Pairing: WitchHunterJeonJungkook! x WitchFemaleReader!
Summary: You like your cottage in the middle of the woods, away from everyone, and as a witch it offers you an element of protection. Until you find a witch hunter laying wounded and dying on your doorstep, you may be sworn enemies but you would not let him suffer the fate that awaits…especially not when you realise who he is.
Genre(s): Best friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / childhood friends to enemies to lovers / forbidden love / angst / fantasy au / witch/witchunter au
Rating: 18+ (NSFW) MDNI
Warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood / mentions of magical powers / potion making / the grim reaper / main character wounded / witchcraft
Word count: 3.5k
Banner: me
Moodboard: @anyamaris thank you, it's perfection!
Beta: @anyamaris I appreciate you!
A/N: This is for the @lapydiaries event ‘witch hunt’, as last minute Ley strikes again. This will be in at least three parts.
Today started off as any other ordinary day in your cottage in the woods, shrouded by overhanging leaves from the branches of the trees that surround your home, caging you in and making you feel safe and unseen; just how you like it.
Little did you know, when you awoke and opened the wooden shutters on your windows, greeting the dull, overcast morning accompanied by the sound of heavy rain, that you would have a rather unexpected visitor.
Very rarely do you invite anyone to your home and even more rarely for someone to stumble across it accidentally.
So when you open your front door to call to your companion–an elegant raven who has been by your side for years–you’re surprised to see a slumped figure, hunched over on your doorstep. Managing to catch yourself before falling over him, you straighten up and survey the landscape. Your eyes skim the trees for any other sign of life but sense nothing, before they fall back down to the man below you.
Crimson draws your attention to the top of his naked arm, a bite–with teeth marks big enough to have only come from a dragon and your heart sinks.
It's not being eaten by a dragon that most people fear, the beasts don't like the taste of humans anyway, but surviving the bite is something else entirely, something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. From their teeth, a poison, slow but deadly, rampages inside until it's burning a pathway of fire in your veins, setting you alight from the inside till you're nothing left but ash.
Crouching beside him, you lift his long dark hair covering his face like a black veil, and place two fingers against his throat searching for any sign of life. A weak pulse throbs gently against your fingertips, he doesn't have much time and you don't have all of what you need to cure him here.
Placing two fingers in your mouth, you whistle loudly and your loyal bird swoops straight over, landing lightly on your shoulder.
“I need you to fly to the village, fetch Hester and tell her I need glacier water, ashes from the oak, and tears of the phoenix. Go.”
Her answering ‘caw’ echoes through the surrounding woodland as she flies away, quickly disappearing above the trees.
All you can do now is get him comfortable and try to limit his pain as much as possible until your friend arrives.
It’s only then that your eyes make out a dark shape through the congealed blood that had cascaded down his forearm, a familiar pattern on his skin you recognise. A tattoo, one you'd watched him have and held his hand through the pain.
Your heart hammers painfully in your chest, the sound, so furious, filling your ears you can no longer hear the raindrops pelting the leaves around you, only the incessant panicked beating of the organ that once belonged to this man.
Willing yourself to be wrong, you gently tilt his head back to lean against your doorframe and with it, his long hair parts completely, only to reveal your worst nightmare.
Jeon Jungkook.
Older since the last time you saw him but still with the same boyish, handsome face you remember. Seven years since he had crossed your path, seven years since you’d stared into his eyes or felt his lips pressed against yours, seven years since you knew what it felt like to be held in his arms.
A tightness squeezes your chest, making it hard to breathe as you reach out hesitantly with a trembling hand, cupping his face. Cold, clammy skin feels unnatural against your touch, too used to Jungkook’s smouldering warmth, even after all this time.
He stirs slightly and whispers your name. You couldn’t deny the pull it has inside you, not realising until this moment the lingering hold he still has over you.
“I'm here, Kookie. Let's get you inside.” you say gently, sounding much calmer than you felt.
Your chaotic thoughts bounce around inside your head, panic squeezing your heart in a vice but you have to move, he needs help and fast.
You place his uninjured arm around your shoulders and grab him firmly around his waist, hoisting him up, it uses all your strength, even with his feeble attempt to aid you. His legs buckle under him instantly and you yank him up with all your might to stop him from falling. The muscles in your back protest painfully from the movement but you ignore it and push through, leading him stumbling through your cottage.
You all but drop him onto your bed, lacking the strength for being delicate. Roughly, you pull off his vest, thick with blood which makes the leather look even darker, and toss it aside. You make sure he is as comfortable as you can, before you rush off, clattering about in your kitchen, bringing back your cauldron and as many vials and jars with exotic ingredients that could help him that you have.
Jungkook moans in agony, clutching at the gory bite on his shoulder and when your eyes dart back to him, the sallow grey of his skin and sheen of sweat that glistens across his body has your stomach tightening in sickening knots.
This only encourages your hands to move faster as you begin to pour things into your cauldron, making a start on a potion that might ease some of his pain.
Adding in chamomile and a sprinkle of lavender in hopes of soothing him, you quickly get a ladle of the unappealing wilted green mixture, thankful he's unconscious and unable to refuse you. Carefully you lift his head up and spoon small amounts of the liquid in, he drinks it slowly and when the whole spoonful is gone you lay him down again. There is nothing to do but wait for your friend Hester to arrive with the other necessary ingredients.
And so you sit and watch him. Watching his chest rise and fall slowly, listening to the sound of his laboured breathing, and as your eyes drift over him, you really notice how much he's changed over the years.
The skinny, awkward looking boy has been replaced by a man with solid muscle on every part of his body. His long hair splays out across your pillow, no doubt it reaches half way down his back. He now has three piercings in his bottom lip and a lot more in his ears, which he's decorated with small metal spikes that hang from the lobe, sharp enough to cut someone. Tattoos mark both his arms, his chest and stomach, patterns that you know are for a purpose to the Witch Hunters. Usually, for every witch they stop or kill, they get new markings and boy, does he have a lot.
For a brief moment you wonder what he would do to you if he were in better shape, but you have a history with him that dates back to your birth, and that has to count for something, right?
You were two souls who had been bound together since you entered the world. An agreement by your families that you would both make the strongest couple to continue on to lead the next generation of witch hunters…that is…until your powers came in when you came of age and spun your world on its axis.
Being ostracised from your home and community, being shunned by your friends and family, including your parents, who looked at you like you were a repulsive insect they’d rather squash than release into the wild, they were all bearable things compared to living without Jungkook. That had been something else entirely.
And now with his close proximity, you perch on the edge of your bed and reach out to touch your hand to his, hesitant but desperate for the feel of his warm touch against yours. Slowly your fingers brush against his calloused palms and almost as if it's instinctive, he weakly threads his fingers through yours. Looking back at him to see if he's conscious, his eyelids flutter open and find you instantly.
He whispers your name like it's the cure to heal him and your heart pulls to him so hard it nearly takes your breath away.
“How are you here?” he says, voice coarse and strained.
Leaning down, you stroke a strand of hair off of his sweaty face, “Don't you remember?” you ask, wanting to keep him awake as long as you can. He shakes his head slowly and winces.
“You were on my doorstep this morning.” you answer, watching him carefully but his eyelids slowly close again.
“I…didn't know…where else…to go.” he responds, before the blanket of sleep pulls him under again and you repeating his name does nothing to rouse him.
Panic squeezes your insides, making your lungs feel tight and unable to get enough air in and when your front door swings open, slamming against the wall, you almost send a bolt of death to the culprit.
Hester rushes in, arms full of ingredients, eyes unwavering from the stranger in your bed.
“I could have killed you.” you scold, standing and hurrying to her side to help.
“Sorry,” she winces as she quickly hands you vials and jars, “A dragon bite?” she asks and you respond with a curt nod. “I figured as much with the ingredients list Muninn said you need.” She nods her head towards the raven, now sitting on his perch in your kitchen. “How did you find him?”
You tell her about your morning and just before you both begin mixing the potion in the cauldron at the bedside, she freezes.
“Wait, he's a witch hunter.”
Looking up at her accusing stare, focused now on you, you pause briefly, “So…I'm supposed to let him die?”
For a moment she hesitates, “If he was awake, he'd slaughter us if he could.”
“He wouldn't, trust me.” you continue mixing, as she speaks out loud in the order she places them into the cauldron.
“Water from the stream on the winter mountain, scales from the ice salamander,” with every vial poured in you get closer to helping him but your fingers shake around the wooden spoon, under the pressure of his life in your hands, “ashes from the blessed oak tree, tears of the fire phoenix and dragonbone dust from the forbidden pit.”
You look at each other nervously when the mixture sparks and a cloud of smoke engulfs you both momentarily before dissipating in the air around you.
“I'll bind his wrists, he won't like you putting this on one bit.” she whispers, glancing nervously at him as if he's a snake that could strike at any moment.
“No.” you say quickly, your heart making you weak, “I'll bind him, you apply it.”
She nods, getting it ready, as you pull out two leather belts from your wardrobe and wrap them carefully around each of his wrists. You tie his injured arm down, looping the belt under the bed, to keep his shoulder as visible as possible and the other, to your bed posts, tightening them as much as you can.
You nod to her to start. She reaches in and scoops the thick, grey mixture out with her hands and rubs it gently onto the wound. But the moment it touches the broken skin, his body jolts and he lets out a scream that turns your blood to ice. Pain seizes your heart, finding it unbearable to watch him in such agony but you force your frozen limbs to move, to hold his body still as he writhes and thrashes on your bed.
He calls out your name, begging you to stop and you don't miss the questioning look Hester flashes you with, as you try your best to calm him with false promises.
“Do it quickly, please.” you say through gritted teeth, blinking back the tears pricking at your eyes.
His muscles strain against the leather binds, veins bulging in his neck as he calls out to you. Inside you're screaming, wanting nothing more than to end his pain and if you could transfer it from him to you, you wouldn't have to think twice about it. But unfortunately, that wasn't in your power element, you were only able to bring darkness and decay.
“Ok, done.” Her voice interrupts the screeching in your mind and silences it, just as Jungkook collapses back onto the bed.
Hester wraps his wound with bandages but you're unable to move, hands still on him where you were pinning him down. Eyes fixed on the wrinkle between his brow, still seeming tortured even in sleep.
She clears her throat, and snaps your attention back to her and it's only then you can feel the cold trail from tears on your cheeks. “Who is he?” she asks, almost as if she knows the answer already.
“Jungkook.”
Your voice comes out in a horse whisper as you stroke back the hair slicked to his forehead, smiling when he leans into your touch slightly.
“Well, now this makes sense.” she says quietly.
Clasping your hand in his, your thumb rubbing gentle circles on his wrist, as an attempt to comfort him and to let him know you're still with him.
“I need you to be prepared that this potion might not work,” she says quietly, hand on your shoulder, “and if he dies, the witch hunters will be coming and they will capture and kill us both.”
The image of his face starts to blur from the tears filling your eyes, the idea of him not making it didn't bear thinking about but it is a reality you should consider, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. You knew the ripple effect his death would have, not just within his community, but on you too. And you did not want anyone in your path if that happened, you dread to think of the devastation your grieving could cause. And whatever fate awaits for you, you would accept it. But Hester shouldn't have to deal with the repercussions of your choices.
“No, you go. No one will know you were here.”
She squeezes your shoulder. “Not a chance, I'm not leaving you alone. I'll clean up, you sit with him.”
Her warmth from your side vanishes, as you hear her busy herself in your kitchen, deciding to settle into your armchair, pulling it as close to Jungkook as you could and taking his hand in yours again. You wait.
And wait.
Sometime later a blanket of darkness falls upon your room and Hester's footsteps are the only sound that fills the space as she lights all the candles you have scattered around your home. The amber light flickers against Jungkook's face making him look even more angelic where he lay. You watch his chest anxiously, ensuring there's still movement with each shallow, silent breath he takes.
“The other witch hunters will be scouting the area for him.” Hester’s voice whispers by your ear.
“I know, which is why you should go, you have the cover of darkness to use to your advantage. Muninn will accompany you and lead you out of the woods, he will tell me when you're home and safe.”
She hesitates, looking out the window. “I don't want to leave you.”
Your heart swells as you turn to her, taking her hand in yours and giving it an encouraging squeeze. “Hester, I'll be fine. I can take care of myself. Please, go. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.”
She stares off into the night and you can practically see the cogs turning in her mind, before her resolve falters and she gives you a tight nod. “Stay safe.” she whispers, kissing you lightly on the cheek before grabbing her shawl and leaving you alone with your previous love, your raven hot on her tail.
As soon as the door closes behind them, Jungkook sits up suddenly with a gasp that has you at his side instantly.
“The witches…your old coven…” he gasps, chest heaving as he struggles for breath.
“Hey, it’s ok, you need to rest, calm down.” you attempt to reassure him with your hand on his chest, easing him back down to the bed but he fights you, muscles straining under your touch.
“No, you have to listen…I don’t have much time…”
You frown at his words, an urgency inside you to tell him he’s wrong almost interrupts him again but with each word he says his breath billows out in a mist around him and your heart plummets. The air around you becomes thick and uncomfortable, the candles seem to dim and the room shrinks into darkness as if being smothered in shadow. And when you glance down at your hands still against the hard planes of his chest you notice the goosebumps appearing in a rapid trail up your forearms, sending a shiver through your body that unnerves you. You know what's about to happen, you’ve seen this before, many times but denial has you ignoring the dark presence that has appeared beside you.
“You don’t understand,” he turns to you, his large ebony pools open and desperate, pleading with you to listen. “your old coven…I followed them last night…to dragon mountain.”
This catches your attention but the shadowed figure looming beside you steals your focus as reality slips through the hopefulness you’re trying to will into existence.
Jungkook reaches out and takes your hand, squeezing it and jolting you back to him. “I can see him and I know you can too, he’s here to take me, isn’t he?”
Your mouth opens but you can’t bring yourself to say the words, unwilling to believe them yourself.
“I need to tell you this first, please.” he frowns, wincing in pain as he lays down, and clutching at his shoulder, when you nod. “The witches…did something…forbidden,” he gasps, each breath more ragged by the second. “I watched them slaughter a dragon.”
Your back straightens so fast it’s as if someone shoved a hot poker straight up your spine. A small part of you wants to disagree and say that it must be a mistake but remembering that the reason you left the coven in the first place; for their growing use of dark magic, it silences any other thoughts. The figure beside you reaches a disfigured hand out towards Jungkook and panic swells in your throat concealing a scream that hurts your chest.
He arches his back, writhing in agony but he continues on, “They collected its blood in vials and took it.” he calls out, and suddenly your throat is contracting in a swallow in an attempt to wet your painfully dry mouth.
Glancing at the hooded shadow, face concealed in darkness as usual, now just as frozen as you are, you’re surprised when it nods at you, something it’s never done before. But this makes you relax a little, it’s giving you more time and your mind scrambles to think of a way to use it but what Jungkook is telling you has your blood curdling inside you.
“You know what they’ll do with it, don’t you?” he says through gritted teeth, panting and growling like a wild animal as his skin heats alarmingly beneath your touch.
You did. There was only one spell that required dragon's blood but it's so outlawed that no-one has tried to use it in a hundred years, not that you’re aware of.
Someone is trying to open a portal to hell, but why? And why would these witches do it, what could they possibly gain from that?
“You have to stop them.” he gasps, his breath seeming caught somewhere in his chest, the panic in his eyes as he meets yours slices into you like a knife, cutting your heart open and bleeding love in the expanse of your lonely cottage.
As the entity continues to reach out, panic squeezes your heart, feeling like it could burst and take the entire world with it.
“Wait…not yet…I’m sorry…I'm so sorry…” he continues, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes, “...I have always loved you. Forgive….me…” his body stills and voice fades out before he says that last word. Words that any other time you would have been desperate to hear, but not now, not when you can’t say anything back.
Your lungs burn with every raking breath, as you suck in air, in an attempt to release the suffocating pressure in your chest. Tears run wildly down your face, and the sound of a choked sob echoes in the room but something deep inside you boils, something you’ve never felt before…rising up until a bloodcurdling scream escapes and silences everything else around you. And the shadowed figure stills, just before its icy grip of death clasps Jungkook's arm, and its head turns slowly in your direction.
au: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au, Yoongi is at the bottom of the organization just trying to stay alive when the story starts.
tags: SLOW BURN, eventual violence, eventual hurt/comfort, eventual smut, reformed bad boy Yoongi, he is lethal in this fic - literally, and he has neck tattoos. Reader is self conscious about her looks, so that gets mentioned occasionally, but is not a focus of the fic. (She works through it by the end.) (Part I does include a knife fight and mentions stitching a wound.)
words: 9k
a/n: Part I originally appeared on my old blog, but it's been heavily edited since then. Parts II and III are drafted. They just need to be edited.
Part I, Part II, Part III
___
Yoongi shields his eyes from the flames. Smoke coats his throat, and he pants for breath. As he lies on the wet pavement, he realizes that this Molotov cocktail, this cheap-ass, dime-store intimidation tactic currently burning through his club, is a plan to intimidate him. First, he was annoyed. Now he’s pissed.
x
x
x
“Boss,” Jungkook calls. “Where are you?”
“In the alley.” Yoongi’s voice is harsh. He hacks until his throat burns.
“Namjoon said there might be trouble.” Jungkook shakes his head even as he helps his friend to his feet.
“I know you’re right, but I could just use a little time before the ‘I told you so.’”
Jungkook shrugs.
Always helpful, that kid.
“You think Namjoon will front you anymore money?”
Always fucking helpful.
“No, I don’t.”
The midlevel boss is struggling to maintain this territory for Kim Seokjin. Seokjin is so far above Yoongi, he isn’t sure he can pick the man out of a crowd. He’s never even met him.
This waterfront location, the small inroads into the neighboring gang’s territory, is far, far, beneath the boss’s notice. Namjoon barely pays attention to Yoongi, and he pays the man a generous cut. Not enough to pay off Yoongi’s debt with the interest Namjoon charges, but generous, nonetheless. Namjoon is making a name for himself, and Yoongi knows that his small establishment isn’t a priority for someone with the other man’s ambition. The Min family still means something to Namjoon, though. It burns Yoongi hotter than his establishment currently going up in flames that his father’s name got him this squandered opportunity.
Firetruck sirens ring out in the distance. At least he won’t have to worry about the fire spreading beyond his own building.
“This is a dumb question…” Jungkook says. “But do you have insurance?”
“That is a dumb question.”
“Still?”
“No, I don’t have insurance.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Yoongi sure as fuck isn’t about to concede this little turf war to Lee’s gang. This shitty waterfront location, a small establishment where he planned to run some card games, make some money, is as ambitious as he gets these days, but he isn’t ready to let it go. He also isn’t ready to pay his debt to Namjoon in blood. Yoongi pulled himself up from less than nothing to this pathetic showing, but it’s still worth more to him than his life.
“Yoongi, what the fuck are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make a deal with the devil, Jungkook.”
&&&
You shut your laptop the moment your older sister calls your name. There are no secrets in your family. At least, none that aren’t so carefully guarded as to be entombed like a mummy.
The bedroom door bursts open.
“It’s true, our cousin confirmed it,” your sister announces. She glances at your desk. “You’re studying? Again?
“Yes,” you say, unable to think of a lie.
“You need a boyfriend.” She flounces on your bed. “Aren’t you even curious who I’m going to marry?”
Honestly, you can’t believe marriage contracts are still a thing, but she finds them romantic. You look out over the circular driveway and manicured lawn lining the entrance before giving way to the twenty-four-hour manned gate. Marriages contracts are nothing more than a way to keep this wealth among certain families.
You shiver, glad to you know you’ll never be sacrificed in that way.
“I can’t believe how long father made me wait,” she says. “You’ll be next.”
“Father won’t marry me off.”
It isn’t for nothing that everyone considered the girls to be evenly divided, one with the looks and the other the brains. You don’t begrudge your sister her beauty, but you long ago stopped wondering when your awkward phase would end.
“Please don’t talk about yourself that way.”
The front door slams.
“Where are they?” your father asks, voice booming.
You hear footsteps, and you grin at each other. As much as you hate the convention, you’re happy for your sister. She looks forward to marriage even more than the other women of your position. It means her own household, a generous allowance, and a ring on her finger that will announce to everyone that she is taken, and not just by anyone, but someone who can afford such an impressive stone. No way your father would marry your sister to someone who can’t afford to keep her. Appearances must be maintained.
“Girls, I have some exciting news,” your father announces, entering the room. “As I’m sure you’ve already heard—your mother can’t keep a thought in her head without sharing it—the marriage contract is finalized.”
“Who is it?” your sister asks.
“Min Yoongi.”
“Who?” she asks. The name means nothing to either of you, and you had pressed your mother for a list of possible bridegrooms.
“His family isn’t much anymore, but the dowry prevented any hesitations.”
“You will not make me marry some man I’ve never heard of before!” your sister protests.
“Damn right I won’t.” Your father turns to face you. “She’s marrying him.”
He’s pointing at you.
&&&
You stare at yourself in the mirror. You do not look like a glowing young woman on her wedding day. The concealer under your eyes is so heavy, it adds to the dark circles instead of taking away from them. The traditional dress constricts, and you struggle to breathe. Lowering the veil, your face disappears behind silk and lace.
No amount of pleading or crying has made your father relent. A deal is a deal, and he made a deal with Min Yoongi to take you off his hands. Before the contract, you thought he would continue to ignore you. You even tried running away, but with little savings, you didn’t make it far. Upon your return, your sister schooled you on the easily-convertible-to-cash wealth of jewelry and designer handbags. She hadn’t just prepared her wardrobe for an eventual marriage. She was much, much smarter than you had ever given her credit for. What were school smarts when it prepared you not at all for a wedding day with a man you had never met who would soon control your wealth, your education and, you realize with dawning horror, your body? You clench your fists until blood red marks appeared on your palms, small half-moons of distress.
You and your sister had found out nothing about Min Yoongi. Your mother had heard of the family before. Apparently, they used to be thought of highly, but you could discover nothing of their past or whatever made them fall from grace.
All your plans, all your dreams of fading so completely from your father’s notice in order to gain the freedom you craved, were crushed in an instant by a man who would marry a woman he didn’t know for money.
“Are you ready, dear?” Your mother calls in a sickly, sweet voice that must be second nature to her by now. She enters the dressing room where you had been hiding since your sister left. “Everyone is waiting.”
No expense had been spared for the wedding, and you knew it was all your father. There were hundreds of people outside waiting for you to walk down the aisle. Family and friends of your family, all ready to witness your humiliation. How could your father put you through this?
“You look lovely,” your mother offers. “He’s very handsome, I think.”
“What do I care what he looks like? I’ve never met the man.”
The slap surprises you, and you wince from the pain.
“You should be grateful. This is the best your father could do for you.”
Humiliation burns brighter than the sting on your face.
“Do you know how long your father looked for a contract for you? Do you know how many men have refused you?”
The worst part was you didn’t. You had no idea he’d been trying to give you away.
“Get yourself together. I won’t have you humiliating your father.”
She smooths down her skirt. She hates getting emotional, hates anything impeding the picture-perfect family she’s constructed in her mind, and desperately maintains no matter how much evidence to the contrary.
“Hurry and dry your tears.” She leaves alone with your thoughts.
There’s no way out. There never was. You’ve been fooling yourself since the moment your father barged into your room. There is no escape, you can only survive.
Wiping your tears, you stand and lower the veil. You won’t raise it until your betrothed—God, the word sticks in your throat—lifts it. Well, there are no surprises for him. Certainly, he knows what he’s getting out of this bargain. It might not be the future you imagined for yourself, but you weren’t going to just give up.
With renewed determination, you walk out of the small dressing room. As you approach the main room, the music swells. The guests stand and face you. Taking a deep breath, you step into the cavernous space. You walk slowly, stately down the aisle as you’d been instructed. The silk and lace are thin enough that you can make out the ghostly faces of the guests. You don’t know most of these people, and you don’t see your sister. The whole affair is a farce, but you’ll play your part.
Your steps slow as you near the main dais. Min Yoongi waits for you. Even through the veil, you can see that he’s handsome. Your mother, damn her, is right. With each step that you take, though, you can see that he isn’t just handsome. He’s beautiful. He wears a traditional tuxedo, looking ever the part of the well-dressed bridegroom. His hair is black and falls almost to his shoulders. But it is the tattoos that take your breath away. On his neck, black roses and thorns are visible above the collar of his shirt. He seems like a man who knows how to get his hands dirty. He’s compelling, your soon-to-be husband.
He shoots his cuffs, as if getting ready for a bout, holds his head high, and gazes in your direction.
Perhaps he thought you wouldn’t come out of that small room, and he was happy to know he would get his money. You scowl. Somehow, you would survive the horror show your life had become. He wanted to marry you? Well, he would get what he bargained for, and then some.
Min Yoongi offers you a hand as you step up. He’s polite at least. Or he knows how to keep up appearances in front of a crowd. You can use either. No way this petty criminal, as your sister has taken to calling him, knows all these guests either. Both of you are lambs to the slaughter of this antiquated tradition. Before you have too much sympathy for him, you remember he faces humiliation for money—a time-honored tradition in its own right—while you gain nothing but the loss of personal freedom.
You face the officiant as the interminable ceremony begins. Min Yoongi relaxes a bit, bows his head and lets the words wash over him.
By the time the ceremony ends, your knees are locked, and your back aches from standing at attention this whole time. While you couldn’t seem to imagine the ceremony ending when you were in the middle of it, suddenly the last remarks begin.
You face each other, and your new husband places a ring on your finger. The diamond is so small as to be a chip, the band tarnished, and you wonder what pawn shop he found it in. Surely, it’s the smallest and cheapest he could find. So, keeping up appearances isn’t a priority. His hands are rough and calloused. Petty criminal is right.
The genuine revelation, though, is saved for the end. Looking back, you should’ve expected the final twist, the ultimate humiliation your father had planned.
Min Yoongi turns to face you. He’s truly beautiful in that moment, and you truly hate him. This man has taken away your future. Your husband—you want to gag—lifts the veil. You bow your head as you’ve been instructed before straightening.
He gives nothing away, not truly. You credit him for his composure if nothing else. Just a quick intake of breath, a twitch in his right eye gives away his surprise. Nothing the guests would see. But your father laughs and makes sure everyone can hear it.
Your husband’s features tighten.
In this moment, you know, as certain as you are of anything. Min Yoongi lost. Min Yoongi did not marry the sister he intended. He married you.
&&&
Yoongi stretches the collar of his starched shirt, and it does nothing to ease the pressure. Sweat trickles down his temple. Little air flows in the reception space, and he would give anything for a cigarette and a breath of fresh air, which makes no sense.
The main table is situated slightly higher and away from the others. He feels on display, and he doesn’t like it. Jungkook sits to his right, and he hopes the kid doesn’t pull a weapon. He’s so jumpy.
Jungkook had looked nervous ever since they walked in the door.
“Who are all these fucking people?”
“You think I fucking know?” Yoongi responds. “Don’t swear.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m an adult.”
“Who did such a terrible job raising you?”
“You, hyung, you raised me.”
“Oh, right,” Yoongi says, distracted by straightening his tie.
“Here, let me.” Jungkook wrenches the tie from Yoongi’s hands. “You sure this is the right choice?”
“It’s too late to back out now.”
“Still, we could make a run for it.”
But Yoongi made a deal, and he would stick to it. “I’m not backing out on her. She’s alright. I’ve met her before, but she probably doesn’t remember me.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Yoongi thought of the circumstances under which he had met the eldest sister. “Probably a good thing.”
Looking back, Yoongi should’ve realized the last twist. He’d always known your father was a bastard. The ruthless son of a bitch had stabbed friends in the back to make his life just a little easier, to put a little more money in his pocket. Yoongi expected a double cross. He made sure the money was transferred to his account directly after the ceremony. He’d gotten paid alright, but he hadn’t gotten the crown jewel. Yoongi should’ve suspected a sister switch. He knew nothing of the younger sister, but the way your smile turns to ice whenever you meet his eyes, he hoped you would give him a few hours, at least, before whatever plan you must’ve had would be put into action. Someone as spoiled and coddled as you are, you must want to return to the comforts of your father’s compound, not whatever humble offerings Yoongi could provide.
“Would you like some more wine?” Yoongi asks. He doesn’t know why he persists in talking to you.
You shake your head, barely deigning to suggest you had heard him. If only you could have a private conversation somewhere. He didn’t need you to like him. You have nothing in common. Yoongi had a restless, reckless youth and you had been pampered with your father’s wealth. He hates everything you stand for, happy to accept the money but never questioning where it comes from.
One of the older guests, a fading man with a hunched back and a bald head, walks with a cane to the main table. Guests actually speaking to Yoongi had been rare.
“I knew your father,” the man says, voice too soft for the crowd that speaks around them. “He was a great man.”
Yoongi feels that strange mix of pride and annoyance whenever anyone of the old guard remembers his father. Yoongi doesn’t know who the man in front of him is.
“He is a great man,” Yoongi insists, tired of everyone talking about his father like he was dead. Yoongi’s father isn’t well enough to attend the ceremony, a fact for which Yoongi is glad. His father had married for love, and in his better days he had wanted the same for Yoongi.
“Quite right, quite right. We aren’t all in the ground yet.” The old man puts up a hand as if to ask for forgiveness. “You are a lucky woman.”
Yoongi watches as you stiffen even more than you have already.
He tenses. He will forgive your annoyance, but he won’t be gracious if you’re rude to the one guest, an elderly guest at that, who had paid his respects to Yoongi’s family.
“Thank you,” you say, sickly sweet. “How kind of you to say.”
Yoongi prefers the glacial you. This is some kind of bizarre imitation of a radiant bride, and it’s worse than the glower you perfected during the reception.
The old man gives one more look to Yoongi. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Yoongi did not know where in hell to find this old guy, but he nodded. If he ever needed to take up this man on his offer, he would be more fucked that he was now.
“Thank you, sir,” Yoongi says, voice loud so the old man could hear him over the din of chatter.
You wince. “Your parents couldn’t bear to be a part of this farce?”
“My father is ill, and my mother couldn’t leave him.”
You glance at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I hope he improves.”
Yoongi nods his head in acknowledgement.
When would this interminable reception be over? Most of the rituals are complete, and Yoongi is surprised to find himself dead tired. It’s been a long few weeks, a long few months, and he wants to sleep without having to keep one eye open.
“Can you give me a few days before you try to murder me in my sleep?”
You choke on your wine.
“I don’t know what—”
“Look, princess, I know you’ve got plans. You don’t look like an idiot to me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then give me a few days, at least.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say in the worst imitation of someone carefree. “I couldn’t be more thrilled to marry a petty criminal with this ring that looks like you won it for a quarter in a machine.”
Yoongi flinches. He would give you one comment about the ring. Just one, though.
“Would you like some more wine?” Yoongi asks.
“For the last time, no,” you say, acknowledging him with a slight tilt of your head, like a queen about to execute a criminal. “I will not get drunk into oblivion as wonderful as it sounds to forget this ever happened, and I would suggest you don’t either. My father and his friends are looking for anyway to humiliate you further, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.”
You turn to look at him, and you may not have the obvious beauty of your sister, but you have a steely determination he respects. Again, Yoongi reminds himself to prepare his own meals.
“On the other hand, I don’t care what you do. Make a fool of yourself.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Oh, really?” you say with a glacial smile. You turn your gaze to where your sister dances with another of her admirers. “How did that bargain work out for you?”
Fuck, you noticed. Yoongi prided himself on giving nothing away. It would’ve worked if it wasn’t for your father’s laughter.
“Listen, I’m sorry—”
“Spare me your pity. You should make sure you got paid.”
“I did,” Yoongi responds. He may have been fooled, but he knew to get his end of the bargain.
“Well, how wonderful for you.”
You don’t speak to him again for the rest of the reception.
&&&
Sitting in the back of the limousine, you force yourself to stay awake. This farce is almost over, and then you can take off this dress and breathe again. You just want to sleep, but that raises an issue.
“Where are we going?”
Yoongi jerks his head in your direction. “You’re talking to me.”
“For now.”
“We have a hotel room.” He looks down at his hands. “It’s not the nicest, but it keeps up appearances.”
“Unlike other things,” you retort, staring down at the ring.
“I’m tired, princess, and I’m going to have to ask you not to make any more comments about the ring.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Yoongi leans his head back. “We have adjoining rooms. I won’t disturb you, if you promise not to disturb me. Double doors with locks on either side. It seems as good as any other way to start our marriage.”
You exhale. You don’t know what to say. Of course, it is the only reasonable resolution, but you weren’t sure. You know nothing about your husband, and you can’t afford to let your guard down. Look where your naivete had gotten you? You would never let down your guard again.
“That sounds fine.” You will not thank him for basic decency.
A few minutes later, the limo stops. The driver opens the door. He helps you out of the car, and Yoongi follows. Yoongi looks as tired as you feel, and you are certain you look worse than him. Even exhausted, he is truly handsome.
Yoongi offers you a hand, and you don’t refuse as much as you want to. The path is rocky, and you need extra help to navigate in these shoes and this dress. You’ve driven across the bay to a small hotel on the water. The view of the downtown lights shines in the distance. The fresh salty air breezes across your face, and you feel renewed. You’ve made it this far, you’ll continue.
This hotel had been something back in the day. Your parents had probably stayed here at one point, and the thought doesn’t cheer you. The attendant behind the counter treats you kindly, and he mentions that your bags have already been carried to your rooms. He gives Yoongi two keys, and Yoongi passes you the key in the elevator. The hotel is so old that it uses actual keys with room numbers on them.
You’re staying on the third floor, the top floor of the hotel, overlooking the bay. You walk to your door. With a short wave, Yoongi disappears into his room, and you disappear into yours.
The room must be one of the largest. There is a sunken sitting room where you look out past the floor to ceiling windows to the bay. Your luggage sits at the foot of the bed. Without turning on a light, you sit on the couch and stare out at the view. You don’t cry. You’ve spent too much time crying to have any tears left. Now you want to sleep like a sleeping beauty to be woken from this nightmare by a kiss, but there are no fairytales, no honorable knights, no handsome princes. Just this strange path your life has taken. In a few weeks, your dreams of having something for yourself disappeared to be replaced by the man sleeping two locked doors away. You slip off your shoes and tuck your feet under your dress. A knock comes from the double doors.
You shuffle to the other side of the room, dragging your dress on the ground. You open the door.
Min Yoongi stands on the other side of the threshold. His jacket is off. His tie is loosened, and he’s rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows. An unlit cigarette dangles from his lip. In the face of his beauty, you wonder what he thinks of you. Straightening your shoulders, you remind yourself that he is just another criminal, a man like your father who will use anyone to get what he wants. He has already used you. His opinion doesn’t matter.
“Do you need anything?” he asks.
He pulls the cigarette from his lips, holding it as if to take a drag.
“No, this room is… adequate.”
He huffs, a sardonic smile on his face. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to your father’s house, princess.”
She thinks of the high walls and guards surrounding her family home, thinking she had been safe. She had been a fool. Never again.
“You know nothing of my father.”
“I’m learning.”
“What do you need?” you ask, eager to get this tête-à-tête concluded.
“No need to come out swinging.” Yoongi puts up his hands. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t want for anything.”
“I will ask you if I do, since all my money is now yours.”
At your words, he glances out at the window as if captivated by the view. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“Wait,” you say. “I do need something.”
He doesn’t answer, just waits for you to continue.
“Can you unzip this gown? I can’t reach it.” You turn around before your cheeks turn red. This entire night is humiliating enough. There’s no reason to add to it.
Without a word, he lowers the zipper. His fingers drag against your skin, and you suppress the shudder that threatens to rake your body. How many women has he unzipped like this? Probably more than he can remember. He pauses when he reaches your lower back. You wonder what it would be like to be wanted by him until you remember he was paid to take you.
“Anything else?”
With one arm, you hold up the bodice of your gown over your chest. He’s looking right at you, but you avert your gaze. The first time a man has undressed you and it’s on your wedding night, and he couldn’t be less interested in you. With a shock, you realize he prepared this extra suite, the late-night meal delivery, and the gift on the bedside table for your sister. Any thoughtful gestures were for her. Not for you.
You shake your head.
“Goodnight,” he says, turning around and shutting the door behind himself.
You do the same.
&&&
Yoongi couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, twisting the sheets into a crumpled heap. Has he done the right thing? He needed the money, but has he done the right thing, making a deal with one of the worst men in town?
Certainly, Yoongi had been out of options. There had been no question. If he had any other avenue to rebuild the club, help his parents, and keep a roof over his head, he would’ve taken it. He needs more money than he can make at a respectable job, as if anyone would hire him with these tattoos.
No, nothing respectable is left to him. He won’t abandon his parents, and he will make whatever deal is necessary to keep going.
Yoongi gets out of bed. The sun has risen over the water. He lights a cigarette—a terrible habit he hasn’t been able to break.
A knock sounds from the other side of the double doors. So, you haven’t left him in the night. He wonders if you have any money of your own. Probably not, if the rumors about your old man were true, and they had turned out to be more than fucking accurate.
He throws on a robe, one of the cheap, thin robes provided by the hotel, but it was that or wrapping a towel around his waist. He isn’t ready to show you the rest of his tattoos. There has to be some mystery left in this marriage.
He opens the door to reveal his bride. You wear an ill-fitting dress, drab and looking like something a mother would pick out for her daughter. It’s awful. What would your sister have worn this morning? Your sister, he knows, has long ago lost her innocent beginnings if the rumors about her are true—he doesn’t judge. It honestly would’ve been easier to marry the sister he expected. He can handle tantrums and drama, all of which she would’ve provided. This sister, though, what does she provide?
You look down at your feet.
“I do have a plan to poison you.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“But it seems too complicated, and I will be the first person they suspect.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m sure there are some other suspects in town.”
“Lots of people want to kill you?”
“Well, it’s only Sunday, so maybe, like you, they’ve decided to take a rest.”
“Can I, uh, come in?”
“Make yourself at home.” Yoongi gestures to the room behind him, and he quickly wonders what it looks like in your eyes. Just the one small suitcase, and a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. No room service set up. Your meal had been expensive enough. He needs to economize if he’s going to make a go of it.
You walk past him into the room, wringing your hands. “What are your plans for me?”
“We just met, princess. I don’t move that fast.”
“Please stop that ridiculous drawl. Clearly, you must have some plan. Oh god, if you’ve married me to gamble away my dowry there is nothing I can do, but…”
He resists the desire to call you princess. You don’t look like much of one in that dress. You look distinctly lost.
“I won’t gamble it away.”
“Small mercies.”
“It’s invested.”
“Where?”
In myself, he wants to say, but that is ridiculously cocky, and he has nothing to show for it. “In my club.”
She raises her eyes to the ceiling. “What kind of club?”
Yoongi clears his throat. “I’m starting small. It’s by the waterfront, some tables, some drinks, nothing I can’t handle.”
“That’s all of it, what he paid you for me?”
It took Yoongi a moment to realize what you meant. You must’ve calculated in your head how much he got from your father. He wants to tell you the truth. Would it be better or worse to know your dowry was large, but that men still hadn’t wanted you to get it?
"There was more but I had some debts to pay off."
“Gambling?”
“I borrowed money from Kim Namjoon to get started, and he doesn’t like late payments.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Well, you at least know how to save your own neck.”
“That’s dangerously close to a compliment.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t slip up next time.”
You wring your hands again, and he resists the urge to reach out and calm you. You are probably just looking out for your own neck and used to a large allowance. Maybe not, he considers, if that dress is anything to go by.
“Is there any left?” you ask in the smallest voice he’s heard yet.
“Just enough for this hotel and the first month’s rent on our place. That… technically, I haven’t found yet because I’ve been so busy with the club.”
“We’re spending money we don’t have on this hotel because you don’t know how to run a club?”
He doesn’t quite like the way you phrase it, but he appreciates you cut to the chase. Before he can respond, you supply your own answer.
“There’s nothing left.”
“We’re all tied up in investments.”
“Is Kim Namjoon paid back? With whatever interest he charges?”
You sound offended he doesn’t have a rich father backing him.
He shakes his head. “I still owe him the vig, but I bought some time.”
“Why not forget about the club and pay it all to him?”
“Because then I’ve got nothing but a burned-out hole.”
“You lost your club to a fire? Who came after you?”
“Faulty wiring.”
“I’ll bet.”
He wants to reassure you. He doesn’t like this side of himself. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Clearly.”
“Why did you want to know? About the money, I mean.”
“It was nothing.”
But Yoongi is sure it was something. Might as well clear the air. “Look, I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. If you’re discrete, I don’t care what you do.”
“Is that your plan?”
Yoongi had no such plan. Women were trouble and the few who had been interested in him lately were more trouble than they were worth. He hadn’t been interested in anyone in a very long time.
“Of course,” he says.
You nod.
“Why did you ask about the money?”
“I wanted to know how much trouble we were in.”
Yoongi still doesn’t believe you, but he lets it go.
“Do you care if I get a job?”
Yoongi winces. You have to know none of the wives in your position work. It would further convince everyone of his family’s fall. His parents, especially, as old-fashioned as they were, wouldn’t understand.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your voice turns glacial once again.
“Just give me some time. I can turn things around.”
You stare at him, and he wonders if you’ve truly given up your plan to poison him.
“Let’s find an apartment today. There’s no reason to stay at this aging hotel that’s about to fall into the sea if we can save money without it.”
“I thought it might be easier for you to have separate rooms for a few weeks before we moved in together.”
“I’m a big girl. Like you said, as long as you know how to be discrete, you won’t have a problem with me. I know how these things work.”
Yoongi realizes you very desperately do not. What an asshole your father is.
“Okay, there’s two places I found we can afford. Not elegant, but not run down either. The club should be open in a few weeks and then the money will come in.”
“Right.”
He ignores your tone. “Do you want to look at them with me today?” It’s the least he could offer.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
Any quip dies on his lips when he sees the look in your eyes. You look pleased to be asked. He isn’t sure if he is more afraid of you poisoning him or that look of quiet surprise when anyone is nice to you.
&&&
“We should get the first place,” you say.
“The second had a view of the ocean.”
“It costs too much, and we don’t need that much space.”
Yoongi drives expertly down the narrow, crowded streets. Occasionally, a horn honks at him or a pedestrian yells, but he ignores them all. He doesn’t even feel the need to respond. Impassive behind his sunglasses, he occasionally acknowledges their ire with a nod of his head, but you figure he has heard worse. Your husband wears black pants and a black button-down shirt. You wear one of your better dresses this morning. In this, you look the part of a young couple house hunting.
“Are you sure you don’t want the space?”
“You’re going to be spending most of your time at the club, right? I’ve already said I won’t make a fuss. Let’s at least save some money.”
You hope he will be gone most of the time. A smaller, older building without a doorman and pretentious neighbors would be better for you. Less chance of prying eyes, and easier to find a job.
“If you insist, princess.”
“I insist.”
“Then, it’s done.”
&&&
You check your watch again. It’s almost closing time. You ring up the only customer in the florist’s shop.
It hadn’t been easy finding a job with no references and less experience. You are lucky that the florist will pay you less than the going rate under the table. The arrangement fits both your purposes. You wipe your hands on the apron, ever careful not to soil your clothes.
Luckily your husband keeps regular hours. He comes and goes with the precision of a banker. You’ve hidden your job from him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He says the club is doing well, but it isn’t like he shows you the books. You won’t be caught without your own money again.
You have a well-appointed if small apartment in a perfectly respectable building, as much as he complains about the loss of the view. As far as arranged marriages go, it could’ve been much, much worse. He gives you an adequate allowance, and you hope it isn’t putting too much of a dent in the monthly finances. You spend some of it. Isn’t that what wives do? Buy clothes and eat at restaurants? You save as much as you dare, because your husband seems to notice minor details.
You flip the sign to closed and lock the door behind you. There are no more customers in the shop, and you want to get home before your husband leaves for the club. So far, he doesn’t seem to suspect you have a job, and you want to keep it that way.
You walk the five blocks back to your building—close enough to be convenient, far enough away that you won’t run into him. You check the mail, opening the antiquated box in the lobby and then climb the three flights of stairs to your apartment. Good, you had made it back before he woke.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, while you yelp in surprise. Your husband wears his usual black suit and drinks his ever-present cup of coffee.
“Just out shopping,” you improvise, realizing belatedly you have no bags.
“Didn’t find anything you liked?”
“Maybe next time.” You wonder if all newlyweds have such mundane conversations, you are guessing they don't. He looks as if he wants to say more, but refrains. You really have very little to say to each other. Other than polite inquiries, you stay out of each other’s way. You are roommates more than anything else.
“How’s Kim Namjoon?” you ask.
“He got paid this month,” Yoongi replies, just as he had done every time. “I really do know what I’m doing.”
“Except with the wiring.”
“Well, you got me there.”
You relax when he leaves. Your deception worked for another day. When you walk to the bedroom, you take your earnings from the pocket of your dress. You unscrew the cover of the vent and put your day's earnings inside.
Making a quiet dinner, you realize you spend more time alone since you got married than before. You don't mind. It’s given you time to think about all that’s happened. It could be far far worse you know. He gives you much more freedom than anyone of your father’s set would. You may be tied to a man that you don’t love but, unfortunately, your life could easily be much worse.
You sit down to dinner when a knock pounds on the door.
You stand abruptly. No one comes here. Both of you have few friends and less interest in socializing with the class of people who saw the circus that was your wedding.
"Mr. Min Yoongi," someone calls through the door.
It wasn't Jungkook. You know that much. He was one of the few people Yoongi had introduced you to.
"I'm sorry to disrupt your happy abode, but you'll see I had little choice."
"Yoongi isn't here," you say, not opening the door. You know it isn’t any of his enemies. They wouldn’t show up at his home.
"Ah, you must be his lovely bride," the man says, a thump sounding as if he must've crumbled to the floor.
You open the door, and the man falls backward, landing on the floor at your feet. Handsome, with a stunning profile and brilliant eyes that sparkle even given the state he’s in, you can’t take your eyes from him.
“Jung Hoseok,” he says. He lifts a hand to shake yours, but it’s covered with his own blood. “Pleasure to meet you.”
&&&
Yoongi walks into the club. It is early enough that the place is mostly empty. Jungkook is behind the bar. Jimin and Taehyung are having a drink. Yoongi nods his head in acknowledgement and moves to the back office.
“Jenny, what are you doing here?”
The girl sits in his leather chair with her bare feet propped onto the desk in front of her. She’s dressed to entice. He likes her confidence, but he’s told her before he’s not interested.
“You know I always wait for you to get here?”
“You know I’ve asked you not to.” Yoongi strides into the room. She’s lounged all over the accounts he needs to reconcile. Running a club had seemed glamourous in his youth, but now it was just work. There was very little that was actually glamourous about it, trying not to get cheated, making sure the numbers balanced at the end of the month. This had become his life.
A door slams in the main room. He guesses the crowd must be early this Friday night.
“I told you, I’m not interested.”
“I told you, I’m persistent.” She reaches for his collar.
“I’m married, Jenny.”
She scoffs. “Some frigid princess.”
“Do not talk about my wife that way.”
She flinches from his tone.
“Yoongi,” Jungkook calls, “you better get out here.”
“I’m needed on the floor.”
Jenny rolls her eyes. She doesn’t miss the opportunity to stand a little closer, to remind him of what he is missing.
“I need you here,” she says.
Before Yoongi can think of a response, the door opens.
“Sorry to interrupt,” you say. “A friend of yours stopped by.”
Yoongi closes his eyes in relief. “What happened? What are you doing here?”
“Hello Yoongi,” Hoseok says cordially. “Looks like I missed you at home, so your clever bride agreed to bring me here.”
“He wouldn't let me bring him to a hospital.”
“Terrible places, hospitals. Full of germs, disease.”
“Also, they have to call the police if someone is injured like this. He said only you could help.”
“Idiot,” Yoongi says. “Put him on the couch.”
You help him to sit, and Jenny slips out of the room. All thoughts of the other woman flew from his mind when he saw you covered in blood. The old rules aren’t as strictly followed as they used to be, but the ruling families still frowned upon going after the wives and children.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi calls. “Get the supplies. I’ll sew him up here.”
Your eyes grow wide at the admission. Wringing your hands, you take it all in.
“I’m going to pass out soon,” Hoseok admits, glancing down at the wound in his side.
“Aren’t you too old for a knife fight?” Yoongi asks, inspecting the wound while Hoseok winces.
“You know how it is,” Hoseok says, unconvincingly. He pauses. “It was one of Lee’s men.”
Damnit. Lee should’ve been satisfied with the damage to the club. When will Yoongi be strong enough that no one will come for him or his friends?
Jungkook hands Hoseok a shot of amber liquid. Hoseok swigs, grimaces and passes out.
Yoongi looks at the curved needle and thread that Jungkook brought him. You stare in horrified fascination as he cleans the wound. Luckily, it isn’t deep.
“You don’t have to stay,” he says, suddenly self-conscious to be watched.
“You can really do this?”
Yoongi nods. He’s had plenty of experience. “Jungkook, get back to the bar. I can handle this.”
The younger man leaves without another word.
He is glad to have an excuse not to see the blood on your clothes. He should’ve done a better job protecting you.
Sitting on the couch beside Hoseok, you watch him work. It’s unsettling. The lessons of his youth were hard-earned. He supposes it is better to have you know the truth than to pretend otherwise. You must’ve been removed from the realities of this life, living in your palatial house, staff ready to do whatever you ask.
“I bet you’ve never seen this before,” he says flatly.
You shake your head. “I’ve seen very little of anything.”
“I believe that.”
“My father would never deign to get his hands dirty.”
Yoongi scoffs. “Too far beneath him?”
“You care for your men.”
“They don’t belong to me,” he retorts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He finishes stitching the wound in silence. There is very little else to say. He guesses you’ve been, rightly or wrongly, initiated into some truths of his life. He would rather you not know, frankly.
You walk around the desk, looking at the papers he’s been ignoring for the past few weeks.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, eager to get out of this room even for a moment. There’s something unsettling about your presence.
“Please.”
He leaves for the bar, letting Jungkook know Hoseok will be okay. He’ll be in a hell of a lot of pain when he wakes up, but they’re lucky it isn’t worse. Yoongi hates the fact that luck is the only thing keeping him afloat at this point. Luck and your dowry.
He returns to see you sitting at his desk. Your hands are clean, but the bloodstains on your dress leave him with a queasy feeling. You’re someone else he needs to protect.
“Have you set up a shell company?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t. I’ve been too busy getting things set up here.” He’s been ignoring it, is what he’s been doing. “At this point, I’m going to have to stash cash in the walls.”
“That won’t work with your wiring problems.”
He sets the drink on the desk, and you take a sip. You continue to investigate the papers on his desk, sorting through the bills and statements.
“You need to create several shell companies. It is going to get harder to hide the returns, and you’re doing well this month.”
“How much do you know about this?”
“A little. I was getting an online business degree before…”
“Your father know?”
You laugh. “Do anything other than shop or get married? You must have him confused with someone else.”
“Why didn’t you continue?”
You glance up at him, a note of caution in your eyes. “I dropped out.”
“Why?” He asks, like an idiot.
“I didn’t expect such a tolerant husband.”
He can only imagine the horror that you must’ve gone through in the weeks between the contract and the ceremony. His attempt to reach out was rebuffed by your father, but maybe he should’ve tried harder. “You want to set it up?”
“The shell companies?”
“Yeah, you know this better than I do.”
You look down at the pages in front of you, biting your lip. He can see the play of emotions across your face, and he hopes you’re never asked to hide your feelings. It would be impossible for you.
“Only if I start with something small. I don’t want to be responsible for the whole thing.”
“Sure.”
“Just like that?”
“It’s a good plan. Look, I don’t know what I’m doing and the longer I wait, the more difficult it’s going to get.”
The smile dawning on your face is something to see. He hears the door open behind him and gets annoyed with the interruption.
“Yoongi, Jungkook needs you at the bar.”
At the sound of Jenny’s voice, you freeze. The smile on your face quickly shutters as you take an intense interest in the pages in front of you. Jenny leaves.
“I should go,” you say. “I need to change, and I need to think how to best deal with this.” You gesture to the pages in front of you.
“Jimin and Taehyung can give you a ride.”
“I drove. It’s no problem.”
He puts a hand on your arm to stop you. “I would prefer they give you a ride home.”
This night has been stressful enough. He doesn’t want to think about something happening to you.
You meet his eye. “Okay, thank you.”
He hands you his suit jacket. The blood stains on your dress are prominent, and he doesn’t want to see them anymore than he wants you to be exposed to the stares of others.
You follow him out of the office. The club is getting crowded now. He introduces to you to Jimin and Taehyung They know what it means to be asked this favor, and he knows they won’t let him down. This marriage may be a farce, but he will protect what’s his.
You leave without a backward glance.
&&&
Over the next few weeks, you spend time at the club doing the books. Jimin and Taehyung take you home most nights when Yoongi isn’t ready to leave. True to your word, you start small. Even this nominal amount feels immense. Yoongi has trusted you, and you don’t want to betray him. It’s the first time you’ve been asked to do anything important. You don’t want to screw it up.
Yoongi doesn’t leave any details to chance. The club had an excellent reputation, and soon it attracts more than just the waterfront crowd. He also keeps his bargain. If he’s with other women, he’s discrete. Apart from the first night you arrived unexpectedly, there was never a hint at the club from the other girls. If he is with someone there, she’s discrete too.
There is one mystery left. It doesn’t seem like your entire dowry went into the club. What did he do with the money? He doesn’t have a drug habit, he doesn’t gamble, there is no obvious vice. He has a penchant for designer clothes, but that would hardly take up the substantial amount you hadn't been able to find. Maybe he was just holding it for a rainy day.
The door opens, and one of the club’s many girls walks into the office. You don’t know her name, but you’ve seen her around. You didn't begrudge them their presence or their living. Everyone has to make it in this life, but you wonder about the one you had seen Yoongi with. Could that be his mistress?
"Do you know where Mr. Min is?"
"He’s taking inventory with Jungkook at the bar."
The girl nods and retreats to where she came from.
You look down at the spreadsheets in front of you. The revelation comes to you like lightening. What an idiot you’ve been. The missing money was clearly going to Yoongi's mistress. He had kept his promise and been discrete, so why do you feel let down? What he does is none of your business.
Yoongi walks into the office with a drink for you. He’s kind, this arranged marriage husband. You wonder if you would've gotten along if you had met under different circumstances. But no, he would never be interested in you. You are decidedly not his type. His type is like the girl you saw him with. Someone who takes away from troubles, not someone who adds to them. You wonder what it would be like to be cared for by him. A blush creeps over your cheeks. The last thing you want to do is have a crush on your husband. He had made it clear he wasn't interested. Of course, he wasn't interested. He could probably have anyone he wanted, and the last thing he wanted was his naïve bride.
"We really need to pay all these bribes?" you ask.
"We're doing better. Everyone wants a piece." Yoongi shrugs.
You defer to him in the more illegal aspects of the business. You do not know what the going rate was for bribes.
"A few of them are getting in deep at the tables, so it won't be long until writing off their IOUs instead of paying them cash."
“You don't play.”
“Not anymore.”
He didn't drink to excess either. Everything about him was carefully contained. The only hint of his rebellious youth was his tattoos. You’ve learned very little about his family. His parents hadn't come to the wedding, and he said they were too ill, but you wonder if it is something else. If he didn't want them to witness his bargain.
“Why did you stop?” You sit back in your chair and wondered if he would answer you honestly.
Yoongi looks up from his phone. "I grew up."
"You make it sound like you're an old man."
He huffed. "I'm old enough. Come on, let's get home. I don't need to be here at closing tonight."
It was rare the nights he took you home. You liked the simulacrum of domesticity, you realize. Another revelation on this night that you weren’t looking forward to investigating. Yoongi opens the door for you, helping you on with your raincoat and following you outside. His phone rings. Was it a woman?
Yoongi swears, hanging up the phone.
"What is it?" you ask. He looks worried. Just how much of his life is he hiding?
Genre/Tags: single mom lawyer!OC x pastry chef!Jungkook; angst, fluff, smut; age gap
Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; single parenthood, motherhood; mention of a sexual harassment case, inaccurate law stuff im sry; they’re becoming adults now guys; insecurities; infidelity; eventual smut (18+)
Chapter Word count: 12.5k
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Driven by your perfectionist attitude and need to have everything in order, you planned that by age 30, you’d have made junior partner, bought your own apartment, and have children. You achieved them, of course, and while the last bit required you to take matters into your own hands - no thanks to your ex-boyfriend who dumped you but to your best friend who directed you to a fertility clinic - you’re now a 31-year old who pretty much has her life under control. You’re ready to raise your child on your own, that is, until the 20-something pastry chef flirts his way into your heart, messing up the perfect little life you worked so hard to have for yourself.
A/N: Thank you for your lovely messages this past day! I could only hope that this chapter brings comfort to you, reader, as much as you’ve given it to me. Please enjoy! 🌸🌸
Listen to: O (Code Kunst, Lee Hi), Sugar Cake (CoCo), Ripple (Sophiya) || Playlist 🎶
The falling, two-toned chime is so stale at this point that it doesn’t even register to you anymore. The personalities that follow through the doors do offer an interesting variety, though.
Morning shift customers are full-tilt, whether they’re chipper or grumpy. Between the hours of 5 and 11 AM, the coffee pots empty every fifteen minutes. Afternoon shift customers aren’t supposed to be there. Groups of tweens and teens skipping school. People playing hooky from work. The Funyuns usually sell out. Evening shift customers are a little more lowkey. Just happy to be minutes from home. More often than not, they’re single. Single-file lines of single people who use wads of singles to buy single bottles of beer, single trays of frozen food, or single-serving packs of ice cream.
Graveyard shift customers, though, are your people. Not all necessarily single, but definitely alone. Bleary-eyed. Can’t really remember the date. Or don’t want to. Just now getting a chance to run an errand, or responding to some sort of emergency.
Maybe both.
There aren’t many of them. So, as the $10 bill floats down to the counter, barely cushioned by a gravelly, “One pack, please,” you startle and look up from your book.
Yoongi’s hardened but familiar gaze at the counter gives you the impression that tonight is a “both” kind of night for him.
Four-day-old hair. Forehead and too-flat bangs greasy. Eyebags.
“Uh-oh,” you muse.
He narrows his eyes at you. Not in anger. In defense. “Save it.”
“Too early?” you ask. “Or too late?”
Yoongi checks his phone. 3:17 AM. He sings out a funeral dirge of a groan. He didn’t know.
summary: hearing banging noises outside your front door at 11 at night could mean one out of two things. one, you are seconds away from getting chopped up by an axe murderer. two, someone is purposefully being an inconsiderate asshole.
or three, a fratboy from delta phi who goes by the name of kim taehyung faceplants in front of your door amidst a high-stakes game of… hide and seek?
pairing: taehyung x reader
genre: fluff, smut (pretty tame tbh! cuz it’s my first time eek), comedy, college!au, fratboy!au
word count: 10k
warnings: RATED 18+, grinding, dryhumping, palming, mentions of drugs and alcohol (yk regular frat shit), swearing, taehyung is a gentleman fr tho my gawd with a big co-
A/N: i’d just like to thank everyone for the immense amount of support or else i would have never had the confidence in myself and my writing to try to create and post something of this nature. i hope u reading as much as i enjoyed writing this fr! i’d like to give huge shoutouts to some special peeps that were with me throughout the process of me writing this: LINH !! @latetaektalk , i’ve absolutely adored u and ur work for the longest time and u beta reading my work meant the world, truly. SOULMATE! @pjmsdior , who always looks over my work for me and is just the kindest and cutest soul. meekers @tomotae , slay i make u read all my work but im finally writing smut now duh, she is very happy for this monumental event the most i think. and last but not least the bestie 4L @koushiningg , whom i made read this last night at their house which was the funniest shit ever. once again, hope u enjoy reading!!! sending luv always, jumi <3
◇ Genre: Notting Hill! AU, Fame! AU, Actor! Tae, a lil angst and a lil fluff, light smut but its not explicit
◇ Summary: The last thing you’d ever expected was for world famous actor Kim Taehyung to walk into your tiny, unassuming bookshop. But when he does, it unravels a charming yet complicated series of events that change your life forever.
◇ Word Count: 11k
◇ A/N: Notting Hill is one of my favorite movies of all time and I couldn’t get the thought of a Taehyung version out of my head so…this is the result. I hope you enjoy <3
Genre: smut, fluff, crack, holiday, enemies to lovers, Coworkers!AU
Rating: M (18+)
Warnings: swearing, drinking, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), spanking, choking, biting, dirty talking, orgasm delay, Jin has an enormous... ego, vaginal sex, a lot of terrible holiday puns
Word Count: 23.7K (I'M SO SORRY)
Disclaimers: NSFW, I don't own BTS - they just inspire me
Summary: The holidays are here! But instead of celebrating, you're trapped in a town called Christmas with your office nemesis, Kim Motherfucking Seokjin, and an unruly band of clients. Can you survive the trip and secure the promotion your boss has promised? Or will Jin take you down?
A/N: This was written for the @btswritingcafe's Holiday Fic Exchange. Happy holidays, Mai @jinpanman!! 🐧🎄🎅I've had SO much fun being your Secret Santa, and I hope you've had fun as well. In addition to writing you this little story (I'M SO SORRY AGAIN IT'S SO LONG), I also created a Spotify playlist to go along with it! I really hope you enjoy the goofy holiday movie I basically wrote here. It's like Hallmark After Dark. 😂
This is unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to know what you think, my inbox is always open! 💕
“Please, take a seat,” your boss invited as you entered the cavernous space that was his office. Someone was already sitting in the other chair in front of his sleek black desk. You glared at the back of their head, recognizing them immediately.
Kim Seokjin. Why was he here?
If you compared your company, Beyond the Sound, to a rose, then Jin would definitely be the thorn. A big ol’ prick. As the other junior talent manager at your company, he drove you insane. Whereas you chose to use skill and knowledge and your relentless drive to achieve your goals, he preferred to coast along on his charm. And his considerable good looks.
As much as it physically hurt you to think nice thoughts about him, you couldn’t deny that he was one gorgeous man. Tall, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a small waist. Long, thick black hair that kissed the nape of his neck and fell into his eyes when he didn’t wear it swept off his face.
And that face. Dark, expressive eyes that crinkled merrily when he laughed, which happened a lot when he was schmoozing clients. Plush lips that puckered when he was displeased, which happened a lot when you were around. Cheekbones and a jawline to die for.
It was a fucking perfect face and you hated it.
You took a seat, crossing your legs demurely as your boss, Sejin, cleared his throat.
“I’m sure by now you’ve both heard the news. Irene is leaving us.”
Since it had been the only topic of conversation around the office for the last two days, you had in fact heard the news. Irene, the company’s hotshot manager, was leaving for greener pastures (aka more money from a larger management firm).
“She’s leaving us in a bit of a lurch, too. But the company’s loss is your gain,” he continued, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. “I think it’s time for a promotion.”
You sat up slightly, as did Jin.
“I’ve been more than pleased with the two of you and how you’ve served the company over the last year. You’re both in line to be promoted. But, there’s only one spot available - the one being vacated by Irene.” Sejin paused, letting his words sink in.
One spot. Two candidates. You glanced at Jin, only to realize he was already looking at you. Assessing. Narrowing your eyes, you turned back to your boss.
Sejin stood and looked out the floor length windows that made up the back wall of his office, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed the city below the high-rise. “I mentioned earlier that Irene is leaving us in a bit of a tight spot. The two of you are familiar with Euphoria, correct?”
Of course you knew Euphoria. They were one of the company’s biggest clients, an incredibly popular band who had helped make Beyond the Sound into the powerhouse it was. Volatile didn’t begin to describe the band - they were the most chaotic group of artists you’d ever come into contact with since you’d started working in the music industry.
Well, okay, you personally hadn’t had much face-to-face interaction with them, beyond a quick hello at a party or industry event here and there, but you’d heard plenty of horror stories during your time working at Beyond the Sound.
The three members each had their own distinct idiosyncrasies that made them difficult to manage. Lead singer Park Jimin was an incredibly gifted vocalist and guitarist who hypnotized fans with his sexy shenanigans on stage. Unfortunately, this also led to a lot of offstage sexy shenanigans, and your company was usually scrambling to cover up any potential scandals caused by his various romantic entanglements.
The bassist/saxophonist/keyboardist Taehyung (just the one name, like he was Adele) was a renaissance man and a true artiste. Unfortunately, he took that second label extremely seriously, and was prone to flaking on public appearances or locking himself in his studio for days on end if he felt something or someone was interfering with his “vision.”
And then there was the drummer, Jeon Jungkook. Essentially the human version of Animal from the Muppets, he was loud, unruly, and prone to literally running amuck while the other two members were usually arguing.
They were exclusively Irene’s responsibility.
Sejin appeared to be waiting for an answer, so you and Jin both chirped, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. The band is releasing a holiday album this year - titled “Sleigh, What?!” - and in order to drum up publicity for it, they’re putting on an exclusive one-night-only concert, to be streamed around the world.”
Ah, so the rumors were true.
Euphoria reinvented themselves with every new album. Their first album was r&b-influenced boy band pop; the second, a punk rock fantasia; and their last, an ear-shattering mashup of screamo metal and EDM that left fans confused and led to a short-lived breakup followed by an immediate reunion. From what Sejin was saying, apparently they’d decided the best way to score a big comeback was with a collection of festive tunes. You’d heard whispers about the album through the office grapevine, but had chalked it up to a joke, assuming someone was mocking the band’s tendency to swing wildly from one genre to another.
Clearly, you’d been wrong.
“When and where is the concert?” Jin asked as you pulled out your phone to take notes. He arched a thick eyebrow, glancing at your phone, then tapped his temple, implying that he didn’t need to write anything down. Rolling your eyes, you waited for your boss to answer the question.
“Next month, the week before Christmas. And it’s being held in Christmas.”
“It’s… what?” Jin tipped his head as you paused in your typing.
“They’re putting on a concert in Christmas. As in the town about 1500 miles from here, in the Northeast. We struck a deal with the mayor - he’s letting us put on a show there to promote the album and his little middle-of-nowhere village gets major press for hosting one of the world’s hottest bands.”
You frowned as your thumbs tapped across your screen. “Wait a minute… I think I’ve heard of this town,” you stated, looking up from your notes. “It’s a real tourist trap, isn’t it? They have a Christmas-themed store that’s open year round, and all the mail stamped in the Post Office says “North Pole” on it, that kind of thing, right?”
Jin laughed. You winced, annoyed at his mirth. “Sounds like the setting for a Hallmark movie.”
Sejin nodded, returning to his desk. “Yes, and that’s exactly why we chose it. We really want to lean into the homespun holidays character of the place. The goal is for people to associate Euphoria with Christmas - both the town and the holiday - so that when the album drops, they’ll all buy it. Spread that magical cheer in their own houses with it.” He paused. “Or whatever. You get the idea.”
It was a cynical cash-grab, in other words. Just another day at the office.
“Everything has already been arranged - travel details, lodging, venue, an interview with that dreadful morning show Rise and Shine!, and so on. Irene has done her usual job of making sure everything is squared away down to the final letter.”
“So, what do you need me to do?” Jin asked.
You scowled before correcting him. “What do you need us to do, sir?”
Sejin smiled, but it seemed less comforting and more apologetic. “We need you to go to Christmas with the band. Both of you, together.”
If you’d had a piece of coal in your mouth, you would’ve produced a diamond from grinding your teeth so hard.
You didn’t want to go to this cheesy little town called Christmas, especially this close to the holidays, when the place would be swarming with crowds of sightseers. You didn’t want to have to babysit Euphoria and try to keep them from imploding yet again. But most of all, you absolutely did not want to be stuck in that tiny village supervising the band with Kim Motherfucking Seokjin.
What the hell did you do in a past life to deserve this?
“You’ll be responsible for ensuring that Euphoria makes it to all of their scheduled events. Especially the concert. Look, I’ll be frank.” He removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If they miss the interview or the meet and greet we’ve arranged, it will be unfortunate, but not the end of the world. But they cannot miss this concert! We need this performance to revive their fanbase and boost their album onto the charts. If “Sleigh, What?!” tanks….” he trailed off, looking at you and Jin in turn. “Then Irene won’t be the only one leaving Beyond the Sound.’
Well, fuck. Basically, if you and Jin didn’t pull this off, one or both of you would be fired? Fantastic. Just the cherry on top of this crap sundae.
“No problem, boss,” Jin cooed, shooting Sejin a set of finger guns. You grimaced. How had this guy’s schtick not worn thin by now?
If your boss found Jin as corny as you did, he didn’t let on. Instead, he simply nodded. “I have the utmost faith in both of you to handle this situation. I know everything will run smoothly and according to plan under your supervision.” He glanced at the shiny, undoubtedly expensive watch that adorned his wrist. “Please reach out to Irene for your travel details and itineraries. She’ll have everything you need.”
You rose to your feet. “Thank you, sir.” Spinning, you swiftly stalked towards the door, Jin close on your heels.
“Looks like we’ll be spending Christmas together, Princess,” he drawled as his long legs quickly caught him up until he was walking by your side.
“No, we’ll be working together before Christmas, and how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” you retorted, firing him a dirty look. He just grinned, holding the door open for you to exit your boss’s office. You didn’t bother to thank him, but that didn’t deter him from continuing to walk with you.
Jin had gifted you with that nickname during your very first week at work. One of the managers you were shadowing offered to buy the two of you lunch as a reward for a stressful day of training, handling a temperamental solo act. Fresh out of grad school, you were broke and more than appreciated a free meal. But you were a bit particular about your order and took a long time, and for some reason Jin decided that made you a princess.
So you were a woman who knew what you wanted and weren’t afraid to ask for it. Was that really such a bad thing?
The nickname drove you crazy. You weren’t a princess, some fairytale creature who would only have value in relation to the men in her life - the prince or the king. Fuck that noise. You stood on your own two feet and claimed your own victories.
Yet no matter how many times you asked him to stop, Jin refused to listen. Now, a year later, the pet name persisted, a constant reminder of how aggravating he was.
After a few minutes of walking briskly, trying but failing to shake Jin, you arrived at Irene’s office. Knocking on the door, a quiet voice called for you to enter.
If there were a pecking order at Beyond the Sound, Irene would stand at the top of the pack. She was everything you aspired to be - glamorous, perfectly put together, and fierce as hell. No one fucked with Irene. Not even Jin. He knew she’d rip him to shreds with her signature blood-red stiletto fingernails and not break a sweat. Or a perfectly manicured nail.
You really wished you knew her secrets.
“So, Sejin saddled you two with Euphoria duty, huh?” she inquired, gesturing for you both to take a seat.
“I’d say unfortunately yes, but you’ve been stuck with them for years, so it doesn’t feel right to complain,” you responded.
Irene smiled. “They’re not so bad if you keep them in hand. I advise you to set a firm line with them from the start.” She eyed the two of you carefully. “The guys can be very charming when they want to be. Don’t fall for it.”
She looked directly at you when she said that last statement, and you frowned. Was she suggesting…?
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she keeps it professional,” Jin smirked. “No client/manager relations on my watch.”
“Excuse me, are you questioning my ethics?” you snapped, rounding on your coworker. “I certainly do not need you telling me how to do my job or - or monitoring my interactions with my clients!”
“Of course you don’t, Princess. Forgive me,” he apologized, but his grin belied his words. “But maybe I’ll just keep a sharp watch just in case.”
“I will email you all the info for the trip - flights, lodging, itineraries,” Irene ignored your sniping, as everyone in the office was long accustomed to the two of you squabbling. “Every day has been planned down to the last minute. All you have to do is make sure the band sticks to the schedule.”
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jin trilled, and you fought the urge to gag.
“Thank you, Irene,” you replied graciously. “Your hard work won’t go to waste, I assure you.”
Irene just smiled, a vicious grin that actually sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, truly, I don’t care! By the end of the week, Euphoria will simply be an unpleasant memory for me. They’re your problem now!”
As you left her office, Jin snickered. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really looking forward to this trip even more now.”
You spun to look at him. “You know what I’m looking forward to? Getting the promotion.”
“Oh, you think it’s yours already?”
Stepping closer, you glowered up at him. “I know it is.”
“We’ll just see about that, Princess.” He winked, walking backwards as he headed towards his workspace. “Can’t wait to see you all bundled up for the chilly weather. Bet you look real cute in earmuffs.”
You clenched your fists so hard, your nails nearly drew blood. You couldn’t wait to kick that jerk’s ass. That promotion was yours.
**********
As irritating as the nickname was, it wasn’t Jin calling you Princess that made you hate him.
It was the Nevamind incident.
A few months into your time with Beyond the Sound, the company tapped you to work with a recently signed artist, an up-and-coming rapper who went by the stage name Nevamind. He’d been building buzz online with a series of mix tapes featuring brilliant lyrics and ridiculous beats, and it would be your job to get him ready for his debut album release.
For several days and a few long nights, you threw your every waking moment into creating an action plan for the rapper. You wanted to show your boss that you were ready to handle managing on your own, so you worked your ass off to prepare.
Excited, you showed up to the first meeting with the artist feeling nervous, but ready to share your ideas.
Only to find Jin waiting to meet with Nevamind as well.
“What are you doing here?” you blurted out, staring at your coworker who had risen from his seat at the conference table, expecting the rapper to be the one walking through the door instead of you.
“I’m presenting to Nevamind, obviously. What are you doing here, Princess?” he responded with wide eyes.
“Uh, no, I’m the one doing the pitching! And don’t call me that!”
“Actually, you’re both pitching,” Sejin declared, entering the room behind you.
Apparently, there had been a misunderstanding. You weren’t assigned to help Nevamind, you were being asked to present your ideas to him. Along with Jin. Whomever the artist picked (with your boss’s input, of course) would become his manager.
This mix-up didn’t rattle you. No, if anything, this simply fueled you even more, now that it was literally a contest. Forget your anxiety - you were fired up, determined to win.
Jin sold his idea first. It was hardly a proposal - no slideshow, no binders showing statistics, just a measly single page handout. And him mostly talking off the cuff, flashing that killer smile, even throwing in a wink or two as he promised the moon to the rapper.
You were aghast at your coworker’s breezy attitude. Was that how he worked? Did he really care so little? He wasn’t just unprofessional, he was a total buffoon. It was all you could do not to laugh during the entire meeting, since your boss was also present.
Then it was your turn. Nevamind seemed to agree with the plan you painstakingly laid out with your multimedia presentation - interviews with some huge media outlets, a series of streaming episodes giving a behind-the-scenes look at the album’s completion, and then a major party to celebrate the release. You even got a bit of a flirty vibe from the rapper, but you quickly shut that down, wanting to maintain a firm boundary between work and pleasure. By the time you left, you were more than confident that Nevamind would be your first client.
Instead, a week later, that asshole was announced as the rapper’s manager. All your hard work went down the drain.
How on earth had that guy won? Flabbergasted, you turned to your coworkers for an explanation. Everyone had their theories - Nevamind preferred a male manager, or Jin blackmailed your boss for the job, and so on. The rumor mill churned, but you never got a satisfactory answer, and you stewed in your anger, knowing that your plan was the better choice.
Within a month, Nevamind had terminated his contract with Beyond the Sound. Jin managed to fuck it up somehow, and that just stoked the flames of your wrath.
At a happy hour gathering a week after Nevamind dumped your company, you found Jin sitting alone at the bar, looking slightly rumpled in his designer suit. Sliding onto a stool next to him, you ordered a drink before swiveling to face him.
“So. How’d you fuck it up, Jin?”
He didn’t reply, just shot you a glare.
“I still don’t understand how you even got the assignment in the first place. That proposal of yours was a joke.” Several whiskeys into your night, all the nasty things you’d been thinking about your coworker started to slip from your lips.
He set his gin and tonic on the bar and regarded you carefully. “I got the job because I’m good at what I do. Maybe managing isn’t all about statistics and powerpoint slides. Did you ever consider that?”
“Maybe not, but this job requires a hell of a lot more effort than what you give, Jin. I mean, that’s pretty evident considering your first client fired you within a month. Perhaps next time, you might try actually working?” You swirled your drink with the little stir stick, tapping it against the rim of the glass to emphasize your point.
Again, he leveled a long glance at you, taking his time before answering. “You know what? Believe what you want to. I’m sure you will no matter what I say. That seems to be how you operate.”
“Whatever,” you shot back. Not the most eloquent comeback, but you were too tipsy to care. “Just don’t expect it to happen again. You winning, I mean. That was a fluke. Next time, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“Is that so?” He tossed back the rest of his drink, rising from his seat. “Then bring it on, Princess. Show me what you’ve got.”
“You can’t handle what I’ve got, Jin.” Wait, was that what you’d meant to say? Maybe not, but you were flustered by how close he stood to you, and whatever you’d intended to say had gotten lost in the ether.
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find Jin attractive. Even though he vexed you with everything he said and, well, everything he did, too, you still found yourself distracted by his stunning looks.
Your pulse began to race as he examined you with those dark eyes, wandering slowly over your frame. He towered over you as you peered up at him, and your breath hitched as he bent towards you.
“But I bet you wish I’d try, right?” he whispered, hot breath tickling your ear as he exhaled. You shuddered, and with a smirk he walked away, leaving you sitting alone, head spinning.
From that moment on, he shot to the top of your hit list. Kim Seokjin, enemy number one.
**********
Three days, four nights. That was how long you’d be in Christmas. That was how long you’d have to suffer through this nightmarish work assignment with your nemesis. You could do this.
You chanted those words to yourself as the days flew by after your meeting with Sejin. Over and over again, repeating them until they became your mantra.
But now, sitting on the private jet, on your way to Christmas, you were starting to doubt. Just a little.
Introducing yourself to the band went better than you expected, given all the awful testimonies about the members that your coworkers had told. Each had politely greeted you and bowed.
Good to know they had some manners after all.
In the meantime, Jin strutted onto the plane looking like he’d just walked off the runway in Paris, wearing a gorgeous three-piece navy suit underneath a stunning long red and black plaid coat. The entire ensemble was Louis Vuitton, which you knew only because he wouldn’t stop yapping about how he’d had to show the boutique’s sales person his company ID because she didn’t believe him when he said he wasn’t a model.
Was it possible for a person’s eyes to roll right out of their head? You feared you might find out on this trip.
But seriously, who flew in a suit?
Not that Jin was the only one taking advantage of your travels to purchase a new wardrobe. Flying to the wintry northern half of the country meant you’d bought a few essentials - some cozy sweaters, wool skirts, thick tights and several pairs of boots (both dress and snow). You’d also splurged on a Burberry puffer coat and a pair of Gucci leather gloves, in matching black, to help keep you warm.
The perks of having a company card.
Once the plane took off, you’d intended on using the time to review the week’s itinerary as well as to set some ground rules with the band. But you might as well have tried to fly across the country by flapping your arms. You’d have had a better chance of accomplishing that.
“Guys, can we please focus?” you implored the group for the fifth time. No one responded. Jimin flirted with the flight attendant while Taehyung read an intimidatingly thick book on the history of jazz rock. Jungkook had completely tuned out, a giant pair of VR goggles on his handsome face as he played some game.
Meanwhile, Jin was sitting across from you, doing nothing to disguise his laughter at your struggle to get the band’s attention.
You scowled. “You know, this is important for you, too. Do I need to remind you what is at stake here?”
Jin sighed. “Oh, take a breath, Princess. Let them settle in a bit, then we’ll run through the schedule. They’re literally a captive audience.” He cocked his head, considering. “Although Jungkook is an experienced skydiver, so I wouldn’t put it past him to jump out the door at any moment. Though I hope the lack of parachutes would at least give him pause.”
“Fine.” Leaning back in your seat, you pulled out your phone to scroll through your notes. Jin leaned over to gawk at your screen. “Excuse me! Do you mind?”
“Just curious if you were actually going to relax. Doesn’t appear so,” he replied, flagging down the flight attendant. “Can I get a whiskey, neat? Thank you.”
“Really? Drinking at this time of day?” It was only just past noon when you’d finally taken off.
Jin shrugged. “I fly better when I’m a little tipsy. Plus, if you’re going to be this tightly wound, I’m going to need to be even looser. You’re giving me second-hand anxiety.”
“God forbid you be serious about your job for once,” you muttered under your breath.
The flight attendant brought Jin his drink and he smiled politely before giving you a scrutinizing look. “I’m perfectly serious about this job. I just have my own methods for getting results.” He winked, and you clicked your tongue in disgust. “What I want to know is, do you ever relax? Let your hair down, allow yourself to have a little fun while you’re working?”
“I have plenty of fun,” you sniffed, grabbing the pashmina shawl you’d stuffed into your carry-on and wrapping it around your shoulders. You always froze on flights. “But I don’t let it interfere with my responsibilities. The job comes first.”
“That’s where you and I differ, then. Fun comes first.”
“You mean, you come first,” you rejoined.
Jin smirked, and you realized you’d walked into a trap. “Oh no, it’s only fun for me if others come first. I always make sure of that.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Every time.”
Cursing yourself for setting him up, you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your plush leather seat, hoping he’d take the hint and stop talking. He did, but not before you heard him snickering to himself.
Three days, four nights. The clock was ticking.
**********
The closest airport to your final destination was two hours away, so a chartered bus had been set up to transport you and the band. Most of their equipment and belongings had already been sent ahead of them, so a whole bus wasn’t technically necessary, but you appreciated having a little space.
Because the guys were driving you insane.
Halfway through the five hour flight, you’d awoken to the dulcet tones of Jimin and Taehyung arguing. As usual, Jin was useless, somehow sleeping through the loud curse words pinging around the cabin of the plane. You wondered how many glasses of whiskey it had taken to knock him out like that. Jungkook still had his headset on, but he was now pacing around playing some sort of dueling game that had him pretending to slice everyone in half with a joystick sword.
It turned out to be a fight about nothing - an argument over which movie to watch - but it was enough to give you a slight headache. Which did not bode well considering you were only slightly over two hours into your whole trip. But you stepped in and calmed them down, promising they could both watch whatever they wanted since they weren’t even sharing a screen, and then collapsed into your seat, hoping to rest. Discussing the week’s plans would have to wait until later, when your coworker would be more helpful. Or at least conscious.
On the bus, you took a seat near the front, frowning as Jin slid in beside you.
“Really?” you asked, gesturing wildly. “All these empty seats?”
“Yah, calm down, I just wanted to see if you wanted to go over the schedule now, while everyone’s still awake and quiet.”
That was actually a useful suggestion. Color you shocked.
“I suppose this would be the most opportune time,” you conceded, standing up to gaze at the members who had strewn themselves across seats scattered throughout the bus. Jin followed as you staggered down the aisle towards the band, the swaying of the bus making it difficult to walk a straight line.
“Uh-oh, here come Mom and Dad,” Jimin sniggered, legs dangling over the armrest of his seat. His pink hair hung in his face as yawned widely. “Are we in trouble again?”
Nope. You didn’t care for that one bit.
“I’ll thank you for addressing us both by name, Park,” you declared, and he quirked an eyebrow at your commanding tone, lips twisting into a smirk. His eyes ran up and down your figure as you stared him down.
“Yes, noona,” he purred, arching an eyebrow. Irene’s warning echoed in your ears.
You were going to have to tread carefully with this one.
Jin said nothing, seemingly content to let you run things, surprise surprise. You continued.
“I know you’ve all been given copies of this week’s schedule, one printed and included in your carry-ons and one emailed, but I thought we should run through it just to confirm that we’re all on the same page.”
No one answered. You plowed on.
“Tonight, we just need to settle in. The bed & breakfast we’re staying at has been completely booked by us, so we have the whole house to ourselves. It’s the,” you consulted your notes, “Blitzen Inn. The proprietors have assured us that we will have total privacy there, since it’s fairly out of the way.”
“Wait, we’re staying at a bed & breakfast, noona? Not a hotel?” Taehyung piped up, removing his gigantic headphones, shaking out his silvery-white locks.
“That is correct. Despite the tourist trap nature of this place, it’s a pretty small town, so they don’t have a lot of lodging options.” And most of the hotel rooms had been booked by the fans who would be attending the concert.
“So no room service? No on-call masseuses?” Taehyung pouted. “No free mini bottles of shampoo?”
“You’re a millionaire, Tae, you can buy all the shampoo you want,” Jin commented.
“But I like the little bottles.”
“Anyway. Tomorrow there is an early morning interview with Rise and Shine! You’ll be joined by the mayor for that as well, and the local newspaper will be there, taking photos. We’ll be at the venue for the taping, and then in the afternoon you’ll have time to rehearse. Thursday morning is more rehearsal time and then a fan signing event at Santa’s Workshop, a holiday-themed store that will be the first place to stock your album. And then of course Friday is the concert. Saturday morning, we’re back on the jet and heading home.” You glanced up. “Any questions?”
“Will they have little bottles of shampoo at the bed & breakfast?”
“Does anyone else have any other questions?”
Jungkook raised his hand.
“You don’t have to raise your hand, Jungkook. What’s your question?”
“Noona, how does it work, exactly? Do they serve us breakfast in bed?”
You turned to your coworker, who had stretched his long frame across two seats, cackling as he listened. “Do you want to help me out here?”
Jin sighed, sitting up. “Do you guys have any questions about the schedule? It’s not too packed, but it’s important that we stick to it very carefully.”
Three heads shook no.
“Great! Then just relax for a bit. We should be at the Blitzen Inn in about another ninety minutes or so.” Jin laid back, his tiny bit of effort completed for the day. He’d probably exhausted himself.
Sighing, you trekked back to the front of the bus, taking a window seat and slinging your legs onto the space next to you so as to prevent anyone (Jin) from sitting there.
“I think that went well.”
Apparently, he’d decided to sit right behind you. His face appeared over your shoulder, in the space between the back of your seat and the window.
You snorted. “Of course you do. You didn’t do anything.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Well, you did stay conscious for the whole discussion, so I suppose that’s something.”
His laughter made you grimace. You reminded yourself that you just had to put up with him for a few days. Once that promotion kicked in, hopefully you wouldn’t have to deal with his bullshit again.
You leaned against the window, staring at the scenery as the bus trundled along. It was certainly a different view than what you were used to, living on the west coast. Verdant mountains rolled across the horizon as the sun began to sink from view. Exhausted after a stressful flight, your eyes began to droop as the bus’s rhythmic bouncing lulled you to sleep.
**********
The Blitzen Inn stood at the edge of town. Two rows of tall pine trees lined the winding road leading to the inn. The bus barely fit, but thankfully no other vehicles were approaching from the opposite direction.
Stretching, you took a moment to admire the house as the bus approached. A white two-story colonial with black shutters and a wraparound porch, decorated with hanging garlands and a large green wreath with a big red bow on the front door, it very much looked like something straight out of a holiday movie.
A garden took up one entire side of the house, though it had been turned over for winter. Around the other side of the house stood a large white gazebo, adorned with strands of white Christmas lights. Behind the house was nothing but trees, as the house was nestled against the border of a forest.
Green trees, green grass, green everywhere. How disappointing. The temperatures had been unusually warm in this region for this time of year, according to the weather reports you’d watched religiously in the week prior to leaving home. Having grown up in the land of sand and sun, you were hoping to see some snow on this trip. Just a little would do - enough to turn the land into a sea of white.
Ah, well. This was a business trip, and there was more than enough to focus on besides pining for snow.
The bus gradually rolled to a stop and you disembarked, boots crunching on gravel as you strolled towards the house. Your breath hung in the chilly night air, tiny puffs that dissipated as you walked, and you pulled your coat a little tighter around you. Once again, Jin nipped at your heels.
Two men waited by the door, a platinum blond who wore a blindingly bright smile and a smaller, slighter man with hair black as night who merely blinked languorously as you neared.
“Good evening,” the blond man greeted you, bowing slightly. “You must be Ms. _. Welcome to our home!”
You bowed in return. “Thank you.” You instructed him to call you by your first name. “This is my colleague, Kim Seokjin.”
“Call me Jin,” he said, bowing.
“I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi, and this is my husband Yoongi,” the blond man introduced himself and the dark-haired man, who simply nodded.
You turned to introduce the band, but none of them had reached the porch yet. Jimin and Taehyung were standing in front of the bus, bickering about who would get to stay in the presidential suite (neither aware that the bed and breakfast did not have suites), and Jungkook was sitting in the gazebo, silently gazing up at the lights hanging above.
Huffing out a sigh, you gestured. “That’s Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. They’ll be along in a minute.”
“No rush, they’re welcome to explore the grounds,” Hobi replied with another grin. “Why don’t we help you bring in your bags and then we’ll show you to your rooms? I’m sure after all that traveling, you’re about ready to crash.”
Luggage in hand, Hobi took you on a quick tour. Despite its large size, the interior of the house was incredibly cozy. There were six guest rooms upstairs, each with its own bath. Downstairs, there was a kitchen, dining room, another bathroom, sitting room, and library. The owners had a master suite down a hallway in the back.
You tried not to gawk, but it honestly felt like you were walking through an issue of Architectural Digest. Hardwood floors, wooden ceiling beams, and dark wood accents flowed throughout. All of the rooms downstairs had fireplaces, and the sitting room also included a baby grand piano tucked into the corner. The decor was an intriguing mix of antique and modern, from an exquisitely carved dining room table and chairs to a comfy couch straight out of a Swedish furniture catalog. And Christmas decorations had been stuffed into every available nook and cranny, with more poinsettias, wreaths, and Christmas trees than you’d ever seen in one house.
Walking through the house felt like touring Martha Stewart’s wet dream.
“How do we want to divide up the rooms?” Jin asked as you climbed the stairs.
“I don’t think it really matters, unless someone has a preference,” you responded. You followed Hobi to the end of the hall. “I'll take the first room down here.” Hobi nodded, carrying your bags inside for you.
“Then I’ll take the next,” Jin said. “Unless you’d prefer to share?”
What a stupid question. You stopped to gawk at him. “Why the fuck would I want to do that??”
Hobi returned to the other end of the hallway, where the band members were attempting to determine which room was the largest, despite multiple assurances that they were all the same size.
Jin leaned against the doorway of his room.
“Have you ever vacationed in this part of the country before during the winter?”
“No.”
“Well,” his voice dropped low, “it gets awfully cold out here at night. You might want something to snuggle up to. Keep you warm.”
“And what, you’re offering yourself as an option?”
“If you’d like.”
You’d spent a lot of time working with this man, and most of it glaring at his handsome face in exasperation or disgust. He often gazed back at you with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. And there it was again.
But there was a tiny glimmer of something else, too. Something that made a slow heat crawl along your neck, despite the loathing that flowed through your veins.
Before you could even begin to envision his suggestion, you shut it down.
“That’s what blankets are for, Jin,” you sneered, opening the door to your room and slipping inside before he could reply.
Needing a few moments to yourself, you surveyed your room. A king-sized bed lay in the center of the room, covered in a fluffy stack of pillows and a plush down comforter. In the bathroom, you found a claw-footed tub, shower stall, and pedestal sink, and a soft white robe hung on the back of the door. Fresh white roses arranged in a slim vase greeted you on your nightstand.
The room would’ve been perfect for a relaxing vacation or romantic getaway. Too bad you were stuck on the work assignment from hell.
**********
After freshening up a little, you rejoined the group downstairs. Everyone had gathered at the dining room table, which Yoongi had piled high with snacks - charcuterie boards overflowing with meats and cheeses, plates of crackers and toasted breads, and multiple platters of every Christmas cookie you could think of and even a few you didn’t recognize. You were more exhausted than hungry, so you nibbled on a gingerbread cookie while rehydrating.
“We received your itinerary,” Hobi informed you as he placed another platter of assorted cookies on the table. “Since you’re our only guests this week, we’ve adjusted our meal times to meet your needs.”
“Thank you, that’s wonderful,” you replied. “We appreciate your flexibility.”
“Of course. If there’s anything else we can do for you while you’re here, just let us know. Our home is your home.” He smiled and excused himself to join Yoongi in the kitchen.
The band chattered happily amongst themselves as they gorged on the delicious treats. You scrolled idly through your phone as Jin leaned across the table towards you.
“Care to join me for a nightcap? Hobi gave me a tour of the sitting room while you were upstairs and there’s a decanter of whiskey in there with my name on it.”
You glanced up. “A nightcap? Don’t you think you should get to bed so we can get a good start tomorrow? We have to be at the venue early for the interview.”
“Oh, come on, just one drink. It’s been a long day. Let go a little.” He waved his hand. “You know everything’s all set for tomorrow. But if it’ll ease your mind, we can still discuss the itinerary while we drink.”
Kim Seokjin, focusing on work for once? This you had to see.
“Fine. Just one.”
A pair of gorgeous red velvet couches sat on either side of the ornamental rug in front of the fireplace in the sitting room. Curling up on the corner of one, you tucked your legs underneath you as Jin played bartender with the decanter.
Handing you a tumbler, he lifted his in a toast. “To a successful trip.”
“To my promotion,” you countered with a grin.
“Okay, Princess, let’s just enjoy the drink, shall we?”
You dutifully clinked your glass against his, then brought it to your lips.
The delicious aroma washed over you as you swirled the brown liquor in your glass before taking your first sip. As the liquid coated your tongue, you held it there, savoring for a moment before swallowing.
“Mmm,” Jin hummed, inspecting his glass. “I think I need a bottle of this.” He smacked his lips obnoxiously.
Turning the glass around in your hands, you stared at the gentle sloshing of the liquor. “It’s sweeter than I typically prefer, but still has a bit of bite to it.”
Jin cocked an eyebrow. “You some kind of whiskey connoisseur?”
“Maybe,” you retorted, chin jutting out. “I’ve tasted enough to know what I like.”
Whatever dumb rejoinder was forming on Jin’s lips was interrupted by Mariah Carey.
🎵 All I want for Christmas is yoooooou 🎶
You cocked an eyebrow at his choice of ringtone.
“Tis the season,” he grinned, answering. “Go for Seokjin.”
Fuck, he even answered his phone like a tool.
“Hello, sir,” he suddenly sat bolt upright, glancing at you. “Yes, she’s here. Of course, one moment.” He set the phone between you on the couch.
“Okay, sir.”
“Good evening,” your boss’s voice boomed. “I assume there weren’t any problems with your flight?”
“No, sir,” you replied, frowning. Your boss wasn’t the type to micromanage, and he definitely wasn’t the type to phone just to exchange pleasantries. If he was calling, it meant he was extremely stressed about this album release.
“Good. The band isn’t giving you any trouble?”
“No, sir.”
“No issues with your travel or lodging arrangements?”
“No, sir.” You felt like a broken record, repeating yourself.
“Good, good. And everything is all set for tomorrow’s interview?”
Jin finally jumped in. “Everything is completely taken care of, sir. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I give you my word that by the time you’re awake tomorrow, Euphoria’s Rise and Shine! Interview will be the top trending item on every social media platform.”
Stabbing the mute button on his phone, you turned to your coworker as your boss expressed how pleased he was to hear Jin’s response. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”
He clucked his tongue. “Have some faith, Princess. I know what I’m doing.” He unmuted the phone as Sejin began to wind down. “Thank you for checking in, sir. I really appreciate it. We’ll have Euphoria back in the number one spot by the time we touch down back home on Saturday!”
“Let’s hope so. That promotion is riding on it. For one of you, anyway.” As if you could forget. “Have a good evening.”
“You too, sir!” Jin pocketed his phone as he finished his whiskey.
“Holy shit, Jin, do you always have to kiss so much ass? How the fuck hasn’t Sejin gotten tired of your bullshit yet?”
“Are you jealous? I can kiss your ass too, if you want. Or anywhere else you’d like.” He puckered cartoonishly.
A gagging noise was your response, making him laugh. His stuttering windshield wiper giggle hit you like nails on a chalkboard.
You drained the last drop of your whiskey and stood. “Okay, I’m calling it. Good night, Jin.”
“Good night, Princess. Don’t forget - I’m just a wall away if you need me.”
You just rolled your eyes, dodging as he blew you a kiss. That ridiculous squawk of a giggle followed you up the stairs to your bedroom, where you closed the door with an exhausted sigh.
Saturday couldn’t arrive fast enough.
**********
At five am on the dot, you tossed back the plush blankets on your ridiculously comfy bed and climbed out. Pausing by the window, you glanced out at the forest behind the house. Dawn was still several hours away, so the world outside was cloaked in darkness. Not an early riser by nature, you sighed, shuffling off to shower yourself awake.
To your complete lack of surprise, you were the first to arrive downstairs. Hobi sat at the dining room table, sipping on a mug of coffee, while Yoongi bustled back and forth from the kitchen, arms laden with plates of food - sausages, bacon, home fries, pancakes, basically any breakfast food you could think of, he brought out.
“Good morning,” Hobi beamed.
“Good morning.” Taking a seat, you smiled gratefully at Yoongi as he set a steaming mug of coffee in front of you. “Yoongi, you’ve outdone yourself. This is a veritable feast!”
“That’s my Yoongi,” Hobi cooed, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “Always spoiling everyone.” Yoongi dipped his head in embarrassment, but not before you caught a little gummy smile lighting up his handsome face.
Feet pounded down the stairs, and Jungkook stuck his head into the dining room, purple hair bouncing. “Oh shit, that looks good!” he crowed, grabbing a plate and loading it with food. Jin arrived not long after, and followed suit. Jimin and Taehyung drifted down last, immediately digging into Yoongi’s banquet.
Jin was once again dressed to kill in another crisply tailored suit, this time in charcoal grey, a white tie expertly knotted at his throat. Meanwhile, you had dressed in a chunky oversized sweater and thick wool skirt with your knee-high boots, wanting to look stylish while staying warm at the concert venue.
And then there was the band.
Of the three, Jimin was the most casually dressed, if one could consider wearing a two thousand dollar red satin Saint Laurent jacket to be “casual.” Underneath, he wore a simple white t-shirt, with several long necklaces dangling on his chest, and black jeans. Taehyung appeared to be headed on a dreamy date, dressed in a blousy white top, slightly unbuttoned, with a black boutonniere and a black and white scarf tied loosely around his neck. And Jungkook’s tall frame was adorned in a sheer black top under a leopard print button up, completely unbuttoned, and obscenely tight leather pants.
Not exactly the best outfits for an interview about a holiday-themed album. You made a mental note to look into purchasing some ugly Christmas sweaters for the fan-meeting tomorrow - surely you could find those at Santa’s Workshop, right?
As everyone ate in comfortable silence, you cleared your throat.
“Morning, guys. We need to leave here no later than seven for the meet and greet with the mayor and the Rise and Shine! taping. Remember, this is live tv, and the local paper will be there to take photos as well. So please, no swearing and no rude gestures.” You stared directly at Jungkook, who nodded.
“Got it, Mom,” Jimin chirped as he reached for another stack of pancakes.
“Park.”
“Sorry, noona.”
**********
Despite your months of experience working with the media, and despite the fact that you yourself were not going to be on tv, you were nervous as fuck as the band prepared for their interview. Tiny pinpricks of sweat began to bead on your forehead as you and Jin watched from the wings of the stage.
The venue for the big comeback concert was the town’s small community theatre space, a boxy room with a simple stage and approximately 200 seats in the audience. Beyond the Sound was clearly hoping for an intimate experience for the lucky ticket holders, all of whom were longtime Euphoria fan club members who had been randomly selected in a raffle.
Rise and Shine! had sent a single camera operator and one producer to oversee the remote interview, and they were hustling about, preparing for the live feed. The photographer from the local paper was sitting in the audience, waiting for the mayor to arrive so she could snap a few photos of him with the band. Meanwhile, the band members themselves were helping each other touch up their makeup. So you were left with only Jin to calm your nerves.
Naturally, he wasn't helping.
Instead of focusing on the scene in front of him, or helping you take your mind off of your anxiousness, Jin scrolled through his phone, giving off the appearance of a man who would rather be anywhere else in the world.
Well, honestly, so would you, but you had a fucking job to do, so you were going to make sure it went off without a hitch.
"Shouldn't the mayor be here by now?" you asked, glancing at your watch. In less than fifteen minutes, the irritatingly chipper hosts of the morning program would be streaming through the monitor in front of you as they asked Euphoria some blandly inane questions about their album. The mayor was supposed to participate in the conversation and really help sell the whole folksy angle your company was hoping to achieve.
“I’m sure he’s on his way. Just breathe, Princess.” Scroll, scroll, scroll.
“Stop. Calling. Me. That,” you spat through gritted teeth, as the door at the back of the theater suddenly slammed open.
“I’m here!” a voice yelled. As everyone watched, a tall, beefy man in a beanie and black peacoat dashed down the aisle towards the stage. He tripped over his own feet and you gasped, expecting him to faceplant, but he recovered and kept running.
Hand outstretched, he made a beeline for you and Jin. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” he huffed. “Hi, I’m Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you.”
“Mr. Mayor, it’s lovely to meet you,” You shook his hand. “Thank you for allowing us to hold our concert in your beautiful town!”
Jin snickered softly. If that ass kisser thought you were laying it on too thickly, then you definitely were overdoing it. Fighting the urge to stomp on his big clown feet, you smiled at the mayor as if you hadn’t heard anything.
“Oh, it’s our honor to host you! And please, call me Namjoon,” he smiled, shaking Jin’s hand in turn. “I was sad to hear that I wouldn’t get to meet Irene after all our correspondence. She seemed very… thorough.”
“Yeah, Irene never left anything to chance,” Jin laughed. “I can only imagine the novel-length emails she sent you.”
Another glance at your watch. Ten minutes. The band members had finished their touch-ups and were now… uh…
Where the hell had they gone?!
“Would you please excuse me?” you smiled at Namjoon, shot Jin a look, and left the two men standing there, discussing Irene’s Type A tendencies.
Wandering the backstage area of the theater, you hissed names like a balloon slowly leaking air. “Jimin? Taehyung? Jungkook! Where the hell are you??”
“Relax, noona.”
Stifling a scream, you whirled and found Jimin snickering behind you. “Fuck! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a person?”
“I wasn’t sneaking, you just couldn’t hear me over the sound of your panicking,” he replied drolly. “Come on, they’re back here.”
You followed him into a small dressing room, where Taehyung and Jungkook were digging through racks of costumes.
“What are you -”
“Found one!” Jungkook interrupted you, proudly brandishing a Santa hat. “And look, here’s a pair of reindeer antlers, Jimin.” He tossed a headband at his bandmate.
“Perfect! What about Tae?”
Taehyung turned away from a mirror on the wall, where he had been inspecting his handsome visage. He tucked his long hair back, revealing a pair of elf ears.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys look fantastic - very holiday appropriate! Now, why don’t you go get your mics and get ready for the countdown?”
Santa Jungkook and Elf Taehyung strolled out of the room. But Reindeer Jimin merely shook his head. “You really don’t have to worry about us, noona. We know what to do. How to hit our marks and spout the company lines.”
“I wasn’t worried!” you lied.
“Right. Of course not.” He trailed you back to the stage. “Why would you worry? It’s not like you haven’t heard a million nasty stories about us, right? About how difficult we are, how unprofessional, always needing tons of close handling. Nothing like that?”
You blinked, but didn’t reply, unsure what to say. The last thing you wanted to do was rile him up when they were mere seconds away from a live broadcast.
Jimin laughed derisively. “That’s what I thought.” He waved the producer over, patiently letting her mic him up. “I know what everyone at Beyond the Sound thinks of us, even though most of you never even met us.”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” you fudged, trying to untangle yourself from this situation. “Beyond the Sound has always championed Euphoria. We’re doing everything we can to make sure you guys are taken care of, and to see that your comeback is a success.” You gave him a shaky smile. “We have your best interests at heart.”
“Ha!” he huffed, shaking his head. “Our best interests. If you say so, noona.”
He left you gawking as he joined his bandmates, introducing himself to the mayor. Four stools had been placed on the stage, in front of a simple snowy backdrop and a large fake Christmas tree. As they settled in, the producer waved her arm, indicating the countdown to being live had begun.
“You okay, Princess?” Jin whispered as you clenched and unclenched your fists, silently counting along with the producer.
“Of course,” you sniffed. “Everything’s fine.”
Jimin’s words had rattled you a little, but you weren’t about to tell Jin that.
“They’ve got this. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”
The lights were off in the wings, and in the darkness, you could barely make out Jin’s profile. He looked completely relaxed, as usual.
“Will you stop saying that stupid phrase? It’s completely inane!”
Jin just honk laughed.
The interview went off without a hitch. Jimin was right - Euphoria were seasoned pros, and knew how to handle the press. The only slight hiccup came courtesy of the mayor. As he gestured to the venue space behind him, he nearly smacked Taehyung in the face. Taehyung spun to avoid his arm, which made Jimin guffaw, which led to him falling off his stool.
Could’ve been worse.
**********
After lunch, the road crew showed up to set up for rehearsal. You sat in the audience and flipped through notes on your phone as the band practiced their setlist for the concert. Jin had folded himself into a seat in the row behind you, legs propped up, humming along to the music floating through the theater.
Euphoria’s new album was a mix of holiday standards like “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” and several original songs, including the one they were currently playing, nonsensically named “Claus I Said So!”
“Oh god,” Jin murmured, leaning forward to rest his arms on the back of the seat next to you. “This might be the worst Christmas song in the history of the world. How do they expect this to sell albums?”
You scowled at the sudden nearness of him. “They don’t. They expect us to sell them, remember?” He did have a point, though. The song was truly atrocious, the lyrics some vapid nonsense about how everyone had to do Santa’s bidding or there would be no Christmas this year. But all Santa kept telling everyone to do was to “rock!”
Mentally, you added earplugs to your list of items to bring to the concert.
“I’m honestly surprised they agreed to this album in the first place,” Jin admitted.
You stopped scrolling long enough to turn and look at him. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I understand why they went along with the punk album. They do have legitimate musical talent and it was an opportunity to flex their skills. The screamo album took a lot of persuading from Irene, and I heard even Sejin had to cajole them a bit. But a holiday album?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Never thought they’d agree to it. Especially now that I’m hearing the songs they were given - could you imagine having to sing this crap with a straight face?”
“Jin?”
“Yeah?”
“Literally what the fuck are you talking about?”
Euphoria were chameleons, constantly changing their look and their sound. But that was all them. Always their idea, always their music.
Wasn’t it?
Jin stared at you. “Oh, Princess, tell me you know.”
“I know what?” Your eyes narrowed.
“That Beyond the Sound is responsible for all of Euphoria’s crazy reinventions? The company plans out every album, from concept to songs?” His eyebrows shot up at your silence. “Oh no, you really thought they came up with all that crap?” He gestured at the stage. “Do they look like they want to be performing this tripe?”
The song ended, shifting into another original tune, “Don’t Be Elfish,” as you carefully examined the members on stage. Jimin’s eyes were as lifeless as a doll’s as he crooned into the microphone. Taehyung strummed his bass mindlessly, staring into space. Jungkook looked like an automaton, drumming mechanically.
They all seemed absolutely miserable.
Holy shit, how could you have missed this? All this time, thinking the band was full of chaotic wildlings who jumped from genre to genre on a whim, with no rhyme or reason. Assuming they were monsters that couldn’t be tamed.
And why had you thought these things? Because that’s what your company told you.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
You twisted in your seat to face him. “Why would they agree to this? To any of this?”
“Their contract. Beyond the Sound basically locked them into a terrible deal. Their original manager was… not a good guy.” He pursed his lips. “He made a hell of a lot of money off of them when they signed with Beyond the Sound, then split. Our company uses them as guinea pigs, trying to tap into new markets. The punk rock album got them a bunch of deals, but that last album didn’t net any new clients. Or fans.”
Well, shit. Maybe you needed to stop assuming so much based on what you heard around the office. That place seemed to be overflowing with lies.
Then again, how did you know that Jin wasn’t lying to you right now? Why should you trust him? He’d probably heard all this stuff through the rumor mill, too.
“That is… unfortunate. But at the end of the day, they signed on the dotted line. They agreed to this.” Even as the words left your lips, you doubted them slightly. But if you had to pick between listening to your employer or listening to your maddening coworker, you were choosing Beyond the Sound. “If they want those albums to sell, they’ll suck it up and sing those terrible songs.”
Were you imagining things or did Jin look disappointed with your response?
“Right. It’s all about the bottom line. Good thing you’re here to keep everything under control, Princess.” He leaned back again, out of sight.
But not out of mind, as his words kept tumbling through your head.
“This one’s for you, noona,” Jimin’s voice boomed over the sound system, interrupting your thoughts. You looked up to see him pointing at you, and the band launched into a slinky cover of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” Jimin’s smooth voice poured out of the speakers, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover Jin’s laughter behind you.
“Shut it, Jin!”
**********
The band seemed beat by the time rehearsal ended. The ride back to the Blitzen Inn was quiet. You didn’t mind, because you were still trying to make sense of your conversations with Jimin and Jin.
But everyone perked up once they saw what a feast Yoongi had whipped up for dinner. Large slabs of meat, various types of potatoes and grilled vegetables, and freshly baked breads covered the dining room table. As everyone tucked in, Hobi played the gracious host, a role he was well suited to, asking questions and keeping the conversation rolling.
“So, this is your first time visiting the east coast in winter?” he inquired, pouring you some more wine.
“Mmmhmm. Any time I’ve been here before was during the summer.” You swirled your wine, letting it breathe. “I’m a little disappointed, honestly, that there’s no snow. I’ve never seen any.”
“Never?” Jin interjected, looking surprised. “None at all?”
You shook your head sadly.
“Not even at a ski resort or anything?”
“What exactly aren’t you grasping about never, Jin?”
“Well, I have some good news for you, then,” Hobi cut in with a smile. “They’re predicting we’ll get a little dusting tonight. Not much, but enough to cover the ground, at least.”
“It’s gonna snow?” Jungkook looked up from wolfing down his food. “When?”
“Later tonight. Again, it’s probably not going to amount to much, but at least you’ll get to finally see some,” Hobi said to you.
What a pleasant surprise. None of the weather channels you’d monitored prior to the trip had mentioned anything about snow. You didn’t care if it wasn’t going to amount to much - all you wanted to was to see those precious little snowflakes drifting down, just once. That would be more than enough.
“You know, snowy nights are perfect for cuddling by the fire,” Jimin informed you, sliding his chair closer. “Just picture it - you, me, a bottle of wine. Curled up on the couch, keeping each other warm. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“What is this weird obsession with keeping me ‘warm’? Am I giving off hypothermic vibes?” you scoffed, taking a swig of wine.
Jin cackled as you held out your glass for more wine.
Dessert was yet another delicious extravaganza, this time a grand selection of little cakes. Yoongi truly did spoil his guests. Afterward, Jin retired to his room to “network,” which you assumed meant he was probably going to nap. The band took up residence in the library, crowding around the piano as they discussed some tweaks to the concert setlist. Hobi and Yoongi were in the kitchen cleaning, so you had the sitting room to yourself. You turned on a fluffy holiday movie, a guilty pleasure of yours, letting it play in the background as you answered some work emails.
It wasn’t until halfway through the movie - just as the confused protagonist was about to realize she might have feelings for the antagonizing male lead - that you caught something flickering in the fading evening light outside the window.
Snowflakes.
Quickly setting your work aside, you dashed out into the hallway, grabbing your puffer coat from the rack by the door. Others must’ve noticed the snow as well, judging by the excited shouts you heard behind you as you pulled the front door open.
The world outside was awash in white. Snowflakes tumbled through the air, gently coming to rest on the lawn. You walked through the yard, tempted to spin in circles like the lead of one of those silly holiday movies you loved to hate.
Aw, fuck it.
Arms outstretched, you twirled, giggling to yourself as you tilted your face towards the sky. Opening your mouth, you caught a few flakes, letting them melt away on your tongue.
Eventually, your wandering led you to the gazebo, where you sat on a bench under the Christmas lights, feeling a strange sense of peace. The world was hushed, a serene silence falling over everything. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there when you heard Jin’s voice.
“Oh, I missed it.”
You shifted and saw Jin walking towards the gazebo. He shuffled forward to join you, wrapped in his red plaid coat again, with a navy scarf tied around his neck, a rosy glow on his cheeks as the night air nipped at his face.
“You haven’t missed anything. It’s been snowing for a while.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to see it start. There’s something really magical about those first flakes.”
“Is that so?” Standing, you propped yourself against one of the pillars holding the roof up, and turned your face to the sky to watch the snow, sighing happily. Not even his irksome presence could bother you right now.
He nodded, stepping a little closer. “I grew up in the north, you know. There’s this moment when the cold air gets so crisp, you can almost feel time slowing, like it’s starting to freeze, too. The world stills. And then the clouds themselves begin to fall, bit by bit, fluttering to the ground as tiny snowflakes.”
“Fuck, maybe you should be in PR instead of management. You’re really selling it,” you commented drily.
Jin smiled, huffing a soft laugh. “I’m just trying to explain how beautiful that moment is. I really wanted to experience it again. And I…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“You what?” you prompted him.
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to see the first snow with you. To share it with you, since I know you’ve never experienced it before.”
“Oh.”
You hadn’t realized how close he was standing until you caught his gaze, his eyes shimmering like the delicate flakes that danced around you. His tongue licked nervously at his plump lips as his face angled down towards yours.
He looked so handsome in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, you could almost forget how annoying he was.
Almost.
“Well, that’s just too bad,” you murmured, stepping down from the gazebo onto the path back to the house.
“Did you enjoy it, at least?” he called out as you retreated.
“It was lovely,” you replied over your shoulder, not looking back.
Nearly everyone had drifted outside to admire the snowfall. Hobi and Yoongi cuddled on the porch swing as Jungkook perched on the edge of the steps, attempting to pack what little snow was on the ground into a snowball. You briefly considered bribing him to aim for Jin.
Meanwhile, Jimin leaned in the doorway. “Come watch the snow with me, noona,” he wheedled, batting his eyelashes. “Look.” He pointed to where a little green sprig dangled over the porch swing. “Want to take a turn after our hosts get up?”
You rolled your eyes. “Give it up, Park.”
“Aw, come on, you don’t want to sit under the mistletoe with me?” He pouted. Despite your best efforts, your gaze flitted to his luscious mouth briefly. You knew millions of his fans would die to be in your shoes at that moment.
If only you could switch with any one of them.
“Believe it or not, I don’t.” you remarked, sweeping past him into the house. Over your shoulder, you called out, “Besides, mistletoe is not romantic. It’s a parasite!”
**********
“Don’t worry. He knows you’re not interested,” a deep voice rang out from the library as you passed by.
You wandered into the room to find Taehyung sitting at the baby grand, fingers gently coaxing a soft melody from the keys.
“What did you say?”
“Jimin.” His dark eyes assessed you as you took a seat in a plump armchair near the wall of books. “He knows. He’s just flirting for show.”
“Jimin? The world renowned player?” You frowned. “Flirting is his first language. What do you mean, it’s for ‘show’?”
“He’s acting. Playing the part written for him, to prevent the truth from getting out.”
You were lost. “And that is…?”
“He’s celibate.”
“Shut up!” You popped upright, stunned. “But… all those scandals! What about the flings, the one night stands?
“They never existed.” The key changed, shifting to minor. “All lies, dreamt up by Beyond the Sound, to deflect from the reality of the situation.”
“Why?” Once again, you found yourself struggling to understand. “Why would they fabricate such wild stories? Why hide the fact he’s celibate?”
Taehyung laughed mirthlessly. “To mold him into their desired image. Who wants a lead singer who’s abstinate? Euphoria needs a sexy star for fans to ooh and ahh over.”
Mulling his words, you fell silent, allowing Taehyung’s song to wash over you as you reflected. He was such a gifted pianist, and you mourned all the music he’d never been given the chance to play, being forced to perform Beyond the Sound’s dreck instead.
“Taehyung… when you were working on the punk album… why did you lock yourself in the studio for six days?”
If the sudden change in topic threw him, you wouldn’t know it. He continued to play as he answered. “I never did that. That’s when I flew back to Korea, to be with my family when my father was ill.” He dipped his head, striking the keys hard as the music swelled. “But we couldn’t have that getting out, could we? Wouldn’t exactly look like a tempermental artiste if it turned out that not only did I not write the album, but I spent the time I was supposed to be doing so at my ailing father’s bedside.”
Fuck, was anything you’d ever heard at work even remotely true?
“And what about Jungkook? I remember Irene comparing him to a wild animal, running untamed.”
He gave you a look. “You’ve seen him. He’s not some feral beast. He's… he’s a puppy. Too much energy, sure, but also full of boundless enthusiasm. And sweetness. He’d do anything for any of us, even our hosts if they asked.”
You ruminated for a moment. “Okay, so, basically, everything I know about Euphoria is a lie. But… why are you telling me all of this?” you asked.
He shrugged, fingers gently coaxing out quiet notes as the song began to diminuendo. “If I can be blunt?”
Waving your hand, you granted him permission.
“You don’t strike me as the next Irene. Or Sejin. You still have a soul.” He grinned sadly. “Don’t let Beyond the Sound take that from you.”
You blinked. Well, shit, you had told him he could be blunt.
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten.
“Don’t stay up too late, Taehyung,” you advised as you stood to leave. “Even if we don’t have an early start tomorrow, you should still get some rest.”
“Noted, noona.”
As you crossed the room, he called out your name, and you paused in the doorway.
“Maybe we’re not the only ones who deserve a second look.” His song ended, the last note sustaining as he turned to face you.
Okay, he was getting a little too personal now. But damn if he didn’t have perfect timing. Like a true artist.
With a curt nod, you walked away, heading for the quiet respite of your bed, and the blissful promise of sleep.
**********
Snow. Everywhere you looked, as you stared out the window the next morning. The world was covered in white, shimmering in the cloud-filtered glow of the morning sun.
Bundling up in your robe, still dressed in your silky pajama set, you trudged downstairs and found Jin, Yoongi, and Hobi already gathered in the sitting room, watching the news. All were still in their pajamas as well. Jin was of course wearing a set of Louis Vuitton sleepwear. At this point, you assumed he’d just bought out the entire boutique.
“That’s right, Bob, as you can see here, we’re up to 13 inches and snow is still coming down! Looks like we might get that white Christmas after all!” the orange-hued weatherman yapped as he pointed to the screen behind him.
“Someone needs to lay off the self-tanner,” Jin snarked as Yoongi greeted you with a steaming mug of coffee. You were really going to miss the incredible service here when you returned home.
“Did he say 13 inches?” you inquired, blowing into your beverage.
Hobi nodded. “So far!”
Walking over to the windows, you peered outside. The road leading to the house was nowhere in sight. Yoongi joined you, munching on a biscuit held in one hand, the other clutching his coffee.
“At what time do they plow the road?”
Hobi and Yoongi laughed before they caught your expression.
“Oh, you’re serious?” Hobi blinked.
You frowned. “Sorry, lifelong beachtown resident here. I don’t know how it works when it snows. The city plows the roads, don’t they?” Leaving Yoongi at the window, you plopped down on the couch, grabbing a biscuit from a tray on the coffee table and slathering on some butter.
“Sure, they plow public roads. But we’re on a private road out here. So we’d have to plow it ourselves. And we don’t own anything that could do the job.” Yoongi explained. Almost 24 hours in their house and this was the first time you’d heard Yoongi actually speak.
“Plus, anyone who could do it for us is going to be busy today. And even if we could get the road plowed, the snow hasn’t actually stopped. So if you leave, you might end up snowed in somewhere else.” Hobi continued. “Or worse, you could get into a horrible accident on the slick roads.”
Jin sipped his coffee. “That all sounds terrible. Essentially, you’re saying we’re stuck here.”
“For now, at least,” Hobi stated.
You and Jin exchanged a look. But before you could speak, a loud whoop sounded from upstairs. The two of you rushed to the doorway to see what was happening.
“WOOOOOO! LOOK AT ALL THAT SNOW!”
Jungkook stampeded down the stairs, clad in only a towel. His dark purple hair dripped puddles on the hardwood as he dashed barefoot to the front door, wrenching it open. “I’m gonna make snow angels!” he shouted as he sprinted outside.
“What just happened?” you asked, stunned.
“Am I seeing things or is he only wearing a towel?” Jin asked.
From his post at the window, Yoongi smirked. “Well, he was wearing a towel.”
The speed with which you snapped out of your trance and ran outside was nothing short of superhuman. “Jungkook, naked snow angels aren’t a thing!!”
**********
By midday, the snowfall total was up to 18 inches. And there seemed to be no end in sight.
“I don’t understand,” you groused, still in your robe, still on the couch. “Aren’t these people supposed to be professionals? Don’t they make an entire career out of predicting this stuff? How did they not see this coming??”
Irene had done an incredible amount of legwork for the trip, including compiling initial weather reports and consulting almanacs to determine how close to the holiday the concert could occur without the threat of inclement weather. Once you’d taken over, you’d done the same, making sure to keep updated on any changes that could potentially derail the concert.
Not a single report had said anything about a freaking blizzard.
You mentally added meteorologists to your ever-growing list of enemies. It was practically a novel at this point.
Everyone was now gathered in the sitting room, all staring at the tv in surprise and dismay. Well, you were dismayed. Jungkook was thrilled, Taehyung and Jimin were a strange mix of concerned and excited, and Hobi and Yoongi were indifferent.
And Jin? He was relaxed as always.
“It is what it is,” Jin proclaimed sagely. You stopped glaring at the weatherman long enough to glare at him instead. “What? I’m just saying, we can’t do anything or go anywhere right now. Might as well make the best of it.”
“That’s the idea!” Hobi chirped, nudging his husband. “Yoongs, maybe we can whip up a special snow day dinner for everyone? Something to warm them and lift their spirits at the same time.”
Yoongi tipped his head, contemplating. “Let me see what I have to work with. Maybe some sort of stew? Of course, if we’re having stew, I’ll need to bake some sort of crusty bread to go with it…” He trailed off as he strolled into the kitchen.
“Perfect.” Hobi clapped his hands, rubbing them excitedly. “Until then, we have plenty to keep you entertained! In addition to books, there are puzzles and games in the library. And we have lots of extra winter gear on hand, in case anyone wants to go outside.”
“If anyone needs me, I’ll be napping.” Taehyung announced as he disappeared upstairs.
“You said there are puzzles in the library?” Jimin inquired, drawing a curious look from you. “Some people meditate. I do jigsaws, okay? They’re very calming.” He wandered off in search of his zen.
“Jungkook, have you ever made a snowman?”
Jungkook just looked at Hobi with wide eyes, who giggled and gestured for the drummer to follow him.
“Hey, do you hear that?” Jin cupped his hand behind his ear.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly! Isn’t it wonderful?” Jin grinned. “If this snow gets us out of babysitting for a few hours, then it can’t be that bad, can it?” He stretched and leaned back on the couch, flipping idly through the channels. “I think I’m just going to watch a movie. What about you?”
“Are you serious?” you sputtered incredulously. “What am I going to do? I’m going to do my job! Which is what you should be doing!”
Confusion twisted Jin’s pretty features. “What exactly am I supposed to do? Did you not just have the same conversation as the rest of us? We’re stuck here!”
“Just because our hosts don’t want to hire a plow doesn’t mean we should just give up! I refuse to believe we’re just housebound for the day. There has to be a way to get someone out here to dig us out!”
“The band will be fine if they can’t rehearse today. They’re pros.”
All you could think about was your boss’s threat about Irene not being the only one leaving Beyond the Sound. “Sure, that’s fine, but what about the fan signing event tonight? We need that support!”
Jin frowned, eyebrows drawing in tight. “Come on, you heard what Hobi and Yoongi said. The plows are going to be busy with public roads. And we shouldn’t go out there until the snow stops. Do you really want to spend the night at that Christmas shop if we end up snowed in?”
You threw up your hands. “No, of course not! But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m not built that way.”
“Built what way?”
“Built like you!”
“Yah, what does that mean?” He blinked, sitting up.
“It means that I can’t just take it easy and smile and wink and expect everything to magically fall into place for me!” All the frustration that had been building as the snow fell was starting to bubble to the surface as your voice rose slightly. “If you can’t use your charms to get it done, then it’s not getting done! Meanwhile I work my ass off, because I actually give a damn about my job!”
“Again with the snide comments about me not taking things seriously! Is that really what you think of me?” Jin asked, jumping to his feet. “That I’m some lazy asshole who doesn’t give a shit?”
“Well, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck and shoots finger guns like a fucking lameass duck... ” Springing to your feet, you took a step forward as he stepped back. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think!”
At that moment, Yoongi walked into the room carrying a tray of cookies. Spotting the two of you circling the coffee table in an intense standoff, he smoothly executed a swift one-eighty degree turn, and walked back out of the room.
“Are you kidding me? I’m the only one here who cares!”
Laughing dismissively, you doubled over. “You? YOU? Come the fuck on!”
“Yes, me! Because I am the only one concerned about our clients!”
Red. Your vision literally turned red for a second as your blood boiled. “Excuse me?? How dare you insinuate that I don’t care about them!”
“It’s true!” he nearly shouted, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. “You care about the job, sure - just the numbers! Ratings, views, sales. That’s it! That’s all you give a damn about! Meanwhile, I’m trying to ensure that our clients - the actual living breathing musicians we’re meant to serve, the people - are safe and sound and happy! Look at right now, for example - you really want to send them out there in this?” He waved his hand towards the window. “Why? Just so they can sell a few albums?”
“It’s not just a few albums, it’s also our jobs on the line,” you hissed.
Jin just shook his head. “Not to mention, they’ve told us how miserable they are with Beyond the Sound - don’t look so shocked, I know what they’ve said to you, because they’ve said it to me, too! But all you do is recite the company line to get them to shut up and do whatever is best for the numbers - not what is best for them!”
“Hey!”
A loud voice hollered from upstairs. You and Jin drifted into the hallway to peer up the stairs at Taehyung, who leaned over the railing, looking pissed off in his plaid pajamas.
“Some people are trying to sleep! Either take this outside, or buy me some better ear plugs!”
Neither of you responded, locked in a fierce staring contest.
“Well?” You gestured in Taehyung’s direction. “Your client is not happy, Jin! Shouldn’t you do something about it?”
Jin glared at you. “Just tell me - are you planning on doing your oh-so-important work out of this room today?”
You blinked, confused at the abrupt shift. “Maybe? I haven’t decided yet, why?”
“Because,” he yelled over his shoulder as he stomped up the stairs, “I want to be wherever you are not!” He punctuated his sentence by slamming his bedroom door shut.
Jimin’s head poked out of the library doorway. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Uh-oh, Mom and Dad are fighting. Looks like we’re getting two Christmases this year!”
“Shut it, Park!” you snapped, whirling and stalking back into the sitting room. Sinking onto the couch, you stared at the ceiling, wondering exactly when things had gone from potential nightmare to outright catastrophic disaster.
**********
Despite you doing your best all afternoon to find one, there were no plows anywhere even remotely nearby who could dig you out. Which meant the fan-signing event at Santa’s Workshop had to be cancelled.
By the time dinner ended, you were starting to worry that the concert tomorrow might also suffer the same fate.
And that no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t going to pull off this assignment after all.
A long dram of your hot cocoa did little to settle your nerves, despite the large kick of peppermint schnapps Yoongi had generously added for you. This was your second mug, and you were still too keyed up to feel the effects of the liquor.
“At some point, it will stop snowing, right?” You asked the question half in jest, gazing out the window of the sitting room at the flakes that just kept falling and falling, but the tone of your voice betrayed your anxiety.
For once, you’d gotten your wish. The world outside was indeed a sea of white. Unfortunately, it seemed to be just as boundless as the ocean itself.
“Don’t worry,” Hobi said comfortingly, “it can’t snow forever.” He was lying on one of the velvet couches, still keeping an eye on the weather channel.
Jimin and Yoongi sat on the floor around the coffee table, assembling a jigsaw of a covered bridge together. Jungkook was draped across the other couch, lost in his VR headset again. You could hear Taehyung in the library, tickling the ivories and providing you with rather soothing background music.
Or it would have been soothing were you not wound so tightly that you were about to pop.
Jin had returned to his room as soon as the dishes were cleared from the dinner table. You were fine with that. Let the baby pout. After what he’d said to you, accusing you of only caring about numbers, you hoped you didn’t see his stupid face again for as long as possible.
Yoongi glanced up at his husband, idly flipping a puzzle piece over in his long fingers. “Remember that snowstorm two years ago? Snowed for almost 48 hours straight. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen.” You must’ve looked frightened at the prospect of the snow continuing for another day, because he hastily added, “But I’m sure that won’t be the case today. That was a freak storm, a fluke.”
“You mean, a fluke like an unexpected blizzard?” you squeaked.
Yoongi’s mouth set in a firm line. “This is why I usually don’t talk to our guests.”
Hobi rubbed his husband’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, dear.”
“If the concert’s cancelled, is it really the end of the world?” Jimin mused. “The album will drop no matter what. Our fans know it’s coming.”
You bit your lip, remembering Sejin’s words. “There’s a lot more riding on this than you know, Park,” you muttered under your breath, turning away from the others in the room to stare forlornly out the window.
As you watched the swirling eddies of snow drift past the window, something gnawed at you.
You’d always known Beyond the Sound was a greedy corporation, bent on dominating the charts and keeping the cash flowing in. You weren’t naive. Or at least, you hadn’t thought you were. But how had you missed the way your company was treating its clients? You truly thought they were being taken care of while Beyond the Sound rode their success all the way to the bank.
All the conversations you’d had in the past 24 hours left you unsettled, and had you wondering if you even wanted your promotion anymore. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking of it as already yours. Maybe if the concert got cancelled, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, as Jimin had said… even if you lost your job?
Damn, the schnapps must’ve been kicking in, if you were contemplating unemployment without batting an eye.
With a sigh, you wandered away from the window. It was funny how quickly you’d tired of that unending whiteness outside.
Hobi patted the space on the couch next to him and you took a seat.
“So now what?” you asked. “We just… sit here and keep waiting?”
“Yep.” Hobi ran his fingers through Yoongi’s hair as he leaned against his legs. You averted your gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart panged at the soft sight. It had been so long since someone had stroked your hair like that. “We hunker down and wait for it to pass. Eventually, we’ll have to dig ourselves out, and figure out the plow situation. But until the snow stops, there’s nothing for us to do, but eat, drink, and be merry!” He grinned, his sunny personality not dimmed in the slightest by the stressful situation unfolding around him.
What it must be like to be an optimist. Couldn’t be you.
“We’ll be fine, noona,” Jimin concurred, smiling reassuringly. “As long as the - “
The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. Total, complete blackness, almost smothering you. Your heart leapt into your throat.
“ - power doesn’t go out.”
Yoongi’s voice piped up. “You just had to say something about the power, didn’t you?”
**********
An hour later, the electricity was still out. Candles placed around the sitting room provided weak illumination, shadows flickering as everyone settled in around the fireplace.
Well, everyone minus Jin, who remained in his room. Maybe he was sleeping through the blackout. Maybe he was still being a jerk. Those things weren’t mutually exclusive.
You’d finally shed your bathrobe, replacing it with the down comforter from your bed. Everyone else was similarly bundled in their bedding as you waited to find out what was going on outside.
A hand-cranked radio brought you bad news - the power was out for more than half the state, with no estimates of when it would return. Your hosts had some minor good news, in that they had a gas-powered generator, but it could only run for 12 hours max before it would need refilling. And that would be difficult to do if it kept snowing.
“We should reserve the generator to power the fridge and to keep the water from the well running,” Yoongi explained. “For now, I think it’s best we all hang out downstairs, where the fireplaces can help us stay warm.”
“What about Jin-hyung?” a pile of blankets on the floor asked. A purple-haired head poked out. “Should someone go get him?”
Everyone looked at you.
“Why me?” you bristled. “You all heard that asshole earlier. Fuck, I think the surrounding states heard him announce he doesn’t want to be anywhere near me!”
“Maybe this is a good chance to apologize,” Taehyung intoned, leveling a look in your direction. You shot back a glare, and he suddenly seemed to find the dancing flames in the fireplace very interesting.
Jimin wouldn’t meet your eye, and Jungkook dove back into his blankets. With a frustrated sigh, you arranged your comforter around yourself like a cape, and angrily stalked upstairs.
**********
Armed with a flashlight, courtesy of Hobi, you exhaled loudly before knocking on Jin’s door.
“Jin? Are you awake?”
Silence. He was probably sleeping after all. Well, you tried, so maybe everyone could get off your back.
A muffled voice called out as you turned to leave. “What do you want?”
Just the sound of his voice made your teeth clench. “Everyone’s downstairs waiting for the power to come back. It’s warmer down there, with the fireplaces. You should come down too.”
No response.
“Jin, did you hear me? You shouldn’t stay upstairs right now.” You frowned. “Don’t freeze your ass off because you’re a stubborn - “
The door flew open, and your rant died on your lips as you were met by a very rumpled Jin, who’d clearly just woken up. His normally polished facade was missing. Instead, he looked very soft, eyes blinking sleepily, mouth yawning gently. He still wore his pajama pants, but he’d removed his top.
Your eyes swept over his broad chest and the curve of his biceps as he leaned his arm on the doorframe. He was more well-built than you’d ever imagined, a slight ripple of abs greeting you as you jerked your gaze away before it drifted too far south.
Not that you’d ever imagined him shirtless. Of course not.
Well, maybe when you’d first met, before he’d opened his mouth.
Suddenly incredibly conscious of where you were looking, you stared at his hair. Such majestic fluff, the shiny strands bouncing as he dragged a hand over his face, peering at you questioningly. You longed to run your fingers through it. It probably felt like silk.
Okay, no more schnapps for you.
“Stubborn what?”
You shook your head. “Nevermind. Look, just come down, okay? There’s no estimate on when the power will return, so we’re keeping warm by the fire.”
The gaze that swept over you was cold, appraising. “Nah. I’m fine here.”
Jin tried to close the door, but you stuck your foot in, blocking it. He kept pushing, and you shoved against the door, stumbling through the gap into his room.
“Hey! I’m trying to keep you from dying of hypothermia, you prick!” you snapped, yanking your blanket through the door as it swung shut. You set the flashlight on the floor, aiming it upward so that the room was dimly lit by the beam.
He just huffed out a noisy breath, flopping onto his bed. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not that cold.”
“Not yet, but it will be, the longer we go without the heating on.”
“Oh, now you’re an expert on how exposure works? Great. Let me just settle in for this lecture,” he grumbled, burying his face into his pillow.
You were cursed. That was the only explanation for why you were stuck with this giant manbaby, in an unexpected blizzard, during the most important week of your career.
And you were over it.
Tossing your blanket cape to the floor, you stalked across the room and jumped onto his bed, jostling him violently.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelped, rolling onto his back. You drew yourself up onto your knees, straddling his calves as you glared down at him.
“Clearly, you and I are never going to see eye-to-eye on how we work. That’s fine. We don’t have to be friends. I just need you to stop being a baby and come downstairs because I’m pretty sure I’m not getting that promotion if I return to work without you because you froze to death!”
Jin sat up quickly, knocking you off balance as his face suddenly came within inches of yours. “Yah, that promotion is mine, first of all! And secondly, I’m not going to freeze!”
“Why can’t you just do what I’m asking you to?” you snarled, poking him in the chest.
“Why can’t you just realize that maybe your way isn’t the only way!” he retorted, grabbing your hand.
“You drive me insane!”
His eyes flashed as he tugged on your hand, pulling you closer. “The feeling’s mutual, Princess!”
Before you could shout once again about that irritating nickname, his lips smashed against yours.
Despite the quickly chilling room around you, you were burning up, flames licking at your skin as Jin ran his hands down your back, holding you flush against him as your mouths fought for dominance. Biting, tongues colliding, grunting and sighing into one another.
Fuck, he was an incredible kisser. His plump lips felt like heaven as they tangoed viciously with yours. Why the fuck were you always fighting, when you could be doing this instead?
“I bet you’ve been dreaming about this, Princess,” he murmured, mouth gliding down your neck.
Oh, right, because he was a complete asshat.
“Hardly.” Your teeth found his earlobe and you nibbled sharply, making him gasp. “I’m only doing this so you’ll shut the fuck up for a moment and listen to me.”
He laughed, lips vibrating against your throat, and then it was your turn to gasp as he threw you onto your back, covering your body with his own.
The solid warmth of him did nothing to cool you down as he kissed you urgently. Hands roamed everywhere. Your fingers combed through his messy hair, and you belatedly noted that the strands were in fact as smooth as satin.
Jin’s lips trailed down your chest, over your shirt, and stopped at your waist. “I don’t suppose you’d want to take this off,” he said, jerking on the hem of your top, “considering we might turn into icicles at any second.”
Scowling, you shoved him away. “Shut the fuck up and undress me.” Less talking, more action. You didn’t want to think anymore.
You just wanted to feel.
Jin complied, ridding you of your pajamas in seconds. He let out an appreciative hum when he noticed that you wore nothing underneath, hands immediately flying to your breasts, caressing them. Urging you to lie back down, his mouth closed in until he captured a nipple between his teeth.
For several heavenly minutes, no words were spoken. The only sounds in the room were the wet noises of his mouth as he suckled at your tits, lavishing both with attention, and the sighs of satisfaction that spilled from your lips.
Eventually, you broke the spell. “Jin.”
“Mmm?” he hummed around your nipple. Dark eyes gazed at you, and you clenched at the heat you recognized in them.
It was the same blaze that burned in you.
“As nice as this is, can we move things along?” Your pussy ached terribly, dying for his touch.
He snorted, pulling off your tit with a pop. “You really can’t stop and enjoy yourself for very long, can you? Always down to business.”
You would’ve argued, but as he spoke, his hand sank between your legs, finding and stroking your clit. So instead, all that came out was, “Hnnnnnghhh,” as you bucked against him.
“Maybe I need to help you, huh? Show you how to relax.” He licked a line between your breasts, down your navel, towards where his slender fingers were now sliding through your folds. “Ah, so wet. Good. You’re gonna need to be soaking for me.”
“What does that - ohhhhh.”
One long finger slipped inside, crooking, dragging against your inner wall. Your eyes slipped shut in bliss.
Only to reopen in surprise as his mouth closed around your clit.
If you’d thought his lips felt amazing against your mouth, the sensation of him kissing that tiny bud was out of this world. His finger continued to slide inside you as he licked at your slit.
“More,” you demanded breathily, hands digging into the soft sheets of his bed. He was moving too slowly for your liking - wasn’t he burning up, too?
“Patience, Princess. I have to get you ready,” he insisted, slipping a second finger inside. You tossed your head back at the intrusion.
“What the… oh… the fuck do you mean, get me ready? I’m not a fucking virgin, dumbass.”
In response, Jin removed his hand, making you whimper at the loss. He jumped off of the bed and untied the drawstring on his pajama bottoms, letting them drop to the floor.
Holy fucking shit.
“Holy fucking shit,” you gasped, staring at the biggest cock you’d ever seen. Outside of porn, at least. No wonder he was always so confident, so sure of himself. It was easy to know you could always stand on your own two feet when you a third fucking leg to back you up.
He merely grinned, lazily stroking himself as he watched your reaction. “Like I said. I have to get you ready.”
That was going inside you? Fuck. “Well, then get back here and fucking get to work!”
“As you wish, Princess.” He climbed back onto the bed, once again settling between your legs.
“Jin, enough with the damn nicknaooohhhhh.” Your snipe turned into a moan as his fingers scissored you open. A third finger joined the fray and you were lost in rapture for a moment. Even though the stretch felt unusual, the way Jin pumped his hand made your toes curl.
His other hand splayed on your stomach, holding you in place no matter how much you squirmed. He lowered his head to nibble on your thighs, making you squeak, before his tongue plunged into your core.
“I could do this all night,” he professed, grinning mischievously. His chin was slick with your wetness. The sight was incredibly obscene and incredibly arousing. “Just lie here, tasting you, making you come undone on my fingers. Would you like that?”
“Nnnnnoooo,” you groaned, knowing that the way your body reacted to his touches told a different story.
He laughed, eyes crinkling with delight, fingers never ceasing. “I don’t believe you. As a matter of fact, I think I should do just that. Make you cum again and again. Show you how to enjoy yourself.” He licked his lips. “I know I’m enjoying you, that’s for damn sure.”
Part of you wanted to lie there and make him fulfill his threatened promises. But you could see his massive dick as it slapped against his stomach, and all you wanted was to go for a ride.
“Jin.” Somehow you managed to bite back a moan long enough to speak. “Either get me off right now or fuck me.”
“Again with the orders!” He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Fine. Have it your way, Princess.”
This time, when he pulled his hand away, you didn’t whimper. You full-on wailed.
His shoulders shook with laughter as he rummaged through his suitcase, searching for a condom. “I’m just doing what you told me! See, I’m listening! Isn’t that what you wanted?”
What you wanted was to kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.
He knelt on the bed, making eye contact as he rolled the condom down his impressive length. You shuddered with anticipation, and a little apprehension. Sure, you weren’t a virgin, but none of the men you’d ever been with had been anywhere near as big as Jin.
As if he read your mind, Jin rubbed your thigh soothingly. “We’ll go slow, okay?”
You nodded.
Hovering over you, propped up on one elbow while lining himself up with the other hand, Jin dipped his head to kiss your neck. You tipped your head back, exposing more of your throat, and he took advantage of the slight distraction to slide in.
“Ohhhh.” He didn’t plunge all the way, just enough for you to feel a stretch. He wasn’t just long, he was also girthy, and the combination was intense.
“Okay?” he asked, lips tracing your ear.
“Okay.”
He kept slowly sliding in, checking in with you, until he finally bottomed out. The feeling was unbelievable.
“Still doing all right?”
“I think I can feel you in the back of my throat.”
“And yet somehow, you keep talking.”
“Hey! I - “
He silenced you with a kiss. But it was different than before. Unhurried. As if he had all the time in the world and he intended to use every second.
And then he began to move.
You felt every inch of every stroke with your entire body, nerves alight with overwhelming pleasure. He slowly fucked you, hooking one arm under your thigh and bending it back until your knee pressed into your chest, opening you up even more to him.
He hit you so deep, you saw stars. Literal bursts of light with every thrust. Your nails scraped down his back as you clung to him, nearly out of your mind as you drowned in him. Nuzzling his face in your neck, he murmured how amazing you felt, how fucking tight you were, that you were doing so well, praising you as you writhed beneath him.
“Jin, fuck,” you cried out, fingers digging into his shoulders.
At first, you thought he was huffing for breath, but you quickly realized he was laughing.
“What do you think I’m doing, Princess?”
“Are you seriously cracking stupid jokes right now? Making yourself laugh?!” you grunted as his hips stopped moving while he cackled. “I thought you said it’s only fun for you if others cum first? I’m not fucking cumming yet!”
“Ah, you’re right, you’re not. I guess I should do something about that.”
“No, forget it, I’ll do it myself.” Frustrated, you pushed him away. He retreated to a sitting position, back against the headboard, and you crawled into his lap.
“You wanna ride this big cock?” he cooed.
“Shut the fuck up, Jin.” Obviously, yes, that is what you wanted to do.
“Whatever you want, Princess.” He smirked wickedly, tousled hair falling into his glimmering eyes.
That. Fucking. Name.
Positioning yourself above his large cock, you stared him dead in the eye as you impaled yourself, punctuating your words with every bounce of your hips.
“I fucking told you to stop!” bounce “Calling!” bounce “Me!” bounce “PRINCESS!”
You rode him like a woman possessed, hellbent on chasing your end. He hissed as your hips rolled, and tightened his arms around you.
“What should I call you, then? Hmm?” His lips brushed against your collarbone as he traced his way back to your breasts, tongue swirling circles in your skin as you arched into his hot mouth. “My queen? Sweetheart? Baby?”
A whine escaped your lips, high and needy, at that last word. You clapped a hand over your mouth, as if you could shove it back in, but it was too late. He’d heard.
“Oh, you like that? You want me to call you baby?” He suddenly lurched forward, and you found yourself on your back again. You mewled, and his tongue ran along your neck as he pumped away.
“Okay, baby, you got it.” Over and over, he buried himself deep inside you. His hands knotted in your hair, cradling your head. He kissed you breathless, tongue diving into your mouth and tangling with your own.
He felt so good, but you didn’t want to make love, you wanted him to fuck you and make you cum so hard you forgot your own name, so once again you shoved him away, and then swiftly flipped over, rising onto your hands and knees.
“Enough sweet talk,” you spat, glancing over your shoulder. “Are you going to make me cum or what?” You wiggled your ass.
Jin growled - audibly growled - and wrapped his large hands around your hips as he sank inside you again. You groaned at the change in angle, feeling his dick kiss your cervix, and began to pant as he pounded into you.
“Is this what my baby wants? Just a good, rough fuck?” Teeth sank into your shoulder, and you muffled a scream by pressing your face into a pillow. “Huh?”
You nodded, only to jump in shock as a hand swiftly smacked your ass. “Ah!”
“Use your words, baby,” he commanded. “I know you’re not shy. Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck, yes, give it to me hard,” you moaned.
He grunted, palm slapping your ass again, and you rolled your face to the side, swearing as the tempo of his rutting increased.
“Ah! Ah! Fuck!”
“You look so fucking good, all bent over for me.” Another smack landed on your cheek. “Always knew you would take this cock so well.”
“Stop talking!” you sneered, rubbing your clit furiously. “Just get me off!”
His fingers pinched your nipples and you yelped. “Still giving orders? Do I need to fuck you harder? Hold on, baby.”
There was no way he could possibly pound you any more furiously. And yet. He had you practically bouncing off the bed as he began to grunt harshly. Beyond words, all you could do was choke out strangled sobs as his hips slammed into you mercilessly.
“Is that what you need?”
“Ah! Yes!”
His strong hands flattened against your stomach, pulling you so your back was flush against his chest. He stilled for a moment, and you fought to catch your breath. You were a fucking mess, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you reclined against him, wanting more more more.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” his husky voice rumbled in your ear. “I wanna feel this sweet cunt cum all over me. Are you ready?”
All you could do was moan.
“All right. Help me out.” He slid two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.”
You swirled your tongue over his long digits, keening as he slowly pulled his dick out and plunged back in again, thrusting into you so deeply, your eyes rolled back into your head. He hissed as your teeth grazed the rough skin of his fingers.
His other hand slid towards your throat.
“Want me to?” he whispered into your ear.
You nodded, then remembered how to speak. “Please!”
“If it’s too much, tap three times. Show me,” he rasped.
You tapped his arm once, twice, then a third time. Then you whined as his soaking fingers found your clit, rubbing the sensitive bead frantically.
Jin began to squeeze the sides of your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you dizzy. His grip held you in place as he continued to snap his hips into you, all the while never stopping the way he strummed your clit.
Your head began to spin, from the lack of oxygen combined with the intense pleasure radiating from your core, where Jin’s thick cock and stroking fingers were too much, it was all too much, and you couldn’t take it, you couldn’t -
“Let go,” he ordered you, and his hand fell away from your neck.
You inhaled, blood rushing, eyes closing, legs collapsing as you shattered into a million pieces in Jin’s arms.
White-hot pulses of sheer ecstasy rolled through you as you climaxed with a loud cry. Jin held you up with one arm as he felt your walls tighten around him, and then he was cumming, face buried in your hair as he cursed a filthy string of obscenities.
Jin released his grip on your stomach, and you dropped onto the bed, exhausted, smothering your face into the pillow. He laid on his back next to you, his arm over his eyes as his chest heaved.
“You okay, baby?” A hand reached out, gently stroking your back as you tried to steady your breathing.
Oh fuck, he wasn’t going to want to cuddle now, was he? Your mind began to clear as your high abated, and the reality of what you’d just done hit you hard.
“I hope that was good for you, Jin, because it’s never happening again.” Throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, you tried to slip out, but a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and you found yourself locked in his embrace instead.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where are you running off to, baby?”
You wriggled, trying to break free. How was he so strong? “I’m not running, we’re just done. And stop calling me baby. You don’t have to keep saying that, the moment’s passed.”
Jin spoke, voice a little more subdued than usual. “Right, the moment’s over. Back to business, then?”
He let go, and you rolled away. In no time, you were dressed, wrapping your comforter around yourself again. You grabbed the flashlight, and as the beam shifted, you caught sight of Jin’s face. Something you couldn’t identify shifted across it.
You blinked, and it was gone. The smooth facade was back in place as he looked at you.
“I’ll be down later. The cool air feels good right now.”
It did, but you still wanted to leave.
“Okay. We’ll save you a spot by the fire.”
A vague hum answered you as the door swung shut.
**********
You awake feeling stiff the next morning, curled in a little ball. Stretching, you extended your legs over the edge of your bed, kicking your feet.
“Ouch!”
Oh shit, right, you didn’t sleep in your bed last night.
From your makeshift bed on the couch in the sitting room, you glanced down at where Jimin was sitting, rubbing his head.
“Sorry, Park,” you apologized. Wincing slightly, you sat up. You were very sore, but there was no way to stretch that out.
Jungkook was sprawled on the other couch, with Taehyung splayed on the floor below. Both were snoring lightly. You assumed Yoongi and Hobi were in their bedroom, since it had a fireplace of its own.
And there was Jin, curled up on the floor behind the couch.
You watched him sleep, contemplating. What if you hadn’t run away last night? Would it really have been so bad to wake up in those arms?
“Good morning,” Hobi called out as he entered the room. You put a finger to your mouth, pointing to the men still sleeping. He ducked his head slightly, and beckoned for you to follow him, pantomiming drinking to let you know there was coffee.
Wrapping yourself in your comforter like a human burrito, you wandered into the dining room, Jimin trailing close behind. There were already cinnamon rolls on the table, steaming hot, and mugs waiting for coffee.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but the electricity came back during the night,” Yoongi said, carrying a pot of coffee out of the kitchen.
That explained why you felt so warm in your blanket. The heat was on.
“And in other good news…” Hobi pointed at the window.
“It stopped snowing!” you cheered. You grabbed your mug to peek out the window. The snow was piled so high. There was probably no point in even bothering to ask about a plow coming, but you felt compelled to anyway. “We’re still not going anywhere today, are we?”
Hobi shook his head. “I’m sorry. I hate to say it, but I think you’re going to be stuck here a while longer.”
“So the concert is probably off,” Jimin said, pouring some sugar into his coffee.
You nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“The concert’s off?” Jungkook asked as he stumbled into the room, yawning.
“Yeah. Concert’s off, power’s on, snow’s stopped. Have some coffee,” Jimin replied.
Before long, Taehyung wandered in, hair impressively fluffy from his slumber, and then Jin, once again clad in his full pajama set, taking the seat next to you. Word about the concert rippled around the table as Yoongi set out another ridiculous breakfast.
You tore into a second cinnamon roll, again lamenting that eventually you’d have to leave this place and Yoongi’s amazing meals behind, and were about to ask Hobi how he and Yoongi met when Jin cleared his throat.
“Hey.” He bent towards you, voice hushed. “Can we talk about last night?”
You stared at him, horrified. He wanted to talk about what you’d done, here? At the breakfast table? In front of everyone and your cinnamon roll?
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you whispered, sipping your coffee.
“Really?” Jin shot you a look. “You have no comment about what we did? Not even the way I choked you until you came on my big dick?”
Coffee shot into your nose as you inhaled sharply at his words. Hobi reached over and patted you on the back, trying to help you clear your lungs. You glared at Jin as you recovered.
“Watch what you say!” you hissed. “This isn’t the place or time!” You also wanted to ask if he was incapable of referring to his own dick without commenting on the size, but really didn’t want to be overheard.
“So where and when, then?”
“Nowhere and never!” Tossing your napkin on the table, you abruptly stood. “I’m going to go shower,” you announced to the table, and quickly strode away before Jin could respond, dragging your blanket behind you like a fuzzy tail.
**********
Minutes after you’d retreated to the safety of your room, you lay on your bed, wrapped once again in your comforter. You knew you should shower, but you didn’t want to move. What you wanted, actually, was to become one with the bed. Just transform into a non-sentient pile of fluff and live out the rest of your days without having to think at all.
A knock came at the door. Jin called out your name. “Come on. Let me in.”
“Go away!” you shouted, fuming. “Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want to talk!”
“Fine. Then we won’t talk. Just open up.”
What the fuck did that mean? You opened the door to find him reclining against the doorframe on the other side.
Why was he always leaning over you? Staring down at you with those big brown eyes, those long lashes, that pretty pink mouth.
Fuck.
Yanking him by the collar of his shirt, you pulled him inside your room, slamming the door shut. He reacted lightning fast, spinning you around and pinning you against the door.
You glowered up at him, angry that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Angry at yourself for not wanting him to. Daring him silently to make the first move, because you’d be damned if you would.
He did.
Lips. On your mouth, your cheek, your ear. Like he was marking territory, claiming every inch of skin available. Sliding the neck of your pajama top over so he could kiss your collarbone, your shoulder.
“You don’t want to talk?” he huffed in the crook of your neck. “Fine. I can be quiet.” He lifted his head, lust blazing in his eyes. “But can you?”
His hand suddenly cupped between your legs, grinding his palm against your core. You keened at the friction. “Fuuuuck, Jin!”
“Shhhh,” he murmured, dropping to his knees. “No talking.”
He tugged your pajama bottoms to the ground. His hands roamed over your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart, goosebumps spreading over your skin at his touch.
“Jin,” you moaned, letting him move you as he wished. “I haven’t even showered since… since…”
“Since what?” he inquired, looking up at you. “Since we fucked? Do you want to talk about it?”
No, you didn’t want to. You shook your head.
“All right, then we’re not talking, period. So try to keep it quiet from now on.”
Your first instinct was to snap back, inform him that he of all people was in no position to tell you what to do.
Except, he was actually in the perfect position, kneeling below, gazing up at you with a dark look full of wicked promise.
Fuck, you’d do anything he wanted if he kept looking at you like that.
“Can you do that for me, baby?” One finger slid through your slick folds, grazing your clit. You whimpered, then immediately covered your mouth with your hand. “That’s better. Keep that hand there. Now, no more words,” Jin husked, and then suddenly his mouth was on your cunt.
The sounds his tongue made as he lapped at your wet heat were sinful, especially coupled with the tiny moans that escaped his hot mouth as he worked you over. You bit into your palm, trying your damnedest not to say a word.
But all you wanted to do was sing his praises as he worshipped you with his tongue.
You threaded your fingers through his glossy hair, tugging slightly, and he responded by groaning into your slit. The vibrations sent chills through you, and you repeated the action, pleased at how he moaned again.
One of his large hands wrapped around your ankle and pulled your leg up, letting it rest on his shoulder. You teetered slightly, a small gasp spilling out, but you managed to keep from yelping his name in surprise. His hands slid around to grab your ass, kneading the flesh as he made sure you were secured against him.
You released your palm, rubbing it with your other hand, trying to soothe the teeth marks you’d left in your own skin. His tongue danced over your clit, making your hips buck into his face.
You were doing just fine until he slipped two fingers inside and began to stroke.
“Jinnnnn,” you whined, hips jerking again.
He drew away, mouth and fingers abandoning you, and you looked down at him in horror.
“That sounded like a word,” he tutted, shaking his head. “I thought I told you not to speak?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms, as your leg dropped from his shoulder.
“I - I’m sorry,” you stammered, pussy absolutely throbbing. He wasn’t just going to leave you like this, was he? A half naked mess, literally quivering with need?
Did he want you to beg? You bristled at the thought... but fuck, you wanted to cum on his face more than anything. Who needs dignity when you have a man with a tongue like that?
He sighed. “Maybe I need to keep that mouth busy, huh?”
You nodded vigorously. Whatever it took to get those lips back on you.
He chuckled. “Okay, baby, let me help.” Standing, he slipped his hands down your thighs and lifted you into the air. You wrapped your legs around his waist, again fighting the urge to shout. He pressed you into the door, and covered your mouth with his own.
You felt delirious, humming into his kiss, bucking your hips against his hard cock as it rubbed against your core. How did he feel this good? This was Kim Motherfucking Seokjin! The most annoying man on the face of the planet!
He spun, carrying you to the bed, and set you gently on the edge. Then he stripped off his clothes, slowly, top first, then his pants, giving you an eyeful of his taut muscles and that giant cock again. Fuck, your mouth was practically watering as he stepped up to the bed, and…
...wait…
“Uh, you don’t expect me to fit that whole thing in my mouth, do you?” you yelped, wide-eyed.
“Yah, come on!” Jin stopped his seductive approach and put his hands on his hips. “I’m trying to set a mood here!” He sulkily pulled his pajama pants back on, then flopped onto the bed, sighing dramatically.
Just like that, the moment was over.
“Well, sorry I ruined it,” you muttered, curling your legs under you. “It’s probably for the best, anyway. We don’t need to make any more mistakes.” A tiny feather lay on the bed, having escaped from the comforter, and you fiddled with it as you spoke.
“Is that what last night was to you? A mistake?”
You met his gaze. Fuck, did he have to look at you so earnestly? Where was that cocky expression of his that you loathed so much when you needed it?
“It was… a release. I think we just needed a good hate fuck to get it out of our systems so we can move on and finish the job.” You spun the feather in your hand, snorting. “If there’s even a job left for us at this point.”
“A hate fuck. I see.” Jin muttered softly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. I may or may not answer, but you can definitely ask.”
He frowned. “When did you start hating me?”
You tilted your head. “Jin, I - “
“Is it because I call you Princess?”
Snorting, you made a face. “No, but that certainly doesn’t help.”
“Then it must be Nevamind. Right?”
Just hearing the name made you grit your teeth. You could deny it, but why bother? The truth wouldn’t be any more revealing than all the things you’d done last night. “Yeah, I was pissed when you got that job. But I’m over it now,” you lied.
“Do you want to know what really happened?”
“I know what happened. You charmed your way into the job.”
“Nevamind choose you.”
Your head snapped up. “What? Then why… how…?”
“Sejin came to see me after their meeting. He said Nevamind had picked you. But he also made some rather specific comments about how exactly he wanted your partnership to happen.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Comments like…”
“Like the exact positions he wanted you to, uh, work in. The jobs he wanted you to give. Do you understand what - “
“Yes, Jin, he wanted to fuck me, I get it!”
“Sejin said he was overruling the guy’s decision and assigning him to me. That’s why I got the job. Because there was no danger of him hitting on me.”
You leaned back against the headboard, contemplating his words. Obviously you’d always known that the job should have been yours, so finding out that it actually had been yours, for a whole five minutes, wasn’t as much of a shock as it could’ve been. But your anger flared at having been treated like you couldn’t handle the situation yourself.
Jin fluffed up your pile of pillows, lying on his side as he watched you digest everything.
“Was Sejin worried that Nevamind would attack me? Or did he think that I would sleep with a client?”
Jin laughed, a tired sound devoid of any joy. Or honking. “Neither. He was afraid of a lawsuit.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. He thought that if either scenario went down, one or both of you would end up suing the company, and he wanted to avoid that completely. He wasn’t worried about you - he just didn’t want you to get litigious.” He bitterly spat out the last sentence, as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth. “He said that me being Nevamind’s manager was less of a “statistical risk” to Beyond the Sound than you.”
What. The. Fuck.
You’d given your everything to Beyond the Sound in the last year, sacrificing your time, energy, and even personal relationships, all to make yourself the ideal employee and show your devotion to the company. Meanwhile, Sejin considered you a “statistical risk”? Holy shit, you were literally just a number to them.
Just like Euphoria.
Jin went on. “When Sejin told me all this, I realized nothing we do really matters to the company as long as we don’t hurt their bottom line. There was no reason to do anything other than bide my time, make some money, and build up my contacts, so that one day I can walk out of there and start my own management firm.”
“You want to open your own firm?” That was surprising. He’d never struck you as the type to have such big dreams.
“Yeah. Someday.” He pursed his lips, looking angry. “I should’ve done more. Should’ve told Sejin to shove it, that he had no right to treat his employees this way. To treat you like you were a liability instead of a person. That’s why I try so hard to make sure our clients are treated well, at least. That’s the one area where I do give a fuck.”
You believed him.
And you weren’t sure you could blame him for taking the job with Nevamind. Wouldn’t you have done the same in his shoes?
Of course you would’ve. Because you would’ve done anything to win. Even if the trophy turned out to be made of fool’s gold in the end.
Your head spun, mind reeling from everything he said. Absorbing all this info left you feeling drained. Completely defeated. You slid down the pillows, rolling onto your side to face Jin, but closed your eyes as you sighed despondently.
Gentle fingers glided lightly over your hair. You peeked through your lashes at Jin, who was watching you with concern.
“Sorry,” he muttered, lowering his hand, but you quickly grabbed it.
“Please don’t stop,” you quietly pleaded.
Instead, he pulled you into his arms.
Vulnerability wasn’t really your thing. A lifetime of fighting for what you wanted taught you to keep your guard up at all times. But lying there, your head on his broad chest, feeling so safe and warm, you felt your defenses start to slip. Jin began to stroke your hair again, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed at the tenderness, begrudgingly acknowledging that it was… nice.
Really nice. You could get used to it.
“Still hate me?”
His pecs muffled the sound of your laughter. “Not as much as before.”
He snorted. “I appreciate your honesty.”
Lifting your head, you frowned. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about any of this?”
“Would you have listened?”
He had you there. “I mean, maybe not at first, but eventually. Probably. I think.”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, the reason they picked me over you is because they knew Nevamind wouldn’t try to sleep with me’?”
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” You paused. “But also, if he didn’t want to fuck you, that was definitely his loss.”
Jin stared at you. “Are you cracking jokes? In the middle of my serious confession?”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” you quipped, grinning as he suddenly lunged at you, capturing your mouth with his. Too soon, he drew back, and you actually whimpered, making him smirk and kiss you again. But eventually, you needed air, and parted. “Do you still hate me?”
“Never did.” He traced a finger along your cheek. “I’ve always had a thing for you.”
“Oh yeah?” You propped your chin on his chest.
“Uh-huh. What’s not to like? You’re sexy, smart, confident, and a killer manager even if you get a little too focused on your work sometimes…” he trailed off, squeaky laughter filling the room as you shot him a nasty look. “I thought you knew, honestly.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe because I’ve been flirting with you for a whole year?”
“Wait, that was flirting?!”
It was his turn to glare as you giggled. He nipped at your bottom lip in retaliation, and you yelped. More making out ensued, to your utter delight, before he rolled you onto your side with a sigh.
“I bet they’ll have our desks packed up and cleared out by the time we return to the office, since we’ll no longer be employed by the time we get there.”
Ah, fuck, right. Since the concert wasn’t happening, Sejin was likely to follow through on his threat of termination. More than likely. He’d basically told the both of you that you’d be out on your asses if the album tanked, and with all the canceled events this week, you didn’t have high hopes that it’d do well.
“Fuck, this sucks,” you swore. “We’ll be unemployed and the poor band will have another flop on their hands. Beyond the Sound will probably punish them for that with another terrible genre mash-up for the next album, like polka rap or something.” You shuddered at the thought. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have pulled it off. Even though you would’ve lost that promotion to me.”
Jin’s eyes bugged out. “How many times do I have to tell you, that promotion w- “
You cut him off with a kiss, laughing against his mouth as he wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you close again. A few minutes later, you pushed him away as he blinked in surprise.
“Why are you pushing - “
“Shhhh!” You flapped your hand, shushing him, lost in thought. “I have an idea.”
**********
“Is everything all set up?” you asked Jungkook as he dashed past you.
He halted, nodding. “Yeah, we’re almost ready.” He tugged at the collar of his sweater, an eyesore of a Christmas tree with shimmering LED lights and the words “Let’s Get Lit” embroidered across his chest.
“Fantastic. Is there anything you guys need from me?”
“Not at the moment, noona, thanks.” With a nod, he continued on his path, as Hobi exited the library.
“How’s it going in there?” you asked.
“Great! It’s coming along. Yoongi is going to bring us some snacks while we enjoy the show.” As Hobi spoke, Yoongi hustled by, carrying a tray loaded with cookies. You snagged a sugar cookie as he passed.
“Hobi, I’m really going to miss it here. The service is top notch. And these ugly sweaters are incredible! You have quite the collection,” you raved.
If you were a weaker woman, you would’ve wilted under the look Hobi shot you. “You think these atrocities are mine? Oh no no no. They all belong to Yoongi.”
Your eyes widened in glee. “Oh, that’s even better.”
Jin came bouncing down the stairs, a happy smile on his face. You couldn’t help but grin back, for a second, before you composed yourself. He stopped short at the bottom of the staircase, staring at you as your host wandered off.
“What the hell?” Jin pouted. “I’m offended, you look great in this ugly Christmas sweater. This is a scam.”
“Oh, because only you’re allowed to look great in one?” He was, indeed, pulling off the ridiculous “Resting Grinch Face” sweater he wore, despite the blindingly bright green and red colors - but he was Kim Motherfucking Seokjin, after all. It was a little snug on him, given that he was taller and broader than Yoongi, but if anything that just made him even hotter.
Neither of you had to wear the ugly sweaters you’d borrowed from your hosts, but you’d decided to do so out of solidarity for the band members. And also maybe you were kinda getting into the spirit of things. Just a little.
“No one is supposed to look good in these! That’s the whole point, they’re ugly!” He paused. “But you think I look good?”
“Fuck off, you know you’re handsome and look amazing even in the dumbest of sweaters.”
He grinned. “Okay, you’ve got me there. It’s impressive how sexy you make that hideous thing look.” He reached out and honked the fuzzy moose nose that jutted out of your sweater, which bore the words ‘Merry Christmoose!’
How were you supposed to act like a professional when Jin was making you giggle like a fool? All you wanted to do was pull him into a darkened corner and kiss him senseless.
But you had work to do. So you settled for gifting him a tiny peck on the cheek.
He held his hand to where your lips had landed. “Careful!” he gasped, sounding scandalized. “Someone might have seen that.”
You rolled your eyes. “ Okay, I’m already regretting this.”
“This what?” He followed you down the hall. “This, like you and me? Are we a thing?”
“The more you talk, the less we are,” you sang, unable to hide the laughter in your voice.
Before you crossed into the library, Jin grabbed your arm, spinning you around and into his embrace, stealing your breath away with his lips. You let yourself melt for a second, two, ten, before breaking away.
“Ahem.”
To your surprise, Yoongi was standing in the hallway, a wide grin on his face. “I just wanted to know if you’d like some peppermint schnapps in your hot cocoa again?”
So much for keeping things secret. Not that it really mattered, considering Yoongi wasn’t much of a talker. But you didn’t want to answer questions or have to put labels on whatever you and Jin were. Right now, all you wanted to do was see your idea through. Anything else could wait.
And yet it made you happy to think that maybe there could be something. Ugh, you were getting so soft, so fast. Better keep an eye on that.
“That’d be great, thanks,” Jin replied smoothly, hands still on your hips.
“Sure,” you croaked out. You didn’t normally drink while working, but fuck it. Tis the season, after all.
In the library, Taehyung sat at the piano while Jimin perched on a stool in front of the baby grand, tuning an acoustic guitar. Thankfully, Yoongi had a guitar on hand that Jimin could borrow.
Meanwhile, Jungkook played around with an electronic drum kit that he’d brought with him, fine tuning the settings. Jin and Hobi were futzing with the tripod, searching for the perfect spot to set up the camera.
Because damn it, the show must go on.
Sure, the in-person concert had to be cancelled. But that didn’t mean Euphoria couldn’t perform. All they needed were a few instruments and a camera to livestream it all.
Unfortunately, the tech crew who were supposed to stream the concert at the venue were also snowed in at their hotel, but a simple phone would do for the stripped-down concert you were imagining.
(As long as the Blitzen Inn’s internet didn’t conk out in the middle of streaming.)
This wasn’t about your job anymore. Fuck Beyond the Sound. This was about Euphoria, and letting the band show that they didn’t need weird gimmicks or wild concepts to sell albums - all they needed was the chance to shine. Just the three of them and a (mostly) acoustic set of holiday classics. The band was thrilled with your idea, and it made you happy to see them so happy.
Ugh. You were turning into a marshmallow.
The ugly Christmas sweaters had been Hobi’s suggestion, after you’d offhandedly mentioned that you hadn’t had the chance to buy them a proper holiday concert wardrobe. Jimin’s gingerbread man sweater read “I’m Baked” above the cookie’s visage, while Taehyung’s “Prosecc-ho-ho-ho” with a tipsy Santa Claus looked surprisingly chic - something you ascribed to the wearer and not the sweater itself.
The other furniture in the room had been pushed back so only the band and the fireplace would be in the shot. You stood behind the couch, watching Hobi adjust the phone being used for the recording. “Hobi, you don’t mind manning the camera for this?”
“You mean, do I mind turning the video on and clicking “record”? No, I don’t mind at all,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just happy to help! This is such a wonderful idea - a cozy little concert experience.”
“Yeah, we came up with a great plan, huh?” Jin piped up, sneaking up on your side. You felt the ghost of a hand brush down your back and fought to keep your face straight.
“What is this ‘we’? This was my idea!” you retorted, but failed to keep from smiling as you said it. Yoongi brought you both a mug of cocoa, then sank onto the couch for a front row seat.
“It’s about time,” Jin glanced at his watch. “You guys ready?”
“Let’s get it!” Jungkook chirped.
The fireplace crackled in the background as Hobi cued Jimin. The lead singer smiled at the camera, greeting the audience. “Good evening and happy holidays! Euphoria had to cancel our concert, thanks to a little snow. But we didn’t want to let all our fans down. We hope you don’t mind that it’s just the three of us tonight, and some of our favorite songs. Grab your cocoa, settle around the fireplace, and celebrate with us, as we bring you a little holiday cheer.”
He strummed his guitar, launching into a gorgeous rendition of “Winter Wonderland.” As the music swelled, Hobi and Yoongi relaxed on the couch, hand in hand. Humming along quietly, careful not to end up on the recording, you felt Jin’s hand gently wrap around your waist. Leaning against his side, feeling content, you decided to let go of your worries and enjoy the moment - the beautiful music, the cheerful atmosphere, and the gorgeous man by your side.
Jin dipped his head, mouth brushing your ear as he murmured, “You pulled it off, baby. Congrats.”
“I did, didn’t I?” you whispered, peering up at him, smirking. “I guess you deserve some credit, too. Why don’t you claim… 25%?”
“So generous,” he smiled, bending to sweep his lips against yours. “I’ll be sure to thank you when I get that promotion.”
His kiss silenced your protests as the band played on.
**********
ONE YEAR LATER
“Your eleven am appointment is here, ma’am,” your assistant’s voice filtered through the speaker as she buzzed you.
“Thank you, Seulgi. Go ahead and get them settled in the conference room and I’ll be right in.”
You stood and began gathering everything you would need for your meeting, just as Jin entered your office without knocking.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, but how many times do I have to tell you to knock?” You frowned.
He grinned, crossing the room to tower over you. “Why, what might I see? You in a compromising situation with the boss?” His hand stroked your hip as he stepped closer. “Oh wait, that’s me.”
“We’re partners. Stop trying to get me to call you my boss.”
After the success of the livestream, Euphoria’s holiday album shot straight to the top of the charts. You’d ended up having to stay an extra day in Christmas, until everything was plowed and it was safe to travel again. When you finally returned to your office, Sejin welcomed you and Jin with open arms, thrilled at how you’d helped shepherd Euphoria back to the number one spot. He’d then offered the promotion to you, stating he’d heard that the livestream had been your brilliant idea.
And you had promptly turned him down, putting in your two week notice.
Jin also quit, and together you established your own management firm, Worldwide Sound. Normally, making such a big leap would’ve taken a lot more time and effort, but you had an ace up your sleeves, signing a major band on your first day of business - Euphoria. Thanks to a savvy lawyer contact of Jin’s, the band got out of their horrific contract with Beyond the Sound and happily joined your firm as your first clients.
As much as the old you would’ve hated to admit it, you and Jin made a pretty great team. With your business expertise and his interpersonal skills, you were making a name for yourselves in the industry, all while making sure your clients knew that they were your number one priority.
Jin delicately removed all your belongings from your grasp, setting them back on your desk as he slid his arms around you. “You didn’t have any problems calling me ‘boss’ last night,” he purred as he tilted his mouth to slot against yours.
You allowed him to kiss you for exactly five seconds before you pushed him away lightly. “Okay, first of all, role playing does not count, and secondly, what happened to us not discussing our private life at work?” But there was no anger behind your words, just an unceasing fondness for your boyfriend as he gazed at you with a soft smile.
“You’re right, you’re right. Oh, but I did finalize our travel plans for Christmas, so we’re all set for this weekend.”
“Oh, good! I can’t wait to see Hobi and Yoongi again.” What better place to celebrate nearly a year of bliss with your boyfriend than at the little bed and breakfast that brought you together?
“Me too. Now come on, back to business, baby.”
You gave him a look.
“Sorry. Partner.” He held the door open for you, but you paused in the doorway to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“That’s better. But if you play your cards right and help me sign this deal,” you murmured, “tonight you can call me boss.”
i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (22)
jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: college au
warnings: there is a timejump!!
words: 5.2k
chapter twenty-two (final)
You had just left your house, already running late, when your phone lit up with an incoming call from Inna. Smiling with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you answered the phone. You already knew what she was going to say.
“Are you there yet?” you spoke into the phone, pressing it against your head with your shoulder while you put gloves on. It was chilly today.
“I’m by the entrance to the restaurant,” Inna replied, her voice manic. “I’m still in my car. I can’t leave. You might have to come and drag me in there by my hair.”
“Breathe,” you said, picking up your phone with a gloved hand before you looked around the empty street so you could safely cross it. “You can do this. It’s just dinner.”
“It’s dinner with his parents,” she shot back, still just as panicked. “I know you’ve known Jungkook’s parents as long as you’ve known your own, but it’s different for me. These people don’t know me. What if they hate me?”
You heard a beep on the line that indicated a new text message and pulled your phone back to check. It was Jungkook, sending you an exceeding amount of question marks and exclamation points; he had clearly noticed your absence.
okay, wow, i don’t even know where to start with this one 😭 i stumbled upon it on accident and decided to give the first chapter a go, though i didn’t realize at the time how long the fic itself was. in the end, the length didn’t matter, because i was so rapidly sucked in that i didn’t realize i was strapped into the ride until it was too late. but do i regret binging this in my free time over the past few days? absolutely not lmao i loved it!!
f2l is one of my absolute favorite tropes, along with fake dating and college aus. you had the exact perfect setup for my interest to pique, but it’s not which tropes are used that matter–it’s how they’re executed. and in terms of execution, i really feel you knocked it out of the park 😩😭 this fic was so heartfelt and raw that i felt like i was in the emotional trenches with jungkook and oc ☠️ i really enjoyed them both and the way that they effortlessly played off each other (did i binge read this until 1am and then wake up the next day with a massive crush on jungkook? no one can prove it 😌🙃😂).
but obviously this fic isn’t all hearts and sparkles and rainbows. there was a lot of understandable hurt between them, and their hurt and anger played out in interesting ways. jungkook is such a juxtaposition of a character–a super soft dreamboat who is also simultaneously a tortured knucklehead who made me want to tear my hair out 😂 oc is super smart and i really enjoyed how she mostly held her own against the unpredictable tempest that was our male lead, but it was clear at multiple points of the story that jungkook is her weak spot, and there were times when i was ready to strangle her too.
not gonna spoil the plot for anyone else, but i will say that though they both frustrated me–at different times and for different reasons–i really enjoyed how self-reflective they both were. they were characters who had human reactions. they didn’t always think or act rationally in the heat of the moment, but they both were always able to take a step back and assess the damage they had done later, so they could work towards bettering themselves for the future. this was, at times, maddening to be a spectator to, but honestly, it just made them both feel more real and relatable to me, and made me more invested in them and their success.
thank you for writing such a thoughtful, engrossing piece! 💜
pairing. bass player!jk x reader
genre. fluff, smut
word count. final wc est. 14k
warnings. none for the teaser but jungkook pulls a miley stewart on oc lol
summary. you would have never expected your shy, innocent art partner to be the man on stage covered in tattoos
note. the teaser is a small snippet in between the story hehe. let me refer you to this post of mine that birthed this hannah montana/double life jungkook. he is sweet and lowkey filthy and i love him sm & hope u will too <3 (also i had like 15k written of this and totally scrapped it and changed it entirely so….pour one out for me thanks) also i think with this fic, i’ve officially made a band!au fic for jungkook in every position/instrument lmaoooo this will be posted next week (or i might impulse post it randomly before who fkin knows)
; Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook is the best water magic user of his generation, so it made sense that he was given the prestigious posting as a royal bodyguard. His position puts him close to you, the Crown Princess of Sejong and the only ice magic user in history. Jungkook is great at protecting you from danger, but not so much at protecting his own heart.
; A/N: Who knows what this drabble is? Just randomly thought it up and threw it together lol
kim seokjin x reader // angst, smut // 8,983 words
notes; fuckboy! taehyung makes the briefest of appearances, jin gets hurt, but also doesn’t explain why so oc is just clueless, miscommunication, i would say jealous! jin, but I don’t want to trivialise his feelings like that, anger, arguments, but then fluff when they make up, sex warnings; fingering, vaginal sex, seokjin takes oc to pound town, cum
⤑ imagery for seokjin in the last couple of scenes can be found here 🥺
a/n; at this point these are just mini fics LMAO hope you enjoy 😬💕
summary:
the pros of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: cheap, furnished, close to campus, in a gorgeous old victorian conversion home, and right next to the greek takeout place.
the cons of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: min yoongi, senior member of the beta tau sigma fraternity, and his party-throwing, vodka-loving, ruckus-making fraternity buddies, are your neighbors.
{college!au, frat boy!au, neighbor!au, enemies to lovers!au}
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: fluff, comedy
est. word count: 13k
warnings: alcohol consumption, frat parties, misunderstandings as a plot device, idiots being idiots, frat boys being frat boys, hawaiian pizza slander, yoongi says things that could be construed as sexist but they actually are not i promise you just need to read the fic ;-;
a/n: here it is!!!! a very happy 4 years to gukyi.tumblr.com, and an even happier 8 years to the men who made it all possible, bangtan themselves! i hope you enjoy this frat party of a fic: loud, chaotic, and filled with college boys. much love to you all, always and forever <3 guyi
The first time you meet Min Yoongi you are hunched over the kitchen sink of the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity house, throwing up vodka and Sprite like it’s nobody’s business. Except it apparently is someone’s business, because from behind you, over the booming rap music and the thumping bass emanating from the speakers, you hear a voice.
summary: is the rice cake the reason you’re choking right now or that hot waiter who can’t get his eyes off of you?
rating: 18+
genre: PWP? (idk), smut, strangers to lovers, restaurant!au
word count: 4.2k
warnings: explicit sexual content, sexual tension, teasing (what’s new), jealousy, dom/sub undertones, marking (hickies), breath play, quickie rough sex, wall sex, public sex (exhibitionism), protected sex (dang he prepared and you should be too), inappropriate acts in a workplace lmao, hints of possessive JK (sowoozoo) that is a little shit that’s why reader is one too, also Taehyung appears here (more than just appearing actually 😜) <3
a/n: The result of me and @jeon4eva’s thirst for this damn waiter during our dinner last Sunday (lord pls forgive me), lmao bye we’re this deprived. Thank you to my gorgeous fellow Kook stan @balenciaguks for this sexy banner and to @chateautae for convincing me to use the title for this since i lowkey hesitated 🥺.
Also let’s pretend there’s no COVID in this fic for convenience but please wear mask irl even if you’re fully vaccinated.
― masterlist — navigation
“Too spicy?” you can hear the teasing lilt in his voice and you see his pierced brow rise.
“Nah, it’s alright"
"Want me to switch it?” he insists with a smirk, and you see a glint in his eyes now that you’re looking straight at them.
“I can handle” you whisper as you smile, returning his intense stare with a confident one.
Please do not repost or copy my works onto any platforms.
f = fluff
a = angst
s = smut (do not interact with if under 18.)
➤ one-shots
between the shelves / librarian!seokjin - f, s
It wasn’t every day that a pretty girl walks into the Metropolitan Library, looks through the entirety of the non-fiction shelves, and then somehow checks out a plethora of erotica disguised as cheesy romance novels. And it certainly wasn’t every day that Seokjin attempts to stir up flirtatious conversation with said pretty girl as she checks out her peculiar taste in books. But in his defense, curiosity is in his nature, so he really can’t help that his thoughts only become more provoked when you continue to return.
⤏ coming soon
something in the rain / exes-to-lovers - f, a, s
When your ex-boyfriend of four years makes an unexpected return to the place where he left you, it takes all that you have to successfully avoid him and stay hidden from his hypnotic gaze. But unfortunately for you, Hoseok and him have the opposite idea.
⤏ coming soon
➤ series
in progress…
➤ one-shots
cuffing season / fake dating!au - f, s
Seokjin’s wedding is around the corner and Yoongi still hasn’t found a date.
He somehow has successfully avoided any interrogations regarding his mysterious plus one, so far, but if there’s anything he knows about Jin’s fiance it’s that she won’t rest until she has every meticulous detail of the ceremony sorted. When he sees you laughing with Hoseok at one of Taehyung’s infamous house parties, it was like a thousand light bulbs flickered to life in his head, illuminating every crevice of his brain.
You were the final step in his master charade, and now all he had to do was convince you that you were the perfect person to play the part that he so desperately needed to cast.
⤏ coming soon
➤ series
in progress…
➤ one-shots
sunshine ahead / news anchor!au - f, s
It isn’t very often that Jung Hoseok drunkenly confesses his love for one of his co-hosts – in fact, he’s never done that until you take him back to your apartment to pee after a heavy night of drinking. Things aren’t awkward afterward, and Hoseok thinks you completely forget about his sizable slip of the tongue. That is until Namjoon, a usually reserved and beloved meteorologist, reveals an even bigger confession of yours.
⤏ coming soon
melatonin / established relationship!au - f, s
Sleeping at night was difficult for you, and atop of your boyfriend’s lawn mower-esk snoring, it was impossible. But luckily for you, he knows just the remedy to cure your sleeplessness (and hopefully his snoring).
⤏ coming soon
➤ series
in progress…
➤ one-shots
in progress…
➤ series
in progress…
➤ one-shots
empêchement / fashion designer!au - f, s, a
After the warehouse that was storing yours and another mysterious designer’s clothes for Paris Fashion Week burns down to the ground, you’re left with nothing for your show that’s about to take place in exactly a month. A year’s worth of your work now disintegrated— literally.
Bowing at the end of a runway now seems farther away than ever… that is, until, the mysterious designer that had also fallen victim to his entire collection becoming charred makes himself known to you and proposes a possible solution. It’s stupid, insane even, but you just can’t seem to escape him and his infuriatingly seductive smile.
⤏ coming soon
➤ series
in progress…
➤ one-shots
muse / artist!taehyung - f, s, a
When you bump into your boss’s sworn enemy, spilling a scalding pumpkin spice latte all over his paint-splattered dress shirt, you expect him to go ballistic, to throw the empty cup onto the floor and crush the styrofoam under his loafer-covered heel. But he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs off your concerns and leaves you with a small folded piece of paper and a boxy grin that you just can’t seem to get out of your daydreams.
⤏ coming soon
➤ series
in progress…
➤ one-shots
snapshot / photography student!jungkook, enemies to lovers - f, s, a
When your bestfriend breaks her leg and is required to rest for a month in order to properly recover, Jungkook is left in a tight spot.
1. He no longer has a person to model for him for his photography project.
2. His photography project is due in two weeks.
He almost can’t believe it when you volunteer to step in for your friend, uncertainty gracing your delicate features. And believe it or not, Jungkook would have been convinced that you stepped in for your friend out of the kindness in your heart (and hopefully a small yearning for him). But your future unexpected hostility towards him makes him convinced that there was whole other reason why you agreed to help him.
↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.
◇ hoseok x reader
◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au
◇ 10.1k [1/1]
❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜
notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!
⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.
warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(
You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.
“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”
“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”
Tags for this chapter: Angst and more angst; miscommunication
a/n: If I did this right, it should feel like a slow motion train wreck that you can’t help but watch. They find their way back to each other, but both of them have some changes to make first. Also, there’s a reference to the bdsm club which when I first outlined this fic (not even going to think how long ago that was *cue tears*) played a larger role, but I decided to explore trust in another way. That is the club mentioned here.
Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.
Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…
pairing; kim seokjin x reader
au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, lots of lasagne talk, flirting, kissing, fluff 🥰
words; 9,340
↪︎ chapter index
chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix
author’s note; originally this was the first part of chapter 3 but well, i cannot stop writing details for the life of me lol. i hope you enjoy and don’t forget to tell me what you think! thanks for reading ~
