stretches your entrance. You moan lowly at the pleasure, waiting for him to keep going and bury himself deep inside you. Only for that to never come. He stops yet again. You turn your head around, catching his face properly for the first time this night. And the sight that treats you is nothing less than you expected.
Divine.
Godly.
Sin.
His entire face is flushed and eyes all pupils. Brows pulled together and eyes closed shut. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
He is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Jeon Jungkook is impractical. Unreal. Maybe he is an illusion. Just as the thought crosses your head he opens his eyes, catching your gaze. And you clench around his tip tightly, completely unconsciously, eliciting a beautiful moan from his throat. He rewards you with a shallow thrust. Then another. Just with only his tip inside you and driving you crazy. You question him with your confused expression. Luckily for you he reads it.
“Why baby? You asked just for the tip… I’m only giving you what you asked for.” He smirks through his haze.
A whimper of frustration tangles in your throat. Yet you clench around him even harder. Every demeaning word from him is fueling your fire. That’s exactly what makes you clutch onto his hand tightly before pushing back on his half sheathed cock inside you. Changing the fact from half sheathed to fully sheathed. He slides inside you swiftly. Just one push and he’s safely buried inside you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.
You both stilled, reveling in the feeling. Just for a moment, however. Next moment, Jungkook is gripping your face, roughly, fingers digging into your cheeks painfully. He turns your face around and leans forward until the tips of your noses touch.
“You need to learn how to listen and be fucking patient, baby. You don’t want to be a good girl? You want to act like a needy slut? Can’t wait to get this pussy ruined?” He presses a barely there, feathery kiss to your lips. Stark contrasts the way he’s touching you and his filthy words. “Okay then, I’ll give that to you. I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop.” He drawls. That’s the only warning you get before he drags his hips back and rams into you, making you scream his name. He does it again, again, and again. Lets your face go so he can hold your leg up. And as if you’ve not humiliated and embarrassed yourself enough, all it takes is just a few hard thrusts for your prolonged orgasm to crash over you.
“God, fuck yes, sult! Ah fuck, squeeze my cock…” Jungkook hides his face in your neck, inhaling your scent , getting drunk on you. “Fuck, pretty you feel even better than I imagined.” Growls as his hips keep thrusting forward without a mercy. Not even slowing down to let you catch your lost breath. “You have—” He gasps in between his harsh thrusts. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you, pretty…” His teeth sink into the sensitive skin of your neck, arousing you more and more. “I dreamt of this fucking day… you have no fucking idea how much this means to me…” He drags his hand across your body, from your breasts to your stomach. “God damn it, princess…. You know what? I need more… c’mon, on your back—” He withdraws from you fast, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “And I need you naked.”
He doesn’t give you much time to comply with his commands. As soon as he pulls his cock out, he’s pushing you into your back. Even before you can register the movement your remaining clothes are practically ripped away from your body, his clothes following closely.
See now, Jungkook has ridden you into your lowest level already. Has made you say things you wouldn't have said in any other occasions. Had made you beg and plead. But now, as you are laid beneath him, looking at him with your glossy eyes, squirming and impatient, legs already spread without anybody forcing you to do so, it feels worse. It’s one thing if he’s forcing this on you. Leaving you without any options. But to be the one who’s asking for it.
It makes your stomach churn. But the case is, even that doesn’t stop you from humping the air waiting for him to get back inside you.
What’s wrong with you!
It’s all Jungkook’s fault.
You hate him. You hate everything about him. You swear you do. Still, you exhale softly as your hands move across his chiseled abs and chest the moment he gets rid of his t-shirt. Still, you curl your hands around his neck and press your lips to his, turning it into a messy kiss of tongue and saliva without an ounce of hesitance. Still, you keep him as close to you as possible when he pushes inside you again with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. Still, you beg him for more when he starts picking up his pace again.
“H-harder please…”
“More Jungkook…”
“Please don’t stop… keep going…”
You keep screaming.
“I won’t baby. I’ll not fucking stop. Take this cock, yeah? Like that… yes… fuck!”
He keeps promising.
And he keeps his promise. He doesn’t stop. He fucks orgrasm out of orgasm from you.
He makes love to you while hovering over your shaking figure, kissing and biting your lips, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear.
He fucks you while holding your writsts above your head and scattering purple marks across your chest and neck.
He worships you by kissing every inch of skin he can reach.
So does he pound you with your legs pushed over his shoulders.
You have no idea how much time has passed or how many times you actually came. Only thing you’re aware of is the pleasure and Jungkook as now he’s slams into you from behind. Your head pressed into the pillow. He’s clutching both of your hands behind you, taking extra leverage. And all you can do is drool all over you and bite onto the soft pillow. You’re getting tired now. But despite all that, you want Jungkook to cum as well.
That shouldn’t be your concern at all. At least you can turn this whole thing about you. You are receiving pleasure. You are using him. Not the other way around. That’s not what’s happening, however. You’re battling your sensitivity, and exhaustion because you want him to cum. Judging by the way his thrusts are turning sloppy and his ragged breaths you know that’s about to happen. Even the thought is making your tummy clench. Despite how wearried out you are, you feel like about to reach another orgasm, just at the thought.
Then just as the thought passes, Jungkook’s voice breaks your stupor.
“Gonna cum, pretty. Gonna cum inside you, yeah? Fucking make you mine…”
You think you just die at the spot. It’s not possible to feel more aroused. But you do. Even a cry leaves your parched throat.
“Please… yes…” You try in vain to turn your head and look at his divine face but he steals your moment when his hand leaves yours just to grab your hair. You let out a surprised squeal when you’re being yanked back. Your back collides with his chest. His hand immediately snakes around your throat. Squeezes. Not enough to hurt you but enough to cut your air flow.
“You want that, pretty? Want me to cum inside you?” Jungkook growls, his thrusts turning sloppy and sloppier.
You nod, feeling your head getting dizzy. It’s his hold on your neck that's keeping you upright. Your legs are buckling under your weight.
“Say it aloud, princess. Say you want me to cum inside you. Fucking beg for my cum.” Jungkook presses his fingers around your throat a little more, like an unspoken threat.
“P-please c-cum inside me… Pl-please…”
“Again.”
“Oh god, please… pl-please… fill me up, Jungkook. W-ant your cum. I need your cum…” You choke out, struggling to breathe.
“Again, whore. Beg like you really want it. That’s notー” A powerful, harsh thrust. And his grip tightens a little more. “Enough.”
“Please… Jungkook… Want to be so full of your cum. I- Iー” Fortunately for you, those next words do the trick. Just as the words leave your mouth Jungkook stills, his cock twitching inside you. You feel the warmth engulf your insides. Thick ropes of cum painting your walls and putting you into a delirious state. His grip on your throat loosens.
You stay that way, pressed into each other for another long second before Jungkook lowers both of you into the mattress. A deep sigh of satisfaction which lets out by you mixes into the heavy breathing of Jungkook.
You feel light. As if you’ve put all your weight down. You feel like there’s nothing wrong in your life. Even the pain has dissipated somewhere. And you close your eyes into a pure bliss of silence. No pressure, no pain, no problem there to bother you anymore.
……………………………
You can’t believe you did that!
You scrub your chest hard.
How could you?
You scrub your stomach even harder.
How did you do that?
You feel sick. Nauseous.
It was with an unpleasantly twisting stomach that you ran into the bathroom a few minutes ago. Just after you woke up, next to Jungkook- the very same man who dragged you across hell. Then to make matters worse, you were tangled up with himー comfortably.
Comfortably!
And naked!
You sprang out of bed, even not caring for the fact that you might wake Jungkook up. Nor did you wait to see if that was the case. You’ve wanted to throw up. You’ve felt like that but no matter how long you’ve waited kneeling in front of the toilet, nothing came out. So, you’ve opted for a shower. Which is what you’re doing now.
Tears uncontrollably flooding through your eyes. Muffled sobs escaping past your lips. Steaming hot water cascading across your body.
You have no idea how long it’s been since you entered the shower box. Maybe it’s just a few minutes or maybe it’s been hours. And you’ve been scrubbing your body like crazy ever sinceー to no avail. It doesn’t matter how hard and long you rub your skin, you feel like it’s not going away. The imprints of his calloused hands. Imprints of his soft lips and the coldness of that damn lip ring. The wetness of his hot tongue and the tingle of his breath. Then the fullness you’ve felt when he was inside you.
You feel like he's still inside you. You can still feel the harsh thrusts. Can feel his skin slapping against yours.
How did you let yourself do that?
Now, you can’t get rid of him.
You put extra pressure on your skin, scrubbing even harder. You lather on more and more shower gel, then go back to scrub. At this rate, you might end up actually hurting yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You need him gone.
You bring your hand down between your thighs, starting to scrub your inner thighs. This is the part you’ve paid the most attention to. You woke up with his cum dried on your thighs. Another, louder sob erupts as you try to get rid of the unseen evidence of the previous night. You wish you could wash your memory and soul as well. Wipe off everything. You want the previous night to be一
The sound of the bathroom door banging against the wall makes you jump on your spot. Yet you don’t get to let out much of a reaction before Jungkook barges inside the shower box. He wastes no time as he roughly snatches the scrubbing towel you’ve been using to scrub your body. You flinch and stumble a step back as Jungkook throws the towel away, blindly.
“Fucking stop that!” He yells as he closes the distance between you, forcing you to take a few more shaky yet hurried steps back and cover your head with both your hands. You don’t even care for the fact that you’re stark naked. In all your time with him, you’ve never heard him raise his voice like this. “Fucking stop you little…” This time he grits through his clenched teeth. You cower behind your hands even more, which Jungkook finds to be more irritating. He yanks your hands away. Holds them apart and gives you a rough shake. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, (___).” He pulls you forward.
All you manage is a tremble and a whimper.
You’ve seen Jungkook mad. Or not. You’ve thought you’ve seen him mad. Him going berserk over the phone was nothing similar to this. Him raising his voice across a phone was nothing like seeing his face right now. He looks like a beast, almost inhuman. All of his beautiful features masked with pure fury. Eyes wild and bloodshot, jaw slack. A vein throbs at his temple.
Jungkook looks crazy.
Jungkook looks capable of murdering.
Jungkook, the man who treated you oh so softly despite being a monster, looks like he’s about to snap you in half.
“You said you wanted it” He shakes you again, this time even harder, pulling out more and more whimpers and cries. You find yourself even incapable of replying to him. Your heart pounding in your throat. Your vision dims.
Maybe this is how you’ll die. He’ll strangle you to the death.
“You asked me to touch you, (___).” Jungkook’s voice lowered an octave this time. “You asked me to fuck you. You said you wanted it. D-don’t一” His voice cracks a bit and you think a flash of hurt breaks the fury in his eyes. And something inside you turns. Blinding fear subsides a little. He heaves a heavy sigh before speaking again. “Don’t act like I forced that on you.” He chokes out. The feeling inside you intensifies. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your head throbs with the rhythm. You gather courage to peer into his eyes. That beast is there but you see the pain. “Don’t be aー” He starts again.
You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s fear. You wanted to distract him. Partially. You absolutely do not wish to die here. But then there was a guilt. Regret. A hurt that stirs your insides. Whatever the reason could be, you surprise yourself when you lunge forward, silencing Jungkook’s words when you press your lips to him. Initially, it’s just a press of the lips where you both do nothing, but then he pushes you back at the same time he starts kissing you desperately, madly, furiously. You return it to the best.
Your back hits the cold wall behind you. Jungkook kisses you with the same fervor for a few more intense minutes before he pulls away. That’s only when you realize that the shower is still running. That Jungkook is half naked as well and is only wearing his boxers. That he’s getting drenched.
You peer at his face for a moment. The way the fury is still there but now laced with lust. You watch the way the droplets slid over his face. Over his chiseled cheekbones. Over his pink lips and the damn lip ring. A shudder ripple through you before you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, bite gently, soon falling into another kiss. Jungkook moans in appreciation. His hands leave yours so he can skim across your curves instead. Your back, waist, ass, stops under your thighs. Then in one swift moment he picks you up from the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist on instincts.
Jungkook is the one who pulls away again. This time he does it with a harsh bite on your lower lip. Harsh enough that you mewl in pain before he sucks on the spot and soothes the sting. He lets your lip go before resting his forehead against you. Panting.
“You wanted to get rid of me?” He questions, with that dangerous tilt in his voice, sharing one breath with you. You don’t answer him. Just try to fill your lungs with enough oxygen. “You wanted to escape me?” He repeats to which he doesn’t get an answer again. He presses another kiss to your lips, then drags those kisses toward your jaw. From there to your neck. Biting and sucking gently. Adding more marks into your already bruised skin. Mumbles his next words into your throat. “Guess what baby? You’ll never escape me.” With that he raises his face back to peer into your eyes. “I’ll fucking taint your memmories with me,” he growls. “I’ll fucking live inside your head, I’ll fucking burn myself into you. You. Are. Never. Going to escape me.”
You tremble once again. Partially from a fire inside your stomach but partially from an unexplainable fear. Jungkook holds you with one arm for a bit as he shuffles with his boxers, pushing them down. Even the prospect makes your breath hitch and pussy clench. He holds you in his hold securely. “You are mine, baby.” He plunges inside you, ripping out a cry from you at the unexpectedness of his movements. Luckily you are already wet enough that he slides in easily. He stops once he’s buried to the hilt inside you. “You’ll be mine.” Gives you an experimental thrust. Your head falls back, hitting the tile and you clench around him violently. “And don’t try to deny that because trust me, princess, I’m gonna make you mine one way or another. I’ll rip your heart out of you and keep it inside a box if that’s what it takes. Soー” A harsh thrust interrupts his threat. “It’s time you should accept that you’re meant to be mine, pretty.” He picks up his speed and starts pounding into you. Calling you his over and over again.
“Mine. Mine. Mine…”
………………………..
Jungkook never wanted to do something that you wouldn’t like. Never wanted to scare you. Even if he had, unintentionally, a few times. But the thing is, you’re not entirely blameless. You are a little stubborn witch in disguise. A brat. How hard it has been for him to keep you at bay.
Jungkook found himself questioning often, why you were so reluctant to accept him. Be his. Understand that you two were always meant to be together. That you’ve always been tied to him with a red string. But then he believed you would come to accept that one day. He knew you would actually return his feelings. Give him what he’s been craving so badly for years.
Years!
It has taken more time than he had expected, however. From the day he got a hold of you again through his meticulous plan to the day he finally brought you into this place that was supposed to be your safe haven. It has taken longer to make you see things even if it’s not fully yet.
But god, the trouble he had to go through!
First, it was making sure you wouldn’t do something that’s stupid and hurt yourself. Then there was the problem of controlling himself. It was as if holding his breath forever. You were a walking, talking ball of temptation. Jungkook had the hardest time having you around, in your cute shorts and comfy t-shirts which he picked out for you. You were the most adorable yet the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been watching you from afar for so long. Can anyone blame him for nearly losing it when he finally had you in a close proximity. Close enough he could touch you, hold you, and hear you.
The temptation was like a demon on his shoulder. He found himself in moments where he was a hair’s breadth away from kissing you until you were breathless. Bending you over and fucking the senses into you. But, thanks to all the high spirits above, he managed to control the urges. Because, in the end, Jungkook never wanted to do something that you didn’t want him to.
Not because it was hard. It was easy in fact. But Jungkook always wanted you to want him. You never wanted him. Not back in your college years. Not even when you were chatting with him. True, you texted him every and each day but you truly didn’t know who he was now, did you?
Then, suddenly all of his hard work paid off that way.
Suddenly, you were seeking him. You were asking for him. You were willingly being with him.
Just like now.
It’s been a few days since your first night. Since Jungkook finally bent your stubborn will enough to see him. See his love. Yet still, Jungkook can’t help but gasp quietly in surprise when you straddle his lap, emerging out of nowhere. He can’t help but feel like pinching him to make sure he isn’t dreaming.
You get comfortable in his lap. He is sitting on his gaming chair, not particularly playing games but he’s stressing over this one client. Some people are just morons who can’t understand simple things. Jungkook had leaked a very important piece of information to the public on this said client's request. It was the deal they made and the fucker should not be contacting Jungkook again. But here he is, asking for another deal. This time to revise what he already did. See now, Jungkook might be very good at his job. Sneaking into any database and leaking anything for the right amount of money. The thing is, however, he isn’t God and therefore the power of undoing something isn’t on his hand. Life, unfortunately, has no control plus z. His idiot of a client isn’t understanding that.
And Jungkook was at the verge of finding the man and choking him to death himself when you appeared, now hiding your face in his neck. You plant a soft kiss on his neck making him shudder. A moan almost slips past his lips. He aligns his neck to give you more access. You haven’t said much since you straddled his lap, your legs placed either side of him. You pick up on his cue and strat peppering soft kisses over and over. Jungkook unconsciously wraps an arm around your body.
“What are you doing, baby?” He questions as you move toward his throat.
“You seemed tense.” You answer him, softly.
Fuck!
Jungkook finds this to be a huge victory. Despite all the time he had you lying beneath him and moaning his name, you mostly didn’t talk with him. And to think you care about him.
Did he die?
Is this heaven?
“Yeah? And you want to help me.” He starts rubbing your back soothingly. You nod into his throat. “Fuck!” Jungkook curses at the sensation of your lips on him and your admission. “God, pretty, you gonna kill me,” he gives a gentle smack on your perfect ass, marveling at the way you whimper in return. “What do you want to do, baby? How are you gonna help me?”
You pull away from worshipping his neck at his words, facing him and peering at his eyes with your glinting eyes. A little bit hooded and glossy. You exhale a shaky breath. “I wanna- I- uh- can I suck you off, please?” Whisper oh so softly that Jungkook almost doesn’t hear you. He does somehow and the way his heart flutters must be risky to his health. Maybe he’s about to have a heart attack.
He never wants anything more. This. You are on his hold and begging to please him. Jungkook has finally won. The flutter in his heart soon travels south creating a stir in his lower stomach and groin. He was becoming hard slowly since the moment you sat on his lap but now at your words, he goes rock hard in a blink.
“Fuck! God, yes… You don’t have to ask, pretty. You get whatever you want.” He kisses your lips softly. “You want to suck daddy’s cock?” Asks against your mouth, making you tremble. You nod hurriedly. If he’s to push his hand inside your pants, he knows he’d find you already dripping wet. See, it is fate. You’re even this compatible in bed. He knows which button to play to get you high without any drugs. And you know which strings to pull to get him drunk without alcohol. “Go on then, on your knees, princess.” He commands, flipping that switch inside his brain to become the man you want him to be. You instantly start to shuffle down when he stops you once again. “Get rid of the clothes first, want you naked, kneeling in front of me and choking on my cock.”
You comply with him without a second request. Don’t even wait until Jungkook pushes down his sweats completely before you hungrily wrap your hand around his shaft and lips around his tip, pushing him into a blissful haze. From there it’s just a mess of drool, tears, and the sound of gagging. You don’t disappoint him the slightest. You prove him right again and again. With your tongue swirling around his tip. With him hitting the back of your throat. You prove that you’re just where you should be. And Jungkook’s head is spinning. He’s sure that he’s going to explode. Yet within few minutes of fucking your throat, he had to drag you into his lap again.
This time, however, your back facing him, your legs spread widely, and his cock buried inside you. Jungkook would’ve been more than happy to make you swallow his cum but he couldn't help but being a bit greedy and wanting the warm confines of your pussy. You clench around him every time his middle finger garzes over your clit and like clockwork, Jungkook feels his cock twitching.
“You feel so good, slut. So fucking good… You love daddy’s cock?” He asks in your ear. You moan out an inaudible ‘yes’. Jungkook rewards you with a slow thrust. You look so blissful. So lost in him. So fucked up. Makes him want to see and try how much he can push you. How farther you’ll bend for him. “You look pretty, baby, so beautiful,” He kisses your shoulder. “Would you like to see how beautiful you are?” He asks to which he doesn’t get an answer in return. He doesn’t mind that, simply knows you’re so far gone to be able to perform coherent thoughts let alone words. “Would you like to record this baby? So, we can watch it again, andー” Rest of his words die on his tongue when you squeeze his length so hard. “Holy fuck! You like that? You want that?” You answer him with another nod but this time he wants your words. “Words baby…”
“Yes. Yes Jungkook… I…”
That’s enough for him. He drags the chair forward keeping you on him safely, fumbling with his phone with one hand. He places it on the desk, propped against his monitor, front cam opened, and facing you both. Capturing a beautiful view of you filled with him. And he hits the record button. Pulls the chair back to adjust into the best position.
“There you go, slut. C’mon now, ride me!”
…………………………….
You are lying on your side, curled up on the couch and back pressed against Jungkook. His arms are wrapped around you protectively. Titanic is playing on the TV and you’re doing your best to pay attention with Jungkook’s mindless nibbling on your ear.
Lately, you’ve grown accustomed to being close and intimate with him even when sex isn’t on the table. You’ve learnt to accept all the pampering, cuddles, and innocent kisses. You’re not sure when exactly that happened.
First, it was all about sex. After the time he fucked you in the shower and swore that you’ll never escape him, you promised yourself that you’ll never allow him another chance to even lay a finger on you. That was going well until he sneaked into the bed that night. Each and every time you swore that it was going to be the last just to fail miserably. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no, every time his lips pressed against yours, his hands roamed across your body, his breathy voice whispered against your ears. Jungkook had it all easy and one day you’ve decided to let it happen without any resistance from your mind. Because, in the end, your body was going to betray you anyway.
Ever since, your life has been one haze of pleasure. There was no space for pain. Even the memories of your life before thisーthe life full of misery and bitchy people has faded into the past. Jungkook has been keeping you busy all the time. Busy enough that nothing could disturb your blissful peace.
Through endless sex and mind shattering orgasms, time has slipped through your fingers like a passing breeze. You think there is no space in this entire apartment where Jungkook hasn’t had you in. Kitchen. Couch. Balcony. Pressed against a window. Even on top of the washer. And every way he can. Tied up to his bed post. Blindfolded. Even had made you ride his shoe. Had made you masturbate while he watched and recorded. Had you plugged in with his cum inside. Every kind of kink he can think of.
You have started to lose sense of the time. Every day feels the same. You’ve fallen into the same routine. And despite all the pleasure, you’re growing tired of it. Maybe you need something new to focus on.
“Jungkook?” You call out softly. He stops nibbling on your ear immediately and pays attention to you.
“Yes, pretty?”
“Can you- uh- buy me a book maybe… please, I’m getting kinda bored…”
A soft gasp treats you, forcing you to turn around and look at him in confusion. He’s regarding you with a wide grin. You raise a brow in question.
“Of course, I can, baby. I can buy you anything you want. You don’t have to ask like that. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you right away.” A gentle kiss to your cheek. “So, a book, huh? You’re not a reader?” He teases.
You almost open your mouth to question how he would know before it hits you. He knows. He knows every damn thing. What’s your favorite food to, now your favorite position. Then there is you, knowing nothing except his name. You turn around completely, facing him properly.
“I am not but I can start reading.” You tilt your head up to peer at his eyes. He opens his mouth to reply but you beat him into it. “How come you have so much money?” You question without letting yourself weigh the consequences of questioning. Jungkook’s face falls.
“I don’t have a lot of money.” He answers gently.
“You do,” you gesture around the lavish apartment. “This apartment is the most luxurious place I’ve ever been to. And,” you clutch his shirt. “It’s like you’re never stepping outside this house. You’re earning all this money by working from home? What kind of job pays so much?”
Jungkook sighs. “I’m good at developing. Apps and stuff,” He looks carefully at you, as though he’s expecting a harsh reaction from you. You almost do before you catch yourself in time. It’s all past anyway. “I-uh- let’s say I work in I.T, yeah?” That’s the clue for you to let the topic go.
“Where’s your family?” So you change it.
“I don’t have one.” He answers that more easily than the previous one.
“Oh! You’re orphー”
“They’re both alive but I refuse to have any contact with them. They’ve made my life a living hell.”
“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You apologize quickly. A heaviness engulfing your chest at his words. Jungkook chuckles and brushes stray hair away from your face.
“It’s fine, pretty. Why all the questions, though?”
“Just because. I just realized I don’t know much about you.”
“Yeah? Why do you want to know about me?”
“I- I don’t know. I just want to know.” You shrug nonchalantly. Yet as you watch, Jungkook’s face lights up. Eyes glinting and lips spreading into a wide grin. Wide enough that he has to bite down on his lip to contain it. In a matter of seconds, he turns into a boy who's ten years younger than him. And you think you see a faint redness in his cheeks as well.
…………………………..
Jungkook knows that you have no idea how much it means to him to know you’re getting closer and closer every day. First sex, then all the shared casual moments, and you were interested in knowing him. And then you asked him for something?
Isn’t that what lovers do?
Aren’t you acting like a cute girlfriend?
Oh, the fluttering of his heart and stomach you’re causing. Jungkook doesn't think he’s been happier than this in his entire life. He’s riding a high just by watching how shocked and excited you are kneeling in front of the books he brought for you.
“What the hell, Jungkook?” You look up at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.
“You asked for books.” He gestures at the box before you.
“No…” you groan. “I asked for a book. Not for a whole damn library?” Start to rummage through the box, pulling out a book. “What am I gonna do with so many books, Jungkook?”
“Read them.” Jungkook kneels beside you, stealing a kiss into your hair while he does.
“I’m a slow reader, I’ll fucking die before I ever finish reading these.” You sigh exasperatedly, being a little dramatic. To be honest, it’s not even that many.
“Hey, it’s okay, pretty. I told you I’m gonna buy you anything. It’s fine if you can’t read them all or you start to get bored at it. Find a new hobby and tell me what you want.” He takes your hand in his. Kisses your soft hands delicately. You look at him with sparkling eyes.
Fuck!
You’re turning to your normal self slowly. You’re getting your color back. Putting on weight. You smile more and talk to him more. Few more days and you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been.
See, Jungkook knew exactly what you needed. He was right all along.
Just a few more days and he’ll be able to let his guard down. Stop watching your every move like a hawk. Rescheduling and canceling his plans because he can’t leave you alone in here. He managed a good enough security system including cameras but he’ll never know. He had to keep a close eye—for now. But soon you’ll never think about leaving him.
Because he can see the way you slowly understand that you belong to him.
“You’re crazy.” You grumble as you get to your feet. Jungkook follows your actions. You take a step toward him, and bide your time for a minute before standing on your tiptoes and kiss him. Hard and deep.
“Whoa is that a thank you?” He pants once you pull away.
You nod. “There’s more.” Say as you throw your arms around his neck and jump. He catches you up by your thighs with the practice ease.
“Yeah? Another video?”
“Yes, please…”
………………………….
You stay still, unsure of what to do as Jungkook gently cups your face in his hands.
“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He asks for what must be the millionth time. You nod again, trying to appear confident and nonchalant. But the thing is, you’re nervous. Every nerve ending in your body is ablaze.
Jeon Jungkook is about to leave you alone in this house for the first time. Something about an unavoidable meeting with a client.
You don’t know if he’s ever done it without your knowledge before. Maybe he had. But at this moment, he’s doing it with your full acknowledgement. He’s stopped locking you in that damn room every time. Mainly because you’ve been attached to him by the hip lately. You’ve started sharing a bed and a shower. He had no reason to be worried about you trying anything funny, anymore. This, however, is his first time giving you this kind of freedom. And you’re unsure what to do with it.
“Pretty?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in concern.
You clear your throat quickly. “I can Jungkook, I’m a grown woman.” State as you free your face from his hold. You both know that he isn’t referring to your capabilities of staying home alone. You both know he’s asking if you’d not betray his trust. That you’ll not try something that would make both of you regret.
He smiles softly at your admission. “Well then, I won’t be more than an hour.” He finally takes a step away. You return his smile, staying rooted in your place. He takes another and another, walking backward. Just as he’s about to turn around, you snap out of your stupor. You rush forward, five quick steps, and press a kiss to his lips.
Creases between Jungkook’s brows finally ease up as you pull away.
“Be quick.” You mumble, turning him around and you give him a gentle push forward. This time he doesn’t stop you. You walk with him to the front door, wait till he walks out and disappears before releasing a shaky breath.
For the first time, you’re completely alone here.
………………………..
You don’t know what you should do.
All these times, you’ve never even thought about an escape. Jungkook has kept you busy. Busy enough that you’ve forgotten you’re a prisoner here. That he’s your captor. Not someone who you can trust or your lover. But the thing is, you don’t know what to do?
Do you try to run away? To where? To your old house? To the police station?
Then what? Do you still want to confront Hoseok? Do you still want to meet your best friend? Yes, probably. Maybe…
But, do you have the courage to escape?
You don’t even know what kind of security he has. In your first few days you were so keen to know every minuscule detail about this place, planning your grand escape. Now you know nothing.
You stand up from the couch after staring into the empty black screen of the TV for the past twenty minutes. Nothing is going to happen by wasting your time. You make your way slowly to Jungkook’s guest room where he has kept his computer, without any purpose. You don’t know what you’re doing.
It’s just that you’re too restless to stay put. There’s a clock ticking and if you want to do something, you need to be fast about it. No, there’s no ifs, you should do something. This is your chance.
But the problem is that you don’t really feel like doing anything.
An inaudible groan of frustration leaves your throat. This can’t be happening? You can’t be serious. After everything, after the hell he put you through, you can’t simply want to stay with him.
Sex was good, sure. He was treating you well, sure. Still, he’s the same person who guided you into a trap. You’ve been stuck in that trap for a while now.
Yet even the thought of escaping. Running away from Jungkook gives you another level of fear. As if the safe bubble you’ve been living in is about to burst. It’s scary. To think that you’ll be back in the world, wandering around. Facing Daebi and Hoseok who have a fair share in your misfortune. Maybe others do too. Maybe they don’t want you back in their life at all. Jungkook does, though. Your parents must’ve accepted that you were long gone and moved on. There is no one out there who is waiting for you. Jungkook is here for you.
But is this the life you want?
What about walking among people on busy nights? You didn’t love your job but you loved earning your own money. What about living your life of your own accord and not having to rely on someone else? What about travelling the world? What about late night clubbing? Meeting new people? Worrying about buying new expensive clothes? What about life?
You can’t live your whole life this way. Stuck in an apartment while your entire world revolves around one man. You don’t want it to be like that. It’s not like you’ve fallen in love with him anyway. Right? Of course, not. You’re not a victim of Stockholm syndrome.
No. No. No…
You have to do something!
You take a few rushed steps toward Jungkook’s working table, without knowing what you’re actually doing. Maybe you should just risk it and try to open the front door. Or maybe you can turn on his computer and send a message- not to Daebi or any of your friends- but maybe to someone else. Police. Or anyone you could reach. You can check the drawers for a second phone. You couldー
“Fuck!” A loud curse leaves your mouth as an unexpected pain erupts from your left foot. You’ve hit it on the leg of the table. You come to an abrupt halt, mewling in pain, and bend down to rub your foot and ease the pain. You stay in that position and rub your poor toes for another long second before finally straightening up, ready to continue your aimless mission. Only to mewl again when the top of your head hits something. Luckily for you, it was just a pile of books that dropped down to the floor at the impact, with a loud thud.
“For fucks sake!” Irritation bubbles inside you. You bring your hand up to rub your head this time, eyeing the fallen pile of books. You’ve no time to reorganize it. You already wasted enough time. That’s what you almost do.
Almost, though.
Just before you turn around again, your heart beating in your throat, you notice the photo on the floor. Probably was inside a book and slipped out when they dropped down. You would’ve ignored it if it wasn’t for the person in the photo. You can mistake anyone else for someone else. But yourself?
A sharp inhale fills your lungs to the brim before you let that breath out.
It’s you who’s in the photo. Undoubtedly and unmistakably. So what? It’s not that much of a surprise to Jungkook to have a photo of you when you know he’s been stalking you. But what gets you frozen in mid motion is the fact that the you in the photo was from ages ago.
College?
You kneel before the scattered books and papers, feeling your legs buckle. Something uneasy gathers and swirls inside you, twisting your guts unpleasantly. You know this feeling well. You’ve been getting such kind of feelings all of your damned life and everytime you weren’t wrong to suspect something bad. Because every time you felt this way, something bad happened.
You pick up the photo with trembling hands to take a closer look. You might be mistaken about the time frame.
A young, carefree girl smiled back at you. You’re not mistaken. No. Definitely not. This photo was taken years ago. This photo was from another world. A world you’ve left behind and forgotten for the good.
It’s from your college days!
You feel your head start to spin. Memories of blood plague your mind. Screams of agony echo inside your skull. Touch of warm hands tingles your skin. Wetness of a sweet pair of lips brushed across your lips.
You close your eyes to shake away the unwanted memories. You can’t let this happen now. No. Yet all you can see is the blurred lights and silhouette of people. All you can smell is the cigarettes and alcohol.
The cursed night!
This- Jungkook and his stupid app, and his kidnapping- wasn’t the first time you’ve been through hell. You’ve been through worse back then. But after so much effort- including countless therapy, changing universities, starting your degree all over, moving into a different city and years of pain and nightmares, you left that life behind. You were living a normal, good life until Hoseok broke up with you.
Now, a single image is bringing all the buried memories up. The things you don’t want to remember. You swallow down a sob, forcing yourself to pull it together.
It’s going to be fine…
You reopen your eyes and stare at the photo again. Fighting, battling. Trying hard not to break down on the spot.
You can do this…
Just put the damn photo away and focus on your task…
It’s past. It’s past. It’s past.
It was all over.
But how does Jungkook have it?
You freeze again, brows furrowed in confusion. Did he stalk you so hard he found your old photos as well? Did he know about the past that you hate? Did he know about the pain you went through but still decided to traumatize you more?
You clutch the photo even tighter. You’re fighting. There’s a war going inside your head. So many things happening at the same time. And you’re afraid you’re losing.
Let the photo go…
You blankly stare at the photo for another second before, reluctantly dragging your gaze away, to the scattered books. That’s when you notice a second photo peeking out from one of the books.
You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.
Your hand works in autopilot mode when you grab the book and turn it over, dropping at least twenty photos inside it to your lap. You let the photo of you go as you start picking up one by one. Slowly first. Eyes carefully scanning over every single one of them.
You, with Daebi, at the university café.
You, with Hoseok, inside his car.
You, with Jimin….
With Nina….
With some other people, you don’t recognize…
You. You. You.
At your classes.
At your apartment.
At your job.
Library.
You go through the photos as fast as the wind. Your speed builds up with every photo, until one makes you freeze.
It is not you.
A person stands in front of a building you don’t recognize. He is wearing black, head to toe. Even his face is covered in a hoodie. The memories return. Blood. Screams. Light… and a guy. His hands wrapped around you, mumbling sweet nothing in your ear. His hands were covered in blood. His face was covered in a hoodie.
Suddenly, you are sitting in the back of that business class. A meek, nerdy guy next to you. His face hidden, all you can see is a part of his cheek and set of pretty pink lips. Even with the time and all your efforts to drown those memories, you remember him like you’re staring at him.
Lips.
Pretty pink lips.
You even remember the taste of those lips. The warmth of them.
Those lips should’ve faded into memory. The memories should be jumbled. You should only remember the faded bits. But strangely you don’t. Instead, you feel like you’ve seen the same lips yesterday. You feel like those lips were pressed against yours a moment ago.
Pretty pink lips…
Out of nowhere Jungkook’s smile flashes across your mind. The way his lips stretch, making the lip ring glint. The way he bites onto his bottom lip to contain his goofy smile. That adorable, boyish smile.
Haven’t you seen that smile before as well?
The guy who wore that hoodie, that guy who never told you his name, kept his face hidden from you, drugged you, almost killed a person in front of you. Hasn’t he smiled the same way? It was such a rare thing but you’ve seen him smile. And you’ve seen his lips. Is it possible to recognize someone with their lips?
No…. That can’t be. No fucking way.
You gasp for air even though there is nothing keeping you from inhaling. That familiar fear you’ve not experienced for a long time now, shoots across your body, wrapping around your bones, flesh, and skin.
No….
Out of all the fucked up and twisted things in your life, this can’t be one.
You hurriedly throw away the image and pick up the last one. And with that the last threads of hope you hold onto are shredded into million pieces.
It’s an exact similar second image of the previous one. The same person is standing in the same posture in front of the same building. Yet the hood that covered his face had fallen back, revealing his face.
The same face that had greeted you every morning for the past couple months. The face that you always found to be astonishingly handsome. The face that lured you into this trap through that AI app.
It’s the same person. Just far, far younger.
Jeon Jungkook!
Right then, you lose the battle. The sobs and cries you are trying so hard not to let out, escapes you as one loud gasp, followed by uncontrollable tears. Yet before that gasp can turn into loud sobs a familiar voice distracts you.
“Pretty?”
You turn around faster than a bolt of lightning. Your eyes meet with Jungkook who stands in the doorway, scowling, confused. In another time you would’ve been scared for your life. So startled that you start to stutter. This moment, however, you don’t feel anything remotely close to fear. Instead, a rage builds up inside you. A rage that is born from a hurt.
Ridiculous. Why would you be hurt? You should only be angry.
“You motherfucker!” You rush into your feet. Storm toward Jungkook within a blink of an eye. “You fucking lied to me! It was you! It was you all along! You were the prick who ruined my life back then and now….” You screech through your lungs, tears mixing with your enraged words and making your voice crack. “And you lied to me! Every, fucking, person in my life…” You curl your fists into tiny balls, the photo still clutched between your fingers, as you hit Jungkook’s chest. “Everyone… lied to me…” You hit him over and over. Clenching your teeth and pouring all your anger as tears. “I trusted you… And you lied to me too… You fuckingー”
“Pretty, hey, hey…” Jungkook grabs your fists, preventing you from attacking him like a mad cat. You struggle against him the best you can but he holds you tight. “Het, pretty… fuck! Listen to me!”
“I fucking hate you Jeon Jungkook! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hateー” You scream. Jungkook muffles your screams by pulling you into his chest. “I hate you so much.” So, you mumble into his chest, giving up trying to free yourself from his hold. He’s too strong for you.
You should be mad, but what you feel is hurt.
Did you really trust your captor?
“I didn’t lie to you… No, baby, I didn’t.” He mutters into your hair. You don’t give him a reply. Just break into his chest. “I was just a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing.” He continues. “I just wanted a chance to show you that I- I- uh- loved you,” His hold on you tightens. “I’ve always loved you. So damn much. But you were so gone about your pathetic ex, you didn’t even notice me. I had to do something.”
You don’t even know what he’s saying anymore. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing. Yet at the back of your mind, the pieces finally fall into place.
“I won’t accept the defeat this time…”
“You never saw how I always loved you…”
You never paid that much of an attention to those words. Now they make sense.
“Y-you fucking- drugged me… y-you almost let someone toー” You stutter out weakly, only to get cut off.
“I didn’t, did I? I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”
You ignore what he’s saying. “Y-you let me wa-watch a-as you killed a person.”
“He didn’t die.”
As if that would change anything.
“Oh god, why Jungkook? Why me? What did I ever do to you?”
“Don’t say that, pretty. Don’t fucking say that,” Jungkook hides his face in your hair. “You have no idea how much I love you… I was just trying. I was a kid,” his voice cracks painfully, and even without looking at him, you get the suspicion that he’s joined you with the crying. “I was trying to win you over and that was a mistake. I’m so sorry, princess, don’t say you hate me. C’mon I deserve a chance. I- I- was trying while your boyfriend was getting his cock sucked by your best friend.”
Your sobs deepen. Jungkook presses kiss after kiss into your hair.
“I’m so sorry baby, but give me a chance… You know I’ll never hurt you. Let me tell you the full story.”
You don’t want to listen to any story. No. You don’t want this pain.
You pull away from his chest despite his reluctance. For a second you peer into his glossy eyes. Then in the next, you pull him into a hungry kiss.
Fuck this!
Fuck your life!
Jungkook is fucking sick. But still, you know he’s painfully in love with you.
If you can’t escape this hell, then you might get used to it.
………………………
At Hoseok’s place
“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” Jimin practically throws the tablet away. Luckily it doesn’t hit anything but just drops into the couch.
“What do you want us to do, Jimin?” Deabi shouts across from the living room, hands dramatically thrown in the air.
Hoseok watches wearily as his girlfriend and best friend fight over a matter that’s worth all the fighting.
“Is that even a question, Daebi? That’s your fucking best friend. You give her up that easily?” Jimin says, with a rage Hoseok has only seen once — on that cursed night.
“I’m tired, for God’s sake! I’m tired and I can’t do this anymore.” Daebi slumps her shoulders.
“You’re a fucking coward!” Jimin points a finger at her. Then turns his glare to Hoseok. “You too. You both are fucking cowards. First, you went behind her back and then when she needed you, you just give up?”
“We- we’re not—” Hoseok tries to argue when Jimin stops him.
“Save the fucking excuses, man. I can’t believe you dragged us into this shit as well? I can’t believe you did that to her.” Jimin scoffs. “But guess what? I’m better than you. I’m not fucking giving up.”
“Then what the hell are you going to do?” Hoseok yells for the first time as well. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t want to give up. No. But things have turned to a point where there is no answer for anything. After exactly four months of continuous searching, and no clue, everyone has accepted that you are dead. The case isn’t officially closed yet but the fire it had caused has died down.
One of their good friends who was actively working on the case has informed Hoseok that there might be no hope. And after a year, the case would be officially closing and the court would declare you dead, citing your mental instability. He had asked Hoseok to give up on hope.
Apparently, Jimin isn’t ready to do so. Which is good. Hoseok would be happy to be a part of that. But the question remains. What are they going to do? An unwavering determination without a plan is stupid, which describes Jimin at this moment.
Hoseok knows where Jimin comes from. Jimin used to be a good friend of yours. He met you because of Hoseok and therefore you were always out of reach for him. But maybe if Hoseok never was a part of that equation Jimin should’ve taken your friendship into other levels. Yet life had different plans. And Jimin settled into being that good friend who would travel impossible distances to make sure his friends are okay.
That’s exactly what Jimin is trying to do. You grew apart after your nasty breakup with Hoseok. Hoseok knows that. Mainly because Jimin is Hoseok’s friend and Jimin was ashamed to face you. Then before you could actually become friends again you’ve disappeared.
Then there must be the guilt. Guilt of finally knowing Hoseok and Daebi’s story. They decided to come clean to at least Jimin and Nina after you disappeared. They wanted a way to ease their consciousness, even when they knew it wasn’t going to go well. Just as expected, Jimin was ready to murder them both. Disappointed. So was Nina. Jimin even stopped talking to Hoseok, until he sent the text on the group chat today.
The very reason why Jimin barged in.
“I don’t know… maybe trying to convince your detective friend not to give up so easily. It’s just fucking four months.” Jimin grits.
Technically, it’s turning five in a week. And Hoseok can’t do such a thing. He is friends with a detective who was happy to take over your case. Friends. That’s the word. He is not a boss.
“Jimin-ah…” Hoseok sighs, not knowing exactly how to explain to his friend that this is out of his control.
Jimin lets out a bitter chuckle. “What? You can’t? Of course, you can’t.” He takes a threatening step toward Hoseok. “Well, you know what Hoseok? It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t. I fucking bet you two,” he gestures between Hoseok and Daebi. “Are actually fucking happy that she went missing.” Jimin spits out making Hoseok’s eyes widen.
What now?
And making it worse Jimin adds more to his nonsense with a low voice. “Maybe, you’re the reason why she—”
Jimin doesn’t get to finish the sentence when Hoseok practically jumps at him, grabbing from his shirt with both hands.
“What the fuck did you say?” Hoseok screeches. Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the sudden impact.
“Oh god, will you guys stop… we’re friends.” Before Jimin can answer Hoseok, Daebi meddles, trying to part the two friends who are about to strangle each other.
“Friends?” Jimin shakes Hoseok’s hands off him, scoffing. “I don’t see any friends here. In fact, I’m not your friend Daebi.” With that he throws a final glare at Hoseok. Turns around. “Enjoy. Get engaged. Hell, get married so we can throw a party.” Says before walking away and disappears through the front door.
A heavy silence falls over.
“I’m so disappointed in you guys.” After a minute, Nina, who’s been so quiet and pale, mumbles weakly.
Preview: Jungkook always got what he wanted. And he wanted you. Dangerous. Obsessive. You ran, but he was never going to let you stay gone. Because pearls aren’t born from perfection. They’re born from pain. A wound, buried deep, pressed and shaped until it becomes something rare. Precious. And you? You were his pearl. And this time, he won’t let you slip away so easily.
Disclaimer: This type of content is not suitable for all audiences and I do not condone any of the presented behaviour. This is purely for entertainment and fictional purposes and I don’t think any BTS member would act like this.
Author's note: The final chapter of the Pearl series is here! It’s truly been a journey, what started as a simple one-shot has now transformed into a full three-part series lol. Can’t wait to know what you guys think of this long awaited chapter! Don’t be a silent reader, show some support and feedback!💜
Read Part 1 Here | Read Part 2 Here
Jungkook couldn’t sleep.
For the third night in a row, the bed felt too cold. Too empty.
The penthouse, with its towering windows and sprawling view of the city, offered no comfort. The soft hum of traffic below only amplified the silence pressing in, the void you’d left behind. The space where you used to sleep, beside him, against him, was untouched. Undisturbed.
The scent of you was already fading. That delicate trace of vanilla, once clinging to his pillows, was now nothing but a phantom he couldn't chase. And still, it haunted him.
His hand drifted across the sheets, fingers searching for a warmth that wasn’t there. How many nights had he held you close, pressing his lips to your hair as you slept, the steady rise and fall of your breath easing something sharp inside him?
Now, there was nothing.
All he had was silence.
He missed your laugh, that soft, breathless sound when he held you too long while watching late-night movies. The way you’d roll your eyes, teasing him for being too clingy.
You were his. Safe. Perfect. Until you weren’t.
And now, the pain in his chest twisted deeper with every hour you were gone.
He had been patient. He had given you space. Three days. Three days too long.
And all it had done was prove what he already knew.
You weren’t safe out there. Not without him.
And if you wouldn’t come back willingly? He’d bring you home himself.
Jungkook’s jaw tightened as he sat up. His black hair strands over his forehead, messy from restless tossing, the ends curling slightly against his temples. He dragged a hand through it, pushing it back in a slow, frustrated motion.
The pain of your absence wasn’t just a wound.
It was a void.
And he was done waiting.
The rain pounded against the thin windows of the dingy motel room, a relentless rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart. The air smelled of damp carpet and stale cigarettes, the kind of place no one asked questions, a perfect hiding spot, for now.
You sat on the edge of the unmade bed, arms wrapped around your knees, your body trembling despite the layers of clothing you’d borrowed from Bora. The oversized hoodie swallowed your frame, the scent of her perfume lingering faintly as if it could somehow protect you from the icy grip of fear pressing against your chest.
The cash Bora had given you was already running low, the stack of bills feeling smaller each time you counted it. You hadn’t slept. Not really. Every creak of the floorboards, every shadow shifting outside the window made your pulse race.
He could be out there. He was out there. But you couldn’t think about that. Not yet. You have made it this far. You had escaped him, for now.
The cheap motel phone sat untouched on the nightstand. No messages. No calls. No way to reach out. You couldn't risk it. He had made you disappear once already, who's to say he couldn't erase you completely this time? But even as you tried to calm yourself, your mind whispered cruel truths.
He’s looking for you.
He never stopped.
And deep down, you knew that this wasn’t freedom.
The shower sputtered weakly, lukewarm water cascading over your shoulders as you stood under the spray, hands tangled in your wet hair. The tension in your muscles hadn’t eased, it felt as though it were pressing into your bones. You had been running on fear for days. The motel’s water pressure barely did anything to wash the grime from your skin, but it was the first moment of quiet you’d allowed yourself. Alone. Hidden. At least, for now.
You tilted your head back, fingers massaging your scalp, when-
There.
A small bump.
You froze, fingertips brushing over the back of your neck again, right at the base of your hairline. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but unmistakable now that you’d felt it. Your pulse roared in your ears, the water no longer soothing but deafening.
No. No, no, no.
It couldn’t be.
A tracker.
The nausea hit fast, your stomach twisting as panic set in. You pressed both palms against the cool tiles, breaths shallow, the water blurring your vision as it ran down your face.
That son of a bitch.
He had tagged you.
A shaky, horrified breath escaped your lips. You needed to get it out. Now.
Ripping the towel from the rack, you wrapped it around yourself and stumbled out of the bathroom, dripping water onto the worn motel carpet. The tiny blade you’d swiped from the first-aid kit sat on the nightstand.
Your hands shook as you dialed the front desk.
“Front desk. How can I help you?”
“I-" your voice cracked, but you forced it calm. "I need a first aid kit delivered to my room. Please, it’s urgent.”
“Of course, ma’am. Someone will be up shortly.”
You hung up, staring at your reflection in the dim motel mirror.
It’s fine. You could do this.
The first slice was brutal, the sharp sting making you wince as the blade nicked the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. Blood beaded instantly, but you pressed on, teeth gritted as you dug deeper, forcing yourself not to stop.
And then, there.
A hard bump.
It shifted beneath your fingers, foreign and wrong.
You had to get it out.
Pinching it, nails slick with blood, you yanked the tiny object free with a wet snap. The pain was instant, sharp, but the chip, barely the size of a grain of rice, sat trembling in your palm.
You stared at it, chest heaving. He had tracked every move you took.
Rage burned hotter than fear. Without hesitating, you slammed the metal edge down on the chip, grinding it into the nightstand with all the force you could muster. The delicate material cracked under the pressure, shattering completely beneath the blade.
Gone.
You won.
A knock echoed through the room. The first aid kit. Relief flooded you so hard your knees almost buckled. Finally.
Without hesitation, you unlocked the door, the towel still clutched loosely around your chest, hair dripping down your back.
You swung the door open wide.
And there he was.
Jungkook.
Dripping from the rain, black hair clinging to his forehead in damp strands. Soaked, but unmoving. Water streamed down his pale skin, tracing the lines of his jaw.
The first aid kit you had asked for was clutched loosely in his hand.
His eyes, darker than you’d ever seen, seemed to pierce through the dim light, stormy and unreadable, yet fixed unrelentingly on yours.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. You couldn’t breathe. The towel slipped an inch lower on your shoulder, the sting at the back of your neck flaring as the open wound met cold air.
His gaze dropped.
Saw the blood.
You didn’t even get a chance to speak before his hand shot out.
Fingers wrapping around your throat.
Not choking. Not yet. Just holding. Firm enough to pin you against the doorframe as his other hand slid up the side of your neck- brushing over the cut, making you wince. Then he saw it. The torn skin. His thumb grazed the blood on your skin, his breathing ragged, his soaked shirt clinging to every tense muscle.
When he spoke, it wasn’t loud. It was soft. Deceptively calm.
“What. Did. You. Do?”
You swallowed harshly, pulse hammering beneath his touch. His cold fingertips against your raw skin sent a shiver through you, but it wasn’t from the pain. It was the look in his eyes, dark, calculating, unreadable.
“I asked you,” he repeated, softer this time, more dangerous, “what did you do?”
Your eyes flicked toward the crushed remains of the tracker, the fragments of it scattered across the nightstand. His eyes followed. And then something shifted behind those dark eyes. Understanding. Realization.
His fingers curled tighter around your neck, but it wasn’t the pressure that scared you most. It was the heartbreak you saw cracking through his rage. You swallowed hard, voice trapped somewhere between a sob and a whimper.
He studied the wound at the back of your neck. For a moment, his lips parted like he was about to speak, but instead, his hand dropped to your wrist, holding it firmly but without the earlier desperation.
You winced as he turned you slightly, his eyes narrowing at the crimson streaks staining your skin. The cut, still raw, an angry slash where you’d torn the tracker from your flesh. His jaw flexed, the tension visible in his shoulders as if the sight of you hurt was somehow a personal attack.
“You could have seriously hurt yourself,” he muttered under his breath, voice lower now, controlled. But his hand trembled slightly as he released your wrist, his fingers ghosting over the wound again, almost hesitant. Almost gentle.
You stayed frozen, heart hammering, the sharp pain pulsing with every beat. Without another word, Jungkook turned, reaching instead for the small first-aid kit you’d called down for.
He unzipped it with a single sharp motion, tossing the contents onto the bed with practiced efficiency. Alcohol wipes, gauze, antiseptic, a small roll of medical tape. His hand hovered briefly over the disinfectant before grabbing it, his knuckles pale with restraint as he returned to you.
“Sit,” he ordered softly, nodding toward the bed.
You didn’t move. Not right away.
The flare in his eyes returned, but he didn’t force you. Not this time. He just stared, voice tight. “Please.”
Slowly, cautiously, you sank onto the edge of the bed, the towel still damp around your body as you watched him kneel before you, his damp hair curling over his forehead. His soaked clothes clung to him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. All his focus was on you.
“This is going to sting,” he warned, peeling the cap off some bootle with a soft pop.
You flinched when he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing the wound fully. The cold air made the cut throb, but it was nothing compared to the sharp sting of whatever he was using. You gasped, body jerking slightly as the pain flared.
“Easy,” he murmured, his free hand bracing your shoulder, thumb tracing soothing circles against your collarbone. “It’s almost done.” His voice was softer now, less like the man who had just cornered you and more like... something else. Something frighteningly tender.
He was quiet as he worked. His fingers were precise, methodical, but the way they lingered, soft brushes against your skin. When he secured the gauze with medical tape, he finally exhaled, his hands lingering at the sides of your neck for a heartbeat too long. His head dropped forward, his damp hair brushing your shoulder as he stayed there, breathing deeply, as though he was grounding himself in your presence, trying to steady the storm beneath his surface.
You could feel the tension in his body, as though he might shatter if you moved. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. Because despite everything, despite the anger, the fear, this closeness felt dangerous in an entirely different way. His warmth, his tenderness, it whispered of something terrifying. And yet, when he spoke, the tenderness cracked.
His fingers ghosted over your jaw, so light you barely felt them. But the way his voice broke sent a chill through your veins. “You never stopped running. You never even looked back.”
“You thought you could just leave me,” he whispered, voice trembling with restrained fury. “That you could run, disappear, like I wouldn’t burn the whole world down looking for you?”
Tears burned behind your eyes, but you blinked them back, chest heaving. “You... you chipped me Jungkook. You didn’t give me a choice.”
His lips twisted, something bitter curling the edges of his mouth. “I gave you everything. I made sure you were safe, well taken care of. Protected, loved…”
You shook your head, struggling to speak as his grip lingered. “That’s not love, Jungkook. That’s control.”
For a moment, the storm in his eyes faltered. “You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I can’t lose you. Not again.”
The vulnerability was so brief, so fleeting, it almost felt like a trick. But you saw it, the cracks in his armor, the fracture behind his anger. And then, just as quickly, it was gone. His jaw clenched.
“You’re coming home,” he said, voice resolute, as if there had never been another choice.
You shook your head, “No. You can’t-”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” his breath warm against your face. “I told you before. I would never hurt you. But this? This? You’re hurting yourself. You’re lost without me.”
“I’m not-”
“You are.” His voice was a low snarl now, but there was an ache beneath it. “You think this is freedom? Hiding out in a place like this? Looking over your shoulder every second, terrified? That’s not living, baby. That’s suffering.”
You tried to push against his chest, but he didn’t budge. He was a wall, an immovable force caging you in.
“I was fine before you,” you whispered, voice cracking.
His lips curled into a bitter smile, shaking his head. “No, you weren’t. You were lonely. You were scared. You let men watch you every night because you thought you had no other choice. But I” His hand brushing over your waist. “I gave you one. I took care of you. And you ran.”
Your entire body trembling as the weight of it crashed down. He was everything you feared. Who did he think he was? Twisting your choices, your pain, into something he could control.
“Let me go,” you demanded.
His eyes darkened, “no.”
And just like that, the storm returned. His grip shifted, rougher now as he cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ve had your freedom,” he hissed, the pain in his voice undeniable. “Three days. Three days without me, and look at you. Bleeding. Shaking. Scared.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t listening.
“I’ve been generous, haven’t I? But I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Stay with me. Love me. Try to love me back.”
Your voice was barely a whisper. “And if I say no?”
The answer was already there in his eyes. The anger. The twisted devotion.
“Then I’ll give you what you want,” he said softly. “You want to be alone?”
His hand fell away from your face, his expression hardening, voice chilling.
“Then be alone.”
Your stomach twisted as the meaning sank in, but before you could process it fully, Jungkook moved, so quick, so controlled. His hand clamped around your wrist as he pulled you forward with terrifying ease.
“No!” you gasped, struggling, twisting against his grip, but it was like fighting against iron. “You don’t get to- Jungkook, let me go!”
He didn’t speak, didn’t react. His face was void of emotion now. When you twisted harder, thrashing, his grip only tightened, dragging you toward the door.
“Please,” your voice cracked, desperate. “You can’t do this!”
“I can,” he said darkly, yanking the door open. “And I will.”
The storm outside raged as he hauled you into the rain. You fought, kicking, clawing, nails digging into his wrist as the cold downpour soaked you both. But it didn’t matter. He barely faltered.
You caught glimpses of him through the rain, the sharp lines of his jaw, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he held you fast. His soaked shirt clung to him, but his expression remained blank. Detached.
Like he wasn’t even there.
“Stop! Jungkook, stop! You can’t make me stay with you!” you screamed, voice raw, trying to dig your heels into the wet pavement.
He said nothing.
The sleek black car waited just outside the motel. The door opened with a mechanical click as Jungkook shoved it open, dragging you inside despite your thrashing.
“Get off me!”
But the door slammed shut, trapping you.
The rain blurred against the glass, muted as the lock clicked softly into place. Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat, soaked to the bone, silent. His chest heaved, hair plastered to his forehead, but he refused to meet your eyes. The quiet inside the car was deafening.
“Jungkook,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Please.”
Still, nothing. Just the sound of the rain and the steady hum of the engine as he pulled onto the street. The city lights bled past in streaks of white and orange, distorted through the water clinging to the windows.
The fight in you was waning, your body exhausted from struggling. Still, you refused to give up. Not yet.
You pressed yourself against the door, heart hammering. “Where are you taking me?”
A beat passed.
Then, finally, his voice broke through the quiet.
“Home.”
----------
The rain pounded harder against the windows as the black car sped through the city, the rhythmic drumming a sharp contrast to the suffocating silence inside. The leather seats were cool beneath your bare legs, the damp towel clinging to your skin, and every bump in the road made you acutely aware of how exposed you were.
Jungkook hadn't said a word since he said where he was taking you. His steady grip on the steering wheel was far too calm for someone who had just dragged you from a motel against your will.
You shifted uncomfortably, clutching the towel tighter around your chest, heart still racing. The streetlights flickered past, blurry through the rain, but your mind kept circling back to the same desperate thought. Someone could see you.
A girl in a towel, dripping wet, visibly distressed, someone might notice. Someone might help. The tension only thickened when Jungkook’s voice finally cut through the quiet, low and steady.
“Change into these.”
Your head snapped toward him just in time to see him reach toward the backseat, one hand still on the wheel. He tossed a bundle of clothing onto your lap, his sweatpants, a black hoodie, and a pair of flip-flops. The fabric was warm, soft, and smelled unmistakably like him. You stared down at the clothes like they might burn you.
“No.”
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Put them on."
You shook your head, pulse hammering harder now. “No.”
His gaze flicked toward you, dangerously calm. “You’re soaked. You're freezing. Put them on.”
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady despite the panic rising in your chest. “I’m not changing.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
You gripped the towel tighter, not saying anything. The brake lights ahead glowed red, painting his face in shadows as he slowed for the stoplight. And then, he turned to you. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“You think someone will save you?”
You stayed silent, too afraid to answer.
He didn’t blink. “Listen very carefully.” His voice was soft, “You will put those clothes on. Now. Or I will pull this car over and dress you myself.”
Your breath caught. You could feel the weight of his control in the way he said it, the promise behind those words leaving no room for argument. A car passed by in the opposite direction, headlights flashing across his face. The shadows in his eyes deepened, unrelenting.
“I’m being generous,” he whispered. “Don’t make me remind you what happens when you push me.”
The stoplight turned green. The car surged forward. And you knew, deep down, he wasn’t bluffing. With trembling hands, you reached for the hoodie.
The hoodie felt heavier than it should have, the fabric warm but stifling as you unfolded it with shaky fingers. Your heart pounded as you clutched the material, hesitating, half-expecting him to reach over and force it onto you himself. He didn’t. But his silence was far worse.
The only sound was the steady rhythm of rain against the windshield, the soft hum of the tires on wet pavement. Jungkook’s knuckles stayed pale against the steering wheel, his profile carved from stone, unreadable and cold.
You bit your lip, turning slightly in the seat, as much as the seatbelt allowed, and slowly, so slowly, peeled the towel away just enough to slip the hoodie over your head. The fabric swallowed you whole, the sleeves hanging past your hands, but at least it covered you.
The scent of him hit you instantly, familiar, overwhelming, like the last three days had never even happened. Your stomach twisted violently, teeth sinking deeper into your lip as you fought the sting behind your eyes.
You weren’t free. You’d never been free.
The sweatpants were next. The damp towel fell away entirely as you wiggled into them, struggling with the heavy fabric. They were far too big, bunching awkwardly at your ankles, the waistband nearly slipping down despite the drawstring tied tight. The flip-flops came last, the rubber cold against your still-damp feet.
You felt ridiculous. Humiliated. But most of all, trapped.
Jungkook hadn’t said a word. Just a few glances your way as you finish dressing.
The city lights blurred outside the rain-streaked window, neon reflections rippling across the glass. The tension was unbearable, pressing in on all sides.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why are you doing this?” Your voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.
Jungkook didn’t respond. Not at first. Then, with agonizing slowness, his fingers flexed on the steering wheel. His gaze remained fixed on the road, but his voice, when it came, was devastatingly calm.
“Because you belong to me.”
Your breath caught. “No, I-”
“You do.” The words lashed through the air, sharp enough to cut. His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking just beneath the surface. “And you’ve already proven you can’t be trusted on your own.”
You shook your head. “I was fine.”
“You were bleeding in a motel room. Alone.” His voice dropped lower. “That’s not fine. That’s you falling apart without me.”
You stared at him, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear the rain anymore. The car slowed. The entrance to his penthouse garage loomed ahead, the metal gate rising automatically as he approached.
Panic gripped you in full force, your hands curling into fists against the hoodie. “Jungkook, please, just- just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t.”
His head turned, his eyes met yours fully. The look in them shattered your words completely. Deadly. Devastating. And worst of all, aching.
“I already let you go,” he whispered. “Three days. I gave you three days. And all you did was run yourself into the ground.”
The car pulled into the garage with a soft hum, the doors locking the second it came to a stop. The rain had slowed, a dull patter echoing in the silence.
You were trapped. Completely.
And you could feel it in the air, the shift. The way his control tightened like an invisible leash. Jungkook exhaled, his hands finally leaving the wheel. For a long moment, he just stared ahead. Silent. Tense.
Then, without warning, he turned to you. His voice was quiet. Too quiet.
“Come inside.”
You shook your head violently.
“Fine.”
The sound of the driver’s door opening made your stomach twist. He walked over and opened your door.
“Jungkook.”
His hands were gentle when they closed around your wrist. But firm. You fought, thrashing in the seat, but his grip only tightened, dragging you forward until your feet hit the garage floor. The damp flip-flops slapped weakly against the concrete, barely making a sound.
“Don’t,” you gasped, twisting. “Please!”
He didn’t respond. He just scooped you into his arms, your body going weightless as he carried you toward the elevator, holding you close like you were fragile, like he cared. But you knew the truth.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and your heart nearly stopped.
No.
Not here. Not again.
You fought harder, hands pushing at his chest, but he didn’t budge. His grip stayed, his face betraying nothing but calm control as he stepped inside. The doors slid shut.
And you knew.
You were back in his world. And no one was coming to save you.
----------
The penthouse loomed, all glass and cold marble, the rain blurring the city skyline beyond its massive windows. The space was as you remembered, pristine, expensive. But there was a weight now. A darkness you couldn’t shake.
The elevator doors slid shut behind you both with a soft chime, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Jungkook’s arms remained locked around you, holding you securely against his chest as he carried you through the silent halls.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at you.
The only sound was the faint hum of the rain against the windows and the measured rhythm of his breathing, calm, controlled. But you could feel it, the tension tight beneath his skin, the restraint in every step he took.
“Jungkook, put me down” your voice cracked. He didn’t. Not until he stopped. In front of a door you didn’t recognize.
You stiffened, stomach twisting. “What is this?”
He didn’t answer. Not with words. The door swung open with a quiet click. The room inside stole the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t like the rest of the penthouse. No sharp, black marble. No cold steel fixtures. This was... warm.
The walls are painted in a soft colour, the exact shade you’d once offhandedly mentioned loving. Shelves filled with your favorite books and ones you've wanted to read. The bed, covered in rose-scented sheets you recognized instantly, and a cozy reading nook, complete with a folded blanket draped carefully over the cushion.
It smelled like you. It felt like... you.
Jungkook’s arms finally loosened. Gently, he lowered you onto the bed. The plush mattress sank beneath your weight, but the moment your feet touched the floor, you recoiled, heart slamming against your ribs.
“This, this isn’t…”
“Yours,” he finished, voice soft. He crouched before you, at the edges as he met your gaze. “This is yours. I made it for you.”
Your breath hitched, horror crawling up your spine. He had built this. Every detail. Every scent. This wasn’t care. It was a cage disguised as a gift.
You shook your head, throat tightening. “You can’t, you planned this. You can’t just lock me in here and expect me to follow though.”
His hands caught your face, cupping it so gently it almost felt like a lie. “I’m giving you a choice.” His voice trembled, his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones as his gaze bored into yours. “I’ve been patient. I let you run. I gave you time. And all you did was tear yourself apart. You were hurting.”
His voice broke. “And I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
You shook your head violently, but his grip only softened, his forehead pressing to yours, damp hair sticking to your skin. “You’re mine,” he whispered, “Stay with me. Love me. Try to love me back.”
Tears welled in your eyes. “You can’t force love, Jungkook.”
His face twisted, pained, but still, he didn’t let go. “I’m not forcing you,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m saving you.”
You tried to pull back. His grip didn’t budge.
“So what?” your voice shook. “You’re going to keep me locked here? Make me stay until I say the words you want to hear?”
The answer was already there. Written in his eyes. The ache. The obsession. The broken devotion. His hands dropped. And the softness was gone.
“Then be alone,” he said, voice hollow.
Before you could react, he stepped back.
The door clicked shut.
You lunged for it.
Too late.
The lock engaged with a soft, damning click.
“Jungkook!” Your fists slammed against the door, voice breaking. “Don’t do this! Let me out!”
Silence.
No footsteps. No threats. Just you. Alone. In a room made for you.
It wasn’t love. It was a prison.
And Jungkook wasn’t going to let you go.
----------
Day 1
You screamed at the door. Pounded your fists until they ached, your throat hurting from calling his name over and over. No response. No one came. A small, square opening at the bottom of the door, just large enough for a tray, slid open on silent hinges. A meal. Gourmet. Expensive. The kind of meal you used to love. You didn’t touch it.
Day 2
You stayed curled on the floor, refusing the bed. Refusing comfort. The room, so carefully crafted to mimic everything you loved, only made it worse. His presence clung to the sheets, to the perfectly chosen vanilla-scented candles on the nightstand. You couldn’t escape him here. But it wasn’t the comfort he wanted you to feel.It was control. And the silence pressed heavier with each passing hour.
Day 3
Your stomach ached. The small panel slid open again. Another tray appeared. Steaming food, carefully arranged, as if he had personally chosen every dish. The scent lingered in the air longer this time, making your stomach twist painfully. But you stayed on the floor, glaring at the tray like it was poison. Until the hunger gnawed so deep it felt like your ribs might cave in. You gave in, just a little. Two bites. A few sips of water. It was enough to take the edge off. Barely. But you hated the way it felt like you had given up.
Day 4
You spoke aloud, just to hear something. Your voice cracked, hoarse from dehydration. A whisper.
The silence mocked you.
Day 5
You ate half the meal. Not because you wanted to. But because you had to. You were trembling. Dizzy. And the tray slid open like clockwork. Silent. Unchanging.
Day 6
You were counting the ticks of the clock.
Waiting.
Day 7
You were trembling. Dizzy. Your stomach had dulled into something hollow, no longer sharp but lingering, a constant reminder of how weak you’d become. The tray slid open. Silent. Unchanging. A fresh meal. Water. Neatly arranged, as if this wasn’t a prison but a carefully curated illusion of care.
You stared at it for a long time. You didn’t touch it. Not yet.
The silence felt heavier today, pressing in on all sides. The ticking of the clock had become unbearable, a steady, relentless rhythm mocking the pulse hammering beneath your skin. The books on the shelf blurred together when you stared at them too long. The soft sheets felt like a trap rather than comfort. And the loneliness, the loneliness was suffocating.
You sat on the floor, back pressed against the wall, knees drawn to your chest. The hunger gnawed, but it wasn’t the worst part anymore. It was the quiet. No voices. No sound beyond the clock and the faint hum of the ventilation system. You hadn’t heard him. Not once. Not his voice. Not his footsteps. Nothing. And somehow, that was worse than his presence. Because deep down, you knew he was watching.
You could feel it. That unbearable tension in the air, the invisible weight pressing down on your chest. You imagined him behind a screen somewhere, waiting. Studying. Calculating how long it would take for you to break completely.
And the most infuriating part was...
It was working.
You hadn’t eaten everything on the tray the last few days. But you’d eaten enough. And with every bite, shame curdled in your stomach, the bitter truth settling in. You were already losing.
And Jungkook knew it.
----------
Day 8
The door slot slid open at the same time it always did, another tray. But this time, something was different. Beside the untouched plate of food sat a cup of tea. Your favorite. Steaming. Fresh.
Your stomach twisted as you stared at it, the familiar scent filling the room, so gentle yet overwhelming. It wasn’t just tea. It was a message. A whisper through the silence.
I’m still watching you.
You clenched your jaw and shoved the tray back toward the door without taking a sip.
Day 9
The hunger was unbearable now. You hated the way your body trembled when you stood, knees buckling. The pounding in your skull made everything blurry, the edges of the room tilting.
When the tray arrived this time, you didn’t shove it back. Not right away. Your stomach had gnawed too deep, wearing down your defiance. You forced yourself to eat. Just a little. Enough to stop the dizziness. The tea was gone this time. The blanket you had ignored for days? You dragged it onto the bed that night, curling beneath it despite yourself. Pressing your face into the pillow, trying to block out the smell of him lingering faintly in the fabric.
You hated how much you missed the sound of his voice.
Day 10
It was quiet.
You found yourself standing in front of the bookshelf, fingers trailing over the spines. The books were yours. The same worn covers, the same creases where you had folded pages. You pulled one down, a comfort read. Something you knew by heart. And a piece of paper fluttered from between the pages. A note.
Four words, written in the same sharp, elegant script you knew far too well: “Reading this again baby?”
You crushed the note in your fist, heart pounding so violently it hurt. You hated him. Hated the way he was always in your head. But hours later, you still found yourself reading the book. Turning the pages like they might somehow drown out the loneliness.
Day 11
You woke suddenly that night. Not because of a nightmare, but because of a sound. Footsteps. Soft, deliberate, right outside the door.
Him
You froze, breath caught in your chest, listening as the steps paused. He's here. He's right there. Your heart pounded louder. Waiting. He’s going to come in. He has to. But the door never opened.
The footsteps faded. You stared at the door for a long, long time after that.
Day 12
You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first. The words just spilled out, a broken whisper into the empty room. “Why are you doing this?” Silence. “Why won’t you face me? Say something! Anything. If you’re watching, just- just talk to me!” The only answer was the steady ticking of the clock. And somehow, it was worse than hearing his voice.
Day 13
The tray arrived. This time, along with the untouched food, there was something else. A small music box. You hesitated, fingers trembling as you lifted it. Delicate. Fragile. When you twisted the key, a soft, haunting melody filled the room. The same song you’d hum when showering. He remembered. He always remembered. With a broken sob, you hurled the music box across the room. The melody cut off with a sharp, metallic crack. Shattered. Just like you. But later that night, as you sat curled in the corner, you found yourself picking up the broken pieces.
Day 14
The silence was unbearable now. You were curled beneath the blanket, barely able to focus, when the static crackled softly through the ceiling. You jolted upright. His voice, smooth, calm, filled the room.
"You're not eating enough."
Your breath caught. Hands clenching into fists. “Stop it! Just leave me alone!”
The speaker remained quiet for a moment before his voice returned, quieter. Steadier.
"You can keep fighting me... but I won't let you waste away."
Rage flared hot. “You’re trying to break me! You don’t care. You never cared.”
Silence.
You screamed, hurling the empty tea cup across the room. It shattered against the wall, pieces scattering across the floor.
But he didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Because deep down, you could feel it. The cracks forming in your defiance. And Jungkook knew you were breaking.
Day 15
It was the middle of the night when the speaker crackled again. You were half-asleep, curled on the bed with the blanket wrapped tightly around you. When his voice cut through the quiet, your eyes snapped open.
"Did you sleep better tonight?"
You swallowed hard, heart pounding. Your throat felt tight, sore from days of yelling that had long since stopped. “I’m fine,” you whispered, though no part of you felt fine.
There was a pause, a soft static hum lingering before he spoke again.
"I miss you."
You shut your eyes, fighting the tears burning at the corners.
Day 16
The next time the speaker turned on, his voice was softer.
"I only want to keep you safe. Look at you now... You're just hurting yourself. This isn't what I wanted."
You stayed silent, curled on the floor, facing away from the door. Your chest ached as you pressed your hands against your ears. But even then, you could still hear him. Gentle. Soothing. "You don’t have to be alone." You hated how badly you wanted to believe him.
Day 17
The next food tray wasn’t like the others. There was food, yes. But also, a single white rose. Beautiful. Your stomach twisted as you stared at it. The same flower he had given you when you first started to meet. A symbol. A reminder. You wanted to throw it away. Smash it. Instead, you set it carefully on the nightstand.
Day 18
You woke up shaking. A nightmare, dark and suffocating. The room felt smaller today, colder. Lonelier.
You sat by the door, knees drawn to your chest, speaking to the silence like it might answer back.
“Jungkook... please. Just talk to me.”
Silence.
You pressed your forehead against the wood, voice breaking. “Please...” But he didn’t answer. And somehow, that hurt more.
Day 19
The tea returned. This time, it wasn’t just tea. A slice of strawberry cake sat neatly beside it. The kind you used to share with him, back when he’d seemed... softer. Safer. You stared at the tray for hours. The sweetness felt too much like a trick. But eventually, you caved. The tea was warm, the cake sweet and rich on your tongue. Comforting in a way you hadn't felt in weeks. You hated that it made you feel better.
Day 20
You were pacing. The walls felt closer. The silence is heavier. The loneliness clawed deeper with every passing hour. You found yourself lingering at the door. Waiting. Listening for footsteps. For him. But no one came. You whispered into the empty air. “I hate you.” But it sounded so much weaker than before.
Day 21
The speaker crackled back to life just after you had finished eating. You didn’t even flinch this time. "I’m proud of you." His voice was low, soothing, so calm it made your chest ache. "You’re taking care of yourself again. That’s good. I told you I wouldn’t let you hurt yourself."
You stared at the untouched rose, wilting slightly in its glass. "I’ll be with you soon." And you didn’t know whether the fear twisting inside you... was still just fear. Or something worse.
Day 22
The speaker remained silent all day. No soft reassurances. No sweet words drifting through the room. Just silence. And it was louder than anything else. You found yourself pressing your ear against the door, straining for the sound of footsteps. Waiting. Hoping.
But there was nothing.
Day 23
You couldn’t take it anymore.
The weight of the quiet pressed too hard, suffocating every thought in your mind. So when the speaker finally crackled to life that evening, you spoke first.
"Jungkook?" Your voice was fragile, breaking with every syllable.
The silence lingered. Then, softly "Yes?" You closed your eyes, hating how much relief bloomed in your chest just from the sound of him.
"...Why won’t you come in?"
The pause that followed stretched too long. Then, his voice returned, softer. "You’re not ready yet."
You clenched your fists, trembling. "You don’t get to decide that!"
"I do."
And then the speaker cut off.
Day 24
The next tray arrived with something new.
Resting beside the plate was the pearl necklace.
Untouched. Perfectly intact.
You stared at it, pulse rising, throat tightening as you remembered the weight of it against your skin, the way he’d fastened it himself the night he gave it to you.
There was no note. No message. Just the necklace. A silent reminder. You left it on the tray. But you didn’t push it away.
Day 25
The room felt utterly unbearable now.
No matter how you shifted, how you paced, there was no comfort. The books blurred together. The food was tasteless. The scent of the room.
You wanted out.
Just... anything but this silence.
You whispered, voice broken, “Please... I’m sorry.”
But there was no answer.
Day 26
The tears came unexpectedly.
You didn’t even realize you were crying until the sobs shook your chest, your body trembling as you curled into the bed.
It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore.
It was the pain of being ignored.
You had screamed his name a hundred times before.
But tonight, you whispered it like a prayer. "Jungkook... please."
And he still didn’t come.
Day 27
You heard it.
A soft click. The sound of the lock shifting.
You sat up so fast the room spun, heart racing as you stumbled toward the door, pressing both hands against it.
It didn’t open.
But it was unlocked.
For the first time.
Your pulse pounded louder than ever before. Was it a trick? A test?
You stood there for hours. Waiting. Listening.
But nothing else came.
Day 28
You didn’t move.
The isolation had settled deep in your bones by now, making you feel weightless and heavy all at once. You had stopped marking the days, though you knew it had been weeks. Your loneliness had shifted into something quieter, emptier. You had forgotten the sound of your own voice, the rhythm of real conversation.
So when the door creaked open and his figure appeared, the sight of him knocked the breath from your lungs.
Jungkook.
He stood in the doorway, dressed in black, as calm and unreadable as ever. But something was different. His eyes. They lingered longer, tracing over the fragile state he had left you in. The trembling of your hands as they rested limply in your lap. The way you curled in on yourself at the edge of the bed, too exhausted to even flinch.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t step closer.
But he didn’t leave either.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. He was there. Watching.
“Why…” Your voice cracked, hoarse from disuse. “Why are you here?”
No answer.
His gaze dropped, just briefly, to the half-eaten tray of food from that morning.
The silence stretched. He was giving you nothing, no hint of emotion. And somehow, it hurt.
You hated him.
You missed him.
“Say something,” you whispered, voice breaking as you gripped the sheets beneath you.
His lips parted. Just barely. Then he exhaled slowly, like he was gathering himself.
“You’ve proven you can live alone.”
Your breath hitched, a bitter laugh escaping you, though there was no humor in it. “You call this living?”
Jungkook’s face didn’t change. But there was a softness. “No,” he said quietly. “This isn’t living. But you made your choice. You didn’t want me.”
Your pulse pounded so loud it drowned out the rest of the room. He was turning this on you. Making it your fault. And the worst part? It was working. The walls felt smaller. The air colder.
“I never wanted this. I wanted to be left alone, not be lonely” Your voice cracked, rising slightly. “You’re the one keeping me here. You.”
He stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Not towering.
But calm.
Dangerously calm.
“I gave you everything,” he murmured, gaze locked onto yours. “And you ran. So I gave you what you wanted. Isolation. Freedom from me. And look what it’s done to you.”
You hated the way your body reacted to his presence. The way the sound of his voice filled the void you hadn’t even realized was so loud.
A tear slipped down your cheek, unbidden. Weak. And when it fell, Jungkook’s expression shifted, just for a heartbeat. Regret.
“I won’t keep you in here forever,” he continued, quieter now, crouching slightly so you were eye level. “I just need you to understand. I can make it better for you.”
The words hung heavy between you, poisoned with manipulation you were too tired to fight.
You shook your head, tears streaking faster. “You’re lying.”
His head tilted slightly, dark eyes searching yours with unnerving patience. “Am I? Look around you. Have I hurt you?”
No.
But the absence of pain didn’t make it right.
“I don’t want to feel like a prisoner,” you whispered.
“You’re not my prisoner. You’re here because I care. I want you safe. And you can have more than this. But you have to stop fighting me.”
He reached for you then. Not harsh. Not demanding. Just a careful, gentle touch, fingertips brushing the damp tear from your cheek. You flinched but didn’t pull away. Not completely.
The weight of his hand was warm. Familiar. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a threat.
It felt like relief.
His voice was a whisper, coaxing. “Let me take care of you. Let me make this better.”
You hated him for it.
You hated how much you wanted to believe him.
And when his hand lingered, waiting for your answer, the worst part was how quiet the room felt when he finally stood, turned, and left.
The door locked behind him.
And you felt colder than ever.
----------
The lock clicked open.
This time, when the door swung open, he didn’t stand in the doorway like before.
The hall beyond was empty.
You blinked, heart pounding as you stared into the open space, pulse thrumming in your ears. He hadn’t spoken through the speaker today. No roses. No food tray.
Just the silence, and this.
You should have run. Should have bolted straight for the exit. But your legs didn’t move. Not out of fear. Out of something worse.
The endless days of nothing. The quiet that pressed so hard against your ribs you thought you might break under it.
And that was the moment you realized, this was intentional.
This was another test.
A crackling whisper brushed through the speakers, making you jump.
“You can come out now.” His voice. So calm. So controlled. “I’m not keeping you in there anymore.”
You hesitated, arms wrapping tighter around yourself.
Your steps were slow as you crossed the threshold, the numbness in your legs reminding you just how long it had been since you’d moved beyond those four walls.
The penthouse was silent.
Spacious. Beautiful. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the cloudy city below, so far away it felt like another world entirely.
You barely had time to process it before you saw him.
Jungkook sat in the oversized armchair near the windows, legs spread, forearms braced on his knees as he watched you. No threat. No chains.
But the weight of his presence was more suffocating than any lock.
“Come here.”
You didn’t move.
His lips pressed together. But he didn’t get up. Didn’t chase you. His voice softened, low and coaxing.
“You’ve been through a lot. I just want to talk.”
And then you noticed it.
The couch. A folded blanket. A steaming cup of tea on the coffee table, the scent wafting faintly.
No.
He wasn’t trying to trap you.
He was making it look like comfort.
You shook your head. “I don’t want this.”
He exhaled slowly, leaning back in the chair. “I know. But you need it.”
A pause. His dark eyes swept over you, scanning every tremble, every sign of weakness you couldn’t hide. “You need to rest. To heal. You’re… you’re hurting yourself more than you realize.”
You hated how calm he sounded. How convincing.
And you hated yourself more for wanting to believe it.
But you stayed frozen.
That was when he stood.
Slow. Unthreatening. His hair hung over his forehead, sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos along his forearm.
And when he approached, he didn’t grab you.
He just… reached.
Fingers brushing your wrist, barely a touch. Just enough to let you feel the heat of him.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You know that?”
Your throat closed.
You didn’t fight when he guided you gently toward the couch. The blanket was warm as he tucked it around your shoulders, the tea, hot, fragrant, pressed into your trembling hands.
And then he knelt in front of you.
Not towering. Not intimidating.
Just watching.
You stared at the cup, trying to steady your breath.
It was too much. The silence. The quiet care.
This wasn’t control. This was… kindness.
Wasn’t it?
Jungkook’s voice broke the quiet. Softer now.
“You’re safe, baby. You don’t have to be scared.”
And for the first time since he took you
You felt like you were breaking.
Jungkook exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly when you didn’t resist. His gaze stayed on you, lingering on the faint tremble in your hands.
He stayed silent, letting the tension breathe. Letting the quiet speak louder than words.
Until he reached out again.
Slow. Deliberate. His fingers brushed your cheek, so gentle it felt like a question.
You flinched but didn’t pull away. Not fully.
His eyes darkened. Something flashed behind the calm exterior, but he didn’t press. He just held his hand there, warm against your skin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
The words made you freeze.
Sorry?
His touch lingered, and for the first time, there was no trace of that quiet control. Only something vulnerable.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he continued, voice breaking just slightly. “I just…” His thumb pressed a fraction deeper, tilting your face to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”
The worst part was, you could hear it. The sincerity beneath his words.
And you felt yourself softening.
No.
You clenched the cup tighter, forcing your voice to steady. “You didn’t really have me in the first place, Jungkook.”
His expression shifted.
Not anger.
Worse.
Disappointment.
He lowered his hand but didn’t move back. “I kept you safe. I made sure you were taken care of. And I gave you time. To think. To understand.”
You shook your head, pulse spiking. “You locked me away. That’s not care.”
“You were hurting yourself.” His voice sharpened. “Running around, starving yourself. Bleeding in some filthy motel room.” His jaw flexed, the calm mask cracking just slightly. “Tell me what part of that was freedom.”
You didn’t have an answer. Not one you could say out loud.
Because deep down, you knew.
You had been falling apart.
But that didn’t make this right.
Jungkook’s hand closed over yours where you still gripped the cup, his warmth sinking into your skin. His voice softened again, calmer. Dangerous.
“You’re not a prisoner.”
You swallowed hard.
The door was still locked. You both knew it.
And yet…
You didn’t fight when his thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“You’re here because you belong with me,” he whispered. “And I know you can feel it. Even now.”
The worst part was, he wasn’t wrong.
Because after weeks of isolation, weeks of silence and aching loneliness…
You weren’t sure what scared you more.
The way he made you feel.
Or the fact that, for the first time,
You didn’t want him to leave.
And he knew it.
Jungkook didn’t speak again. He didn’t have to. The quiet filled the space between you, heavier than before but softer too. Less suffocating. His presence lingered like the scent of him, clean, warm, familiar in a way you wanted so badly to resist.
But when he finally stood to leave.
“Wait,” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
He paused, fingers curling into his palm at his side.
But he didn’t turn around.
“I…” Your throat tightened painfully. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Betrayed, by yourself.
Jungkook turned back, his face unreadable, you hated how desperately you searched for softness in his eyes.
But it was there.
Beneath the control.
Beneath the satisfaction.
He stepped closer, moving so carefully, as if not to startle you. His hand rose, fingertips brushing along your jaw in a touch so delicate it sent a shiver through you.
“You don’t have to be,” he whispered.
His thumb stroked gently over your cheek, and you hated how your body melted into the contact, how your eyelids fluttered shut despite every part of your mind screaming at you to stop.
“But you have to let me take care of you,” he continued, voice lower now. “No more fighting. No more running.”
You nodded.
Barely.
And his breath caught like you’d just given him the one thing he’d been waiting for all along.
Jungkook’s thumb traced over your cheek, lingering just a moment longer before he finally spoke again, voice hushed, coaxing.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just let me in.”
The words felt like velvet, soothing you, wrapping around the emptiness he had left behind for so long. You hated how desperately you clung to the warmth of his hand against your skin.
You should have felt disgusted. Angry. But all you felt was… relief.
Jungkook’s hand fell away, just for a moment, and you nearly leaned into it, craving the contact you had sworn to resist. But instead of pulling back completely, he reached for you again, his fingers curling gently under your chin, guiding your face to meet his eyes.
No anger. No coldness.
Just patience.
“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he murmured, searching your face like he was memorizing every fragile piece of you. “You don’t have to hurt like this. I can make it better. But you have to trust me.”
You blinked, heart pounding.
“I… I don’t…”
The words wouldn’t come. Your mind felt too foggy, too heavy with exhaustion.
He didn’t push.
Instead, he shifted closer, slowly lowering himself to sit beside you. His presence was overwhelming, but not in the suffocating way you had feared.
Not yet.
You hated the warmth his nearness brought.
Hated that it felt good.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer. Vulnerable.
“I missed you.”
Your breath caught, throat tightening painfully.
“I shouldn’t feel like this.” The confession escaped you before you could stop it, trembling and broken.
His head tilted, eyes narrowing just slightly, but not in anger. He looked almost… wounded.
“Like what?” he pressed gently.
You shook your head, biting your lip hard to hold back the tears threatening to spill.
“Like I need you.”
The words felt like betrayal. A surrender you hadn’t meant to give him.
But instead of pouncing on it, instead of twisting it into something cruel, Jungkook exhaled a slow, steady breath. His hand moved, not to restrain you, but to cup your face again, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.
His voice was barely a whisper.
“You do.”
You felt your pulse stutter.
“But that’s not weakness,” he added, his lips parting as his gaze softened further. “It means you’re finally being honest with yourself.”
You wanted to fight him. To tell him he was wrong.
But your body had stopped listening.
His touch felt too steady. Too comforting after so much silence.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?”
You nodded, barely.
Jungkook didn’t speak immediately. He stayed close, his hand lingering on your face, thumb brushing gently over your cheek as if grounding himself in your presence.
“Let me help you, just for tonight.”
You hated how those words sank into your chest, how warm his touch felt after so many cold, empty days. But you were too weak to fight. Too lonely to push him away.
Jungkook guided you carefully to your feet, the weight of his hands steady but never harsh. He didn’t rush. Didn’t force. But you knew, somehow, that there was no choice. Not really.
The bed was as you remembered, too soft, too perfect, like it had been crafted to comfort you in ways he never should have known. He helped you sit, kneeling briefly to smooth the blanket over your lap. Every movement was precise. Practiced.
You should have felt caged.
Instead, you felt seen.
And you hated it.
He stayed by the edge of the bed, watching you carefully. His dark eyes traced the curve of your face, the trembling rise and fall of your chest, like he was memorizing every vulnerable piece of you all over again.
Then he shifted.
Slowly, he reached for your wrist, fingers brushing your pulse. Not restraining. Just… there.
His hand lingered, when the warmth of his palm closed gently over yours, anchoring you in that quiet, unbearable moment.
You didn’t pull away.
You didn’t want to.
“I missed you.”
You closed your eyes.
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
And that was all it took.
Jungkook shifted, closing the space between you so carefully it felt inevitable. His hand cupped your face, his thumb catching the tear, wiping it away like it physically pained him to see it fall.
You flinched, but not from fear. It was the tenderness that hurt more.
"Don't cry," he whispered, so gentle it made you want to break apart completely. "Not because of me. Not anymore."
Your lips parted, breath shallow, and for a moment, it felt like he was waiting. Not for permission, but for the final thread of resistance to snap completely.
You leaned into his touch. Barely. But it was enough.
Jungkook's eyes darkened, something unspoken lingering behind his gaze. His thumb traced your cheek one last time before his hand fell away, leaving your skin cold in its absence.
But he didn’t leave.
Instead, he spoke quietly, carefully, as if testing the fragility of the moment.
"No more silence, not when you’re with me."
You should have said no. Should have pushed him away and demanded your space back.
But you didn’t.
You nodded.
And when he shifted onto the bed beside you, when he wrapped his arm around you, tucking your head against his chest as the warmth of his body bled into yours...
You let him.
----------
The next morning came softly.
Sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, casting pale gold patterns across the walls. You blinked awake, the unfamiliar warmth pressing against your back making you still for a heartbeat before you remembered.
Jungkook.
His arm was still wrapped around you. Loose but present, his palm resting over your hip, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. He was close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck, the steady weight of him on you in ways that felt both comforting and terrifying.
You should move.
But you didn’t.
And as much as you wanted to hate it, there was a part of you that had craved this, the safety of being held. The feeling of not being so completely... alone.
Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly, the tension breaking as Jungkook stirred behind you. His grip tightened, not harsh but possessive, and you felt him exhale slowly, his lips brushing just above your shoulder as he murmured, half-asleep.
“You’re still here.”
His voice was deeper, softer in the haze of waking. But there was something heavier beneath it. Relief.
“I... didn’t want to wake you.”
He stilled, fingers flexing slightly where they rested against your waist. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then, he drew back just enough to press his forehead lightly against the curve of your neck, voice barely a whisper.
“You never have to wake up alone again.”
The words sank into you like a promise. One you weren’t sure how to feel about.
You nodded once, throat tight. But you didn’t pull away.
Not yet.
When you finally shifted, pushing yourself upright, Jungkook let you go without protest. His eyes followed your movements, dark but calm as he sat up as well, the sheets pooling around his waist.
You expected him to say something. Maybe a demand. Maybe a reminder that you were still his.
But instead, he only offered a quiet, “Are you hungry?”
It caught you off guard. The simple, human question. You blinked, unsure how to answer, until your stomach twisted uncomfortably.
You nodded.
Jungkook didn’t move right away. He just watched you, gaze softening, lingering on your face as if he were committing this moment to memory. Then, without another word, he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen.
You stayed there, frozen, the sheets warm where he’d been. And for the first time, you felt something you couldn’t quite name.
Not freedom.
But not fear either.
The scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen, warm and rich, grounding you in the present. You sat there, fingers curled loosely in the sheets, listening to the soft sounds of Jungkook moving, the quiet clink of plates.
Everything felt so... normal.
And that was the most dangerous part.
You should have felt restless. On edge. But instead, the tension had dulled, replaced by something you couldn’t explain. Your chest felt heavy, like something you had been bracing against was finally slipping. And it left you hollow.
When he returned, a tray balanced effortlessly in his hands, the sight struck you harder than it should have.
Two plates. A cup of tea. A cup of coffee.
Like you were just any other couple sharing a quiet morning together.
He placed the tray on the bed, careful, measured. The food was simple. Toast, eggs, a bowl of cut fruit.
You hesitated, waiting for the catch. Waiting for the control.
But it didn’t come.
Jungkook sat at the edge of the bed, close but not touching, and for the first time, there was no expectation in his expression. No pressure. Just quiet observation, his gaze tracing the delicate way you curled your fingers around the teacup.
You took a sip, letting the warmth settle your nerves.
“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible.
Jungkook’s eyes softened, a flicker of something almost... hopeful.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, voice low, but so achingly tender it made your throat tighten again.
You lowered the cup, unsure why his words felt so heavy. So final.
The silence stretched as you picked at the food, the tension shifting into something unfamiliar. Not fear. Not anger. Just... quiet. Comforting. His presence filled the space without suffocating it, his gaze never leaving yours but no longer pressing in the way it once had.
And you hated how easy it felt. How his care felt so real.
You should have been angry. You should have resisted.
But all you could feel was the warmth lingering in your chest.
Jungkook finally broke the silence, “Are you... feeling better?”
You knew he wasn’t just asking about your physical state. You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But then, with quiet honesty you couldn’t explain.
“Yes.”
His breath hitched, so subtle you barely noticed. But you saw it. The way his fingers curled slightly against his thigh, like he was restraining himself from reaching for you.
The thought of him doing so didn’t feel bad? It felt... safe.
That moment lingered between you, the silence stretching just long enough to feel fragile. Like if either of you spoke, it would shatter whatever fragile peace this was.
Jungkook didn’t move, his gaze still soft but searching, as if he were waiting for something he wasn’t ready to name. His hand, so close on the bed beside you, flexed as though he was fighting the urge to touch you again.
You should say something. Set a boundary. Remind him that this, whatever this was, was not real.
But you didn’t.
Because for the first time in weeks, there was no fear twisting in your chest. No loneliness gnawing at the edges of your mind. Only warmth. Only him.
You felt it when his gaze dropped, lingering on your lips for just a heartbeat too long. The tension shifted, heavier but not threatening, intimate in a way that made your pulse race.
You were the first to look away, blinking down at your hands curled around the tea cup. The heat of it seeped into your palms, grounding you as you struggled to steady your breath.
And still, he said nothing.
Until.
“Can I hold you?” His voice quietly asked.
You swallowed, heart hammering, the vulnerability in his words cracking something deeper inside you. He wasn’t demanding. He wasn’t forcing. He was asking.
And you hated that you didn’t know how to say no.
You nodded.
Barely.
But it was all he needed.
Jungkook moved carefully, cautiously, as though afraid you might vanish if he moved too fast. His hand lifted first, brushing your wrist, fingertips tracing the inside with a softness that made your breath hitch. And then, slowly, he shifted closer, drawing you into him.
The heat of his body pressed against yours, his arm curling around your waist as he tucked you into his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Calming. And when his chin rested lightly against the top of your head, a broken breath escaped you.
You should pull away.
You should hate him for making you feel this, this way.
But all you felt was your chest easing as you sank against him, as the tension melted away and left only the steady rhythm of his breathing.
And when he whispered, “I missed you,” voice so low it barely reached your ears, you didn’t stop the way your fingers curled into his shirt.
You didn’t stop yourself from believing him.
Because, in that moment, you missed him too.
----------
The minutes passed in quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier with each heartbeat. His arms stayed wrapped around you, steady but never tightening, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you both stayed like that, eating your breakfast.
And you hated how much you didn’t want it to end.
You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest. He smelled the same as always, clean, warm, familiar. The scent that had once felt suffocating now felt like a strange kind of comfort.
It made you wonder when you’d stopped fearing his touch.
You shifted slightly, just enough that your head rested more fully against his back. His fingers brushed your waist, light but grounding, and you felt the subtle way he reacted to your closeness, his breath catching, his hold instinctively tightening just the slightest bit.
You should speak. You should break whatever spell this was.
But instead, your voice betrayed you.
“I missed you too.”
The words barely left your lips, so soft you thought he might not hear. But he did.
Jungkook stilled beneath you. Completely. As if those words had stolen the breath from his lungs.
You felt it when he exhaled, shaky but measured, his face pressing closer, lips just above your hair. His hand shifted from your waist, fingertips tracing along your spine in slow, careful circles, like he was trying to soothe you but couldn't quite stop himself from savoring the moment.
“Say it again,” he whispered. His voice was not demanding. Just... desperate.
You hesitated, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The walls you’d tried so hard to build felt paper-thin now. Crumbling. You couldn't let yourself lie.
“I missed you,” you repeated, voice quieter but steadier this time.
Jungkook made a sound, low, pained, almost like a sigh of relief, and then his lips pressed softly against your temple. Not forceful. Not possessive. Just... there. The kind of touch meant to soothe. To comfort.
But it left your skin burning.
His voice, rougher now, broke the quiet again. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
You should have argued. You should have reminded him that taking you, locking you away, controlling every piece of your life, was hurting you.
But in this moment, with his warmth around you, with your body pressed against his, the words caught in your throat.
But because his voice sounded too real. Too genuine.
And you were so, so tired of fighting.
So instead of speaking, you let your fingers curl just slightly tighter against his chest.
And when he pressed another kiss, so soft, so reverent, to your forehead, you didn’t stop him.
You let it happen. You didn’t want him to stop.
His lips lingered against your forehead, warm and gentle. His breath fanned softly against your skin, but he stayed still, holding you in that delicate silence where neither of you spoke, both too caught in the weight of the moment.
You felt the tension low in your stomach, the heat of his body so close, too close. And yet you didn’t move. Didn’t stop the way his fingertips brushed along your waist, tracing lazy circles like he was memorizing the shape of you.
You hated how badly you wanted more.
The way he made you feel so seen, so painfully aware of every inch of your body pressed against his. The steady strength of his arms. The soft way he held you, careful but possessive, like you were something he couldn’t bear to lose again.
You exhaled shakily, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt as your heart pounded louder than the thoughts screaming in your mind.
Stop. Don’t do this.
But then his lips grazed your temple, slower this time, lingering longer. And when he whispered your name, just your name, like it meant everything, you felt your resolve slip further.
“I missed you, so fucking much,” he whispered again, voice rougher now, closer. “More than you could ever understand.”
You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you tilted your head just slightly, just enough for his lips to go lower, brushing the curve of your cheek. His breath caught, so did yours.
His hand flexed at your waist, fingertips pressing a fraction deeper, grounding you both in that unbearable closeness. You could feel his pulse beneath his skin, the steady rhythm matching your own, too fast, too desperate.
“I’m right here,” you whispered back, the words slipping free before you could stop them.
Jungkook’s breath deppend. And then his lips were closer, brushing the corner of your mouth, lingering in that unbearable space just shy of a kiss.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.
The question shattered something inside you. The gentleness. After everything, after all the ways he had broken you down, he was asking.
You hated how much you wanted to say yes.
Your lips parted, trembling as you nodded once, the faintest movement. But it was enough.
Jungkook closed the space between you, his lips pressing against yours, soft but deliberate. The kiss wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rough. It was slow, careful, his mouth moving against yours like he was memorizing every second, savoring the way you let him in.
You melted against him, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Your hand slipped from his chest, fingers curling into his hair as the kiss deepened. His other hand slid up your back, pressing you closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of you. You hated how much you didn’t want it to end.
Jungkook’s lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm, shallow, as he searched your face. The tension was unbearable, the heat crackling in the air between you, electric and undeniable. His hand, still cradling your jaw, shifted, thumb pressing lightly at your chin, tilting your face just enough to keep you open for him.
This wasn’t soft anymore. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, he barely contained as he fought not to lose himself in you.
“You don’t hate me,” he whispered, voice rough now, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Say it."
Your pulse pounded, your chest twisting, heat spreading low in your belly despite every voice in your mind telling you to stop. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.
“I don’t hate you,” you whispered back.
And then he kissed you.
Harder this time. Deeper. His hand curled tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between you. The kiss was consuming, dizzying, his tongue parting your lips in a slow, deliberate slide that left you breathless.
You hated how much you wanted it.
The warmth of his body, the way his hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, spreading heat along your bare skin, it felt too good, too real. His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back, deepening the kiss until your body melted against his completely.
“Look at you,” he whispered against your lips, voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re finally letting me in.”
You whimpered, torn between defiance and submission, but the way his body pressed into yours was relentless. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make your stomach twist with want. And you hated yourself for how badly you wanted for more.
“This is what you needed, wasn’t it?” His lips brushed along your jaw, “You needed me. You were always mine. And now... you're finally ready to admit it.”
“Jungkook,” you gasped, but it wasn’t a protest. Not anymore.
It was a plea.
He felt it. Heard it. And the darkness in his eyes only deepened.
“Say it.” His fingers trailed lower, dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts, teasing, barely touching, but enough to have your breath catching. “Say you want this. Say you want me.”
Your body betrayed you completely, hips arching into his touch, heart slamming in your chest. Every trace of resistance felt like it was slipping through your fingers, lost in the haze of him.
You whispered it.
“I want you.”
The words broke something in him.
His mouth crashed against yours again, hungrier this time, his grip bruising as he pulled you closer, pressing you back into the sheets. His body covered yours, the heat of his skin searing against you as he moved, lips tracing your neck, hands exploring every inch of you like he had finally won.
Because he had.
Jungkook’s breath shuddered against your skin, his forehead pressed to yours, the heat between your bodies smoldering, thick with tension. His grip stayed gentle, but you could feel the way he trembled, the way he fought every instinct pressing him to lose control. His hand brushed along your waist, fingertips tracing so lightly you barely felt it, but it was enough to make you shiver.
The darkness in his eyes wasn’t anger. It wasn’t dominance. It was hunger, desperate, consuming, and yet so carefully restrained.
He was holding himself back.
You could see it in the way his jaw flexed, the way his breathing stuttered when your lips parted, so close to his, yet not quite touching. His thumb along your cheek, as if memorizing the shape of you, as if this wasn’t enough, could never be enough.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice rough, thick with need.
You didn’t answer with words. Your body spoke for you, arching just slightly, leaning into him instead of away. Your skin burning beneath the whisper of his touch. And he saw it. He felt it.
He kissed you again. His hand slid up, cupping your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, to taste you the way he’d been holding back from for far too long.
A soft, helpless sound escaped you, muffled against his mouth. And that sound undid him.
“You’re perfect,” he rasped, voice breaking as his lips grazed the sensitive spot below your ear. “You feel perfect.”
You gasped as his teeth caught gently, nipping just enough to make your pulse spike. And still, he was holding back. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the way his hands trembled as they mapped the curve of your waist, the dip of your stomach.
But then his hand brushed lower.
And you froze.
He felt it instantly, the way your body tensed, the way your breath hitched, not in pleasure, but fear.
Jungkook pulled back, his face hovering inches from yours, brows furrowed with concern as his gaze searched yours. His voice was softer now, careful. “Baby... what’s wrong? Did I-?”
You shook your head quickly, shame burning your cheeks. “I...” The words caught, and you swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “It's just been a while since….”
Silence.
The tension shifted. But it wasn’t the kind you expected. Jungkook didn’t pull away. He didn’t look frustrated or disappointed. If anything, his gaze darkened, softer, but more intense, his thumb stroked along your cheek, reverent.
For a heartbeat, he was silent. Then he exhaled slowly, like he was grounding himself, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours, gentle this time, coaxing. “I’ll be gentle. I’ll take care of you. Just... let me.”
You nodded, but your pulse hammered so hard you thought he could feel it where his chest pressed against yours.
Jungkook’s touch shifted, his lips returning to your throat, his hands sliding lower, exploring. Slow. Unhurried. He kissed his way down your collarbone, lingering, tasting, savoring every inch of skin he could reach. His hands explored your sides, your waist, the curve of your hips, never pushing, never rushing, just admiring.
When his fingers brushed between your thighs, you gasped, body arching instinctively, and he froze again, watching your reaction with careful, deliberate patience.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss just below your navel, waiting for your answer.
You nodded, breathless, the heat blooming under his touch so consuming you could barely think.
“Words, baby,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower, his voice huskier now.
You swallowed, voice trembling. “Yes. Please... don’t stop.”
His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and restraint. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, grounding himself as he fought to maintain control.
His grip trembled slightly as his hand brushed beneath the hem of your shirt.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His fingertips grazed the fabric, waiting. Giving you a chance to pull away. “Let me see you... please.”
You swallowed hard, heat blooming low in your stomach. The feeling was unbearable, spreading through you in a way that felt both terrifying and... so painfully good. Your hands curling into the sheets beneath you, heart pounding as he slowly began to lift your shirt.
Your body tensed. The vulnerability of it all, the way his dark eyes stayed fixed on yours, not even glancing lower yet, made your throat tighten.
“Jungkook...” your voice was barely a whisper, shaky and unsure.
A groan rumbled low in his chest. The shirt slipped higher. Over your ribs. Up to your collarbone. His gaze never faltered, never dropped, holding yours like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered.
You exhaled shakily, nodding, and with careful patience, he peeled the fabric over your head, letting it fall forgotten beside you. His eyes finally dipped lower, trailing over your bare skin, his lips parting just slightly like the sight had stolen the breath from his lungs.
“God, you're perfect.”
A flush burned beneath your skin, heat creeping all the way to your ears. Your hands instinctively moved to cover yourself, but Jungkook caught your wrists gently, stopping you before you could hide.
“Don’t,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Please, don’t hide from me.”
His lips returned to your neck, pressing soft kisses along the delicate line of your throat, trailing lower as he shifted down the bed, his mouth exploring every inch of skin he bared. Slow. Reverent. His touch ignited something deeper.
When his hands found the waistband of your shorts, you stiffened again. His thumbs traced slow circles at your hips, and when he finally met your eyes again, his expression wasn’t demanding. It was patient. Tender.
“I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, voice raspier now. “Will you let me?”
You nodded, chest heaving as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, inching it lower, pressing soft kisses to your stomach as he guided them off your legs. Your underwear followed, and you barely had time to process the sheer vulnerability of being so bare before he spread your thighs gently, pressing his palm to the inside of your knee, urging you open.
You tensed instinctively, thighs trying to close, but his grip was steady.
“Shhh,” he soothed, voice soft. “Let me take care of you, baby. Just relax.”
Your pulse hammered, the vulnerability making you feel lightheaded, dizzy, but the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched, made it impossible to pull away.
He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh first, lingering there, lips soft and patient, before trailing higher. Your breath caught, your body trembling beneath his touch as his mouth moved closer.
“You’re so sensitive,” he whispered, voice thick, his breath fanning against your bare skin, making you shiver. “So perfect.”
And when his tongue finally pressed against your core, soft but deliberate, you shattered.
A gasp broke from your lips, your back arching as the sensation flooded through you, overwhelming and unbearable all at once. Your hands flew to his hair, unsure whether you wanted to pull him closer or push him away, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate.
He held you steady, his hands gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him as he worked you apart with slow, torturous strokes of his tongue, learning your body, savoring every reaction.
“That’s it,” he murmured between kisses. “Let me hear you, baby.”
You didn’t. You couldn’t. The pleasure was too much, too consuming, and when his fingers joined, circling you in perfect rhythm, your entire body jolted beneath him, your thighs trembling against his shoulders.
“Jungkook” Your voice broke.
His response was a groan, the vibration against you making your stomach tighter, the pressure building unbearably fast. His hand slid higher, pressing gently against your stomach as if to hold you still, to keep you grounded as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
“Princess,” he whispered against you, his tongue circling that sensitive spot again, sending you spiraling. “Let me feel you come for me.”
And when you did, when your body finally gave in with a cry, shattering completely beneath him, he didn’t stop. He kept pressing soft kisses along your trembling thighs, easing you through the waves of pleasure until you were boneless beneath him, breathless.
Only then did he rise, his lips brushing yours, tasting you as he whispered softly.
“That’s my girl. You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”
He hovered above you, his body warm, solid, grounding you as you shook beneath him. His lips brushed along your jaw, slow and tender, whispering soft reassurances against your skin. “Shh I've got you, I’ve got you, baby.” he murmured, his voice a gentle hum, low and comforting.
“Breathe, baby,” he coaxed, lips brushing your ear as he trailed his thumb along your trembling thigh.
His hand slid lower, caressing the curve of your waist, your hips, his touch gentle. You felt the heat of him pressing against your entrance, the slow, insistent nudge that made you tense instinctively
He moved with infinite care, easing just the tip of himself inside you. Your body resisted, stretching around him in a way that made you gasp, your grip tightening on his arms.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with restraint, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know, you’re doing so well for me.”
His hand dipped between your thighs then, circling that aching bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate motions, coaxing your body to relax, to surrender to the pleasure he was giving you. The tension ebbed, replaced by a deeper warmth, a slow ache that wasn’t pain but something else entirely.
“That’s it,” he praised softly, pressing just a little deeper, the fullness making you whimper. “You’re taking me so perfectly.”
His lips finding yours again in a kiss both sweet and desperate. “You feel so perfect,” he groaned, pressing deeper, stretching you inch by inch, the sensation so overwhelming yet so right.
“Almost there, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with praise, his fingers still working you in time with his slow thrusts.
And when he was finally fully inside you, when your body clenched around him in a way that made his breath catch, he stilled, his forehead pressed to yours, whispering, “You did it. You’re mine now, baby. All mine. So perfect… so beautiful.”
“That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his hips barely rocking forward, just enough for you to feel the movement, the way he filled you completely. “Tell me how it feels,” he coaxed.
“It… feels good,” you whispered, breath hitching as he pressed just a little deeper, his body moving in perfect rhythm with his hand.
A soft, trembling moan spilled from your lips, shaky and unrestrained.
“I know, baby,” he cooed, his breath warm against your ear. “I know it’s big, baby. But you can take it, can't you?”
The pleasure swelled higher, overtaking everything else as his hips moved more fluidly, his thumb pressing just a little harder, matching the steady rhythm of his thrusts. The tension inside you coiled tighter, unbearable, and the way he watched you, like he was unraveling right along with you, was enough to send you spiraling.
“Jungkook” Your voice broke on a whimper, your body arching into his touch, trembling as the heat burst inside you, shattering everything.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his voice thick as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he buried himself deeper, holding you so close, so completely his.
He felt you tighten around him, your muscles clenching instinctively. You whimpered, your fingers digging into his shoulders, and he kissed your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, soft and coaxing. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”whispered, his tone laced with that condescending pout.
His grip on your hips tightened just enough to hold you steady, his chest pressing flush against yours as he filled you completely, stretching you inch by inch. The burn of it was sharp, overwhelming, but he didn’t let you retreat. He kissed the corner of your mouth, his voice a low, soothing whisper against your lips.
“Shh, baby. It’s okay… I know it’s a lot,” he cooed, his breath warm as his lips trailed down your neck.
You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him, the ache mingling with unbearable pleasure. He paused, barely moving, giving you time to adjust, but not without teasing.
“Feel that, princess?” His voice was dark against your ear, praise dripping from every word. “Feel how deep I am? Stretching you open, taking me so perfectly. My good girl.”
Your walls fluttered around him at the praise, the fullness making you pulse with unbearable need. His hips shifted, deeper, faster, and the pressure made your breath stutter, a broken gasp leaving your lips.
“That’s it,” he groaned, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So tight- so fucking perfect for me..”
His fingers traced down your trembling body, circling lower. Teasing. Testing. Then pressing exactly where you needed him, a firm, slow stroke against your swollen clit. Your body jolted, hips bucking into his hand.
“Just like that,” he praised. “I want you to fall apart for me, princess.” His pace fast as he thrust deeper, harder, but still painfully controlled.
A strangled moan slipped from your lips, head tipping back against the pillows. Every inch, every pulse of his body against yours sent you spiraling closer.
"Say my name," he growled, voice thick with need, the demand pressing into your skin as his hips rolled deeper, dragging a gasp from your lips.
“J-Jungkook-”
And with one final, punishing thrust, he pushed you over the edge. Your body clenched tight around him as the pleasure hit.
His body stayed flush against yours, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as he buried himself completely inside you, holding you there, so deep, so full it made you whimper softly. His lips brushed along your temple, soothing yet possessive as he whispered, "Shh, baby... just stay like this for me."
His hand slid up your waist, fingers splayed wide, anchoring you beneath him as he kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and lingering. You clenched involuntarily around him.
He stayed buried inside you, stretching, filling, refusing to move. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, keeping you close
“You okay, baby?” He asked softly, a tenderness lingering in the words, but there was something deeper, almost hesitant, like he was holding something back.
You nodded, though your body felt heavy, boneless beneath him. He saw it, the tension behind your eyes, the worry you couldn’t quite voice.
He lingered inside you a beat longer, his hands cradling your waist, before he slowly, carefully eased out. You whimpered at the loss, body clenching around the emptiness, and he kissed your forehead as if to soothe the throb he’d left behind.
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered, slipping from the bed. His absence felt colder than it should have, and when he returned, the damp cloth in his hand, his expression was quiet, too quiet.
He cleaned you with such care, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, but his eyes lingered longer than usual, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
After he finished cleaning you up, he helped you into a fresh pair of clothes, carefully smoothing the fabric over your skin as if tending to something fragile. His own shirt hung loosely on his frame, his hair falling into his eyes as he pulled you close. His warmth surrounded you, steady, grounding. His hand traced those soothing circles along your back, lips grazing your hairline.
“I’ll take care of you… always,” he whispered, the words a vow more than reassurance.
Minutes passed, the quiet stretching comfortably between you, until your voice broke it, hesitant but firm.
“Jungkook… I need the morning-after pill.”
His breath hitched, barely noticeable, but you felt it. His hand paused, resting lightly against your hip as he exhaled, steadying himself.
“Of course, baby,” he murmured, voice soft but tighter than before, laced with something heavier. He kissed the crown of your head, holding you so close it almost hurt. “We’ll take care of it first thing, I promise.”
But when his lips pressed to your forehead again, lingering this time, you felt it. You knew he wanted something different. Something he knew you weren’t ready for yet.
----------
Late afternoon. Outside, the city moved on without you, cars honking, people living, oblivious to the silence pressing against your chest.
In here, the world was still. Controlled.
Jungkook sat across the room, seated on the edge of the grand sectional, reading through paperwork like it was any other day. Like you weren’t trapped here, your life rewritten by his hands.
But the pressure was unbearable now, pressing so tightly against your ribs it hurt.
He had stolen your freedom, hidden you from the world, branded you as his. You were supposed to despise him. Fear him. And yet... you couldn’t untangle the warmth from the pain anymore.
The sweater wrapped around your body, the one keeping you warm, smelled like him. The meals he cooked, the gifts he brought you, the way he was always there, hovering silently as if his presence alone could make up for the control, it made everything so confusing.
You hated him? You couldn’t stop craving him.
“Jungkook.”
His head snapped up instantly, the dark, unreadable gaze locking onto yours as if the mere sound of his name was all it took to demand his attention.
“Yes, Princess?”
The endearment made your throat tighten. It felt real when he said it. Like you were his world. But you weren’t his world, you were his prisoner.
And yet...
You swallowed hard, pulse pounding in your ears.
“I need to talk to you. Please.”
The papers fell forgotten. He was up instantly, crossing the space between you with that silent, predatory grace. Close but not touching. His presence was too much. Always too much.
“I’m listening.”
You shook your head, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. He couldn’t intimidate you into silence this time.
“I don’t want to live like this.”
Silence.
The tension in his face shifted just slightly, the smallest crack in that perfect, controlled mask. His lips parted, but no words came.
You continued.
“I know you care about me. I know you love me too much to let me go freely. But, Jungkook, I feel trapped. You control everything. My clothes. My food. My freedom. I miss some parts of my life. My classes. My friends. My family.”
His brows furrowed. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if forcing back words.
You took a breath.
“I can’t be yours if it means losing everything else. I can’t be your precious pearl if I’m just something you keep hidden away.”
His jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides as he turned away, pacing toward the window.
The reflection in the glass made him look even colder. Detached.
But you saw through it.
“You think I’ve taken your life away from you,” he said, voice tight.
“No- well yes,” you whispered, throat closing. “You have.”
The quiet was deafening. His back remained to you, shoulders tense, head bowed slightly as if weighing every word.
Then, so quietly you almost missed it.
“I had to protect you.”
The words sliced through the tension, rough, pained.
He exhaled, voice lower now.
“You were putting yourself in danger every night. Dancing for strangers. Letting men stare at you. Touch you. They didn’t deserve to see you like that.”
You stiffened. “It wasn’t like that-”
“Yes. It was.”
He turned then, eyes darker, filled with something too complicated to name.
“I watched. I saw the way they looked at you. They were never satisfied just watching. They wanted to consume you. Tear you apart. You would’ve let them if it wasn't for me!”
You flinched.
His voice dropped. “I couldn’t stand it. Seeing you let yourself be treated like you were nothing when you-” His voice broke, the rawness seeping through his control. “You’re everything. And you didn’t even see it.”
The anger drained from his face, replaced by something worse.
Vulnerability.
“Jungkook,” you whispered, chest tight.
He shook his head, turning back toward the window, his reflection fractured in the glass.
“I couldn’t lose you,” he rasped, voice broken now. “Because no one else ever stayed.”
The truth in his voice left you breathless.
You thought of the wealth he came from. The cold, distant parents. The hollow loneliness that shaped him long before you.
You finally understood.
Your hand brushed his sleeve.
“You don’t have to keep me like this,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I’m not leaving you. But you have to let me have some part of myself back. Let me go back to school. Let me see my family.”
His head shook instantly, jaw tightening. “No. I made sure of it. The world... they think you’re gone.”
“But you can undo it.”
He froze.
You forced yourself to keep speaking. “You have power. You could make this disappear. Make them stop looking for me. I can live again, and I’ll...”
You hesitated, voice shaking.
“I’ll stay. Willingly.”
His eyes snapped to yours, searching, desperate.
“Willingly?”
You held his gaze, pulse unsteady, then gave a slow nod.
“I won’t leave you. I just... I can’t stay if you keep me like this. I need to feel like myself again.”
For a long, painful heartbeat, he said nothing.
And then his hand cupped your cheek. Tender. Devastating.
His thumb brushed your cheek. His lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t.
And then, brokenly,
“I can give you that. If it means you’ll stay with me... love me. I’ll undo some things. School. Your family. The reports. I can... I can make it all disappear.”
His forehead rested against yours. His voice barely a whisper.
“Just don’t leave me.”
And the worst part?
You whispered back.
“I won’t. I promise.”
But the tightness in your chest whispered the truth you weren’t ready to admit.
You were falling for him.
----------
A year had passed.
The world outside shifted, seasons blending into each other. The penthouse no longer felt like a cage. Not when you stayed every night by choice.
You stood now in front of the floor-length mirror, adjusting the delicate pearl necklace Jungkook had fastened around your neck just an hour earlier. His pearl. His perfect, untouchable treasure. But it didn’t feel like possession anymore. Not in the way it once had.
Not after everything you’d both endured.
Your gaze lifted, meeting his reflection across the room. He stood near the windows, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored black suit, the city a blur of lights behind him. The sharp cut of his suit only emphasized the strength he carried so effortlessly, but his face was different now, softer, less guarded.
Yet even with that quiet vulnerability, the way he looked at you, like you were something delicate, precious, hadn’t changed. His gaze followed every detail of you, lingering where the fabric of your dress hugged your waist, heat in his eyes, reverence in his stillness.
You still felt it. That ache. Not the old ache, the pain of being trapped. This was something deeper, heavier. An ache you couldn’t explain, except it felt like trust.
Like love.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, closing the space between you, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss just beneath your ear. His hands slid to your waist, steady, grounding you against his chest. "You're going to make me lose my mind tonight."
A smile tugged at your lips despite the flutter in your chest. "You say that every time we go out."
"And every time, it’s true."
The feeling inside dulled, replaced by something warmer. Something you hadn't fought in a long time.
Jungkook had changed. Slowly. Carefully. The control was still there, woven into the very fabric of who he was, but not like before. No more locked doors. No more isolation disguised as protection.
You were finishing your final year of university now. Just weeks away from graduation. And he had kept his promise, your name cleared, your life restored, the whispers of your disappearance carefully erased like they had never existed.
And tonight, you were late for dinner with his mother.
The thought made your stomach twist. He felt it immediately, he always did.
“Hey.” His hands shifted to cup your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones. “You’re overthinking again.”
You swallowed hard. “She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She thinks I’m... I don’t know. A distraction. Or a gold digger or something.” You exhaled shakily.
Something flickered in his eyes at that, pain, just barely contained. His fingers tightened, but when he spoke, his voice was gentle.
“She doesn’t know us. Of you.”
Your heart pounded as you nodded, leaning into his touch. His lips found yours, slow and deliberate, a kiss meant to soothe, to reassure. When he pulled back, it wasn’t enough. You were too close. You needed him close.
But he smiled, a hint of mischief softening the intensity in his eyes. “We’re already late. But first.” His hand slipped into his pocket, retrieving a sleek black envelope with a silver wax seal. “I have something for you.”
Confused, you blinked. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
You carefully broke the seal, heart thudding as you unfolded the thick paper. The header was instantly familiar. Jeon Industries. But lower, Co-Chief Executive Officer. Official Offer of Partnership.
Your breath caught.
“Kook...”
His lips twitched, almost shy, a rare sight. “You’re graduating soon. You’ve worked so hard. And I…” His voice dropped, softer, vulnerable. “I want you with me. Not just here. But at my side. As my equal.”
You stared at the offer, words blurring as the weight of what he was offering sank in. Co-Chief Executive Officer. Power. Trust.
It wasn’t control.
It was faith.
“I- I don’t know what to say.” Your voice trembled, the words too small for what this meant. For how far you’d come together.
“Say you’ll think about it.” His thumb brushed your lower lip, gentle but possessive in that way he still couldn’t quite shake. “Say you’ll stay. With me. Always.”
Emotion swelled in your chest, and this time, you didn’t fight it. You reached for him, pressing your lips to his with a fierceness that startled even you, hands curling into the lapels of his jacket, needing him closer.
When you finally broke apart, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.
“Forever,” you whispered.
His lips curved, but it wasn’t playful this time. It was raw. Honest.
“Good. Because I was planning to keep you anyway.”
A laugh bubbled up, light, genuine, effortless. This is us now. Complicated. Imperfect. But whole.
He kissed your forehead once more before straightening, smoothing his tie as he murmured, “Now, let’s go. We’re already late, and my mom... she’s terrifying when she’s waiting.”
You rolled your eyes but let him lead you toward the door, his hand laced with yours, grounding. Reassuring.
This was your life now. A life you had chosen. A life where both of you were still healing, still learning, but together.
And neither of you was going anywhere.
----------
The pearl rested against your collarbone, cool, delicate.
A perfect thing. Untouched. Just like he wanted you to be.
But pearls weren’t born perfect. They were born from wounds.
A grain of sand, sharp, intrusive, buried so deep in the flesh it festered, twisted, until the ache became something beautiful.
"Love me. Stay with me. Try to love me."
You had said yes.
Not because he held you too tightly. Not because he asked.
But because, somehow, the ache had become him. Embedded too deep. Impossible to remove without breaking you open entirely.
Dahlias and Dandelions - PART ONE | Taehyung x Reader x Mystery Member
Pairing: Yandere Taehyung x Reader x Mystery Member
Genre: Bridgerton AU
Word Count: 19.4k (Part one)
Warnings: Yandere, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Fear, Anxiety, Panic, Mind Games, MC is extremely self conscious, Gossiping, Period Accurate Misogyny, Marital Expectations, Women really are not treated fairly here and it sucks, Touch of Misandry (MC really does not like men after her experiences), MC is not forgiving, Betrayal on so many levels (Will add more warnings later - sleep deprivation is kicking in)
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: “I bid you a good day, Mr. Kim,” You nodded, properly - politely, before turning your back on him and resuming your promenade.
Leaving him like that, mouth open and pale in the face, had left you with a certain sense of satisfaction. However, it was not enough. You were greedy in this manner. You wanted to see him suffer, you wanted to see him beg for forgiveness. You wanted him to be entirely at your mercy. It would not be enough until he was on his knees and even then you would never consider the possibility of forgiving him for his transgressions.
A/N: As an utter shock to absolutely nobody I have had no time to edit this so edits should be rolling out Friday. If no one likes this I will be devastated, I think this is one of my best works AND SO MUCH WILL GO DOWN IN PART 2! I also started a new job today so I will need a little time to get part 2 up but it will happen! I hope you guys like it - I can't wait for your comments and asks 💜
It had been a childhood crush.
It was embarrassing when you thought about it too hard, you were young and naive and he was the close companion of your older brother. It had meant nothing, nothing to him and nothing to your mother who felt little worry at his constant presence in her home. With you at the age of four and ten and he nine and ten, there was little to worry about.
Taehyung had been a long standing companion of your family. Both of your families had long since been intertwined from their inception. For that very reason, his presence was not unwelcome. Your mother adored Taehyung as if he were one of her own sons and therefore felt little worry over the gentle friendship the two of you had.
Your crush, however, was painfully noticeable. It was one of those things that everyone knew about, but elected to look past with amused grins and knowing looks. It hadn’t become a serious problem until your debut into society four years later.
When you were younger, your debut was something that you had anxiously looked forward to. But as an individual on the cusp of womanhood and being thrust into the limelight, you wanted nothing more than to run and hide away. You yearned for the time you spent in your brother’s study surrounded by the scent of smoke and leather and the feeling of worn pages beneath your fingertips. You were out of your depth here.
And then there was the problem of the other debutants. They were all stunningly beautiful in their own way. This was something you had always been aware of, you had grown up with these ladies, played with them, gossiped with them, promenaded with them, and now you were in competition with them and you couldn’t help but feel that there was no competition. They didn’t see you as competition because they knew you. And, because they were utterly perfect.
That was the other problem. Entering society as a lady also meant entering the marriage market. If there was anything that you were certain of, it was that you weren’t meant for marriage. Not when mere months ago you were still viewed as a child, but the ever moving hands of time dictated that a simple year could change everything. You weren’t ready. You had seen this with your cousin. She debuted, was engaged two months later, married, and had already had her first child.
That was an additional problem. Children. How could you be expected to have a child when you still felt like one yourself? You knew, admittedly, very little about children. But what you had been taught was that marriage was a prerequisite and after marriage it was doubtful that children would not follow. And that thought petrified you. But there was no fighting it, if you did it was sure to cause a scandal. With the status that your family had, it was expected that you were to marry soon and to choose the life of a spinster would cast a shadow on your family’s name.
You were resigned to your fate.
The one saving grace that you had, was Taehyung. He knew just how frightened you were of this whole ordeal and he had assured you that everything would be alright.
“Of course you would say that,” You had laughed, “You are a man.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?” He said with a roll of his eyes, snatching a pastry from your plate and popping it in his mouth in spite of your offended gasp.
“It has everything to do with it. You don’t have to attend a debutante ball, you don’t have to enter the marriage market until you decide to do so, and you don’t have to be paraded around like a prize waiting to be won.”
“That’s easy for you to say, until you’re the one being harassed by frantic mothers wanting you to propose to their daughters the second they introduce them. If anything, I am the prize waiting to be won.”
“Aren’t you old enough now to be considering your options? You’re what, three and twenty now? If you were a woman you would be approaching spinsterhood.” You teased.
“Spinsterhood?” He barked out a laugh, “I’ll have you know I am in my prime. I will choose a wife when I decide I am ready to do so.”
“Ah see, you have made my very point. You can marry when you choose to. I, however, will cause a scandal if I were to do the same.”
“You could marry when you choose to as well. Whomever you wish to choose.” He disagreed, his tone had become serious in contrast to the soft look in his eyes. “You do know I would support you, not all women marry their first season.”
Your heart fluttered, you willed it to relax.
“As kind as that is, we both know what is expected of my family. At the end of the day, my mother and my brother will choose whom they decide is the most suitable match. My say in the matter will be considered, but will fall low in priority I am afraid.”
Taehyung’s brows were pinched in confusion, his lips pressed together in thought. He was more troubled by your assessment than you had thought he would be. “You underestimate your brother. Jin adores you, he would never allow a proposal that is not befitting of you. In fact, I think he is more worried about your debut than you are. He is not ready for you to become a woman either.”
A sharp cough disrupted your conversation.
“Must she really be here?” Taehyung asked you, his words directed at your maid who was seated across the room with a warning look on her face. The two of them struggled to get along since her attendance had become mandatory during your time together.
“You know why she is here, Taehyung.” You sighed.
“I have known you your whole life!”
“Which is inconsequential now that I have come of age. She is here to ensure nothing improper is to occur and the both of us have little say in the matter.”
Taehyung stared at you before slowly blinking once, twice, and then thrice before speaking once more. “I was present when you were born, in fact I was amongst one of the first to hold you and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you were hardly proper then. Not to mention it was definitely improper when you decided it was simply too hot of a summer when you were two and stripped down until you were as bare as the day you were born and had to be chased all over the estate by the entire staff and your mother before you were captured and clothed.”
“Taehyung!” You yelled, heat rushing to your face as your maid choked in surprise and slammed her book shut.
“All I am saying is impropriety should be her least worry.”
“Everything about what you just said was improper and, not to mention, utterly embarrassing!”
And he had the gall to look pleased with himself. He was the very picture of the cat that had caught the canary with that egregiously adorable smile of his while he sunk down in his chair across from you.
Your maid rose and cleared her throat as she approached. “I believe, luncheon hours are over Mr. Kim. I shall escort you to the door.”
Taehyung raised his brows, looking from you to her and back again. “Is your maid kicking me out like an unwelcome loiterer?”
“We, unfortunately, have a ball to prepare for. She is right in asking you to leave.” You rose to your feet and he followed suit.
“You grow a year older and suddenly there are limits as to how many hours I can spend with you.” He muses, forlornly in spite of his mischievous grin.
“Of course, you could always retire your dislike of society's mothers for one night and come and see me. Maybe even sign my dance card and save me from any devious intentioned potential suitors.”
Taehyung smiled and pretended to think as he crossed his arms behind his back. “Well, a lady does debut only once after all. Perhaps, just this one time I can make an exception to my rule. However, I request the first spot on your dance card and nothing less.”
“Consider it done.” You laughed before shaking his hand to seal your deal. A startled gasp parted your lips, however, when he bent forward to brush his lips over the back of your hand. He seemed pleased with your reaction. But that was how Taehyung was, he loved to be mischievous and he delighted in eliciting reactions from those he shared his company with.
“I think that was a very proper thing to do.” He chuckled as he winked at your maid who frantically began to usher him out of the parlor as professionally yet urgently as she could.
Your heart was thunderous inside the cradle of your ribcage. How you wished it would stop instead, it would make things so much easier. Taehyung was many things, but the one thing that he would never be, was yours. He was off limits, just as you were and this was something your brother had explicitly stated. Jin, while incredibly overprotective as the head of the household, truly did have your best intentions at heart. He knew the kind of man that Taehyung was, the kind of man that many of his friends were and he had put those boundaries in place to protect your tender heart. A crush was fine, it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. But affection? And heavens forbid, love, was out of the question. You would never be able to have your dear friend that way that you dreamed of.
And while this was something that you were prominently aware of, the confirmation of such a truth had shattered your heart completely.
~~~~~~~
You had worn your finest, and newest, gown courtesy of the modiste. It truly was the most beautiful gown you had ever seen, it was something befitting of a woman that you yourself felt you had not yet become. But oh, did it sell the illusion for you. It was a soft shade of powder blue, decorated with the most delicate lace that you were certain it could tear with too much force. The bust, sleeves, and hem were affixed with freshwater pearls and a matching circlet had been pinned in your hair. You would never admit it, but you imagined Aphrodite would have felt the way that you did.
“You’ll do wonderful, darling.” Your mother cooed, her gloved hands patting your own. “I remember my debutante ball like it was yesterday. There were so many eager gentlemen, of course, none of them compared to your father-”
“Please, don’t encourage her to entertain every wide eyed blubbering fool that asks for a dance.” Jin sighed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in stress.
“I am not encouraging any such thing! However, it would be beneficial for your sister to socialize with lords and ladies alike upon her entrance into society.”
“Both of you are aware that I am still here, yes?” You snapped, breaking up an argument before it could happen.
“Of course we are,” Jin softened, “I just worry about you, I - we, want what’s best for you. However, I always thought we would have more time.”
That was his way of saying he didn’t want you to leave. At the end of the day, you were his baby sister. There was a ten year gap between the two of you, and during your mother’s long period of grief, Jin had assumed the role of parent. The bond the two of you shared went far deeper than that of a brother and a sister. You didn’t remember your father, and when you tried you often saw Jin’s face instead.
“You have nothing to worry about. Taehyung and I have spoken plenty on the matter, not all women marry their first season, let us have a good time tonight and worry another night.” You explained with a fond smile.
You, however, did not miss the look your brother gave you at the mention of his friend's name. “Taehyung, of course.”
There was that reminder again. Taehyung was not a viable option, that was an established rule. But the look that crossed over Jin’s face, there was more to his reasoning. There was something deeper there that you were not privy to. You took a mental note of that and put a pin in it for later, you had a ball to attend. The first goal of the night was to survive.
The debutante ball changed locations every year allowing several prestigious families of society the honor of hosting. This itself was another competition all of its own. And this year, they had certainly gone all out. If there were a theme, it would be opulence. The entire estate was dripping in gold, jewels, and lush greenery with hundreds of white roses and chandeliers of wisteria hanging from the ceilings. The ballroom was crowded with young men and women and their chaperones alike, this made you stop. This was your first night in society, and the first thing you noticed was how brilliantly these ladies shined. The way that the light reflected off of them gave them the appearance of hundreds of diamonds shining in the night.
Jin, as perceptive as he was, took notice immediately. His hand lightly rested between your shoulder blades in a comforting touch as his mouth softened into a kind smile. “You look lovelier than ever, don’t doubt that.”
You relaxed beneath his touch and nodded as you returned his smile. His words were simple, but Jin always knew what to say. You would never doubt your older brother, within reason, of course.
“Dearest, why not mingle with the other young ladies?” Your mother suggested, directing your attention to a group of young women who were circled together, their gaze flickering from their group members to the party goers as they giggled between one another.
“And throw her to the piranhas so early into the night?” Your brother jabbed.
“Oh, would you rather take her place then? That does remind me it is about time that you find a suitable wife -”
“Dear sister, don’t you think it would be a good idea to mingle? Allow me!” Jin interrupted, linking his arm with yours and guiding you in the direction of the ladies.
You smiled in amusement, “Are you truly that opposed to finding a wife, dear brother?”
“It is not so much the ladies that I am opposed to, but their overbearing mothers that truly frighten me.”
“I am starting to believe I should fear them as well, Taehyung mentioned something similar during luncheon hour today. Are all mothers so fearsome?” You teased.
“You haven’t the slightest idea,” He groaned before composing himself as the two of you approached the group of women.
These women were not unfamiliar to you, but you harbored no admiration or friendship for them. You internally sighed as they perked up at the sight of your brother, their eyelashes and handheld fans fluttering frantically. You had a strong idea as to what the conversation would be like once you were left alone with them to fend for yourself.
“Good evening ladies, I trust that you will take good care of my sister in my absence.” Jin said, his introduction brief so that he could make a quick escape and leave you to the proverbial wolves.
“Mr. Kim, could I trouble you for-”
“Unfortunately I am as troubled as can be. Very, very, very troubled…” He called over his shoulder as he made his escape from the lady inquiring for a dance.
You shrunk into yourself in his absence, your fingers anxiously fiddling with the strap of your fan. While you bloomed in the presence of those you loved, these ladies made you plaster to the wall like another flower in the wallpaper.
“That brother of yours is so elusive, how does he expect to ever find a viscountess?” The jilted lady asked you with a frustrated flutter of her fan.
“My brother does not find a need for a viscountess at this time, I am afraid the Ton will have to wait a little longer before my mother relinquishes her title to another lady.” You replied.
“Well, I suppose necessity can be swayed with persuasion from the right lady.”
An uncontrollable, and unladylike, laugh shook your chest. “I am afraid that you will find very little can sway my brother once his mind is made up. It would take an even more hard headed lady to be able to handle my brother.”
“Such a shame, that is.” Another lady sighed, her fan raising up to obscure a mouth curving with laughter, “One of you ought to marry, for propriety's sake, and the Viscount seems the most likely choice as we all know.”
Your own amused smile melted away. “What exactly is it that you are insinuating?”
You didn’t have to see her smile to hear the venomous amusement in her words, “Your brother is important, he will continue your family name of course. And a marriage to a viscount will overshadow any failures of his siblings. I meant no harm, dear.”
Failures. She was talking about you, she was insinuating you wouldn’t be successful in the marriage market. Everything you had secretly thought to yourself…were they too aware of it?
“You are implying I will have no suitors, no marriage prospects.” You plainly said, your eyes burning with unshed anger fuelled tears.
“Well, I suppose there is still some time for you to…come into your own?” She replied, her eyes scanning you slowly, meticulously, from head to toe.
She found you at the worst undesirable, and at best perhaps plain, you could see it in the way she looked at you. In the way that the other ladies looked at you, they were in agreement that you were not a threat. To them, you weren’t even a part of the race, you simply couldn’t qualify. Moments before, you had felt pretty, if not in your features than at least in the gown and jewels you were dressed in. But now, you couldn’t help but feel that you dulled what you had worn. Perhaps, you even looked amusing to everyone else, squeezing into a gown that you were unbefitting of.
You wished you could crawl out of your own skin and leave it all behind.
“There you are dearest,” A voice called from behind you. It was Taehyung, a charming smile adorning his beautiful features. In any other condition you would be happy to see him, but now . all you could think about was how ridiculous you would look beside him. How had he managed his own embarrassment for this long?
His smile faltered as he came closer, he could see the visible distress in your features and the shine of unshed tears in your eyes. The look that crossed his face was brief as he collected himself, but in that sudden moment you felt a chill run down your spine. You had never seen such a look in his eyes before. It could only be purely described as murderous.
“You will have to excuse us ladies,” He addressed the other women who had completely redirected their attention to him excitedly once he approached. They eyed him like vultures, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and steal whatever scrap of him they could take. “I was promised a first dance.”
Without saying another word to them he faced you and held out his hand, “May I have your first dance?”
You felt conflicted. You could not ignore the envious glares of the women surrounding you or the ugly feeling that had taken root in your mind and aches in your heart. But Taehyung was your oldest friend, and as horrible as you felt in that moment you found that you never had it in you to truly deny him.
You gave him a weak smile and slid your gloved hand into his, “Of course.”
Taehyung wordlessly guided you to the dance floor, the two of you quickly blending into the other dancers. You urged your heart to control itself at the feeling of his hands touching you, the warmth of his skin seeping into you. You had danced before, he wasn’t touching you anywhere that was improper but you could not for the life of you anchor your soaring heart in your chest. Even in your worst state, your heart wanted him.
“In all of the years that I have known you, you have never been one to back down from a challenge. So, I will ask you this one time, what have those women done to you that have turned the cunning wolf I know into such a startled lamb?”
For that very reason, you could not tell him. He would never understand. The way that you were with him was your true self, an unfettered being that was not bound by the status quo of society. But you could not afford to let that part of you rule you in any other circumstance. While Taehyung was amused by your sharpness, wit, and humor, that was something that was not accepted well by others - it was unbecoming of a lady. And while he saw that side of you, he had never seen the other side that appeared when interacting with society. But that part was still very much you, the part that urged you to be quiet, to blend in, to bend to others. The part of you that always knew you were no match against the other young ladies.
“You as well as my brother have said it before, they are quite vicious and that is all that I shall say on the matter.”
“How am I to help you if you will not say more? You are above their station, they have no right to demean you.” He replied, his voice the sternest you had ever heard it before.
“That is where you are wrong again, I have no station - that belongs to my brother. While he and you may have ways to defend yourself whether that be station or by pistol, I am left with a flutter of my fan and whatever thinly disguised insults I may fire back.”
“Then I will be your weapon, your protector if you would allow me. All I need know is what I am defending you from.”
“You are fighting an invisible foe, I am afraid. Now please, will you dance with me and end this interrogation. This is supposed to be a happy night.”
If there was anything you and Taehyung shared in common, it was your stubbornness. You could see it in his eyes, in the hard line of his lips, and the draw of his brows. And as they smoothed and relaxed you were surprised by his acquiescence, but you knew him well. He would put this matter to rest for now, but this wasn’t over.
~~~~~~~
Taehyung had kept his promise of being your first dance. But that quickly turned into your second, third, and fourth before you had to practically beg him to allow your feet a moment’s rest.
After the second dance you had tried to excuse yourself for propriety's sake but your companion wasn’t having it. Two dances together was enough to have the Ton murmuring, but three and four? That would border on scandal. That would inspire gossip of courting and proposals. You were trying to save his reputation but he would have none of it. As your oldest friend he cared little for what the rest of society would think, what their rules were. He just wanted to bring back that smile to your lips.
“One more dance.” He grinned, his chest rising and falling just as rapidly as yours - you felt breathless.
“You said that the second, third, and fourth time! I will keel over from overexertion if I do not leave this floor at this very moment.”
“When I break my own rules, I make sure to do it to the fullest extent.” He laughed.
“Please, entertain yourself for some time, I need to be rid of you.” You waved your hand at him in a shoo-ing motion.
“There’s my dearest girl.” He hummed, his gaze smoothly gliding over every inch of your face like he was committing every feature to memory. You felt as if you well and truly could faint now at any moment. If only he would give your heart a break.
Taehyung’s eyes widened for a moment, his gaze lifting from your face and fixing over your shoulder. Once you followed his gaze you realized what he was focusing on. Your brother was making haste through the crowd and his glare was pinned on the man who stood beside you.
“Forgive me, but I must make a quick escape.” He chuckled before giving your hand a gentle squeeze and slipping away.
“Taehyung!”
“He loves you, he tolerates me, I wish you luck!” And then he was gone.
You were allowed three breaths to collect yourself before your brother arrived, and he looked furious.
“Brother -”
“Where has he gone?” He asked, cutting you off completely, “I need to have a word with him at once.”
“And what must you say that I cannot be present for?”
“It is not your presence that is the problem, it is his.” He replied, his jaw taut with frustration.
“I am confused, is he not our oldest friend? What slight has he committed other than being the only gentleman to entertain me for the night?”
“What he has done could very well be your ruin, he will humiliate you. He has made a spectacle tonight and continues to ignore propriety. After that show, when no proposal comes to follow, you will be the laughing stock of the Ton.”
The ache in your chest returned tenfold. You knew that Jin hadn’t meant to hurt you, but intentions be damned it hurt worse than what those ladies had dared to insinuate. You knew that Taehyung did not return your feelings, and apparently Jin knew that as well. And worst of all it only confirmed what you knew to be true - your marriage prospects were in the gutter. You were an embarrassment to your family.
You couldn’t stop the sniffle, or the quiver of your lip and that did not escape Jin’s notice. The anger quickly faded from his face. “I did not intend to hurt you, it is not you that I am angry with or disappointed in, you must know that.”
You shook your head, your cheeks warm with embarrassment at how quick you were to come to tears in front of all of society. You took a step back from your brother, “I require a moment alone, please.”
The anger had melted to confusion, and the confusion had formed into distress on his face. Jin adored you, he never wanted to hurt you and now he could see that while it had not been his intention, he had done the very thing he never wished to do.
“Sister-”
“Please excuse me,” You said, your voice tight with barely restrained emotion before you turned and rushed through the crowds.
You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the lights were too bright, it was too warm, and there were far too many people. Your skin felt very sensitive and each brush against another gown or jacket had your body responding with the desire to peel at your very own flesh.
This was another embarrassment to your family, this phantom illness that you were unable to shake. It was humiliating how debilitating it was, it was something even your own mother could not comprehend. This feeling of utter claustrophobia inside your own body, like even your own skin was too tight. In moments such as this, your body took over your conscious mind and made decisions for you. All that you knew was that you needed to get away from these god forsaken crowds so that you could just be able to breathe if only for a moment.
When you came too once more, it was to the feeling of cool air grazing the exposed skin your gown did not cover. The breeze was a welcome, distracting stimulus. Outside, it was finally quiet. A natural quiet accompanied by the gentle chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. The chatter of the party was muted in comparison.
Now, able to collect your thoughts, you realized just how much of a mess the night had turned out to be. Not only had you been ridiculed by your fellow ladies, but Taehyung had managed to make your standing worse while trying to help you, and you had disgraced your brother. You hadn’t wanted this to begin with, this wasn’t entirely your fault. However, you could not ignore the nagging pull of guilt in your gut.
Despite what everyone else has claimed, you felt the furthest thing from a woman. You still felt much like a child.
Amidst your musings, a roll of laughter caught your attention. You came to a stop in the gardens and despite knowing how improper it was, you stayed hidden and peered around the corner as quietly as you could. You knew that laughter.
It was Taehyung.
He stood with a group of other men, all of them deeply engaged in conversation with one another to the point that you were unworried over being discovered in such a compromising position.
“I can’t believe you of all people have decided to settle down, the worst rake of us all!” One man laughed, his cheeks flushed from spirits.
“Oh come off it, it comes for all of us eventually. I find myself quite satisfied with settling down, I have a lovely bride with a decent dowry. What more could I ask for?”
“Your freedom, perhaps?” That inspired another round of raucous laughter.
You felt your stomach turn in disgust. Is this what these men thought of the women of society? As shackles that were inevitable but bearable so long as she has a pleasing face and figure and a large sum of money? Was that all you were, another piece on the board to be sacrificed for the hubris of man? This wasn’t what your mother had told you, your father and her had shared a love that came straight from fairytales.
“And what of you, Taehyung? It’s about time isn’t it - you can only avoid it for so long?” The engaged man probed.
“I’m afraid the frantic mothers of the Ton will be waiting for a long time before I even consider laying down such a sacrifice.” Taehyung laughed.
This you were not surprised by, he had reflected this very sentiment this morning in your drawing room. However, it did not soften the blow.
“Are you quite sure? You looked rather taken with Seokjin’s beloved sister, four dances - how scandalous!” They laughed as your skin burned in embarrassment. They were mocking you, mocking the standards every woman in that room upheld. You were suddenly finding them rather vile.
You waited with baited breath for Taehyung to come to your defense as he had promised before, to be your protector when you could not.
His head tilted back as he pretended to be in thought before his eyes rolled dramatically, “I would never marry her or for that matter court her. Have you truly seen her? She is not the type of woman one finds themself wanting.”
The round of laughter and agreements that followed fell on your own deaf ears. In that moment you truly understood the meaning of heartbreak, there was no better way to explain the encompassing pain that was radiating from your already fragile heart. You had always known that it was a childish dream to believe that he would want you in the same way that you desired him. But to hear him admit it, to hear him laugh at the thought of it, to hear him mock your very appearance was the nail in the coffin.
You were nothing more than a cruel joke, and with what he had said the damage was already done. Not only did Taehyung not want you, but he had also ensured that no one else would ever look at you with a modicum of desire. You were ruined.
Your hand fisted the fabric of your dress, clawing at where your heart would be. It did nothing to soothe your distress but your body was out of your own control at this point. All you could do was slump against the wall in complete distress. A night that was supposed to be joyful and celebrate your entering society, had turned into something from your worst nightmares. And you were the laughing stock of the Ton. You couldn’t bear to stick around and observe the aftermath, the hushed whispers, the barely contained laughs. You need to go, you need to disappear.
You hastily wiped away your tears, your makeup staining your once white gloves in the process but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You did your best to remain hidden, as you usually did, and stuck to the shadows and walls as you made your way back to the front of the estate. Just as you felt your impending freedom, a hand wrapped itself around your arm and jerked you to a stop.
“There you are!” Jin called, his voice relaxing with relief. “What in the world made you think it was a good idea to run off by yourself alone?”
A pitiful sniffle was your response and that was enough to make your brother frantic.
“You’re crying? Why are you crying, what happened to you?”
Your shoulders shook and your fists balled up in an effort to keep yourself composed. It was childish to keep crying the way that you were, you were supposed to be a lady. But you just couldn’t do it anymore, you couldn’t keep pretending.
You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Jin, your forehead pressing into his shoulder. “I want to go, please.”
He stilled for a moment before he relaxed and held you in a comforting embrace, his hand gently smoothing the back of your hair. “I’ll call for a carriage and we’ll get you home, if anyone asks I will take responsibility for your absence.”
“I don’t want to go home, I want to go to Whitepoint - I want to stay with our aunt.”
Jin was confused, you could see it plain as day on his face. “What has brought this on? You must tell me what has happened otherwise I cannot help you.”
“I can’t stay here any longer, I can’t handle all of these prying eyes waiting for me to fail or embarrass our family at any moment. I need to go.”
His face softened, “You could never embarrass me.”
“You and I both know that is untrue. I would love nothing more than to stay with you and mother, but I need this. I need more time, please, let me do this.” You begged.
There was a sadness in his eyes, one that told you that he had already accepted your terms but did not wish to see you go. Jin would do anything for you, no matter the request, even if it hurt him.
“How long will you be gone for?” He asks, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide the emotion that was bleeding into his words.
“I do not know yet, only time will tell.”
He nodded, solemnly, before leading you back to the front of the estate, his arm hooked into the crook of your elbow. He was silent as he waited with you and he did not speak again until your carriage arrived. He was looking at you with a sense of forlorning, like he knew that this would not be a visit contained to one season. He knew.
“What is that look for?” You asked.
“It is nothing, I was just realizing that we have never been apart since the day that you were born. I am now realizing how lonely it will be without you.”
“I am leaving first thing tomorrow, we still have breakfast.” You teased with a weak smile, you were still not fully recovered from the heartache deep in your chest.
“I just always thought I would have more time.” He mused.
Little did you know, he had been right to mourn your departure. The first time you had left your brother’s side was longer than you had anticipated and before you had realized it, years had melted away.
~~~~~~~ 5 Years Later
“A letter has arrived for you, my lady.” Your maid called for you as she unsealed the envelope with a letter opener, “It is from your mother.”
The pianoforte made a ghastly sound beneath your fingertips as you startled at the mention of your mother. The five years you had spent in isolation from the Ton had included your beloved brother as well as your mother. Your aunt had done her best to enforce the privacy that you had requested and this had included correspondence, all letters had been addressed to or intercepted by her and her alone at your request.
You cleared your throat and collected yourself, regaining the composure you had trained yourself into in the past years.
“You may take that to my aunt, Lilah, I have not corresponded with my mother in quite some time as you are aware.”
“My mistress has requested that I deliver this to you and you alone, my lady.” Lilah replied, placing the unsealed envelope on the top of the pianoforte, “I will give you your privacy, when you are ready to draft your response I will return.”
You stared after the maid’s retreating form. In any other house, her words and disposition would have been mistaken for disrespect. However, Lilah had been a faithful servant to your family since you were born, she being only eight years your senior. She truly had the best of intentions when it came to you, and she knew when to talk to you like the petulant child that you were being despite your age.
Your fingers trembled as you slid the stationary free from the envelope and began to read.
Dearest,
It has been quite some time since you have been home. Your brother and myself have missed you deeply during this time that we have spent apart. Your dear aunt has told me of the woman that you are growing into, and I am deeply saddened that I have missed these defining years of your youth. Your brother and I have spoken often of your return, and as we approach your fifth season away from home we have come to a decision on the matter. While Seokjin was in firm agreement with your decision to leave home, I have made my stance on the matter very clear. While I hold little authority as dowager viscountess, I still hold much authority as you and your brother’s mother. It is upon my request with the approval of your brother, that you are to return home this season.
While you may not think this to be so, I do understand the heavy burden that comes with being a woman in society. However, as your mother, I can no longer stand by and allow you to hide from your responsibilities in the country. I have listened to your brother long enough and I have given your aunt plenty of time to prepare you for your return to society. You are quickly approaching spinsterhood and it is now time to find you a suitable match. Your aunt has let me know your stance on this as well, and I regret to inform you that we are no longer in a position where we can wait. In spite of your aversion to marriage, I will be securing you a match by the end of the season whether you return home or not. However, if you decide to stay with your aunt in Whitepoint, you will have no input in the suitor that I choose for you. With this knowledge, I find that it will be in your best interest to return home at once.
Do not think me heartless, dearest. It is with a heavy heart that I have made this decision. Your brother and I have missed you and we both are doing this to ensure that you will be taken care of. And, selfishly, I knew that this would be the only way I would see you return home to me once more. I know that you will be angry and I know that you will be hurt, however, do know that we have tried to give you the most time that we could possibly afford. You have had five years now to explore your passions and grow, that is more than most women have ever been able to have. Your brother and I eagerly await your return.
With all my love,
Mother
The stationary crunched beneath your tight grasp as you finished reading. Foolishly, you had hoped that they would give up on you. That they would see that you had no desire to ever return to that god forsaken snake pit that would sooner devour you than see you be free.
In your time away from home, your anger had grown hot. You had lost much of the youthful joy and zest for life that you had once possessed. Little did your mother know, you were every bit of the frustrated and frigid spinster that she feared you would become. That one horrible night had left you with quite the impression of men in society. You would sooner cut off your own ring finger than settle down with a man who viewed you as a set of shackles. You had no desire for marriage or even romantic companionship anymore. What faith you had once had, had shriveled and faded away.
In your eyes, this letter had been your own death sentence. There was no escaping this, not with your brother in agreement with your mother. And while you knew that you always had a home with your dearest aunt, she knew better than to act against a viscount and his mother. You were caught in a trap that you desperately wished to gnaw your way out of.
You had countless worries regarding your return home, and chief among them was seeing him again, Taehyung. The childish crush you had once harbored for him had died long ago. Where there had once been warmth in your heart for him, there now stood a frigid and bitter winter. You had no desire to ever see him again and in your time away from home you had made it clear that you wished to never hear of him again.
Shortly after you had left, he had sent a letter to your aunt’s estate. You had been curious when the first letter arrived, but you were so heartbroken that you refused to read a single one of his letters. And with the amount of letters that arrived, you had forged an intense stubborn nature. You had initially been startled by the volume and speed with which they arrived, but now in your fifth year you had little interest in them any longer. You were certain Taehyung was unaware of your presence that night he had ruined you, and you were certain he was unaware as to why you refused to answer him. And that man being as stubborn as you were just would not quit.
That was of little consequence to you, in your eyes, any connection you had once had to him was dead. But still, you were intensely disturbed by the idea of having to see him again. If you had it your way you would live a long life and die before that was even in the realm of possibility.
But now, you were left with little say in the matter, not with your mother calling, no, demanding you return home.
You rose from the bench with a growl of frustration, the crumpled letter falling pathetically to the ground. You quickly marched to the entrance of the parlor and sought out your maid.
“Lilah!” You called.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Draft a response to my mother, let her know that I will be returning in a week’s time.” You instructed.
“A week’s time? You will miss the debut ball.”
“I am well aware, luckily I am no longer a debutante therefore my presence is no longer required. There will be other balls that I shall not escape.”
“Your mother will be displeased, it does not matter if you are not a debutante, this signifies the beginning of the season and a good impression is a lasting impression.”
“This is the impression that I desire. My mother knows of my aversion to marriage but wishes that I play along with the desires of the Ton. My absence will assure them once more that I have little care for the marriage market. If I am to return against my will then I will play this game my own way.”
“And by your own way, you mean self sabotage?”
“I am glad you have caught on, Lilah. My mother seems to believe that she can secure a match for me whether I am willing or not. However, I think she will find it difficult to secure a match for someone who lacks suitors.”
“And however do you think you will manage to escape the season without a suitor?” She asked, finally matching your pace and fixing you with a disapproving look you were not at all unfamiliar with.
That flare of anger fanned in your chest again, “It was not a problem my first season, I do not expect it to become one now. But, on the off chance it were, I believe that my persisting scandal will be a sufficient deterrent.”
“And if all else fails?” She probed.
“Well, then we rely on my dazzling personality.” You replied sarcastically. Your “dazzling” personality was as prickly as a cactus. As your final defense, it would work well against any curious suitors.
“May I speak plainly, my lady?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think that, perhaps, you are taking this a touch too far? You act as if you are to be hanged.”
“The bonds of marriage are not that different from the constriction of a noose,” You joked in poor taste, “I have seen too many good women become nothing more than a man’s wife. That itself is a tragedy on its own. The Ton knew before I did that I was not suited for marriage, and now that is something that we can agree on. My mother will soon realize that too.”
“It seems you have forgotten where you and your brother have gotten your stubborn nature from. Your mother is a force to be reckoned with, one that you have had the fortune of avoiding for your entire life. I think that you will find this ordeal will not be as easy as you thought it would be.”
“Has anyone ever told you how comforting you are, Lilah?”
“As often as you have heard about your dazzling personality, my lady.”
~~~~~~~
Your last week in Whitepoint passed faster than you had wished it too. The sleepy coastal town had been a source of comfort for you during your time there. The smell of the sea still clung to your clothes and soothed your frazzled nerves as you endured the carriage ride home. The skin around your nails was irritated and raw from your constant picking, an unfortunate outlet for the intense affliction you had. Still, the minor cosmetic issue was better than the past episodes you had endured: spells of shortness of breath and near fainting.
A hiss of pain escaped your lips as Lilah swatted your hand with her fan, “Forgive me, my lady, but it would be best to kick that habit now before your mother becomes privy to it.”
You rubbed the sore spot on your hand before sliding your gloves back on, “And I suppose you intend to beat the habit out of me?”
“If I must, and if you insist on disfiguring yourself.” She replied with a sly smile. “There is nothing to fear, your brother and your mother are waiting for you.”
“And if I know my mother, I wouldn’t be surprised if she dragged some poor unsuspecting lord along with her.” You scoffed.
“Do you really think your brother would allow that?”
“Well, he has seemingly joined my mother’s scheming. At this point, I am uncertain as to what his intentions are as well. So much can change in the matter of a year, that and much more can be said for five years.” You sighed, relaxing into the velvet seat. “I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if he is using my marriage status as a diversion from his own.”
“Could he not simply have your best interests at heart?” Lilah suggested.
“While Seokjin is the head of our household, he still is my brother. He would sooner turn me over to our mother than face her wrath.” You replied with a pointed look.
That overwhelming, inexplicable feeling was rising in your chest again as the peaks of familiar townhouses came into view. You weren’t much farther from home, from here on out it would be a short ride.
You leaned your head back and attempted to collect yourself. You were no longer a little girl who once hid behind her mother’s skirts. And you were no longer the young lady that you had been before that fateful night. You were a woman, composed, intelligent, and resourceful. You were going to make it out of this no matter what.
The familiar scent of wisteria pulled you from your reverie, the carriage halting to a stop. It was now or never.
The door swung open and the footman helped you exit. Your gloved hands brushed down the satin of your skirt in a refined manner as you made your way back inside your childhood home. Nothing had changed, while the time you had spent away seemed like ages ago, it had not been enough time for anything to truly change. Even the staff was the same, your mother’s faithful butler guiding you to the drawing room with a gentle smile and a compliment as to how much you had grown.
You had barely even entered the room before your mother’s presence was made known. She laid her needlework to the side and rushed to you in a rather unladylike manner before wrapping you in a tight and warm embrace.
“Dearest!” She cried, guiding your head to rest in the nook of her shoulder as she pressed her lips to your forehead. “How I’ve missed you, there, there, let me have a look at you.”
Her hands pressed against your shoulders, guiding you back as she took you in from head to toe. “Look at you, oh how you have grown into yourself.”
You suppressed a flinch, those familiar words echoing in the back of your mind. Promises and laughter over how you still had time to grow into your features. Always the ugly duckling and never the swan.
“Thank you, mother. I’ve missed you.” You managed to smile. You had missed her, in spite of everything there was little she could do that would make you resent her. Of course, forcing you into a marriage was a step in the wrong direction for your relationship. However, so far there were no suitors hiding around the corner.
“Your brother and I are so happy you have you home again.” She hummed before taking hold of your gloved hands in her own. “We have planned lunch and a promenade by the river to welcome you home!”
“A promenade?” You echoed, your nerves firing back to life, “It has been a long journey home, perhaps we could save that for tomorrow instead?”
“Oh, nonsense! You were cooped up in that carriage all day. It will do you some good to stretch your legs and get some fresh air. The same could be said for that brother of yours, always hidden in that study of his. I swear, if I didn’t force him to leave he would spend the rest of his life drowning in papers there.”
That didn’t sound like the Seokjin that you knew. Of course you remembered how consumed he would become in his work, but he had always managed to find time for you and your mother. He never missed a meal and he never sent you to bed without a proper goodnight. Perhaps some things had truly changed in your absence.
“Perhaps I should go and save him then,” You suggested, stepping out of her embrace, “I suppose his study is right where I left it?” You teased.
Your mother laughed, shooing you away with satin gloved hands, “You tease too much! Go and fetch your brother, I’ll see to our transportation. And dearest, it is so good to have you home.”
You delayed for a moment, frozen by the archway in the parlor. It was good to see happiness on your mother once more. Even when you had lived at home, those moments were fleeting. It was nice to know that your return was the reason, outside of the circumstances that lead you back home.
“It is good to be home,” You lied with a smile.
You made haste to your brother’s study, your skirts clutched in your fists as you ran down the hallway like you were a child once more. While you had changed so much, you could not deny the giddy joy that thrummed in your bones from the sight of those familiar hallways. You knew every nook and cranny, every good hiding spot, and every creaky floorboard. You came to a halt in front of a set of familiar doors and rapped your fist against the wood.
A voice, louder and angrier than you expected, called back, “I remember telling you I wish to not be disturbed!”
Your temper flared and your body moved without your command, shoving those doors open and marching into a dimly lit study, “After all this time, that is how you wish to greet your dearest sister?!”
The furious look on your brother’s face melted away, quickly being replaced by one of surprise. He stared at you for a moment, dumbfounded, before he rose so fast he knocked his chair back and circled his desk.
You wheezed as he wrapped you in a tight embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you close like he was afraid you would disappear again.
“Well now, that’s more like it.” You said softly, patting his shoulders before stepping away.
“Look at you, you’ve gone and grown up without me.” He whispered in awe.
“I wouldn’t say that, you look ages older than I remember.” You grinned.
“Excuse you! I am trying to be sentimental and you are making a mockery of my kindness, you petulant brat!”
“It’s good to see you too, Seokjin.” You smiled.
“I want to know everything, what you have done since I have last seen you, what you have studied, all of it.”
“Well have no fear dear brother, we will have plenty to discuss over lunch and during our promenade.” You replied.
“Promenade?” He repeated, a look of dread washing over his once happy features.
“It is inescapable, I am afraid. Mother’s orders. I tried my best to get us out of it, but she is having none of it. I believe this is part of her scheme to find a suitor, a scheme I am sure you are well aware of.”
His dread deepended, “It was not my idea,”
“Of course not, but I am sure it was a welcome distraction from your own duties was it not?”
“...Let’s not fight your first day back. I believe you mentioned a promenade?” He replied, evading answering your question as he offered you his arm, guiding you back towards the foyer where your mother waited.
~~~~~~~
You released another tired sigh as you walked alongside your mother, Seokjin behind the two of you, suddenly interested in the scenery as he avoided your conversation all together.
Your mother had taken this opportunity to update you on all of the Tons gossip that you had missed during your time at Whitepoint. You were already beginning to miss the crisp seaside air.
“...and they married awfully fast, you know. Soon after they announced her pregnancy and then the infant was born premature but I assure you, that was the largest infant I have ever seen, premature or not!” Your mother’s voice whispered in your ear, delighted by the insinuation she was making.
“How scandalous,” You dryly remarked.
“Indeed!” She laughed.
A pleasant silence fell between you, although it did not last long. “Darling, I know that you have only just arrived, but I find it would be beneficial for us to discuss the delicate issue at hand.”
“You mean my marriage, or rather, the lack of such.”
“Well, yes, precisely,” She stuttered at your forwardness, “As I have mentioned in our correspondence, I am doing this out of love for you. Moving forward, it would be best if the three of us are all on the same page in regards to potential suitors.”
“Seokjin has left us, mother.”
She immediately came to a stop, whipping her head back and forth in a rather uncouth and unladylike manner as she searched for her missing son.
“How I hate it when he does that!” She exclaimed, spotting him a great distance away conversing with several other gentlemen of which you were familiar with. They had long been a part of your brother’s inner circle, something that you had only ever been an observer of.
Your mother’s eyes focused on the men beside your brother as she took hold of your forearm, leaning close to speak to you. “There are several viable options before you, darling.”
You cringed at the thought of courting one of your brother’s friends. You had experience with yearning for the attention of one of them before and you had been burned greatly as a result. It would not do you any good to cause any discord amongst his companions as you had already accomplished. Even now, he was not among them.
“Lord Kim would be a good choice,” Your mother mused and your heart stopped. It took you a moment to realize she was not talking about Taehyung, but Namjoon. “He comes from a good lineage and is rather brilliant from what I have heard, he could be a decent match for your own wit. However, he is notorious for avoiding settling down. He has not had even a single scandal that could allude to any possible relationship. He is so very much like your brother in that regard.”
“Forgive me mother, but if you could refrain from comparing potential suitors to my own brother I would be grateful.”
“Oh dear me, you are right!” She winced, realizing her own folly.
There was nothing wrong with Namjoon. In fact he was incredibly handsome, intelligent, and respectful in the few moments the two of you had crossed paths. He would not be a bad option, the issue was with you. You could not trust any of them - men. They spoke words slathered with honey to ladies, but the moment they congregated the most filthsome, lecherous, words left their mouths. You would not surrender yourself to a marriage wherein your own gender would be the basis for such foul thoughts. It was not Namjoon’s fault, but the men of society as a whole.
“Lord Jeon is the youngest among them, you are both the same age now that I think of it. The poor thing is rather timid though, no one has ever seen him ask a lady to dance. It may take too much time and effort to capture his interest. Not that you aren’t capable, darling!”
Jungkook, you knew him as well. Even now, those large brown doe eyes looked around in such curiosity like he was seeing the world for the first time. Your brother adored him, like he was his own little brother. If you had been seriously considering your mother’s demands, in another life, you likely would have chosen him. He was sweet, kind, and he adored your mother and brother. But deep down in your soul, you knew you couldn’t even trust him. You had resigned yourself to this fate, you would not marry, not even a sweet boy such as he.
“Ah, and there is Lord Park, I am sure you are familiar. He was close friends with Taehyung after all.”
Of course you remembered him. He was there that night too, he had not said anything but you remembered how he had laughed at your expense. That smile on his lips was enough to send rage flooding through your veins as the sight of his face once more.
“Such a sweet cherubic face, he has had many ladies vying for his attention since you’ve been gone. He does, however, have quite the reputation of a rake. I do find, in my personal experience, that reformed rakes can make the best husbands.”
You made a disgusted choke in response to your mother’s statement. You dread to think about what she had been insinuating about your father in his youth.
“Mother, that is hardly appropriate-”
“And of course there is Lord Jung! He is such a charming young man, and what a sweet smile! There would be no winning in that marriage, one smile and he would get absolutely everything he wants! He has not a single scandal to his name, the biggest mystery about him is how he hasn’t been snatched up yet, especially with such a prestigious family!”
You had no quarrel with Hoseok either. That was mainly attributed to how little you knew of him. Your brother only had the nicest things to say about him, then again, you had never heard him utter a negative word against any of his inner circle. Besides Taehyung, of course. You were sure Hoseok would find a wonderful wife one day, one who suited him perfectly. However, that would not be you.
“And lastly, Lord Min. The Ton knows so little of him, he tends to keep to himself. He has an air of mystery surrounding him, especially considering he is the only Min left to carry the title, how tragic! Now, if you want my opinion I do think he may be older than I would like for you. It may be in your best interest to find someone closer in age to you, that should ensure a longer marriage.”
Perhaps you would toy with the idea of allowing your mother to think you held any interest in Yoongi - if she insisted you marry, it would be quite comical to target someone she was explicitly telling you that fell low on her list of prospective suitors.
While you held no intention of marrying, you supposed you and Yoongi were the best match personality wise. You had heard from your brother that, much like yourself, Yoongi never intended to marry either. A marriage of convenience would not be too horrible, you could consider that your final plan should all else fail. If everything went sideways, this would be a mutually beneficial plot.
“It appears you have put much thought into your pursuits, mother.”
“Of course, darling. I have had five years to plan, did you really think I would let all of that time go to waste? I can assure you, come the end of the season we will have secured you the perfect match.”
“Splendid,” You replied with a pained grin.
“Lady Kim!” A familiar voice called causing both yourself and your mother to turn, unsure of which of you were being addressed.
“Oh, Lady Jeon!” Your mother called in equal excitement.
Your mother had been friends with Lady Jeon for quite some time, but it appeared that they had grown even closer than you remembered since you had left for Whitepoint. How curious.
Scheming.
“How good it is to see you,” Lady Jeon smiled at your mother before she took notice of you,
“And my, look how you have grown into such a beautiful woman! It is so good to have you back my dear.” Lady Jeon said with a gentle squeeze of your hand.
You smiled in spite of the burn her compliment left, “It is good to be home.”
“And how has your son been fairing, Lady Jeon?” Your mother asked, incredibly conspicuously as her eyes darted between yourself and the aforementioned lady.
“Oh! My Jungkookie-”
You waited for a moment, watching as the two of them became enraptured in their conversation before you made your escape. When they were good and well distracted, you edged away from them before fully turning your back and escorting yourself on your own promenade - far away from scheming mothers and potential suitors.
Foolishly, deep down you had hoped that your mother would forgo her efforts to see you married once you returned home. If anything, you had hoped her desire to see her daughter return to her family estate would overpower those wishes. You were once more reminded that hope was for fools.
The biggest issue that had presented itself was what your next steps would be. You were certain that a ball was unavoidable, your presence would have to be made especially now that you were under the watchful gaze of your mother. Your skin crawled at the thought, your last ball had ended so dreadfully. You could only hope that the scandal that surrounded yourself, and your family by extension, would be enough to ward off any more interaction with any members of the Ton. But it seemed that Lady Jeon was not frightened by any potential scandal, she would be one you would have to watch out for.
A soft call of your name had you halt in your steps. You knew that voice, you would never be able to forget that voice. The way it sounded when it laughed, or teased you, or soothed you. And the way it had taken your heart and torn it to shreds the moment you had given it away.
He repeated it again. You could hear his steps coming closer to you, you could sense his body drawing nearer.
“My dearest?” He asked, his words heavy with emotion that surprised you although you did not let it show.
It would be improper to ignore him in front of all of these people. It would make you look cold, callous, and plain rude. In any other circumstance you would not care, but with your mother so close by you had little choice in how you composed yourself. You would have to face him.
You took in a sharp breath before finally turning and facing him.
He was just as handsome as he had been the last time you had seen him, that would never change. However, he did look different. More mature and, surprisingly, solemn. There were deep, tired circles beneath his eyes and a barely concealed tremble in his lips. There was a certain cruel joy that churned in your gut at the sight, a true expression of schadenfreude.
“Mr. Kim, it’s nice to see you.” Your tone said anything but. You watched as his mouth twisted at the title - you had never called him that.
There was an unnatural stretch of silence before he spoke. “You have been gone for some time now.”
He too was aware of the public’s presence. And even after all of this time had passed you knew what he was truly saying: you vanished without saying goodbye.
“I have,” You agreed, “The time was quite necessary, everyone should take a break from the Ton now and again.” Your words were plain, completely lacking the banter the two of you had once shared. You were speaking to him as you would any other lord you had met for the first time. You could see the frustration burning inside of him.
“I wrote to you,” He finally said, slightly breaking his decorum as he lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, “Several letters for five years and not once did I receive a reply.”
You hummed in response, snapping your fan shut. “I am aware, I thought I was doing you a favor by not responding, you know. I wouldn’t want you to waste precious time and ink on someone such as myself. Someone that a man such as yourself would not ever find wanting.”
A look of confusion fell over his face, his gaze flicking from left to right before going still as realization dawned. The color drained from his face, his tense jaw falling slack. You internally preened at the sight.
“I bid you a good day, Mr. Kim,” You nodded, properly - politely, before turning your back on him and resuming your promenade.
Leaving him like that, mouth open and pale in the face, had left you with a certain sense of satisfaction. However, it was not enough. You were greedy in this manner. You wanted to see him suffer, you wanted to see him beg for forgiveness. You wanted him to be entirely at your mercy. It would not be enough until he was on his knees and even then you would never consider the possibility of forgiving him for his transgressions.
You had only made it a few steps away before a firm hand was wrapped around your bicep and you were being tugged off of the path and into the cover of the trees. You let out a sharp yelp as you lost your footing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had taken hold of you.
“Are you mad?!” You gasped, smacking Taehyung’s hand off of you, “Have you not done enough damage? Do you seek to embarrass myself and my family further by creating another scandal that we cannot afford?”
“No one has seen, I need to speak with you.”
“And you are certain of this? Just as certain as you were that night when I stumbled upon your lecherous foolish companions?”
“You were not meant to hear that!” He yelled, the sudden volume of his voice causing you to flinch back. In your long friendship not once had he ever raised his voice at you. This was new, there was a desperate look in his eyes that made your stomach twist in unease.
“But I did,” You said, your voice far calmer than his as your fists balled up at your sides, “If you were truly that embarrassed of me, then you could have ended our friendship a long time ago. What you did was unbelievably cruel. I thought that while that place was teeming with wolves, I had one companion who would be at my side to fend them off. But, in truth, you despise me just as much as they did. You saw me as an annoying pest you had to put up with, one that was so undesirable it had to be made known to the entirety of the Ton.”
“Do you truly believe that is what I think of you? After all of the moments we shared?” He asked, his dark brows drawing together in blatant confusion that stirred your embers of anger once more.
“Of course I do! I heard the very words come from your mouth! What more do I need to hear?”
“You don’t understand, I was doing that to pro-”
“What is the meaning of this?” A new voice emerged, cutting off whatever Taehyung was trying to say. It was Seokjin, and the look on his face was one that made your back stiffen and your heart thud.
“It is nothing, brother. Let’s return to our mother.” You answered, moving to come to his side.
“This is not nothing, what is he doing here with you, unchaperoned?!” He hissed, “I should kill him!”
“Enough! You are overreacting, it was a simple conversation between old friends, nothing more!” You raised your voice as you moved to stand in front of him and block his path.
“He aims to dishonor you,” Jin replied, his gaze still trained on the man behind you, “As he has before, you are to stay far away from him, do you understand me?”
You bristled at the instruction. It was as if he did not trust you rather than Taehyung. And while you knew, logically, that was the furthest thing from the truth, you did not appreciate the insinuation that you would fall victim to your old friend’s charms as so many other ladies had before you. In that moment, you were also reminded of your brother’s status as Viscount, especially with the commanding aura he had grown in your absence.
“Trust me brother, that will not be a problem.” You nodded in agreement despite the annoyance you felt. “Again, I bid you a good day, Mr. Kim.”
Taehyung had fallen uncharacteristically silent. There was an angry and bitter look on his face as his jaw clenched and his hands flexed into fists. He lowered his gaze to the ground, refusing to meet your brother’s stern and watchful eyes.
Something had happened here, something you had not been privy to. You had not been blind to this five years ago, the strained manner in which your brother spoke of one of his oldest friends the night everything had fallen apart. He had been trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy at the time, but his true feelings had successfully bled through.
You struggled to match your brother’s pace as he hastily guided you back onto the path and in view of the other families on their promenade. Your curiosity was unquenchable.
“What happened between the two of you, Jin?” You asked, trying to meet his gaze which he was steadily avoiding. “I know something has happened, once you would have trusted Taehyung like he was a part of our family and now you hold contempt for him.”
“Nothing has happened.” He replied, his voice flat and unconvincing.
“Do you take me for a fool? I am not the child that I once was, I know that something has changed and I deserve to know what it is!”
“It is none of your concern!” He snapped, his fury now redirected to you.
An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. The both of you were unflinching, awaiting the other to submit.
“I don’t know who you have become in my absence, Seokjin. But the man that stands before me is not my brother.” You could see the anger visibility melt from his face and be replaced with regret. “While you may be the viscount, you are still my brother. It will do you well to remember to never raise your voice at me. Remember, I have no issue with my spinsterhood and if I so wished I could return to Whitepoint this very instant. If you wish to avoid another scandal, as you seem to be so worried about, it would do you well to treat me with the respect that I have always held for you.”
His response was one you had not been expecting.
His gaze softened and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “You have grown so much.”
You smothered your own grin that was attempting to rise. “I should hope so.”
“Forgive me, sister, I have forgotten myself. It has not been easy with you gone and I am afraid I have grown fearful of what will happen to you now that you have returned to my care. I merely wish to protect you, whether that be from the prying eyes of the Ton or the hands of any potential suitors our mother may throw at you.”
This was the problem with Seokjin. You could never stay mad at him for long. He was the closest thing you had to a father and despite everything else, deep down you merely wished to please him. You wanted him to be proud of you.
“I understand, however, you must know that I am capable of taking care of myself. I am not quite so delicate as you seem to believe I am. I need you to trust me in the same manner that I trust you. Can I rely on you to do that?”
“Of course, no matter what may come, you will always have my trust.” He promised with a sincere smile that you remembered well.
Whatever may come your way, you were confident that your brother would always be at your side. Seokjin silently held out his arm, a peace offering between the two of you. With a grin you hooked your arm through his and allowed him to escort you back to your mother.
However, you could not ignore the feeling of someone watching you.
For a moment you allowed yourself to glance back over your shoulder. He was still there, he had been watching the entirety of your interaction with your brother, and still he was watching you. You couldn’t ignore the sudden twist in your gut, the sense that something was horribly wrong, that this would be one of your final moments of peace before the storm arrived.
The look in his eyes was enough to send a chill throughout your body. They were dark, needy, and calculating. Whatever it was that Taehyung wanted, it was not over. Speaking with you had not been enough, you knew that there was still more to come. And even as you turned your head and focused your gaze ahead of you, you could still feel him there.
He was watching you.
~~~~~~~
While you were aware that this would be unavoidable, preparing for a ball was enough of an inconvenience that it has your stomach in knots and a sheen of perspiration across your forehead. You simply could not forget just how horribly your last ball had ended, and the reaction you were having was beyond frustrating.
You were not that young girl anymore, you need not care what the Ton thinks - their opinions do not matter to you. However, they matter greatly to your mother as well as your brother. You were under tremendous stress, you would have to present yourself properly for their sake while simultaneously avoiding any situations that could result in the attention of the opposite sex. It would be a delicate balance between your propriety and your desire to maintain your spinsterhood.
“Honestly milady, we will never be ready on time if this persists.” Lilah exclaimed, rapidly fanning your face and neck with a hand fan. “You are sweating through all of your rouge!”
“Forgive me Lilah but the rouge is the least of my worries at the moment.” You replied, your hand resting on your chest to feel the shaky expand of your lungs as you attempted to calm your breathing.
Lilah paused her frantic fanning for a moment, pressing her hands against your exposed shoulders and forcing you to sit down at your vanity. Your posture slowly began to relax as her fingers soothed over your hair, delicately organizing it into the style she had chosen for the night. Lilah, like the older sister you had never had, often knew just how to soothe you when you needed it. Years of companionship had allowed for this.
“While I may not agree with your methods nor your reasoning, I understand why you wish to maintain your freedom,” Lilah’s voice had grown soft, “You are the strongest, most hard headed lady that I have the privilege of knowing. It takes much more than a simple ball to have you cowering in a corner. Now, stiffen that steel spine of yours and take pride in yourself, you are the Viscount’s sister after all.”
Leave it to Lilah to put you in your place.
You gave her an amused smile, fixing your posture as you spoke, “How foolish of me to have forgotten my place.”
“Foolish indeed,” She mumbled under her breath with a shake of her head. Her faux frustration was easy to see through as she actively fought against the grin that attempted to spread across her lips.
“Darling, are you just about ready to depart?” Your mother called as she rushed into your room.
“As ready as I shall ever be,” You mumbled as you rose from your vanity.
You stood before your floor length mirror, inspecting yourself before you departed. It had taken you a long while to become comfortable in front of a mirror again after that dreadful night. And even now despite your ability to peer into the looking glass, you could only maintain eye contact with yourself for intervals at a time. You could settle with looking at the gown.
It was lovely, as all creations of the modist were. The gown was made of sapphire blue silk with black chiffon draped over the top. Black and deep blue gemstones had been sewn into the bodice and the sleeves of the gown as well as the black gloves that concealed your hands and arms. The gown shone like the midnight sky by firelight. It was a drastic change compared to your debutante gown that held the charm of a young girl freshly introduced to society. This gown was mature, the color reflective of the mourning of the girl you once were.
“Very well then,” You exclaimed, stiffening your spine and lowering your shoulders, “let us face the wolves.”
~~~~~~~
Unlike that night, Jin was your faithful guard dog. His presence was so intimidating to potential suitors that it left you completely grateful and your mother utterly distressed.
“Dearest,” Your mother begged, “Won’t you give your sister and I some time to each other?”
A mischievous grin spread over your brother’s face, “We’ve only just been reunited and you wish to separate me from my dear family, mother?”
A stern look settled on her features, “Very well, then I am sure you will have no qualms with acquainting yourself with the ladies of the Ton as your sister and I plan to this evening?”
A look passed between you and your brother. You were surprised by the lack of irritation that you were once familiar with. In the time that had passed, Seokjin had grown better at concealing his true emotions. However, you knew him too well. There was a look in his eyes that told you that he had his own scheme at play.
He let out an exaggerated sigh, one that had you and your mother’s eyebrows raising, “Very well then, I suppose I shall make myself scarce and allow you ladies to mingle.”
“That’s the spirit, dear.” Your mother smiled, the smile of a cat that caught the canary.
The two of you melted into the crowd, Seokjin disappearing from your sight with one last comforting smile and a nod of his head.
What was he playing at?
Everything was a blur around you, bodies ghosted by with no distinct features. You were too absorbed by your own thoughts, the steady prattle of your mother nothing more than a low hum in your ears that bled into the soft cry of the instruments of the orchestra that filled the ball room.
He had been too calm, the calmest you had ever seen. Did he intend to truly help you? To not pawn you off to the man with the highest status and deepest pockets? Seokjin would never outright defy the will of your mother, but the love he had for you was enough to soothe the steady buzz of your nerves.
You grasped your gloves hands together tightly, ceasing the nervous picking at your concealed nails. You needed to get it together, for your own sake.
“Dearest, is that not Taehyung headed our way? And rather quickly too.”
Your mother’s voice shattered your concentration, your head jerking up and snapping from side to side before you caught sight of him. Lo and behold, it was indeed him. How clever of him to approach you in a place where you would not be permitted to run from him. Oh, how you loathed him.
He looked more put together than the last time you had seen him, his clothes pristine and his hair styled. But those sleepless circles were still present beneath his eyes. The smile on his lips was still charming, but strained. His shoulders were heavy and strung tight with tension that he could not hide, not from you who could read him so well.
Your mother, who had not been oblivious to the scandal he had caused the last time you had been to a ball, tensed beside you, her fingers tightening their hold around your arm.
“Taehyung,” She greeted, her smile visibly strained, “How good it is to see you again.”
You pressed your lips together in frustration, your expression anything but welcoming. As if tonight wasn’t hard enough, he had blatantly ignored your brother’s and your own warnings to stay far away from you. This was another complication you did not need.
“Indeed, it is good to see you as well Viscountess,” He nodded, his dark eyes piercing into you.
“And to what do we owe the pleasure?” Your mother asked, maintaining the pretense of a pleasant conversation.
“Well, I was hoping to ask your daughter for a dance,”
No, not again.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss. Kim has promised me her first dance of the night.” A low voice called from behind the three of you.
You turned your head, startled by the close proximity of a person you had not sensed before. Tall stature, deep dimples. Kim Namjoon.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, Taehyung’s expression flickered between surprise and something darker, something like envy. Your mother’s face lit up in what could only be described as pure and unadulterated joy.
You remained silent, allowing Namjoon’s lie to unfold between the four of you. You were intrigued to see where this would go, especially if it would get you away from the man you had sworn off for the rest of your life.
Taehyung smiled once more, another strained one, “Perhaps her second dance then.”
Namjoon whistled, a playful gleam in his eyes as he spoke with Taehyung, “I don’t know about that, from what I have heard Miss Kim’s dance card is quite full this evening.”
What.
You couldn’t look now, it would give away whatever ruse Namjoon was playing.
“Miss Kim, would you give me the honor of leading you in your first dance back home?” Namjoon asked, holding out his hand for you to take with a charming smile.
You attempted to ignore the soft squeal your mother barely managed to muffle as you placed your gloved hand in his, “I would be delighted to, Lord Kim.”
His smile deepened and so did those deadly dimples of his. You may have sworn off men, but you were not blind. Kim Namjoon was as dangerous to your heart as he was attractive. You could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through your glove, attempting to invade your frigid flesh. Did he know how dangerous he was to a spinster such as yourself? The rascal surely did.
You followed Namjoon, your arm tucked into the crook of his elbow as you approached the dance floor which was already bustling with bright faced young girls whose dresses spun dramatically across the floor in a blur of colors.
Once you were certain you had escaped Taehyung’s watchful gaze, you dared to peek at the dance card around your wrist and sure enough, every slot had been filled with names that were incredibly familiar to you.
Jin.
“I hope you will be able to forgive myself and the others, your brother can be incredibly persuasive when he wants to be.” Namjoon sheepishly said, moving in front of you to initiate your dance.
“Persuasiveness is one thing, I never thought he would dare to pre-pen down unwilling partners on my dance card,” You said, your voice cool and your gaze steely.
Namjoon was not intimidated, meeting your harsh gaze head on. You jolted in shock at the feeling of his palm resting in between your shoulder blades, his other hand grasping yours gently. You willed the tingling sensation between his palm and your back to dissipate, now was not the time to be swayed by baser instincts. You had a mission to attend to.
“Unwilling, Miss. Kim? How misinformed you are,” He laughed, breaking apart from you for just a moment to expertly guide you in a spin, “While it may have been your brother’s idea, we are all willing participants in his scheme.”
“And why should I believe that, Lord Kim? One does not agree to something which does not benefit them as well.”
He was quiet for a moment, his warm eyes scanning your features as he thought, “While the rest of us may not have had the opportunity to know you as well as others, you are our dearest friends sister and that means something to all of us. When asked to protect you, there was no hesitation on any of our parts. And, it is never a problem to share a dance with a beautiful lady.”
You could feel heat rush to warm your face at his remark. While you did not believe him for a moment, there was something refreshing about hearing someone call you beautiful rather than remarking about how much you had finally grown into yourself. With his statement, there was no insinuation that you never were beautiful.
Kim Namjoon, what a rascal.
But there was something else about what he said that had caught your attention, “Whatever do you mean about protecting me?”
A look of shock crossed his once confident features. He had made a folly, said something that he was not supposed to say. However, he was saved as the music ceased and the dance came to an end. You, however, were not ready to back down.
“Excuse me, Namjoon, but I believe I was promised a dance as well.” Another voice interjected.
And there stood Min Yoongi, a playful smirk just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth. Oh, he was trouble indeed.
“Of course, don’t let me keep you waiting Yoongi.” Namjoon said before retreating, a grateful expression on his face as he was given the opportunity to avoid your line of questioning.
“Miss. Kim, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance after such a long time,” Yoongi said with a slight bow of his head, “While my name is on your dance card, I am hoping you will still allow me to ask for a dance?”
How was he so capable of saying the right things to pluck at your heartstrings? Rascals, all of them.
“But of course,” You agreed before beginning your next dance. “I was hoping you could enlighten me, Lord Min.”
“Hm, perhaps I could,” He replied, pretending to mull it over.
“Your friend mentioned something about all of you offering your protection over me, could you do me the service of explaining just what exactly that entails?”
Yoongi’s dark eyes snapped straight to your own, the irises shaking ever so slightly as he thought over what he would say before his lips finally parted and he spoke, “I believe that you have every right to know what is going on. My loyalties, however, do lie with your brother.”
Ah, he was bound to secrecy then. Well, he wouldn’t break any oath if you simply figured it out on your own.
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Kim Taehyung, would it?” You asked.
“Perceptive,” He hummed, “Yes, it does.”
“Well you and your friends and my brother need not worry, I plan to stay far away from Taehyung. I have no interest in any suitors this season, if I had it my way I would not even be here in the first place.”
“While I can appreciate our shared perspectives, I will tell you that it is not you, your brother and I are worried about. It’s Taehyung.”
“Taehyung is as harmless as a fly, his greatest weapon is his words.”
Yoongi’s brows drew together in frustration, a look of concern evident in his gaze. “I am afraid that you are gravely mistaken. In all of the time we have spent with Taehyung, we have never known him to be harmless. Coincidentally, his behavior has worsened since you left all of those years ago. There is cause for our concern not only for your reputation, but your safety as well.”
You were immediately taken aback by his words. Not only your reputation, but your safety as well? In all the time that you had known Taehyung, he would never have done anything to harm you. If anything, he would have put himself in harm's way before he ever let anything happen to you. But Yoongi was right. Something about him was different, something had changed since you’ve been gone. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he had been replaced by a sinister counterpart.
“If I am truly in so much danger, don’t you think that I deserve to know what is going on?” You asked, searching his gaze for a sliver of an answer.
“Of course I do,” He replied, his voice lower and softer than before, “But the last thing we want is for you to be frightened. Please, allow us to carry this burden for you.”
The music ceased but there was no sign of relief on Yoongi’s face as you came to a stop. Before your next partner could whisk you away he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his fingers trailing against yours slowly before they separated. You felt strangely cold with the absence of his touch.
“Be on guard, Miss. Kim.” He advised with a nod before he left.
There was a sickening sour sensation in your gut, one that had you feeling seasick. What could Taehyung have done that was so bad that it turned all of his friends against him? That look Yoongi had given you, it wasn’t commanding, it had been pleading. Begging you not to open Pandora’s box and live in ignorance and bliss.
“Good evening Miss. Kim,” A chipper voice announced themself.
Jung Hoseok, how like him.
“Hello sir,” You greeted with a sly grin as his forehead wrinkled in annoyance.
“Sir? How long have we known each other? I think we are well past formalities.” He pouted before taking hold of your hand with a charming smile.
Jung Hoseok had one of those smiles that used every muscle in his face, his skin radiated when he smiled. You could feel it seeping beneath your skin, warming you to your very core. Your mother’s words echoed back to you, there would be no winning in a marriage with him - just one smile and you would give in to his every desire.
“If we are as close as you say we are, then would you be willing to indulge me for a moment?”
“But of course,” He laughed, “I do have to warn you though, our mutual friend has made me aware of your snooping. I am afraid any line of questioning involving a certain someone is off the table for the duration of our dance.”
A glance over Hoseok’s shoulder revealed Namjoon who cheekily waved at you with a knowing smile. You huffed in annoyance, Namjoon’s meddling was almost just as bad as your brother’s.
“And I suppose if I were to ask, you would tell me to leave the worrying to you and your friends?”
“Yoongi is right, you are a perceptive one.” He hummed in agreement. “However, I will not fall for your ploy. I am afraid I will have to ask you to refrain from asking anymore questions regarding our mutual headache.”
So, he had upset Hoseok as well. In all of the time you had known Hoseok, he had always been a cheerful man. Quick to be empathetic, understanding, and far too kind for your own liking. You couldn’t remember an occasion where he had been angry, although you had heard from your brother how chillin it was when he was. You had laughed at the time, believing Hoseok to be incapable of any emotion adjacent to anger. Now, you could see it. His smile wavered, his gaze hardened.
What happened between all of them?
Hoseok’s calming smile returned in full swing as he took notice of your unsettled appearance, “Let’s not waste time talking about unsavory things, let’s have some fun instead.”
Hoseok was true to his word, for the remainder of your dance together he refused to mention Taehyung and instead focused on making you dizzy as he spun you around in ridiculous circles that had your feet tripping over each other and breathless laughter tumbling from your lips. You almost felt guilty from just how much fun you were having when you were supposed to be investigating. But it was hard to focus in his presence, and you were certain your brother had been relying on that.
You found similar results with Park Jimin, your next dance partner after Hoseok. If you weren’t already monopolizing the Tons attention, you surely were now. You were not blind to the stares that penetrated you. Your sudden emergence after a five year absence followed by the attention of four of the Tons most wanted bachelors was sure to stir gossip for weeks. And Jimin was bathing in it.
“How do you stand all of the attention, Mr. Park?” You asked, fighting back a teasing smile that tried to escape.
“I could ask you the same question, Miss. Kim. Believe me, they are watching you just as much as me, if not more than me.” He hummed, his watchful gaze scanning over the crowd.
Jimin was exceptionally good at reading a crowd, he had always been a people person. He was socially competent in a way you could never even hope to be. However, he could prove to be useful to you.
“You know me, Mr. Park, I have never been one for the limelight. If I had it my way I would still be in Whitepoint, far away from the prying eyes of the Ton.”
“And yet here you are, and we are all the more grateful to have you back.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Park.”
“On the contrary, it’s gotten me everywhere, Miss. Kim.” He laughed.
“And will flattery give me the information that I am so desperately searching for?” You asked.
Jimin went silent, licking his plush lips in a sign of stress. He looked conflicted, conflicted was good you could work with that.
“From what I have gathered from your friends, something has transpired since I left all of those years ago. Something that was so terrible all of you have taken a vow to shield me from it to the extent that even I have no idea as to what has occured. What I do know is that a certain someone has been dismissed from your circle and even you, his best friend, have chosen to side against him. Now, why exactly is that?”
“Best friend?” He laughed, “If anyone was his best friend, it was you. And then you were gone and he changed.”
“You know why I left Jimin, you were there that night. I remember how you laughed at my expense with him. It hurt less because I didn’t really know you, but it still hurt nonetheless. You owe it to me, at the very least tell me what I need to know.”
His gaze softened, a look of regret coming over his angelic features. You could feel the embers of your anger begin to cool.
“You heard?” He whispered, angling his head so that he could meet your gaze. Those damn brown eyes were softening your heart. You suddenly remembered why he was such a successful rake. His seduction was softer, kinder, and in some cases worse than the typical rake.
You cleared your throat, “Yes, I heard everything. You are not who I am most angry with, don’t take that upon yourself.”
“It wasn’t right,” He interrupted you, pulling you closer as he lowered his voice so that no one would hear the two of you, “I hope you know that I never thought that about you. That environment, it isn’t one you have your own opinion in. After that night, I pulled back from them, Taehyung included. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I hope that you know that I deeply regret it. I don’t expect your forgiveness but I hope that I can earn it.”
The annoying fluttering sensation in your stomach wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard you tried to force it. He was too close, being too sweet to you, and saying all of the right things. The worst thing was, you knew that he was telling the truth. These weren’t just sweet words intended to soothe your anger and repair your perception of him. He meant it.
“You know how you can earn it.” You said.
He released a deep sigh and his shoulders relaxed, “A promise is a promise, I am many things but I am not a liar, Miss. Kim. However, there is someone else here who is more loyal to you than your dear brother. I think you’ll be able to figure out who.”
You grunted in annoyance. These damn men and their foolish sense of pride and honor. Who would be more loyal to you than your brother? Who would be willing to betray their word for you? You couldn’t imagine anyone who would be capable of doing so. Not for you.
“They are much closer than you think,” Jimin winked as your dance came to an end, his fingers trailing over the edge of your dance card. And, like the rascal that he was, he raised your hand to his face and brushed his lips over your glove in a barely there kiss. Your heart pounded in response. He truly was a sight, your mother’s claims of his cherubic appearance weren’t that far off either with how the light was catching the honey blonde of his hair, creating a halo just behind his head. He truly was angelic.
“I hope I have earned some of your trust back, Miss. Kim.”
And then he was gone.
For the first time all night you had a moment of reprieve. It seemed that the endless stream of your brother’s inner circle had finally concluded. You took the opportunity to escape from the dance floor. This was sure to be the talk of the Ton for weeks to come, you couldn’t fathom the attention it was going to bring you. What were Jin’s intentions? You had thought he was on your side, but if anything he was feeding into your mother’s desires.
Was there no one here that you could trust?
It was swelling up inside of you again, that inescapable feeling, that crushing weight on your chest that made it feel impossible to breathe. Why did this always happen at the worst time imaginable? There was no escape here, not with all of the bodies pressing in on you with their penetrating stares.
You were losing control.
“Excuse me, Miss. Kim?” A soft voice called.
You came to a stop, your gloved hands fisting the satin of your skirt in an attempt to ground yourself. You needed to shove it down, you had to pretend it didn’t exist. Just for a little while longer. You turned and forced a smile on your lips.
Jeon Jungkook was standing there with an unsure look on his face. While you had seen him the week prior, you had not been able to get a good look at him until now. His hair was longer than you remembered, but he still had a youthful face, and big brown eyes that expressed a soul that was living for the first time. He was not as confident in himself as the other members of Jin’s inner circle, you could see it on his face.
He cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room rather than focusing on your face. “While I know that my name is in the last spot on your dance card already, I would still like to ask you if you wish to share a dance with me.”
This was unheard of.
You knew for a fact that Jungkook did not engage with anyone but the inner circle at these events. Your mother had labeled him a shy young man, that was incredibly true, you could see that even now. Even though he had made a promise to your brother, why would he go to these lengths for you? He was putting himself into the sights of every family there, this would begin an inescapable hunt by all of the scheming mother’s and daughters of the Ton. By doing this, he would be signaling to everyone that he was interested in entering the marriage market.
“Are you doing this because you want to, or because my brother has demanded you do so?”
A small smile played on his lips, his gaze still directed to the dancing couples as if they were the most interesting thing in the room. “Can it not be both?”
“Are you certain? I would hate to put you into a position that you cannot go back from.”
Jungkook sighed, a subtle flush appearing on his cheeks. “Miss. Kim, it took quite a bit of time for me to gain the courage to ask you, and this repeated line of questioning is beginning to make me think I’m more of a bother than a help.”
You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled in your chest. It took him a lot of courage to ask you? If anything, the roles should be reversed in this situation.
“It is nothing against you, Jungkook. If anything, I am the one looking out for your reputation.” You assured him.
“I don’t care much for my reputation,” He admitted, finally raising his head and meeting your gaze, “I just wish to share a dance with you and you alone.”
You were worried for your heart, after all of the attention you had received tonight it had been working harder than need be. You were certain at this rate it would beat straight out of your chest. Jungkook was too kind, too sweet, and held too much boyish charm. How were you going to survive?
“Very well, it is your reputation, after all.” You agreed, reaching your hand out and slipping it through the bend of his elbow. Jungkook smiled nervously as he averted his gaze from you, his shy nature coming back in full force.
Jungkook was, to your surprise, a good dancer partner. While you had never seen him dance with anyone before, it appeared Lady Jeon had not allowed him to skip any dance lessons in his youth. He was so sure in himself when he was dancing with you, it was the first time you had seen him exude such confidence. Although the flustered blush was still present in his cheeks, it was less so than it had been before.
Now was your time to strike.
“It appears your worries were for nothing, you are a very gifted dancer.”
Your compliment nearly caused him to miss a step, the flustered look returning once more. He was quick to recover. “It was not my abilities I was worried about, rather, whether you would reject me or not.”
“Hm, you saw me with your friends did you not? Why would I accept them and deny you?”
“Well, they are much more accomplished than I am, more social, more well versed in the ways of the Ton.” He explained.
“Well, then I suppose you and I are more alike than you think.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Compared to your friends I am quite the recluse, I did disappear for quite some time after all. I have little to no accomplishments, and I desire to be far away from the Ton and its constricting standards.”
“You should not talk about yourself that way,” He gently scolded you.
“All I meant to say is that we make a good pair.” You explained.
That quieted him, a look of surprise coming over those big brown eyes. And there was something else there, something that you were beginning to grow suspicious of. Something that was entirely unexpected and utterly surprising.
“You…you should not say things like that to me.” He stuttered with a harsh swallow.
“And why not?”
“Because it will give me too much hope.” He confessed.
Hope? What could he mean by that? While you had your suspicions you believed that they were too far removed from reality to be true. And if they were true, then you had no time or desire to pursue it. You had much more important plans to address.
However, Jimin’s words were ringing in your mind, “...there is someone else here who is more loyal to you than your dear brother.”
“Jungkook, can I trust you?” You asked.
“Of course!” He exclaimed albeit a little too quickly. He too was aware of his eagerness and looked away in embarrassment.
“I have spent this entire night interrogating your friends, yet I feel no closer to the answers I am looking for. So, I find myself having to ask you outright, what happened after I left? What did Taehyung do?”
Much like his friends, Jungkook shook off the lightheartedness of your previous conversation. It was odd to see the way anger warped his kind face. It was unsettling. What was even more unsettling was the traces of panic that were present in his eyes.
“What he did was beyond unforgivable.” He said through gritted teeth. “He shouldn’t even be here.”
“Then tell me, I need to know especially if it is pertaining to me. I am tired of being told it is not my burden to bear, if it is truly that horrible then I must know!”
“I agree,” He said, to your surprise. “You should know everything, otherwise your curiosity is going to put you in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it cannot be said here, there are too many eyes and ears.”
“Then when, where?”
“Tonight, meet me in the courtyard once the staff have retired for the night.” He instructed.
“How scandalous, Mr. Jeon, asking a lady such as myself to partake in a late night rendezvous.” You laughed.
“That - you know that is not what I am intending,” He stuttered, that sweet blush rising on his cheeks once more. You just could not help yourself, he was as skittish as a rabbit and it brought you so much delight to see how simple it was to fluster him.
“Relax, Jungkook, I am fully aware of your intentions and rather appreciative, might I add. You are the first person who has indicated they are on my side in this matter. I will owe you greatly for this. And have no fear, there will be no mention of our meeting to anyone else, your reputation is safe with me.”
Jungkook swallowed, the hand that was settled at your back pressed more firmly as he collected himself. “I seem to remember telling you that my reputation means little to me, Miss. Kim. While I am not anticipating our meeting will be found out, if word were to spread that the two of us were found in such a compromising position then I would happily admit that my affections were at fault. I would not regret a rumor that ties the two of us together.”
You were startled and stumped to say the least. This was the second time he had hinted at that something he was feeling. His reputation was of little concern to him, the suggestion of the two of you being together was enough to inspire hope, and the possibility of you being found out did not bring about a sense of dread for him. In fact, he seemed enthused by the idea of there being a scandal implicating the two of you engaging in behavior that was, for lack of a better term, entirely improper.
But you simply could not fathom how that would be true. You knew that the Ton believed you to be the most undesirable spinster there was, even prior to your spinsterhood. If that was not enough, then the words of your childhood crush turned enemy were certainly enough to prove your point. But the way Jungkook spoke about you, to you, it would seem that he was infatuated with you.
But that was impossible.
You cleared your throat, separating from the young man with a curtsy as the music ceased. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Jeon, but I do believe that we will not have to worry about such a thing. Thank you, for this lovely dance, I look forward to meeting with you again.”
There was this look on his face, one of withdrawn sadness, one that could only be described as longing. And he felt that longing, deep in the marrow of his bones. It ached and begged for the gentle touch of your fingers once more, the soft gaze of your eyes, and the sweet turn of that teasing smile that haunted him. You haunted him, day in and out, and sleepless night after night.
“Until we meet again,” He agreed with a gentle bow.
You watched him retreat for as long as you could before he melted away amongst the other party guests. Guests whom you had not been watching, but whom had been watching you. You felt their ever present gaze before, but now you could see it too. You had gone and made yourself a spectacle again, the very thing you had been hoping to avoid.
You were certain that your mother was thrilled to bits and you could not wait to give your brother a piece of your mind. What a disaster to your carefully constructed plans, alas, you had not foreseen that your brother’s friends would be the “suitors” you would have to offend and avoid. But it was fine, they are not actually pursuing you - it is a ruse.
The ache in your feet was becoming unbearable, you had not moved this much in such a long time and those painfully tight shoes were of no help. You needed a break, you needed just one moment to yourself.
You found yourself in what appeared to be a library, a corner of the manor that had been left uninhabited by the party goers. It was perfect for you. You settled down on one of the plush lounges, toeing your satin shoes off and rubbing at the aching heels and soles of your feet. In that moment you thought of Whitepoint again, your safe haven. You had gone many days without shoes there, walking the soft sandy beaches barefoot. If you closed your eyes you could ever so faintly smell the sweat brine of the ocean catching on the breeze.
“Must I chase you all night, or can we finally have that conversation that you have been avoiding?”
The illusion was shattered in an instant. He had found you again and you were once more in a precarious position. The two of you were alone, without a chaperone, and easily discovered should one of the party goers stumble into the library.
