jeon jungkook fanfics that should be turned into a movie or a book! 🎬 (jungkook masterlist).
Thank you authors for your infinite imagination and creativity! My days are better because of you <3
Get him back by @inthelow (f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook) ongoing
Still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj (jungkook x reader) completed
Kinktober D14- thigh job/ humping by @redcherrykook (jungkook x reader) completed
Play pretend by @frmisnow (best friend!jk x reader) •fake dating, friends with benefits, friends to lovers completed• part 1 part 2 part 3 completed
If i told you by @gukyi (jungkook x reader) •friends to lovers!au, college!au/ fluff, comedy, angst completed
Boy with luv by @hannieehaee (barista!reader, sub-ish!jk) completed
Can i keep you? by @mikrokcsmos (ghostjk! x reader) completed
Habits (Stay High) by @girlygguk (student plug!jk x rich girl!reader) ongoing
Teach me How to love by @kookooluvr (professor!jungkook, professor!reader) • fwb!au, co-workers!au • ongoing
Bed Chem by @muniimyg (frenemie! jk x reader) • uni au, frenemies • completed
Between the ride and the roses by @focusonkayjay (biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader) • enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn • ongoing
Calling It Now by @newmittens (jungkook x reader) • Friends to Lovers; Grad School AU • completed
Bad things by @girlygguk (jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader) • f2l, fwb au, university au • ongoing
One night stand by @buryhny (ceo!jk x graphic designer! reader) • enemies to lovers, CEO au, pregnancy trope, slowburn • ongoing
First Sightings by @kookiestiddies (jungkook x reader) • Enemies With Potential • ongoing
Total loser by @frmisnow (rockstarjk! x reader) completed
NEED TO KNOW by @hannieehaee (virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk x reader) • college au • completed
Unspoken by @armpirate ( Boyfriend's friend!jk, Soldier!jk x reader) completed
summary: When you meet Jungkook— an older man who is amazing in bed, you thought it would be a simple arrangement of casual sex. Except things start getting serious and before you know he’s asking you on dates and introducing you to his daughter… Of course, he doesn’t know that you’re bad with kids and never wanted one of your own— well, at least it was just something temporary… right?.
pairing: business! fem reader x dad! jeon jungkook.
genre/warning: fluff, crack, smut, angst / a lot of themes like insecurity, jealousy, death, dysfunctional family, etc.
It was close to 2 a.m when the apartment finally settled into a hush.
The city outside still hummed softly. Traffic, distant laughter, a muffled siren winding somewhere far away. But inside, the lights were dim, the bed was warm, and you were draped across Jungkook’s chest like a lazy cat who had claimed a mountain for their throne. You were both half-dressed and fully exhausted, the sheets twisted around you like the aftermath of a battle. Your hair was a mess. He had one sock on. There was an empty glass of wine on your nightstand and a forgotten phone buzzing somewhere under the pile of pillows. You had been talking for hours, about nothing and everything, the way people do when they’re in that odd, wonderful state between being lovers and being something even more dangerous.
It felt too warm and comfortable. Like a home.
“So you’re telling me,” you said, propping your chin on his chest, eyes narrowed, “that you once bleached your hair platinum blonde in high school because you thought it would make you look like Justin Timberlake?”
Jungkook let out a groan. “You told me you would never bring that up if I told you the story.”
“I’m sorry, but I physically cannot forget that image. I bet your roots looked like a reverse Oreo.”
“It was… a phase,” he said with dignity that absolutely did not exist.
“Oh, honey, no,” you laughed, dropping your head on his shoulder, still giggling. “You’re lucky you’re hot now.”
Jungkook grinned, tilting his head to kiss the top of yours. “And you’re lucky you weren’t there to see it.”
You two lay there in that warm, glowing kind of silence that feels more like a heartbeat than a pause. Your fingers were idly drawing circles on his bare defined stomach, and he had one hand behind his head and the other lazily resting on your thigh.
“I think Jimin still has a picture of it somewhere,” he added casually. “Sunni said I looked cool.”
“You will show it to me.”
“I will not.”
“You will… or I will ask your daughter to draw it from memory.”
Jungkook snorted. “You think she’s on your team now?”
“Oh, no. She hates me. But manipulating a kid is easier than an adult ,” you said with mock seriousness.
“She still calls you ‘That weird lady with good shoes’.”
“Oh, now she likes my shoes?.”
Jungkook laughed again, the sound warm and rumbling from his chest, and then he looked down at you, his hand drifting slowly up your back. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me,” you said, smug.
“I do,” he said without hesitation.
You looked up, a slow, lazy smile pulling at your lips. “I know.”
You two stayed like that for a while longer. He told you about a weird customer he had earlier that week, and you told him about a new investor who kept mispronouncing your name in a pitch meeting. The conversation drifted into a familiar rhythm of jokes and nudges, gentle sarcasm, the slow entangling of two people who had unknowingly become each other’s soft place to land.
And then…
“I should probably head home soon. Got the morning shift.” Jungkook reached under you both for his phone, checking the time, and sending a voice message to answer some texts. And suddenly: “Sorry, man. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll probably be there with my girlfriend too.”
You blinked. Your whole body lifted slightly off his chest as you propped yourself up on one elbow and said, “Hold on.”
Jungkook froze, knowing what you were about to bring up. “What?”
He was trying something. He had made his feelings clear. He didn’t need a label, but he definitely wanted one with you. Being on the same page. He wanted to be sure you were on in too. You did love each other, but he wanted to be sure you were both comfortable with a label, with something that belonged to each other. He wanted to know that you wouldn’t freak out if you were outside and he decided to introduce you as a partner, not a friend nor a date.
You squinted at him. “You just called me your girlfriend.”
He blinked back, pretending to be confused. “Yeah…?”
“You never asked me,” you said, almost affronted.
Jungkook gave you a look. “Are we twelve?”
“No, but manners,” you said, voice smug again, climbing over his chest to straddle him, trying to hide a soft smile. “Don’t you like to communicate? I don’t do unofficial labels now. If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re actually serious.”
“I’m so serious right now”
He smirked, completely unfazed. Happy that you were only pretending to be annoyed that he didn’t asked. He put his hands on your tights, creasing them softly.
“Alright, y/n— will you be my girlfriend?”
“No.”
He blinked. “Wait, what?”
You grinned. “That was pathetic. That doesn’t count.”
Jungkook let out a bark of laughter. “You just said I had to ask! You didn’t say I had to stage a Broadway production.”
“Well, it obviously has to be romantic,” you said, hitting his chest delicately. “Do you think I only fell in love with you for your efficiency?. I love grand gestures, I don’t make the rules. I want the moment. I want balloons or string lights or I don’t know, a damn plane banner. I want expensive jewelry and maybe some shoes too…”
He leaned back against the headboard, eyes glittering. “So what, you want, like… a scavenger hunt? Skywriting? Flash mob? A ring?.”
“I want effort,” you said dramatically. “And yes, a ring would be nice too.”
“You are so high maintenance.”
“And yet,” you said, poking his chest, “here you are.”
Jungkook let out a breath and shook his head, pulling you back down to him. “Fine. You want a moment, you’ll get one. But when I do it, you better cry.”
“I cry at perfume commercials when I’m emotional,” you said smugly. “Not a high bar.”
“I’m gonna raise it.”
“I dare you.”
Your kiss tasted like challenge and sleep and something dangerously close to forever. You curled back into his arms, letting your body mold into his like it had always known the shape of him.
“Girlfriend,” he said softly, just to see your smile.
You rolled your eyes and buried your face in his chest. “Not yet,” you mumbled. “But I’m waiting.”
You were. For the first time, you weren’t afraid of the future or possibilities, not with him. You weren’t afraid to call him your partner, your boyfriend. You wanted to. You wanted to put a label too. To show you were serious too. Because you were. You loved him. And you loved the idea of being his girlfriend. Of being official… even if you had been for a long time already.
And somewhere in that quiet, domestic warmth, Jeon Jungkook knew: he was going to make you cry like hell. In a good way, clearly.
Of course, you didn’t expect for him to do it the next day.
You knew something was up the moment you walked into your apartment. For starters: it was suspiciously quiet. No music, no TV, no humming of the espresso machine you’d left on that morning. Just stillness. And your apartment was never still. It lived, it breathed. You had two phones, an army of plants, and enough mood lighting to make a K-pop video blush. There was always something going on. So the silence was weird. Weirder still: the lights were dimmed.
And on your kitchen island, sitting proudly under a beam of carefully curated golden light, was a… crown?
Not a tiara. Not something dainty. An actual, child-sized, shiny, plastic Burger King crown.
You stared at it like it might explode. And then you realized what was happening.
“Oh, no.” Before you could take another step, the closet door swung open and Jungkook stepped out. Barefoot, wearing black jeans and a fitted white shirt that was suspiciously wrinkle-free, which meant he had definitely planned this. And in his hands… “Oh my God, is that a ukulele?” you gasped.
“It is,” he said proudly. “And before you say anything, yes. I learned exactly one song.”
He started playing it. A song you couldn’t recognize because he was making mistakes all along and even not playing on the right key. He continued for a couple of seconds, looking at you with a smile. That was amused and nervous at the same time.
You blinked. “Is this… is this a bit?”
Jungkook cleared his throat, strumming two off-key chords. “Y/n y/l/n, you told me—”
“No,” you groaned, trying to hide your face behind your hands.
“—you wanted a grand gesture,” he continued, ignoring your dramatics. “You demanded romance. You said, and I quote, ‘If there aren’t lights, music, and a tiny hat involved, it doesn’t count.’”
“I definitely didn’t say that”
“Well, that’s what I heard.” You looked up then, and found him smiling. Not smirking, not teasing, just smiling. That warm, bunny, maddeningly sincere smile that made your stomach dip like the first drop on a rollercoaster. “I could’ve asked you at the park,” he went on, plucking another wildly off-tune chord, “or at dinner last week, or the night we sat on the floor eating pizza with Sunni and she told you your face was too pointy—”
“Can I hit your kid?”
“—but you said you wanted effort. So here’s effort.” He set the ukulele down gently, walked to the island, and picked up the plastic crown. Then, in the most serious tone imaginable, he crossed the room, stood in front of you, and held it up like it was forged by royal decree. “Will you do me the extreme honor,” he said, “of being my girlfriend?”
You stared at him. Then at the crown. Then at him again.
“You absolute idiot,” you whispered.
“That’s not a no,” he grinned.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“I might.”
He stepped closer, one hand slipping around your waist as he lifted the crown and placed it gently, ridiculously, on your head. “Say yes.”
You looked up at him, your hands lightly resting on his chest, your cheeks flushed from smiling too hard. It was such a bad way to do it that it just made you fluster. “You’re being such a dork right now.”
“I am,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “But I’ll be your dork. If you say yes.”
You sighed, overdramatically, like you were suffering. “Fine.”
Jungkook blinked. “Fine?”
“You can say I’m your girlfriend,” you said with a shrug. “I guess.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You guess?”
You giggled before kissing him then. Quick, smug, sweet. “You made me wear a Burger King crown, Kook. You’re lucky I’m saying yes at all.”
“Love of my life,” he whispered.
“Don’t push it.”
He laughed, wrapping you up in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re seriously gonna make me cry.”
“You better,” you said, nuzzling into his neck. “I told you. I want emotion.”
It was dumb, not serious. A question that really didn’t need an answer because it already had been answered a long time ago. You wanted to be with him. And this way, a stupid silly way to make it official didn’t bother you at all. Because you were able to be silly with him, dumb, stupid. And you were able to see this parts of him that were childish and parts of you that were not put-together at all. And you liked that. You liked being soft, childish and emotional. You liked that part of yourself. With him.
You two stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by bad lighting, worse music, and one very victorious plastic crown. Jungkook didn’t need to say it, but he did anyway, softly against your temple. “I love you.”
This time, you didn’t hesitate. “I love you too, fucking idiot.”
And you meant it. Even with the crown still on your head.
———
It was a quiet Thursday morning at the shop, sunlight slipping lazily through the tall front windows and warming the hardwood floors. Jungkook sat at the desk in the back, sketching on a clean page of his notebook with a half-drunk coffee at his elbow. Jimin was out running errands, and the buzz of the tattoo machine hummed from the next room where their new apprentice was working on a small piece.
Jungkook didn’t hear the door at first. He only looked up when the scent of her perfume hit. Light and expensive, something with sandalwood and white musk. Familiar in a way that stirred the air more than his thoughts.
Yunna stood near the front, wearing tailored trousers, a linen blouse tucked just right, sunglasses perched on her head like an afterthought. She always had that air about her, leaving that college girl persona and becoming a mother. She always looked polished, intentional, unfazed and warm. A woman who always looked like she was coming from or going to something important.
Jungkook stood up slowly. “Hey,” he said, surprised but not unpleasantly. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.”
She offered a small smile. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d say hi.”
He gestured for her to come in. “You want coffee?”
“I just had one, but thanks,” she said, stepping deeper into the shop. “Place looks good.”
“Thanks. We finally fixed the leak in the back, so I think we might be semi-legit now.”
She laughed softly. It always was like all the years hadn’t piled up the way they had. His relationship with her was good. Mature, always too fictional and almost perfect. They always knew how to deal with each other. Specially for Sunni. They had always being too aware of her and handle their divorce friendly and in a mature way.
“How’s Sunni?” she asked.
“Good. We did a floor picnic last week. She made me wear a sparkling tiara.”
Yunna grinned. “She told me. She said she let you win at Uno.”
“She definitely didn’t.”
They shared a small laugh, the kind that people who once lived a whole life together do. But then silence drifted in. not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy with things unsaid. There was something she wanted to say, he knew. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he had met her for a long, long time. He knew her better than anyone. Jungkook moved behind the counter to busy his hands, flipping through appointment forms he’d already seen.
“I heard you and Max broke up,” he said, glancing at her briefly.
Yunna leaned against the counter, her arms crossed. “Yeah. A few weeks ago.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t a thing. He didn’t get Sunni, and I don’t do well with people who think co-parenting is a quirky personality trait.”
Jungkook gave a dry chuckle. “Fair enough.”
Yunna’s eyes lingered on him a beat longer than comfortable. “You look good.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You sound surprised.”
She shrugged. “You used to wear the same three hoodies on rotation and survive of instant ramen. It’s good to see you keeping the mature era for so long.”
“I upgraded to five hoodies and actual groceries.”
“I’m proud,” she said, smiling. “You seem… settled. You had been for a long time. Like things are good.”
He paused for a second, tapping his fingers on the counter. “They are. I’ve got the shop, Sunni’s great, and…”
“You’re seeing someone,” she finished for him.
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah.”
“That same girl?” Yunna’s smile didn’t quite fade, but it didn’t hold as easily. “Someone really serious?”
“We’re figuring it out,” he said carefully, then added, “She’s great.”
Yunna gave a slow, thoughtful nod, looking past him for a moment at the tattoo sketches pinned up behind the desk. “Sunni mentioned her. Said she’s… weird.”
“Weird’s not bad.”
“I didn’t say it was,” she replied quickly.
Jungkook looked at her now, really looked… and there it was. Not jealousy, not bitterness, but that quiet discomfort that comes from knowing a person you once imagined a future with was finding one without you. Yunna wasn’t angry. She was nostalgic. Because Jungkook had never been serious with someone after her. He never had even introduced a girl-friend to Sunni.
“Yu,” he said, voice soft. “We’re good, right?”
She met his eyes. “Of course. You’re a great dad. A great man. I’m glad Sunni has you.”
“And you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, that poised smile returning. “Always am.” Jungkook didn’t push. She never liked being read too closely. She pushed off the counter, checked her phone, and tucked it back into her bag. “I should get going. Just wanted to say hi.”
He walked her to the door. “We should get together on Saturday. Sunni’s got a piano thing.”
“I’ll pick you up,” she said. And before she left, she paused, turned back, and added, lightly, but with something else behind it… “Tell your girlfriend I said hi.”
Jungkook didn’t respond right away, just smiled. “I will.”
She left with the same grace she entered, and he stood by the door for a moment after, staring out at the sidewalk long after she was gone. There wasn’t a storm coming. But something told him the wind had changed.
Yunna and him were always good at communicating after their divorce. Always wanting the best for their daughter. Always being good at boundaries and things like that. He wasn’t bothered when she started dating again. Not even when she introduced a man to Sunni. Jungkook knew his place. He knew Yunna would never introduce someone to her daughter without taking into consideration her feelings. Sunni had always been very understanding about it. And, after the second one, it seemed more understanding of the situation. Her parents were dating different people. Jungkook never did, always trying to grown and be better on himself. And when he tried, things really didn’t work out. It had been different with you. And now it was more serious than ever.
He wasn’t going to let that go to waste. He wasn’t even thinking about it. Because today was nothing. Just another moment with Sunni’s mom. Just another thing he had to deal with. A normal piece in his life. Co-parenting.
Later that night he saw you.
The apartment was quiet, bathed in soft amber from the kitchen underlights and the city haze seeping through the windows. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of Jungkook’s t-shirts, old black one with a faded band logo, nursing a glass of red wine with your hair twisted into a lazy bun. Jungkook was in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge for something that resembled dessert.
“You seriously have three different jars of truffle mustard but no chocolate?” he called out.
“Priorities,” you said over the rim of your glass. “I don’t get dessert cravings. I get expensive condiment cravings.”
“You need to buy real food.”
He returned with two small spoons and a half-empty jar of pistachio cream from some gourmet shop you didn’t even remember buying. He sat beside you, you knee brushing his. You dug your spoon in without hesitation.
“You know,” you said between bites, “this is disturbingly good.”
Jungkook chuckled and leaned back, wine glass in one hand. “Did you have a long day?”
“Mmm. Not the worst. Just numbers and people asking me for things I already gave them. My job is basically adult babysitting.”
“Same,” he said, laughing. “Except mine cry more and ask for dragons tattooed on their backs.”
“We should trade jobs one day.”
You two sat in silence for a moment, trading spoonfuls of the pistachio cream.
Then, unprompted, Jungkook said, “Yunna came by the shop today.”
Your eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. “Oh?”
He nodded, not looking at you yet. “We talked. Nothing big. Just catching up, really. She wanted to say hi.”
You didn’t respond immediately. You took another bite, then carefully set the jar down on the coffee table. You knew Jungkook saw her ex wife a lot, specially for Sunni. He usually let you know what he was up to. Messages like: “Leaving Sunni’s at Yunna’s house” or “Going to Yunna’s to pick up some school papers.” were something you were used to by now. It was his soft way to let you know where he was and what he was doing without making it a big deal for you. Co-parenting with your ex wife was something you learned to see and dating a man who was doing it was something you were slowly getting use to so it was his way to show he knew it could be weird but not difficult. And that you didn’t need to worry.
So it was a little weird he brought it up like it was something out of the schedule. Like a meeting that had nothing to do with Sunni nor he was aware of.
“That was weird for you?”
Jungkook shook his head. “No. I mean, not really. We see each other all the time but she never shows to the shop so It’s always…a little strange. There’s history there, but it’s not like that anymore. We’re good.”
You offered a small, neutral hum. “Okay.”
He glanced at you then. “You want to ask me?”
You blinked. “Ask what?”
“About her. About us.”
You tilted your head, curious now. “Would you actually tell me?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “If you want to know.”
You never asked too much. Always in line. Not really having the strength to discover if you really wanted to know what made their relationship end in divorce. Not really wanting to know the reason someone would end things after marriage, a forever promise. So, for the first time, you decided to know.
You nodded, tucking your legs under you. “Then tell me.”
He took a breath, rolled the glass between his hands. “We met in college. Freshman orientation. She was smart, way smarter than me. Always knew what she wanted, even back then. We were friends for a while. Then not. Then suddenly we were.” You listened quietly, chin resting on your knee. “She got pregnant senior year. We weren’t even really together at the time. Just…complicated. But when she told me, I didn’t hesitate. I told her I wanted to be there. And I meant it.” He paused, then smiled a little. “So we tried. Got married. Moved into a too-small apartment and tried to be adults when we were basically still kids. It worked for a while. We were good at some things— co-parenting, schedules, splitting the bills. But the other parts…” You watched his expression soften into something almost wistful. “She’s brilliant. Ambitious. Her job took her everywhere. And I stayed. I had Sunni. I had the shop. We became two parallel people, running beside each other but never actually touching.” He sipped his wine, voice steady. “We didn’t hate each other. There was no big explosion. Just one day, we looked at each other and realized we were exhausted. So we ended it.”
“And you stayed friends or just friendly?” you asked.
“Both,” he said. “Because of Sunni. Because we grew up together, in a way. And maybe because deep down, we never really wanted to break each other. We just wanted something else. Not really us together.”
You were quiet for a long time, digesting it. “You make it sound so…mature.”
He looked at you. “It had to be. When you have a kid, you don’t get the luxury of being messy forever.”
You nodded slowly. “That’s… really adult.”
Jungkook reached for your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles. “We all grow in different ways.”
You looked at him, soft but sharp. “So what did you want after that?”
He leaned back into the couch, eyes on the ceiling for a moment before answering. “Something real. Not perfect, not dramatic. Just real. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I didn’t want to perform being okay with what life gave me or just accepting what I thought I deserved. I wanted to feel real love, I wanted to work on something for me. I— I guess wanted a real relationship, not something that guide me there like things with Yunna did because of Sunni… I wanted someone who would meet me where I was.”
Your throat tightened a little at that. You weren’t sure if it was from the honesty in his voice or how easily he let you sit inside his life, even the unglamorous parts.
“And now?” you asked.
He looked at you. “Now I’m sure I found it. I want this. You. Us.”
You looked down at your intertwined hands, the quiet in the room, the smell of pistachio cream and wine and warm air, and nodded.
“Okay,” you said softly.
No declarations. No overthinking. Just a mutual understanding layered between dessert and night air. The kind of moment you never plan for, but remember for a long, long time.
It was past midnight when the apartment finally settled into silence.
The lights were low. The city outside blinked gently, far and unfocused. Jungkook had fallen asleep half an hour ago, arm draped across your waist, his breath steady and warm against your shoulder. You lay on your back, eyes open, one hand curled under your cheek, the other resting lightly over his. You weren’t tired. Your body was still, but your mind moved in loops. Not chaotic or panicked, just… thoughtful. Like you were standing at the edge of something and trying to decide whether to jump.
He had told you everything. Not all at once, not in some big, dramatic gesture. But honestly, clearly, without shame or performance. Just sat on your couch and laid out a piece of himself like it wasn’t a risk. Like he trusted you to hold it gently. You’d heard stories like that before. The young love, the child, the marriage that didn’t work. But never like this. Never with that kind of calm. Jungkook didn’t carry bitterness in his voice. He didn’t turn it into a cautionary tale or a romantic tragedy. It was just his life. And he’d told it to you.
You stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what that stirred in you. You felt… something. Not fear, not exactly. Not resistance, either. It was more like awareness. Like you’d been walking through a tunnel, and suddenly, a light came on ahead.
You shifted gently, careful not to wake him, and studied his face in the dim light. His brow was relaxed. His jaw slack. He looked younger asleep. Still so handsome it was almost inconvenient. And peaceful, like a man who knew where he stood in his life. Who had made peace with his past and didn’t flinch at the idea of someone seeing it. You envied that sometimes. The room smelled like pine soap from his skin and your candle still burning in the kitchen. Your bare legs were tangled with his under the sheets, warm and anchored. It should’ve felt suffocating, having someone so close. But it didn’t. It felt like something you’d been putting off.
Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.
You thought about Rosa. About being twelve and refusing to speak for an entire week when your parents left for some other city. About throwing books at the last nanny until the poor woman cried and left in the middle of the night. You thought about Bohyung, about Se-hoo. About how lucky you’d been to keep people close despite how good you’d gotten at pushing them away. And now here was Jungkook. Not barging in. Not pushing. Just standing there, holding the door open, again and again, until you decided to walk through it.
You opened your eyes and turned toward him.
You pressed your lips softly to his temple, then curled into him, fitting yourself into the shape of his chest like it was muscle memory. You weren’t ready to say it yet… that you’d never felt something this grounded before. That his steadiness made you feel less like you were always sprinting. That when he spoke about wanting something real, something true, you’d seen yourself in his words more than you’d wanted to admit.
You weren’t ready to say it. But you thought it. Over and over. Until sleep took you, and your body finally caught up with your heart.
———
The tattoo shop was closed. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and cheap cleaning supplies, the low hum of the machines filling the air in intervals as Jimin worked on cleaning his station. Jungkook sat across from him at the counter, hunched over his sketchbook, pencil moving in quick, precise strokes as he mapped out a design for a client’s next sleeve.
“You’ve been quieter today,” Jimin said after a beat, his voice casual, almost too casual. He tossed a roll of paper towels into the bin and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Which, for you, either means you’re sketching some insane piece… or you’re deeply in love. And judging by the stupid smile you keep making when you look at your phone, I’m guessing it’s the second.”
Jungkook didn’t look up, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re nosy as hell, you know that?”
Jungkook let his pencil pause for a second, staring at the nearly finished sketch before setting it down. He sat back in his chair, stretching his arms. “It’s… better than good. She’s something I’m working for. She’s funny, smart as hell, makes me feel like an idiot half the time when she starts talking about her work or politics or anything at all—”
“But?” Jimin tilted his head, smirking.
Jungkook shrugged, though there was no real conflict in his face. “But nothing. She’s… she feels like it. I wasn’t looking for this, you know that. But every time I see her, it’s like…”
“You’re whipped.”
Jungkook shot him a look, but Jimin just grinned wider.
“Shut up,” the younger muttered, though he didn’t deny it.
Jimin grabbed a rag and started wiping down the counter, his tone softening just slightly. “And Sunni? She likes her?”
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “That’s… still a work in progress. Sunni’s stubborn. You know how she gets when she feels like someone’s intruding.”
The older chuckled. “So the kid’s giving her hell?”
Jungkook’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “Something like that. But Y/n doesn’t really mind that much. I like to believe she pretends to not care much about it. I can tell she wants to try. It’ll take time.”
Jimin hummed, considering him for a moment before his expression shifted, a little sharper now. “And Yunna? She’s cool with all this?”.
The younger went quiet for a beat, his jaw tightening slightly. “She hasn’t said anything bad. She’s… Yunna. Always polite. Supportive. But—”
“But she showed up at the shop last week, right?” His friend cut in.
Jungkook shot him a quick look. “You heard about that?”
Jimin snorted. “Dude, Mia was here, she talks. She said she was here for some minutes. And she never comes to the shop. What’d she want?”
Jungkook sighed, leaning back in his chair, his sketchbook forgotten. “Just to talk. She and her boyfriend broke up. She wanted to catch up since we hadn’t talk that much lately. She asked about Sunni, asked about me. Nothing more.”
Jimin raised a brow, unconvinced. “Talk about you?. Weird coming from your ex wife?”
“Don’t make her a villain.”
“I’m not!. It’s just… you guys had been friendly, always talking just about Sunni and your schedules and never talking about each other’s personal life for some years. Unless you were going to introduce them to Sunni… It’s a little weird that now she comes to the shop to ask about yours?” he shrugged.
Jungkook’s jaw worked as he thought about it, and then he exhaled slowly. “It felt… fine. Different. Yunna and I— you know were friends before we were anything else. We tried to make it work because of Sunni, but it never felt like this. With Y/n… I get this feeling I never deal with before. I don’t think Yunna’s trying to start anything, but…”
Jimin’s grin returned, sharp and teasing. “But she might still have feelings for you?.”
Jungkook shot him a flat look. “No, I think it’s just maybe a little uncomfortable for her. I never really introduce Sunni to anyone over this years.”
Are older raised a brow, unconvinced. “Well, you two were married, man. Don’t act like it’s nothing. I think she might want to relieve that.”
“Jimin…”
“What? I’m just saying,” he said, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re you. Women fall for you, deal with it. But Y/n… you telling her about Yunna?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Jungkook said firmly. “Y/n knows I was married. She knows everything about Sunni and Yunna. But she doesn’t need to worry about her, because there’s nothing there anymore. And I’m not going to let anything, past or present, mess this up.”
Jimin studied him for a moment, then nodded, his teasing softening into something sincere. “Good. Because from what I’ve seen? You’re different with her. Happier. It’s been so… I haven’t see you in love, Kook. If you screw this up, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Jungkook snorted, shaking his head, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Noted.”
Jimin grabbed his rag again, muttering, “Just saying… big gestures, man. Y/n’s younger but she comes from a big background…”
“I know that.”
“She seems she has her life figure it out too.”
“What are you trying to say?.”
“That maybe she likes you because you have your life figure it out too. Maybe she’s done playing games too even if she doesn’t want to admit it.” Jimin looked at his friend. “And she knows this mature version of you that has money, takes her to expensive dates and it’s a gentleman so don’t screw it up going back to loosing all your money on stupid machines, wearing the same clothes for three days or eating twice every two days.”
“I don’t do that anymore…”
“Uhm, but when you get comfortable you do start acting like that again.”
“I’m not a child anymore”
“Just saying… big actions and big gestures, man. Women like her? They don’t do casual and fun forever. Don’t let her doubt for a second.”
Jungkook glanced back at his sketchbook, but his mind was already somewhere else. Your laugh, your smile, the way you rolled your eyes at him but always ended up smiling anyway. He wasn’t going to let you doubt. Not for a second… And Jimin was right. Big gestures matter for you. And he didn’t want you to see him as a kid or some stupid man. You had met him like this mature man, the one who had his life together and was always the mature one. He was going to make sure you always see him like that, for what he was now.
———
You hadn’t meant to see the album.
It was on the bottom shelf of Jungkook’s bookcase, wedged between a vintage tattoo reference book and a photography anthology on forgotten American diners. You’d been reaching for something else, coffee table book of pantries he told you he had in there, but your fingers brushed the leather-bound spine, and it tumbled into your hands with an obnoxiously loud thump. You froze for a moment, crouched, spine prickling like you’d just tripped a silent alarm.
Jungkook was still in the kitchen. You could hear him washing some plates in the sink, humming along under his breath to some half-forgotten 2000s song playing on his speaker. Sunni was at her mom’s that morning, so the house was quiet, grown-up, still.
You sat cross-legged on the floor and opened the album without really thinking. The first few pages were what you’d expect: grainy Polaroids, tattoo convention badges, a few too-many-beers candid photos with Jimin and other guys you vaguely recognized. And then, halfway through, the shift. Photos of a dorm hallway filled with balloons and red solo cups. A sign scrawled in black marker on a bedsheet:
“Yunna, will you go out with me?”
Corny. Frat-boy dramatic. Earnest in a way you never could be. In the next photo, she was saying yes. You could tell by the way her arms were flung around his neck, both of them laughing like idiots.
You stared at it a beat too long. You weren’t angry. Not even jealous. Just… displaced. Like you’d wandered into a room you didn’t belong in. One where all the furniture was arranged for someone else.
You snapped the album shut just as Jungkook walked back in, a mug of coffee in each hand. He took one look at your face and paused.
“You good?”
You thought about how your face could be that obvious. Or he knew you too well to know every little detail about you and your emotions.
“Yeah,” you said too quickly. “I was just looking for the pastries book. I found it.”
You nodded to the book, already opened beside you like it had always been the target. Jungkook walked over and crouched next to you, handing you the mug. He looked at you, and you didn’t say anything for some minutes. Just drinking the liquid from the mug and trying to pretend that you weren’t a little out of place there.
“You went quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“No, you’re dramatic and loud and say shit like ‘why are you wearing those shoes with that face’ when you’re bored. This is different.”
You smirked, sipping the coffee to hide it. “Maybe I’m evolving.”
Jungkook sat beside you, stretching his legs out. “Or maybe you found something in that photo album.”
There it was. The low hum of it. You should’ve known he’d pick up on it, he always did. And it wasn’t that you wanted to lie. You just didn’t know how to say ‘hey, you once loved someone enough to write their name on a bedsheet and now you love me, and I’m trying to be fine with that even though I’m the kind of person who once ghosted a guy because he wore a shirt I didn’t like on him on a first date.’
So instead you shrugged, all offhand and breezy.
“I didn’t know you were a frat boy.”
“I wasn’t. Jimin dared me. I was trying to get laid.”
You snorted, not really amused. “You married her.”
“Eventually. After a lot of bad takeout and me messing things up twice.” You nodded like that answered something, even if it didn’t. Jungkook leaned back on his elbows, watching you carefully. “You know that was like… a whole lifetime ago, right?”
“Of course.”
“I mean, I barely remember who I was in those photos. I had bad hair and thought IPA was a personality.”
You huffed a laugh. “It was a tragic time for all of us.”
He nudged your knee with his. “You’re not worried about that, are you?”
You raised an eyebrow. “About your hair?”
“About the fact that I’ve done this before. That I had a wife.”
You hesitated. A wife.
A fucking damn wife.
And that was the thing. You didn’t want to care. You didn’t want to be the person who did mental math about who got there first or whether there was still space for you. But something about seeing it so documented, so clear, the way he had loved someone before, fully, completely, hit a place in you that you weren’t ready to admit.
“I’m not worried, I knew it before we started dating” you said after a beat. Knowing this one was on you. “I just— I didn’t know I wouldn’t know how to… exist in a life that already had a cast.”
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he turned toward you fully.
“There’s no cast,” he said. “There’s just Sunni. And me. And now you.”
It should have reassured you. And it did. Mostly.
But you still felt the weight of the album on the shelf behind you. And then your phone buzzed, an alarm going off. You glanced at the time on your phone and stood abruptly after turning it off.
“I should go. Meeting in forty minutes.”
He stood too, not pushing, not asking. “You need a ride?”
“No, I’ve got the car.”
You grabbed your things and were ready to go. But he stopped you. Jungkook grabbed your cheeks, his fingers tracing your jaw and he kissed you, slow and sweet and still too gentle for the mess of things in your head.
“Dinner tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Text me.”
And just like that, you were gone. With lipstick on the mug and his past sitting quietly on the shelf.
The door shut behind you with the same kind of softness you used when leaving a hotel room early in the morning. No slam. No click. Just a whisper of departure. Jungkook stood there for a moment, still barefoot in his living room, holding the mug you didn’t finish. Lipstick. dark cherry red. Your brand of war paint before going to an important meeting. He didn’t know why that detail stuck out. Maybe because it was the only thing you left behind. Like you’d been careful to collect every part of yourself —your coat, your bag, your expression— before stepping out. Like you knew you were slipping.
He didn’t like that look you’d had when you closed the album. That too-blank kind of calm. The one that said don’t touch this without saying a word. Jungkook wasn’t a man who assumed. He’d lived enough life to know better than that. But he’d also raised a kid, built a business, and watched enough of the world come apart to recognize when something quiet was turning into something dangerous.
You’d seen something. Something that shifted you. Not dramatically, not with tears or accusations. You weren’t built like that. But you’d withdrawn. Not physically. Just… inward. Like someone sitting on a cliff edge with their heels just barely hanging off. He walked back over to the shelf, crouched down, and pulled the album. He hadn’t looked at it in years. Didn’t even know why it was still out. He flipped until he found the page. Red solo cups, bad handwriting, younger versions of himself and Yunna laughing like they didn’t know what life was going to hand them yet.
He stared at it for a while.
Then closed the book gently and slid it back into its place. It wasn’t about Yunna. Not anymore. That chapter had ended long ago, amicably, wrapped up in co-parenting schedules and shared photos of Sunni’s report cards. He cared about her. Of course he did. She was the mother of his daughter. But this, what he had now with you, wasn’t some consolation prize. It wasn’t a sequel. It was something completely different.
That’s what scared him. Even when he acted like it didn’t. Because you weren’t the type to fall easily. You walked with your guard up and your jokes sharper than most people’s arguments. And he knew, he knew, that the moment you started second-guessing, you’d start building your exits. He just didn’t know what exactly had triggered the doubt.
He texted you around noon. Something stupid. Something light.
Jungkook: Don’t forget to eat. And by eat, I mean something that isn’t made entirely of espresso and stress
No response. He wasn’t surprised.
He knew your rhythms by now. You’d need a minute. Maybe two. He didn’t believe in fixing everything with a hammer. Especially not you. So he left it there, didn’t follow up. Just sat back down at his desk, pencil in hand, sketchpad open, trying to distract himself with lines and angles and the faint scent of your shampoo still lingering on his hoodie.
But in the quiet, he kept thinking about that look. That careful, too-neutral look. He wasn’t angry. Just… trying to figure out how to say: “Hey. I see you. And it’s okay. I’ve lived things too. But you’re not walking into someone else’s life. You’re building something new with me. I want you to.”
He just didn’t know if you’d let yourself believe that yet.
———
You opened the door expecting silence.
It had been a long day. An exhausting string of meetings out of town that had left you drained, the kind of day where your heels felt like medieval torture and your shirt was sticking to your back. You were already mentally composing the dramatic text you planned to send Jungkook about how the patriarchy was embedded in the zipper system of your skirt.
But instead of silence, you were met with Jungkook.
“Wait— what the…?”
A warm golden glow spilled from the hallway into your apartment, flickering gently, impossibly soft. Candles. Everywhere. Not just on tables or counters, but on the floor, on windowsills, tucked between clusters of flowers. Roses, of course, but also gardenias and tiny white ranunculus that looked like something out of a painting. Petals laying down in a short way to your living room. And balloons.
Not the tacky, helium “I Love You!” ones. The delicate, matte-finish cream and gold ones, clustered subtly in corners like little orbs of celebration. It was whimsical. Over-the-top. Insane, in the most delightful way. Your eyes scanned the space. The open kitchen was lit like a movie, and on your dining table. And by dining table it meant the floor, because of course, there was a blanket, plates, candles, and a setup that looked straight out of La Dolce Vita.
And there he was.
Jeon Jungkook, standing in your kitchen in black pants and a pale blue button-down, slightly rolled at the sleeves, holding a wooden spoon like he’d been caught stealing from the sauce.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
“Ciao, bella,” he said, with the world’s dumbest grin.
“Terrible accent for a simple word.” You blinked. “And what… what is this?
“I cooked,” he said. “Kind of. I begged your sous-chef at the restaurant to give me his gnocchi recipe. Then I realized I’m shit at gnocchi and made spaghetti instead.”
“You did all this while I was about to call you to complain about my day?” you asked, stepping into the room slowly like you might wake up if you moved too fast.
“I had to raise the stakes.” He held out a hand. “You can still complain all you want but first… Come on, let’s eat.”
You didn’t say anything. You just took off your heels and dropped your purse, letting him take your hand to guide the way to the food. He kissed your hand, a little cheekily, then pulled out a chair for you. Well, a pillow. Because floor dinner, obviously.
The food smelled like heaven. Slow-cooked tomato sauce, basil, garlic, a hint of lemon. A bottle of red wine already open, two glasses already waiting. Your favorite wine, the one you had run-off yesterday. Too expensive for his taste and his wallet. He had bought it anyway for you. For that night, for you to keep.
You took a bite and immediately sighed. “Jesus. You could’ve just asked me to marry you.”
Jungkook laughed, pouring you wine. “You don’t want to marry me… yet. You still haven’t seen how bad I am at laundry. You still have to be more deep in love with me to accept that.”
“Jungkook,” you said, looking around, then at him again. “Seriously. This is…” You paused, your throat catching. “This is a lot.”
“I know.”
“It’s… it’s beautiful.”
“I wanted it to be.”
You looked at him, eyes softening. “Why?”
Jungkook set down his glass and leaned back a little, watching you the way he always did, like you were something precious. Something rare. Something he had been lucky to find, lucky to keep.
“Because,” he said quietly, “even though last week was officially the dumbest, dorkiest, most chaotic way to ask you to be my girlfriend—”
“Agreed,” you said, sipping your wine.
“—you still said yes.”
“Under duress.”
“Still counts.” You laughed, shaking your head. “But I kept thinking about it,” he said, voice lower now, more serious. “And I realized… you deserve better than a crown from a drive-thru. Even if it was iconic.”
“It wasn’t,” you admitted.
He reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.
“So I wanted to do it again. For real this time. Just us. No tiny instruments. No child-sized hats. Just… this.” The candles flickered between you two. “I saw the tension in your eyes yesterday when we talked about it. I get it. You saw those old pictures of me and Yunna, and maybe it made you question where you fit in my life.”
You looked away, a little uncomfortable. “It’s not just that. It’s weird barging into someone’s life when they had a wife, even if it didn’t work out. And I… I knew this before we got serious. It’s not your fault that I feel this way but… I don’t know.”
Jungkook reached out, brushing your hair back gently. “Hey. I get all of that. But I’m here. With you. And I want you to know, no matter what those old pictures say or what my past was, what matters is us now.”
You smiled softly, your heart loosening. “So, this is your way of saying you’re serious?”
“I was serious since the first day” He took your hand, holding it firmly but tenderly. “But yes. I want you to see it, feel it. I’m done with silly gestures or half-measures. I love you, Y/n. I want to be with you, officially. And I want you to be my girlfriend, not because of some prank or a joke, but because I’m all in. Because this is real, because this is not a dare or something that was planned without thinking. But because it was something I want, something I had planned for a long time.”
You smiled slightly. “Fine. Ask.”
He shook his head, amused by you. “I love you,” he said, simply. “I love you so much I want to be able to say you’re my girlfriend without you correcting me like a lawyer. So I’m asking, officially, on the record. Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”
You looked at him.
This man. This man, who had walked into your life through sheer chaos and stayed through everything… your sharp tongue, your walls, your resistance. He saw you. Not the name, not the empire. You. And he’d filled your house with candles, with petals, with love. Not with expensive gifs— except maybe that wine that costed more than five thousand bucks—, not with jewelry or fake promises. But with love, with honesty.
You tilted your head. “Do I still get to keep the crown?”
“Only if you say yes.”
You grinned, set your wine down, and leaned across the pillows to kiss him slow, deep, and with the kind of certainty that didn’t need any words. Jungkook’s grin widened into a full smile, and he pulled you into another gentle kiss, sealing the promise you both already felt deep in your bones.
When you pulled back, you whispered, “Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “Girlfriend me up.”
Jungkook beamed. “I love you.”
“Yeah,” you said, smiling into his chest. “I love you too.”
You two finished dinner sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by candlelight and the smell of garlic and roses. And even though it was technically just spaghetti, it tasted like the beginning of something holy.
they’re officially official B word and G word >_<
hope you enjoyed this chapter, is one of my favs. i just loveee writing mature emotional and reassuring dilf jk;; love him so much. literally ideal man.
we’re going to see more about the ex wife (Yunna) in the next chaps, hope you’re prepared.
let me know what did you think about this chapter<33
Genre: Smut, Masturbation (m), Video Fantasy, Long-Distance, Dirty Talk
Word count: ~2k
Warnings: Heavy NSFW content, masturbation (male), dirty talk, praise kink, finger sucking, cum play, pet names, Hoseok missing reader intensely, emotional + physical desperation, soft dom vibes, lots of moaning, edging, mention of past sex.
my main list
Masterlist bts
It started with a missed call.
Then two.
Then a third, followed by a text:
"Baby, I miss you so fucking bad. Call me when you can, please."
You smiled at your screen, heart melting and thighs unconsciously pressing together. Hoseok had only been gone for five days. Five days into a month-long leg of the tour.
You were used to the distance. Sort of.
But he wasn't. Not when it came to you.
You texted him a quick, flirty reply—something like "you miss my kisses or my pussy more?"—and tossed your phone aside, heading to the shower.
You didn’t expect what came next.
Twenty minutes later, your phone buzzed.
1 New Video from Hobi 💛
You opened it casually.
And then nearly dropped your phone.
The screen lit up with Hoseok’s flushed face, lips parted, hair messy and falling into his eyes. He was lying back on crisp hotel sheets, shirtless, his skin glowing with sweat.
"Hey baby," he murmured, breathless already. "This is for you. Only you."
The camera dipped lower. His hand wrapped tightly around his thick, leaking cock, stroking himself with slow, deliberate twists of his wrist. He moaned—a sound so raw and desperate it made your legs clench.
"I couldn’t stop thinking about you," he groaned. "I've been hard all day, fuck. You know what that dance does to me? You in my head, baby, your mouth, your hands... I need you so bad."
He sucked two fingers into his mouth with a wet, filthy pop, coating them in spit before dragging them down to his cock. The sound of his hand working himself filled the quiet room.
"Remember what you did last time? On the couch? When you rode me slow and kept kissing my nose like a tease? Fuck, that was the best shit of my life. I keep playing it in my head."
The camera shook slightly as his hips bucked up. His thighs tensed, muscles flexing, abs contracting.
He whimpered your name, eyes fluttering shut. "God, I miss your voice... your tongue... your pussy."
His hand sped up.
"You wanna hear me beg? Huh? You like that, don’t you? My needy girl. I’d do anything just to taste you right now. I'd drop to my knees and eat you like a starved man."
His voice cracked. "Look at what you do to me. Look how desperate I am."
He slowed down suddenly, panting hard, biting his lip.
"I don’t wanna cum yet... not yet... not until I imagine your voice in my ear telling me to."
He whined, body trembling, leaking all over his fingers.
"Tell me I can cum, baby. Tell me you want it. Please. Please. I’m so close."
He let out a shaky breath. Then moaned—low, deep, broken—as he tipped over the edge, cum spilling across his stomach in thick, pulsing streams.
He was shaking. Moaning your name like it was the only thing grounding him.
The camera stayed on for a while.
You could see his chest rising and falling. His hand lazily rubbing the cum into his skin. His voice soft, dreamy:
"I hope you came too. If not... watch this again. Touch yourself and think of me."
He grinned tiredly, that post-orgasm glow in full effect.
"I love you. So much it fucking hurts."
An hour later, you were still lying in bed, phone pressed to your chest, heart racing. You hadn’t replied yet—how could you? Nothing you could type would match what he sent.
Then, another message arrived.
Hobi 💛: "Couldn't sleep. Got hard again. Gonna film more. You okay with that?"
You barely finished typing "yes. please." before the next video came in.
He was already naked this time.
The camera propped somewhere steady, giving you a perfect full view of his long body stretched on the bed. His cock was red and hard again, resting against his stomach. A trail of his previous orgasm still shimmered faintly on his skin.
"Couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth," he whispered. "I know what you look like when you suck me. I know what those eyes do to me."
His hand slid along his chest slowly, teasing his nipples, then down to grip his cock again. He was slower this time. Torturously slow.
"Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend you're here. Kneeling. Stroking me. Licking the tip like you always do, that little swirl with your tongue—fuck."
He moaned, hips twitching.
"I bet you're watching this with your legs open. I bet you're wet. Are you touching yourself, baby? I hope so. I want you to. I want us to cum together."
He propped the camera higher, angling it for a perfect view of his strokes. Every little detail. His leaking slit, the veins on his shaft, the squeeze of his fingers.
"You're the only one who gets to see me like this," he whispered. "All of this is for you. You own me. My cock, my moans, all of it."
He spit into his palm, loud and wet, and spread it over himself with a filthy sound.
"I want you to ride me slow. I want you to hold my hands while you bounce on me. I wanna hear your little gasps every time you sink down. God, I can feel it."
He whined, speeding up.
"My pretty girl. My perfect, messy baby. You're mine. You hear me? Fucking mine."
His voice got louder, his body tensed.
"I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna make a mess thinking about you. Your pussy. Your voice. Your scent. Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
With a broken cry, he came again.
His second orgasm was somehow even more desperate. His back arched, thighs trembling, cum splashing across his chest and hand.
He didn’t stop the camera. Didn’t even breathe right for a few seconds.
Finally, he looked into the lens again, hair damp with sweat, lips kiss-bitten and parted.
"Send me a voice message. Tell me what you did while watching this. Please. I wanna hear your voice. I miss it so much."
He kissed the screen.
"I’m gonna fall asleep now. Covered in you. Goodnight, baby."
in which you learn why the staff has been avoiding you like death
word count: 3527
warnings: if you don't clutch your pearls i am retiring
"i advise you to lock her up for the duration of the games".
"i am literally here", your hands fall down. you've been adjusting the azalea petals, but Hoseok just has a way to destroy any concentration you have for a task. Yoongi raises his hand to shush you.
"the yangban are coming, and she will embarrass you in front of them".
Jimin is having a field day. his arms on his chest, he's not wearing the mask because the only people in the throne room - are you, king, Hoseok and Jungkook.
"no, i promise", you start, and Jimin bites his lip and chokes his laughter. the boy is glowing when there's some shit going down, he is in love with nonsense.
"i won't do anything embarrassing", for once, you are ready to plead sincerely. you really want to see the games. you have not sweated and suffered for three days on a tall, old ladder, wobbling, swaying, perched on the fucking roof, under the blazing sun, with Jungkook "backing you up" most of the day, with his annoying comments; not to attend the games. you have decorated two levels of the roof, cut all your fingers with the needles, you now have dreams about the ladder and the morning glory. and this piece of ass wants to lock you up and ban from the action.
"i will be quiet", you promise, looking at him and Yoongi. Jungkook's eyebrows are raised. Yoongi is not convinced yet.
"i really wanna see this. i will only cheer, yeah? i can cheer, right? for Jungkooki- for Jungkook. but i promise, i will behave this time. hey, i was the one who decorated the whole pavilion".
Jimin sniffs shortly with a smile.
"avoid the risk", Hoseok suggests. "even now as she begs, her arms are bare".
you look at your arms. yeah, rolled up the sleeves so that they don't get in the way. you stare at the General in disbelief.
"hey, saboteur", you step to Hoseok, rolling your sleeves down slowly. he strands you at his side, his gaze returning to his beloved wang.
Yoongi is sitting on the first step of his platform, just like you did some time ago. you keep the flogging jokes away, tuck them deep and shut them out. his horsetail is over his shoulder, and he looks relaxed. he tilts head to the left, then to the right. you are quite used to his eyes roaming about you. it's non-suggestive in nature but obviously you take it personally. he is so good-looking your teeth hurt.
"Yoongi, look at me".
"i am".
"i won't embarrass you in front of your friends".
Hoseok sighs.
"i will just watch the games from the crowd, i won't even be in the vicinity".
"you will stand out anyway", Jungkook snorts. "i mean it in a good way".
maybe Yoongi is simply in a good mood.
"let her", Jimin chimes in. he doesn't really care about the reputation, he simply likes to stir shit.
"i will be by Seokjin's side..."
"no, you will be with your garden crew, as it is orderly", Yoongi says.
"fine. i'll be with the girls".
you know you will find Jin regardless. he will repeat anything you tell him. he will cheer for the golden maknae with you. knowing that Jungkook actually will participate, that he actually made his way across the country and visited, and has been training in order to participate, makes it absolutely out of question whether you will see it. it's not run bts; it's idols olypmics.
Yoongi shifts his misty, opaque cat eyes to Jimin who is snickering by the window. by the way. yes. the king looks orgasmic in between magnolias.
"maybe she should participate", he muses lazily, "in the poetry competition".
Jungkook gasps like a child, his hand on his mouth. Jimin loses it completely, dropping his head on his chest. Hoseok simply loses braincells. you are confused.
"what is that? i am not too good at poetry".
Yoongi shrugs at his childhood friend.
"finally something we know that you do not", Jungkook calls from behind, "feels good".
Jimin's fingers claw at his face. you feel like the butt of the joke but it's mellow. Hoseok isn't having it either. he looks down, stylishly defeated.
on the day of the games almost nobody works. the palace is buzzing. staff keeps sweeping already clean roads in between pavilions, scrubbing the floors of the corridors that already gleam with the morning sun. it smells like incense everywhere, inside and outside. the huge round bonfires on both sides of the main gate are lit, and it gets so hot in that spot, that people run through quickly. as they enter the palace, they see the decorated main yard and pass by the long side paths to the west of grounds, where the purple-green pavilion glistens in the sun, and it makes you proud of your work. after all the suffering you've gone through in the last three days, you think it was worth it. people look with their mouths open and shuffle noisily, taking their places in front of the building. there's talk, and colour; everybody is wearing their prettiest dresses, hair slicked back shines in the sun; there are powdered, blushing faces everywhere. the garden crew is keeping you in the middle of a tight circle and you all move like a bunch of organized turtles, like someone had warned them to keep you in check. Jiyoung is at your side: she smells like flowers and breathes deeply. she mutters into your ear sometimes; don't look up too eagerly; this is yangban Han. he will ascend to the balcony and will watch together with king. he has four wives. she nods in small motions to move your attention, trying to distract you, to keep you silent: see orange robes? they have arrived all the way from Jeonju. they are our king's distant relatives. orange means faded gold. you think there's not enough space on the balcony for everybody to watch the games with the king: you decorated it the last thing the day before yesterday. in a fit of hatred, you also put one dark anemone you found on the side of the road outside the market, to the inner side of the banister to let him know one day you will beat him up. anemones are... sincerely open and so round, simple, they strangely remind you of yourself. this is one is also purple, of course.
today the mood is much better. square is buzzing. the sun comes in and out, warms the place up, people keep moving, divided into fractions by colour and belonging. young people from the whole country gather to demonstrate their strength, and you assess them; it's mostly the elite, rich kids, princes and yangbans, and Jungkook is among them. the Hanseong contestants all wear purple (you are reminded like once a week that Seoul has a different official name for now, by the annoyed garden maids). they make up the most of the players, sometimes even competing between each other.
"is this a way to replenish the palace warrior stock?" you wonder.
"no. it's just games to celebrate the harvest. of course, some take it very seriously..." Jiyoung's eyes rest on Jungkook's back for a second as she chuckles. the Monkey Prince is in the middle of the square, surrounded by peers and competition, stretching. aside from preparing the muscles, it's also supposed to intimidate the others when he does a flip from the standing spot for no reason at all.
"protecting the wang image".
"you're right", she nods.
a little commotion, and the place gets into relative order. Jiyoung says hi and you turn to see Seokjin with his hair in the knot on the back of his head, shining brighter than everybody here. he gives you a lazy, graceful smile.
"is Taehyung competing?" you ask.
"yes. sword. the Prince will do running, sparring and battle".
"and General?"
"General doesn't compete", Jin reposnds, "but i will kill everybody at Gonggi".
"like you did last year?" his sister laughs.
"forget about it. past is past", Jin dismisses confidently, "Seokjin for the win".
"team Kim Seokjin never loses", you chime in, your eyes on the square, observing the young people preparing to tear each other apart. you spot Taehyung in his purple kimono-like robe, looking very focused, like he doesn't hear anything around himself.
"even if it consists of just one person", Jin agrees.
the first game is sword competition. it resembles a dance more. you make sure several times that you are not allowed to cheer loudly, a balcony full of incredibly important people above you. king is in a dark-red robe with bright golden stamp of a serpent. there are several people at his side, some of them grab the banisters as they watch, and break the vines you had placed there.
Taehyung moves like the air itself supports him, and he doesn't need to land. like gravity is some hoe he is too good for. just like Prince and the king, he uses his hair to enhance his movements, to make him look like a bird. the competitors do not touch each other; it's not a fight but a demonstration of skill. and there's no point comparing; there was a reason Taehyung was chosen to present the king's warriors. he is like a ghost. you are not surprised. others? yes. people ouch, ohh and gasp, but you know the boy and the way his body moves.
that came out worse that it was supposed to.
Taehyung wins, beautiful, bashful, the fastest and the most flexible. the judges in different-coloured robes choose him over everybody else, and the palace crowd erupts in cheer that you happily pick up. you are really trying to keep your word and not stand out, so you use this moment to let out your support for him, screaming his name.
next, the whole crowd shifts and leaves the pavilion to enter the large sand field behind the palace. you realize it's a kind of a running track when several boys, Jungkook among them, step to the sand. spectators hum with anticipation, heads turning, as they look at the boys. all tall, slender, lean; could do a calendar. in the growing worry of the crowd, you cup your hands to your mouth and yell once, sharply,
"bangtan!"
Jungkook's head snaps to the viewers and he lowers it immediately.
should it be mentioned that he wins. Jungkook keeps winning the whole day, in all three competitions that he participates in, because he has a pride to protect, because he has been trained by Yoongi and Hoseok. because he is golden. you look up to the balcony on the other side of the pavilion and see his hyungs standing shoulder by shoulder, their faces smirking in the most shit-eating way.
young men compete in speed, might and wit, climbing uprooted trunks, jumping, sparring with no tops on (kind of extra), doing something that looks like wrestling. you notice that the purple warriors are all taller, buffer, more capable. it would make sense that the king's crew consists of the best fighters from the whole country, especially with a reaper like Hoseok to train them. they win the majority of the games and you can see the yangban guests being pissed, disappointed, shaking their heads. it brings you a special kind of cognitive satisfaction to see people from other cities. how they walk, how they avoid looking at the king directly, what they say. Jungkook finishes the game of battle, a repetition of the exercise you've seen him do long time ago, by absolutely destroying twelve people, and bows to his uncle, panting, furious, with the healthy blush on his face that would earn him the world. you hear the voice coming from the balcony.
"for the next year i need to spike my boys with the sapaieo salmusa venom. Monkey seems to be unbeatable".
"sapphire viper?" you ask Jiyoung, "is that a thing?"
you disperse agitated, still a whole big body of the audience, to return to the inner yard to watch the rest of the games.
"no, it's a saying", she chuckles, "sapphire vipers do not exist".
Taehyung joins your company out of nowhere; in the mass of people he is almost unnoticeable, now that he has changed into an unassuming grey robe. he wants to be closer to Jiyoung and walks with you, chatting. the majority of the games is over, and purple people scatter into the palace, tired, sweaty, victorious. you throw the last look into the square.
"i promised not to embarrass anyone", you sigh. Seokjin is already deep in his thoughts, planning his Gonggi win, his hand working by itself. he walks with you, leading you all to the commoners' games space.
"okay, but do not laugh at me if i lose", he braces himself before entering.
"you won't. you're bangtan, Jin", you squeeze his shoulder, laughing.
"what's that mean?"
"means you cannot be defeated".
"i am bangtan then", Taehyung grins wide. you look at him with a smile.
"yes, you are. you are my bangtan boys".
everybody finds this a little uncomfortable, a tiny bit. Taehyung's grin turns awkward for a second; Seokjin is more straightforward.
"let's not get carried away here".
and steps into the small, round arena among the Gonggi players. it was nice of Yoongi to allow a portion of the square in front of the small pavilion to be turned into a market-like station for the commoners' games. they aren't as garceful as the elites games, and consist mostly of the traditionals. on the plus side, you can cheer through them, supporting your friend or relative. and cheer, you do, for Jin. upon winning Gonggi, he decides to try himself in archery and loses by a small margine, because at the last moment, he gets distracted by the smell of food. the boys may not be ready to be called yours, but all demonstrate excellent talents, seemingly even better than in the future. someone else erupts in screaming at the far side of the square and you turn to see Jungkook, walking around with his arms outstretched, maids and servants swarming him, shrieking. you chuckle with your whole throat. he deserves this.
"go on", Jiyoung allows, "tell him you are proud of him".
you shake your head,
"no, i am lower than grass today".
Jiyoung uses this moment to slip away and congratulate the Monkey Prince, and as she makes her way through the crowd, Taehyung steps closer to you.
"you did a great job with the roof".
you thank him with a feeling. every little acknowledgement means a lot to you. your index fingers on both hands are covered in constellations of small cuts from the needles, and feel absolutely numb.
"i was meaning to help but..."
"i know, i am punished for being insolent and a pain in the ass. he won't break me like that. i am only going to get worse".
Taehyung's glance on you slides off quickly and he opens his mouth.
but doesn't say anything. you catch his eye with suspicion.
"what?"
he shakes his head. you push him in the forearm. Seokjin produces a cry from the nearest stall and you see him slapping a guy on the head.
"that's three? this costs one and a half at best".
"he is such a diva", you murmur, looking at him in admiration. Taehyung thinks Jin has distracted you well, but you return to him immediately.
"what is it? i can see you're not telling me something. is Jiyoung very jealous?" you guess, "i have barely seen you in the last weeks".
he shakes his hands in the air quickly, poor boy.
"no- no, no, no, it's not Jiyoung. it's..." his dark, neatly set eyes stare at you for a moment.
"you're not punished. the male staff are forbidden to so much as look at you".
at first, your head tips to the side with indignation. what is his problem? he thinks you won't be capable of doing things yours-
Taehyung's eyes brush over your face with an unspoken apology.
"oh. oh".
you cross your arms on your chest. a slow smile tears through the pout and it takes all the muscles of your face to fight it off. Taehyung's newly acquired habit of scanning space around when you're near him makes more sense.
"Taehyung".
"uh?" he isn't sure how to react.
"what's a poetry competition?"
his ears go a little red, and he chuckles, with surprise.
"it's a..." he adjusts his headband although there's no need for it, then it comes: a boyish grin. "concubine competition. the only game where those who win, they, you know. get into the", he stabs behind with his thumb.
"what's the game?" you wonder, "whoever writes the best poem about his beautiful eyes?"
"no", he laughs out, "it's just a euphemistic name. they need to use their tongues. there's this little box", he gestures in the air, trying to get you the full picture, while your face grows longer and longer, "with this intricate opening on top, more like a slit, and there's a pea inside that they need to get out to the exit of the box".
you move your jaw sideways.
"it's not for the main crowd. held inside the palace".
"i figure", you grunt. he nods, mildly amused.
"where did you hear about it?"
Seokjin returns and hands Taehyung a rough cup with soju.
"what about me?" you inquire. suddenly you're not in the mood to take any shit.
"eh, little sister. no soju for girls".
"what's that mean, you lizard?"
"why am i a lizard?" Jin erupts.
"girls shouldn't drink", Taehyung smiles kindly. you stand between them and fight off an impulse to punch the cup out of his hand.
"girls", you narrow your eyes, and they both get just a tiny bit intimidated, "shouldn't faint while decorating the whole fucking two storey roof all alone just because somebody's feeling booktok".
Seokjin takes it very seriously for some reason, although he most definitely doesn't get it.
"fair enough. i'll bring you one".
he downs his cup and, by the time Jiyoung is back, you have made a tiny advancement for the gender equality fight in Joseon. when Jin gets relatively drunk, he starts howling songs in that retro voice of his, and you tell him you think he should try music.
the games take the best part of the evening, too. Yoongi is tired, he winces when Seonghyung brushes against his shoulder again, breathing into his cheek, hinting a drinking sparring. his eyes move to Hoseok, and Hoseok reacts immediately.
"get him to his chambers, please, or i'll slice his jugular", he murmurs.
General smirks, and Seonghyung vanishes like a ghost. he tilts his neck, rubs his shoulder. too many smells from too many different people from today, he crunches his nose in satisfaction when he sees his eunich hurrying towards him. the boy falls on the floor in a bow, then picks himself up quickly.
"games are over, my king. shall i bring the women?"
Yoongi nods.
"that's actually, finally, a good idea".
he catches a glimpse of the round moon and a trail of plum blossom scent on the turn of the corridor. the central quarters are quieter, and the noise of the evening preparations doesn't get here. the only steps are his.
Yoongi enters his bedroom where a servant with the ears more sensitive than even Jimin's instantly starts undressing him. her slender quick hands make it seem like the robe falls off of him by itself, while, turning, he doesn't even catch a sight of her. relieved from the heavy attire, he releases his hair as well and shakes his head.
"bath?" she asks. after years of training she has finally learnt to speak shortly and to the point, without long pleasantries.
"later. stay behind the door, you'll lead the girls away, i will only need one tonight".
she nods, the top of her head barely reaching his collarbone.
Yoongi examines all of them with intense scrutiny. the hair, the shape of the heads, the faces, the moles painted on skin under the eyes with a thin brush. the dresses revealing their shoulders and the lines of their stomachs. the eyes. he is looking for a certain stare, for a certain hair colour. for the rolled up sleeves, a bite in between the teeth. no, scratch the last one. tonight, biting is a no. he gets up, sliding a lilac ribbon in between his fingers, that slips easily, calming his mind.
"you", he takes one by the arm. "turn around".
the girl lowers her eyes, her face doesn't change from the unreadable submissive expression. she does as she's told.
"the rest of you can go".
four others leave the room silently, the door slides open and close, and there's misty silence, broken only by the peacocks yapping something from a garden away. what Yoongi hadn't anticipated from them, would be how late those damn birds go to sleep. he releases the hair of the girl from the pin, letting it fall over his hand, and taps the pin on her shoulder. doesn't like when things are in disorder, just lying around. she takes it quietly and tucks into her dress. Yoongi takes the ribbon and braids her hair, weaving it in between the locks. the colour is close enough, everything else is a miss.
he drops one last look at the top of her head and guides it down, then closes his eyes.
Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.
Last
Taehyung's family are quick to organize an engagement party the following Friday.
You find yourself once again in Taehyung's childhood bedroom, this time with he full knowledge of his family. You have been gifted a beautiful white silk gown by Taehyung's mother. You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, seeing less of yourself and more of who your husband had painted you to be. your make up had been done by an artist hired by the family, and your hair had been work on for hours until it was perfectly tamed into an elegant up do, the only imperfections visible were the worry in your eyes and open zip at the back of the dress.
Attendants have offered to help you into the garment, but you refused, desperate for a little independence after a day where your control had once about been stripped away from you. You hadn't really thought about the dexterity it would take to fasten the dress at the time, just focused on keep your breaths even. Fortunately, if anyone had noticed your fidgety demeanour throughout the day, they had thought of it as wedding nerves and not the panic attack it was. You patted your hair and reminded yourself to breathe, practising your smile. You had convinced yourself everything would be fine after the wedding, Taehyung's family would have less control, and he would never cage you the way your ex had... but rational thoughts so rarely penetrate the heart.
Still you forged on wards with the plan, taking solace in the other members when time allowed you to forget the heavy weight wrapped around your ring finger and your heart.
So wrapped up in your inner monologue you don't notice the groom-to-be enter until nimble fingers slide up the exposed skin at the back of the dress.
"Need some help?" he whispers in your ear, playing with the buttons.
"Yes please,"
You stand straight so he can see the fastenings properly. He makes quick work of them, practised hands gliding across each one.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say you had practice at that," You joke weakly.
"More than my fair share," He winks at your reflection, "And by that I mean I used to have to help my sister with her buttons at a variety of events... not the thing you're thinking,"
"I wasn't thinking anything," you lie.
His arms encircle your waist and you take comfort in his embrace. The two of you already look like a bride and groom, but supposedly that is the point. He looks handsome in his tuxedo, his tie reflecting the colour of your eyes, his cuff-links polished to perfection, and his hair is tousled in just away that it looks incredible but unintentional. He was born for this world.
"My beautiful bride," He smiles at the mirror.
He presses a quick kiss to your bare shoulder, and then his embrace is gone.
"Guests are arriving Y/N, are you ready to greet them?" He asks
"As ready as I am ever going to be," You steal yourself for the longest night of your life and take the arm he offers you.
It takes all of your strength to not cling to him the way Jungkook clung to Namjoon the day you you first met. You descend the grand staircase into the large reception foyer, thankfully finding four familiar faces among the small crowd that had already arrived. Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi each raise a champagne flute to you as you catch their eyes and you nod in return.
Jungkook and Hobi had decided against joining you. Taehyung's family were known to look down upon humans, so Hoseok didn't want to ruffle any feathers by turning up now. And Jungkookie just didn't think he was ready, and as the others were attending as bachelors he wouldn't be able to hide away in his usual safe spaces. So the two stayed at the house for the evening.
Of course there are other faces you know among the crowd, acquaintances of your parents and friends of your husbands, the circles of the affluent known to be painfully small. It's not difficult to see the whispers spreading through the crowds as the guests confirm your identity to one another. Not even a year after your husbands passing and here you were making your first public appearance since as someone else's fiancé.
You are directed into a large ballroom, turns out a majority of the guest were already in side awaiting your grand arrival. Both doors sweep open and you are announced by Jessup.
"Please welcome our guests of honour. The future Mr. and Mrs. Kim Taehyung."
Applause sweeps through the room and Taehyung flinches as your finger nails dig into him through the suit jacket.
"Sorry," you whisper. But he brushes it off.
You greet people as you walk through the hall, nodding politely and acknowledging their congratulations, trying your best to just get to the front of the room, where Taehyung would address the room while you stand by and play your part. You almost make it too. Until two more familiar faces are stood in front of you
"Y/N, oh thank goodness you're okay." Your mom almost cries, embracing you.
Your father pats your mother's shoulder bringing her back to him and whispers something you don't quite catch.
"It's good to see you Y/N-ah," He says, "And a pleasure to meet you Taehyung," He bows slightly to the young man beside you.
"Father, mother," You bow to each of them in turn.
"I think perhaps we better find some time to catch up soon Y/N," Your father sounds calm, but you can see the fire in his eyes.
The same look he would have when you would try to sneak away in your youth.
They let you pass, allowing you to keep up pretences as Taehyung takes a microphone in one hand and holds your waist with the other. He raises a toast to you, alluding subtly to the others in the room and how much they mean to you. The guest follow suit, and finally you are allowed to disperse into the crowd. Immediately you make a beeline to the bathroom before any one has the chance to grab you attention away. Your parents and Namjoon all make brief attempts to capture you, but you're gone too quickly, blending in through the crowd in a way you had learned almost immediately after being introduced to society.
You find yourself back in Taehyung's bedroom before you have time to think about where you are running too. You flop back on to the bed and breathe for what feels like the first time in over an hour. Tears spring to your eyes as you come to terms with the revelation that your parents are there. Because of course they are, Taehyung's family agreed to the marriage because of your family name, not because of you. You felt stupid for not thinking it through.
But most of all you felt sad. 10 months away from them and you could see how it had aged your father, the creases on his forehead significantly deeper than the last time you'd seen him, and your mothers makeup barely covered the deep bags under her eyes from what you could only imagine were countless sleepless nights. You hadn't thought how your disappearing act would affect them, you just knew you couldn't be under there watchful eye again.
You stay flat on the bed, doing your best to deter the tears from ruining your makeup, determined to return to the party as quickly as you can compose yourself.
Before you get the chance to dab at your eyes, the door creaks open and your mother slips in to the room. So much for escaping them through the crowd. She takes one look at you, pathetically strewn across the bed and her features soften.
"Oh Y/N-ah, I've missed you," she says practically flying to your side.
She sits on the bed and pulls you up to sit with her, cradling you in her arms like she would've done when you were a child.
"How on earth did you end up here," She petted your hair, careful to follow the grain and not mess up your hair.
You let her coddle you for a moment, her embrace calming you in a way that only a parents can. You breathe deeply until you are certain tears are no longer threatening to spill.
"Mother, I'm so sorry I never called... after Romero... I just had to leave." You confess.
"It's okay darling, we have you back now, we can take you away from all this." She comforts, but you pull away.
"What do you mean take me away?"
"Take you home of course. You'll be far safer with us, clearly marriage was the wrong route, but your father and I will come up with another solution."
She natters away as you stare at her in disbelief. Even after all this time away, your mother and father still wanted to take you and hide you away from the world. After everything you have been through in the past year you can't quite believe that they still must not trust you to be able to take care of yourself.
"I'm not going home with you Mother." Your mom look shocked at your refusal. "I'm getting married and then I am going to continue living my life freely as I have these past months."
You explain the past few months to your mom, omitting the part about multiple partners of course. You tell her about the shelter, watch her flinch as you mention the incident with Lyra. You talk about the other men as if they are just your dearest friends. You even fill her in on how you met Taehyung, and what he has come to mean to you (She baulks when you mention you thought he was a mail boy and liked him anyway). Even with your new life life lain out before her, she still seems apprehensive to believe that you could possibly be okay. Okay on your own, okay with the life you have achieved for yourself without their influence.
"Y/N, this is ridiculous, you don't really know these men... and do they all have to be men... What if they are using you. You didn't leave the house much, you are so naive. You may not have been exposed to many people. But a lot of people must have seen you on magazines with Romero. Look at Taehyung for example. You told me he is marrying you for our name, he is using you."
"He didn't even know who I was when we met." You argue.
"That's just what he told you!" She counters "I'm sure this has all just been some elaborate way for the Kim family to garner more affluence for themselves. This boy doesn't care for you, he cares for nothing other than money it's been written all over the tabloids for years. Come home Y/N, it's not a request."
"I won't, even if what you said was true. I have a life now, other friends. I refuse to be locked away in your tower again."
"We didn't lock you away Y/N! We kept you safe, why can't you see that?" Your mother is close to tears.
"Because your version of safe is to never let me live at all,"
"You lived with your husband, Romero took you out regularly, what if we found you another match like him?"
"His prison was almost as bad as yours." A tear slips down your cheek, a perfect track in the perfect facade.
Your mother holds you then. The anger slips away into sorrow and she just holds you. Fortunately you prevent the other tears from spilling and once you compose yourself, your mother helps to cover the smudge on your face with her ever present powder compact.
You open the door just as Taehyung knocks on the other side, almost falling into one another. He takes one inquisitive look between you and your mother and thinks better of asking for now, instead taking your hand and leaning in to kiss your cheek.
"Everyone is looking for us love, they want to start the dancing, and they very much can't do that without you,"
"Sorry Tae," You do your best not to sniffle.
Your mother fixes him with a disdainful look, but says nothing as she walks on ahead of you through the hallways.
The first dance consists of Taehyung basically carrying you around the ballroom in time to a waltz as everyone peers at you. You spend a lot of the time staring over Taehyung's shoulder watching how the crowd leans into each other and whispers, most eyes on you but a few wander to your parents every so often.
You continue the evening relatively unscathed although your mother's word echo in your mind. Could Tae have had ulterior motives? You try to shake them away, because of course not, he had already agreed to a different marriage just to appease his family. But they do nothing to help your already torn up emotions.
Eventually you find some time in a dark corner where you are approached by Yoongi and Namjoon. Each take the brief opportunity yo squeeze your hand in support.
"Are they your parents?" Namjoon asks.
He subtly points in the direction of the older couple, they've been watching you like hawks the entire evening, worse even than your 16th birthday. You nod and their eyes go wide briefly. They seem to be quick to make the connection that this is the first contact you've had with them in a long time.
"Did you have any warning they would be here?" Yoongi questions.
"Nope... none at all"
"Are you okay?" Namjoon tries to reach for you in a way he might at home, before Yoongi quickly slaps his hand away.
"Gonna have to be," You put on a brave face.
"Well originally we had come over here to ask the bride to be for a dance... but it seems you are perhaps not in the mood?" Yoongi shrugs.
"No, lets dance maybe it'll help me escape here faster."
You take Yoongi's hand and the two of you dance for a while in the most platonic way you can manage. Eventually Namjoon cuts in, briefly stepping on your toes in the process. Jimin finds you later, lamenting about how romantic the party was and complaining that he couldn't dance with the majority of his loves, Yoongi takes him away to grab some passing as Jin continues your dance for the remainder of the song.
Finally guests begin to pull your attention away as they depart. Your parents wait only as long as would be seen appropriate and once they are gone the majority follow. The pack left swiftly, not wanting to encourage any scrutiny from Taehyung's family.
Taehyung's parents acknowledge you both warmly, seemingly unaware or uncaring of your parents disdain for the union they were pushing. They say good night and allow you to make your exit as the straggling guests file through the door.
It is slightly passed midnight as Taehyung pulls you into his arms and closes his bedroom door behind you.
"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?" He asked.
His hands land firmly on your waist and his lips lower to just below your ear, kissing the soft skin there.
"You did,"
"Good, now can I show you how beautiful you look?"
You're tempted to let him, his hands roam freely across the silky smooth fabric of the dress, but then the fatigue overwhelms you and you slump into his arms.
"Maybe tomorrow." You sigh.
He pulls back to look into your eyes, searching for something but decides better of asking more questions. Instead he leads you over to the vanity, helping you into the chair. Before you can question his actions he pulls make up remover from a drawer in front of you and carefully starts to apply it to your face. He wipes away at the thick layers of foundation until the cotton pads start to come away clean.
"There's my girl," He smiles at you.
You think you manage a sleepy smile in return but it's unclear. He presses his lips to yours briefly before moving on to taking all of the pins and volumizing apparatus from your hair. He massages your head gently as your tresses fall back into place. You moan as his finger untangle all the knots left behind.
"Can you stand up for me baby? I need to get you out of this dress too,"
You stand slowly, your feet suddenly protesting after having been stuck in heels the entire night. Stumbling you lean against Taehyung for support. He turns you in his arms and works on your dress backwards, undoing the buttons by looking over your shoulder instead.
Finally when the fabric drops to the floor, he sweeps you under your legs and carries you bridal style into his bed. You feel his absence as he walks away to get himself ready for bed, but you can hear him humming softly to himself as he moves around the room.
short and sweet. mild angst. inspired by billie eilish's 'what was i made for?'. dad!jimin au.
my masterlist!
｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆
jimin had watched his daughter grow up.
her face, round with youth and bright like the sunshine, had changed little in his eyes even though he knew that she wasn’t a baby anymore. in fact, she was exactly the age that you were when he met you, today.
looking at her, laughing with her friends in the living room while he sat at the kitchen counter, he couldn’t help but think back to how life was with you.
days that felt neverending, spent at the beach. wading through the cold water, all year round, even during the freezing winter when you would grumble about how it was way too cold for the sun to work, way too cold for you to tan the way you wanted to. regardless of what you said, he always managed to drag you into the ocean. not that it took too much convincing—he knew, deep down, that you had always been a lover of the sea. just like he was. it was something that had brought the two of you together.
other days, you would go to the cinema like teenagers always did, on first dates, and second dates, and whenever they weren’t sure of where else to go. you were a sucker for horror and even though jimin always had nightmares for days after watching one, he still went with you. anything to make you happy. (even if it traumatised him a bit...)
it had all ended far too fast. not even three months after the birth of your daughter, you were gone. the doctors had done everything they could to save you, but you were gone.
that was sixteen years ago, now. sixteen years ago, jimin had had no idea how he would raise his daughter without you, without his lover, his best friend, his rock.
“dad!”
pulled out of his thoughts, jimin met the gleaming eyes of his clever daughter and smiled, lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “soomin, what’s wrong?”
“we’re going out,” soomin responded with a bright grin, gesturing at her three friends, who had begun to pack up their things, “i’ll see you tonight. i’m so excited for your cake.”
jimin chuckled, silenced by how deeply her smile reminded him of you. how the way her left cheek dimpled was the way yours had. how her voice was as bright and beautiful as yours had always been.
“stay safe, soominie,” he said, patting her on the head, “i love you.”
she jokingly slapped at his hand for the pat, before heading out the door. jimin was left staring at the door, the house absent of sound.
Summary: That one story where you work as a stripper, meet Min Yoongi, fuck him, and cant forget him- but he cant remember you- so you fuck his friends to fuck the pain away.
Disclaimer: This story contains acts of sex,domestic violence!foul language, and self destructive motives. This may be triggering to some, please read at your own risk!
It's been exactly 3 months since you last saw Min Yoongi. Every night was the same. You would wait for him as if he promised to come back.
Every time you got on stage you hoped you would see him sitting in the crowd again. But every night he was absent. He was nowhere to be found. You were searching for no reason. Exhausting yourself over it, obsessing over it, for no reason.
Did you even have reason?
He was a client and you needed to understand that you couldn't have no attachment to him- but for some reason you found yourself attached to someone who fucked you for pay.
Typical.
Maybe, it was best that you wouldn't see him again. You were in way too deep. A one-night stand, from a man, that fucked you so good you just couldn't forget. What had this man even done to you to make you feel so obligated to have emotional attachment to him? Why were you so drawn to him?
Who was Min yoongi? And what had he done to you?
Was this what they called love at first sight? Was that electrical current you felt towards him a connection? Could he feel it too? He had to feel it too right?
You, day by day, kept racking your brain. It causing moments that you went out of your mind and entered space as you spaced out.
You know that feeling when you want something? That feeling after you get it and it just doesn't hit the spot? Unsatisfying? That's what you felt every time you thought about min yoongi. You weren't satisfied. You didn't get enough of him.
No, you hadn't forgot his name. And no, you haven't forgot his face, and you definitely haven't forgot his sex.
You found yourself every night fucking yourself thinking about him. You played all the scenes of your encounter in your head over and over. Especially up until the very last moment when he came and said he loved you. Even though it was all for pretend, the thought of that always seemed to get you going over the edge and Cumming, it was all the very thought of him that sent you.
Y/n," a voice had said but you hadn't even heard him.
Yoongi filled your thoughts. You were way strung out on coke. You were in another world right now.Nobody could tell you nothing.
You cocked your head to the side as his intoxicated face was in front of yours. Lust was evident in his eyes and you felt the invisible pull toward him. That feeling you got every time washing over you.
Hallucinating, seeing yoongi again was the epiphany of self destruction. It always had you so emotional after.
Yoongi smirked-
"Y/N!" You woke up out of your trance, yoongi disappearing like smoke.
You looked up from the couch you were sitting on waiting for your next vip client. Cesar had talked you into doing them again so here you were getting fucked to get paid again. But you wish none of them were fucking you. Only yoongi.
Your blood ran cold at the sight of GD. Aka Kwon Jinyong.
Your blood ran cold.
No, you thought.
"Is there a reason why you aren't answering my texts back?!" he strides over- you siting on the couch smoking a joint.
Your eyes became wide as he got closer.
You dropped the joint on the couch and scrambled to pick it up before it burnt a hole in the leather,It dropping to the floor.
"Fuck," you hissed as you tried to pick it up from the floor. it landed next to your platforms. So, you decided to step on it with them, your relaxation time ruined by the monster in front of you.
You literally have ignored him for three months. You didn't realize the time passing as your mind was somewhere else.
"I've been busy," you said not looking at him- not really wanting to. No, not after that last event with him.
GD was In all black looking like the gang-leader he was-is. He was glaring down at you you feeling the anger radiating of him.
"You were busy?" he spat, "I highly doubt that," he said glaring down at you.
You finally looked up at him meeting his angry form, "I was actually," you said pushing it further.
"Hmm," he scoffed throwing his head to the side. He looked back at you, "I don't believe that for one second."
"Well believe whatever you want to, -actually could you like leave?- I have a client in ten minutes he could be here any minute now." You said wanting to end this conversation short not wanting anything to do with him. Ever. Again.
He just stared at you you looking back at him.
Maybe it was the coke but you had clearly forgotten the capabilities of this man. Your mind seemed to have tucked it away somewhere. The true definition of losing your marbles.
He pulled his hand back and smacked the fuck out of you. GD smacking the marbles back in place. "NEVER! I MEAN NEVER! TALK TO ME AGAIN LIKE THAT!" You held your face your body thrown to the side from the sudden impact. "Look at me when im speaking to you!"
Still holding your face you looked up at him tears springing your eyes. Your body shaking in fear.and this was why you stayed away from him. This wasn't the first time.
GD watched you. His eyes looking for any sign of disobedience in you. He closed his eyes and inhaled, then slowly exhaled. "I've told you this baby, I told you not to make me mad. You know how I get," he said finally opening his eyes again staring down at your broken form.
And so broken you were.
You looked down not wanting to show the tears that were about to spill over your face.
"Please don't ever try to order me out again. I go.when I go."He spat.
You looked back up shaking. Tears finally slipping over your tear ducks and out onto your cheeks. You let go of your face and tried to regulate your breathing as you were on the verge of having a panic attack. You rested your hands between your thighs and clasped them tight trying to hold on a little while longer.
"you understand?" he said becoming annoyed with you again almost smacking you but he turned around and tried to calm himself.
You flinched waiting for the impact that never came. GD turned back around. His phone rang before he could Finnish your conversation.
You tried to hold yourself together biting the inside of your cheek.
"Okay," he hung up the phone, "I have some things to attend to,- but we will continue this conversation."
You nodded your head and he left. As he strolled to the door, -he ran into someone shoulder checking them, not looking back.
You hadn't noticed this. You looked down trying to gather yourself before your client came.
You tried to move but you felt paralyzed. You kept looking around franticly trying to stop the tears from coming. You had to be professional and presentable.
You finally breaking out of your trance you leaned over to the table knocking everything down as you scrambled for tissue paper. You grabbed it and wiped your eyes. It spreading your mascara. You looked at the tissue and realized this.
"Fuck," you cried breaking down. You tried to wipe your eyes, in the midst of doing that you spotted a figure at the corner of your eye and you whipped your head towards it and your breath caught in your throat.
Yoongi stood there at the base of the door watching you curiously. He was intoxicated. You could tell in his face. He had his soju in his hand and he looked just like he did 3 months ago when you had last seen him.
Finally. Finally, he had came back.
Only you didn't want to see him.no not after what just happened. You didn't want him to see you in a broken form. You didn't want him to see that side of you. You shouldn't have cared what he saw when he looked at you. You were supposed to be only a fuck for him.
But you did.
Of course, you did.
You quickly got up shutting your emotions off and getting into character. But Yoongi could see right through you. You couldn't fool him, he wasn't stupid. Plus the smeared mascara under your eyes said otherwise.
Shit had just went down, plus the way that guy left your room,- left Yoongi wondering more than he should have.
"Are you my 12 o'clock," you said. Your voice had a slight shake in it.
He didn't say anything, making you anxious. He studied you. Looking at you. Knowing something was off about you.
You stared back at him. Your façade slowly melting off. But still you tried to hold yourself down.
"Are you alright?" yoongi questioned finally, ignoring your question, answering your question with a question - and taking a drink of his soju. You were surprised by his question, and it had completely thrown you off Shaking you completely out of character. The façade rapidly melting off.
He stared intently at you waiting for you to answer, you having no way to change the subject. You were completely naked in front of him. You had nothing to hide under.
So what now?
"Yeah," you said lying, taking the easy way out. With nothing else more to say other than that. You couldn't tell him. So you lied. Even though he could see right through you as if you were made of glass, you tried to utterly get him to believe you were fine. You even were trying to convince yourself.
You didn't want to talk about it. It was nothing. To you it was nothing. nothing compared to the agony you've been feeling for the last three months. GD hitting you didn't even compare To the restless nights and longing to be in his presence.
So, the last thing you wanted to talk about was another man. You wanted to focus only on him.
"i think that's not factual." he said taking another drink. You didn't have anything to say so you stood there dumbfounded. As he stared at you. But when you didn't reply back, "yes I am your twelve o'clock but i don't think we should do anything. you clearly seem shaken up about something..." he looked out into the hallway from where GD had left.
"NO! no! I'm fine I promise!" you said coming closer to him. Yoongi stared at you, you hoped you didn't sound too desperate.
You were now standing directly in front of him. Your platforms making you slightly tower over him.
he reached out to touch your face," he ran a thumb over the skin." he hit you didn't he?"
You panicked!
You Somehow forgetting about it , the pain of your cheek coming back. You forgetting this, as you were trying to convince him otherwise. him making you forget life itself.
Your face had developed a bluish tint to where a bruise had started to form.
Your mind raced as his hand rested on your face. You leaned into it closing your eyes. You feeling some sort of warmth from it.
Yoongi dropped his hand to his side. "I may come back again," he said not sounding for sure or not. Making promises wasn't his thing.
Your heart broke into a million pieces. You. Couldn't. Wait. Another. Three. Months. No, this was now or never. This wasn't about to end on a worse note than you already had started.
You both stared at each other. An electric current connecting you to him. "don't go you started to cry." you were breaking the rules. You were being desperate. Now not caring at all.
Now it was his turn to lose his façade His eyes widening in shock.
"I mean im okay you don't-" but you couldn't explain your reasoning. This was the first time seeing him in three months he couldn't just go like that. Not when you anticipated his return so eagerly.
Still he didn't say anything, he just watched you, waiting to see what else might come out your mouth. You hesitated but eventually "just help me forget," you said talking about him smacking you."pretend to love me this time.... even if its just for tonight." you said repeating his words from three months ago.
You waited for his reaction but he just stared at you. Your face heated up knowing you would be rejected. You were way out of place asking for such a request knowing he was the one paying you not the other way around.
Moments went by, silence engulfed you both. You both never broke eye contact. He took another drink of his soju his eyes fixated solely on you. He stepped over the threshold, your heart beating fast at the anticipation of what was happening. Coming straight towards you never breaking your eye contact
He backed you towards the couch and he put the soju down on the table all while still staring at you. He laid you down on the couch and he began kissing your body. He got up and closed the door and locked it an you watched him.
You squeezed your legs shut as your beautiful body waited for him on the couch. You were throbbing for him and it was too much to take.
He came back and opened your thighs making you whine.
Your stomach had butterflies in them and every time he touched you, you would shutter in its wake.
He got on top of you and kissed your neck leaving fresh new love bites on them. You whined when he did this. You grabbed him around his neck and kissed him there. You earned a groan from him and it excited you. You decided that you would step out of place and do everything to him you wanted just in case you never seen him again.
You grabbed his face and crashed your lips to his. He was surprised but he responded. He lost control as the kiss deepened and your heart nearly stoped.
He broke the kiss and kissed your collar bone, kissing you above your breast and so on, till he got to your woman hood. He slid your panties to your lingerie set to the side and took your clit in his mouth.
You whined. He was also stepping out of place. You were there to please him. Not him to please you. You weren't supposed to receive oral sex from your client, you were there to do it for him.
He shoved to finger in you and you lost it. You coming undone right beneath him. He sucked your clit and fingered you trying to get you off. Nothing but your cries filled the room.
When you came you nearly screamed. He held your hands from trying to push him away but you were so sensitive you couldn't take it. But then he made you cum again, -and you were sure your body would lose its soul. Your toes curling at the feeling he was giving you.
Yoongi hovered over you and pulled your boobs out of the baby doll. Kneading then softly making you twitch with every touch. Your whole body sensitive from his touch, it knowing what he was capable of,- making you cum. You came so hard for him.
He stood up and pulled his pants down to his thighs all while watching you and grabbed a condom off the table. He rolled it on and then hovered over you. He lined up with your entrance and then shoved into you.
You cried out. So sensitive already it feeling so intense as he fucked you.
He came down onto you, you grabbed him close. " I love you,” he whispered. And there it went, your soul left your body. He left kisses on your neck and surprisingly initiated the kiss. You responding quickly. He broke the kiss and watched as he fucked you, your eyes closed and whining beneath him.
He like you like that.
Yoongi pulled you up so you could sit on his lap and grabbed you by your waist and bouncing you up and down off him. You cried out and your tits bounced with the rhythm. You were so sexy to him it was dangerous. He could fall for a girl like you, but he wouldn't allow it.
Yoongi told you that he loved you again, and you whined when he fucked you harder. You finally told him you loved him back and he groaned when it left your lips, - him crashing his lips to yours again.
You wrapped your arms around his neck again and you humped the shit out of him. Yoongi entangled his arms from you and grabbed your face as you guys kissed. It being a little too intimate. You putting all your feelings into it and him?
You didn't know.
"You love me?" he said after he broke the kiss?
You shook your head yes
"Tell me."
"I love you," you breathed, igniting his intense orgasm.
He stiffened inside of you emptying his frustrations into you.
You came with him and that third strike took you out. You screamed his name this time and collapsed on his chest. With your head on his shoulder grabbing him tightly. And you just stayed like that. you clinging to him and crying.
He rubbed your back and you stayed like that. Just listening to each other's breathing. You didn't want this to end. You didn't want to NOT see him anymore.
You needed this person in your life.there was just something about him. You needed him. You craved him. Longed for him.
Yoongi had became such an important part of your life and you didn't ask for it just happened.
You never experienced love before but the feeling you had when you were with him showed you otherwise.
Tears slightly ran down your face, you not wanting to face the reality that was and is Yoongi.
He was your client nothing more but you just didn't want to accept it.
He kissed your neck softly and you whined at the contact. He was still inside of you but he had started to soften.
You didn't want to move so you waited for him to. He didn't.
Yoongi didn't want to leave either. He felt weird around you and he didn't know why. He didn't like to think about it. He didn't want to figure it out. He was afraid of the outcome.
He contemplated even coming back in the first place and this was what he was afraid of. He was afraid of you. You scared him. You could unlock things he kept away. You seemed to break through to him penetrating through the intoxication he used as a mask.
☁️ unmei – 運命 (うんめい): a noun meaning 'fate' or 'destiny' in Japanese.
☁️ genre: royal!AU, OT7!AU, reincarnation!AU ; smut (eventually), angst.
☁️ Unmei will deal with very delicate and quite dark themes, so please if you are a minor, DO NOT interact. I will always put a trigger warning at the start of every chapter, so if you feel unconfortable DO NOT read. ☁️
☁️ author's note: hello lovelies, author here! "unmei" has been in my head for a while, and i kept thinking about shaping my thoughts into words; i do realise that this story, per se, is quite ambitious but i really hope you will enjoy reading it.
☁️ chapter's TW: panick attack, mentions of death (side character).
☁️ word count: 3,5k
next >
☁️ taglist @shabbamadapot @jnghs
! disclaimer - This story is a work of fiction. I do not own BTS and the description of them in this story does not want to reflect nor portray them in real life.
Crystal chandeliers, shining glasses of the finest wine, and chords intoning classical melodies. Fingers intertwining as gowns kept swaying, strangers chattering about politics, war, and sometimes about passions, literature, and secrets…
Overly-dressed up women, whose make-up was classy and whose voices were soft, whispered into each other’s ears as young men passed by.
The high society, the aristocracy - the world you were fated to be born in and to live in.
The corset you wore was too tight on your abdomen since you could not eat more of the cake. You always finished dessert - and the sponge cake had strawberries inside, so this was very unlike you. You were sitting down - back straight and shoulders relaxed as your mother had taught you - while the other young women danced in the hall. You could also see your father talking to another short, long-bearded man, and you had hoped the topic was indeed not you.
That was the first, and probably the last, time you had agreed to accompany your father to a Grand Ball; he perfectly knew you didn’t fancy celebrations or big events, but he had insisted so much over the past month your mother had begged you to go with him.
“Just this once, darling. You know how men are, especially your Father!”
You had convinced yourself it was part of her plan to finally get rid of him for a night. Even the Queens needed a day off, and you were aware of your father’s antics: the King was really needy, and loved being taken care of… Just like a boy.
Nevertheless, you could no longer lie to yourself: you strongly suspected something else had led your father to this event. You had just turned twenty-one years old, so you were still too young to marry, weren’t you?
A few months before your birthday, your father had requested to speak to you about an important topic concerning the crown, and you knew that he wished for you to find a man to marry, so that you could inherit his place on the throne. However, as soon as the word arranged left his lips, you had already stormed off. You were not going to spend the rest of your days with someone you barely knew, and didn’t like.
After that discussion. your father never brought up the matter publicly, but you perfectly knew he had already informed your mother about it. To you, it wasn’t fair: they had married for love, and not for the crown. Their marriage was not decided by someone else aside from them, so you thought you deserved the same treatment they got when they were young.
What your father did not know was that you already loved someone. You knew that if he ever found out about your relationship, he would be furious, but since your teenage years, you had become cunning and knew how to lie.
Knowing how to lie and avoiding getting caught were two plus points, especially for a princess whose life got constantly suffocated by people who wanted to pry into your privacy. Not that you had one, of course.
Kim Taehyung. He was your bodyguard, the person you trusted most in the world. Just imagining his face sent shivers down your spine, certainly not with a negative implication. From the first day your father introduced you to him when you were only sixteen, you had fallen head over heels for him.
For most of your time together, your love had remained hidden, mainly because, in front of everyone's eyes, Taehyung remained formal and silent. However, when you were alone together - although it happened rarely - he revealed his true colourful identity: he talked about art, how much he loved to paint and how you, in his eyes, were the perfect subject to depict.
"If only I could, I would paint you. That way, even when we are far apart, I would be able to admire you as many times as I want."
Taehyung was an extremely gifted and articulate speaker.
He always used the perfect words for every situation, and his voice, so deep it made your heart flutter, made it easy for him.
Maybe it was the way he squinted his eyes every time he laughed or the way his gaze was always focused on you. But you knew you loved him.
What you didn't know, however, was whether he loved you.
You sharply inhaled, moving the remaining piece of cake with the silver fork, debating whether to eat it and feel sick or leave it there.
“Is this not to your liking?”
A male voice suddenly awoke you from your thoughts, and you turned your head in order to connect it to a face. Your heart skipped a beat when you finally saw him: he was beautiful, really. And not the kind of beauty that intoxicates you, that weighs you down, but a beauty so delicate that it leaves you speechless for a moment.
“I hate it.”
You replied, batting your eyelashes repeatedly, as it would have been impolite not to answer him immediately. A proper young lady never stutters - you could hear your mother’s stern tone in your head.
Instantly, you noticed his dark-brown eyes, and you swore you could lose yourself in them.
His full lips curved into a heart-shaped smile - different from the ones you were used to seeing, those fake, mechanical laughs - and his eyes shrank to pretty half-moons.
“The Ball, or the cake?”
His question was innocent, yet you could hint at a spark of curiosity in his gaze. You took a brief moment to admire him: his dark hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a slightly unbuttoned white silk shirt and black trousers that seemed to fit him a little tight.
He did not let you answer, allowing himself to sit by your side without asking any permission. You were breathless for seconds that seemed to last almost too long as his hand gently grasped your wrist, with such delicacy that you seemed not to feel his touch.
His fingertips squeezed lightly, until he brought the back of your hand to his rosy lips, but without making any contact with your skin.
The only contact that never ceased, however, was that of his eyes on you. Your ears seemed to stop hearing the music and the room all around seemed to have emptied out completely as the man in front of you consumed you with his eyes.
“Jimin, Park Jimin.” He announced, and his name echoed into your head. “It is an honour to finally make your acquaintance, Princess.”
“You already knew who I was.”
You let go of your grip on your fork with the hand you still had free, before making a brief bow as you lowered your gaze.
“Oh no, Princess. I ask you not to bow to me."
You furrowed an eyebrow before a small smile appeared on your lips. You knew it was rude to smile like that, but his words reminded you of a quote in a book which your mother read to you as a child.
"You remind me of someone." You murmured, retracting the hand Jimin still held close to his lips. Thus, you remembered the gesture and your cheeks blushed.
"Someone you like?"
Your smile became bigger, but you tried hard to hide it by bringing a hand towards your lips.
"Park Jimin, did you by any chance come here to court me?"
"Would that be considered a sin, Princess?"
The air in the hall became strangely heavier. Either the presence of that unknown prince had caused a strange effect on you, or the corset was really so tight that it took your breath away.
Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at your father who - at the same moment - looked in your direction, pointing at you with open arms.
"My daughter! My beloved child, she always precedes me in everything!"
He pronounced this aloud and, as his timbre was very deep, the words were heard by many in the audience. The man next to your father, the one he had been talking to all evening, stood a few steps behind him as they both approached the table.
"King Park, this is my beautiful daughter, Y/N." He gave the man a resounding pat on the shoulder as soon as he was close enough. "And I guess this young man is your son, Jimin."
You remained in complete silence as your eyes moved between the two men. You were confused by the situation, yet when you turned to Jimin, he did not have the same expression. He seemed... relieved, by their presence.
"It is an honour, Your Highness. I was fortunate enough to meet your daughter before the appointed meeting, I hope it is not an inconvenience."
Appointed meeting, those words echoed in your mind.
"Of course not, why should it be? That is something to celebrate!"
Still sitting far too composedly, you watched them talk as though you were not there to hear them. You felt like a ghost trying to participate in a conversation,
You parted your lips slightly, attempting to speak.
However, the dark blond-haired boy next to you interrupted your attempt. His voice was calm, and the words he used were always well thought out as if he had studied a script.
"I would be grateful, Your Highness, if you would allow me to ask your daughter for a dance."
As he said this, you couldn't help but keep your eyes locked on him. His attitude was certainly that of a prince, but there was something about him - something extremely mysterious - that you still couldn't pick up on.
"I-"
The words came out of your mouth automatically, but you still had so many questions on the tip of your tongue that remained unanswered.
"But, of course, Prince Jimin. Y/N would be pleased, wouldn't you, my daughter?"
No, you were definitely not pleased. At that very moment, you just wanted to run away. Like a lost puppy, you looked for a familiar face in the surrounding hall hoping to see Taehyung. As you looked for help that would never come, the three men kept watching you, waiting for an answer.
You had two choices: say no and disappoint your father, then endure his complaints on the long ride home, or say yes to give him five minutes of satisfaction.
Your approval wouldn't have led to consequences, would it?
"I would be delighted." You lied, batting your long eyelashes several times, something you had learned to do to show interest. You knew men liked that.
Your father gave poor King Park another resounding pat on the shoulder, inviting him to leave the two of you alone.
Jimin seemed satisfied with your response as he gave you a sincere smile. You did likewise, before rising from your chair - which had become uncomfortable - allowing your dress to regain its shape. Your thighs had gone numb from sitting for at least two hours watching the guests dance, so - as if you had suddenly forgotten how to walk - your legs gave out.
A pair of hands grabbed your hips, making sure to hold them firmly, and when you looked up, you found yourself dangerously close to the blond man's face. Your hands rested on his, grabbing his fingers to loosen their grip on you. You noticed that these were incredibly cold and not too big - not like Taehyung's.
"Forgive me, I shouldn't have. Are you alright, Princess?"
"I'm fine, I apologise, I don't know what came over me." You took a step back, moving further away from the man, as if you weren't going to be dancing together anytime soon.
An awkward silence fell between the two of you. Your face was slightly lowered and your eyes stared at the shiny floor tiles. You could not imagine the expression Jimin might have had: was he perhaps impatient? Or, like you, was he feeling embarrassed?
"Don't you think it's better to put embarrassment aside, Princess?"
Of the two, Jimin was the first to break the silence.
"After all, we have to get used to each other's presence."
You raised your head abruptly, and your pearl earrings tinkled from the movement. Your heart drummed in your chest and your insides twisted. Repeating the phrase in your head, you tried to understand its meaning.
"What does it mean?"
Your voice came out broken, it happened to you whenever you felt anxious.
"Come on, Princess, don't play dumb. Our wedding is only a few months away now."
Your breath began to get shorter and shorter, as if someone was tightening the strings of your corset increasingly tighter, and a hole was opening up in your chest. You felt as if your lungs were being torn from your chest and the world around you was spinning all too fast. Jimin's face contorted into a worried expression and you could see his mouth move, but every sound was muffled.
"I must… I must go and freshen up."
You didn't know what tone you had used, and you didn't even know if the prince had heard your words, but within moments you had already drifted off, disappearing into the crowd of people. To the unfamiliar eye, it would have been difficult to recognise you. But those who knew you well - on the other hand - would have found you instantly.
Regardless of your appearance or posture, you entered a hall with few light sources, the majority of which was in darkness. Your right hand was resting on your chest, clutching the hard material of your corset, and you wished you could just rip it off.
Soon, a veil of tears blurred your vision even more, causing everything around you to become less clear. You did not even apologise when your shoulder bumped into someone else, continuing undaunted on your way.
The person you had hit, however, stopped and turned their gaze, watching you flee. They continued to watch you until you turned a corner, disappearing into the darkness.
Having found a quiet place, you slid down a wall until you found yourself sitting on the cold floor. The room you were in was dark - the dim light of the moon coming from the one large window. The room was empty, only for a few abandoned paintings leaning against the walls.
A thousand questions tormented your thoughts. The idea that your father had given you away to a stranger made you nauseous, and the more you thought about it, the more the cake you had eaten rose up in your stomach. You brought your hands to your mouth, choking back a sob, while your breath was still too short to allow you to think clearly.
You were alone. You felt completely abandoned to a cruel fate, a fate you had not chosen but had to undertake - whether you wanted to or not. Disbelief gave way to anger, and anger soon became disappointment.
Your father had sold you and most likely felt no remorse. You ran your hands through your hair, forgetting the fact that it had been carefully arranged, therefore ruining your hairstyle.
Breathe, Y/N, breathe. But even though you kept telling yourself to calm down, it was impossible. You wished you could escape, hide your identity and finally live the life you had dreamed of.
But your Red Thread of Fate had been tied to the Crown since your birth.
"Y/N!"
A familiar voice resounded in the room and all was silent for a few seconds until quick footsteps approached. The figure knelt right in front of you and - without hesitation - grabbed both your wrists so that your gaze focused on them. Your eyes immediately locked onto a dark-brown pair, looking at you intensely.
"Y/N, it's me, Taehyung. It's me."
Serenity. Kim Taehyung brought serenity into every place he stepped.
You watched his face fully illuminated by the moonshine, and took it all in. His black hair was slightly wavy and fell over his face, framing it perfectly.
If Hell had his face, then you were ready to burn for Eternity.
"It's all right, love. I'm here."
Taehyung didn't waste any time sitting on the ground, picking you up by the hips so that you were resting on his legs. An arm firmly wrapped around your shoulders while a hand gently caressed one of your cheeks.
The warmth of his body caused a feeling of cosiness in you, yet your chest still felt like it was about to implode. "I- I can't breathe."
He instantly seemed to realise what the problem was, because his eyes focused on your chest. Suddenly, his hand reached down all the way to your breast until he grasped some of the threads that bound your corset from the front: he pulled with such force that the seams tore and - finally - all the pressure released. Like a newborn child, you began to breathe, and after a few seconds warm tears wet your cheeks.
You were incredibly scared, still in shock. But Taehyung held you close, gently, almost fearful of breaking you like a porcelain doll. You felt his warm breath in the crook of your neck and his scent intoxicated you completely, making you forget everything.
Your breasts were partly exposed, but you could never feel embarrassed in front of him. Not in front of the man who had seen every last detail of you, not in front of the man who had explored every inch of your body.
"Please don't let me go."
Taehyung hummed and continued to hold you in his arms while giving you a concerned look. His eyebrows were furrowed and you knew he needed an explanation as soon as possible. But Taehyung was also aware that you were still unable to give it to him.
"I won't ever let you go. But now I need you to calm down, hm?" He said softly, as if he was talking to a child. His hand reached for yours, grabbing it gently, and bringing it close to his face.
"Do you remember how many moles I have? Do you want to count them?"
Serenity. Taehyung brought serenity, and every word he spoke to you came from the heart. Ever since you knew him, he had always been affectionate and attentive towards you. He knew you better than anyone else.
So, of course you knew the answer to the first question.
You smiled, heart beating fast but not out of fear. With the tip of your index finger you began to trace every spot on Taehyung's face, his skin always soft and flawless.
"One. You touched the small mole on the tip of his nose, near the right nostril.
"Two." Then it was the turn of the mole under the lid of his right eye, the spot you found most distinctive.
"Three." You murmured, as your heart beat faster and faster. You knew very well where the third mole was since it was your favourite. So you brought your face closer to his, so that your noses brushed against each other, before placing a tender kiss on his lips.
Taehyung's lips were never dry, touching them was always pleasant. Kissing him was always pleasant.
"Good girl."
His voice was hoarse as he moistened his lips and bit the lower one. You were so fragile, so exposed before him. All this delicacy, he wanted to destroy it. And Taehyung felt like a lunatic because a rarity like you was only to be protected.
But you provoked mixed feelings in him. Your bare breasts, your smooth skin, your eyes full of innocence and love for him.
Taehyung wanted to break you.
"You look so pretty right now, dove."
He hummed, almost like he had never thought such nonsense until that moment. "You would be even prettier if you told me what happened to you."
Your smile disappeared, and the perfect world that had been created began to crumble. You sat up, hiding your exposed chest with your arms.
"Taehyung, I..."
You spoke quietly, afraid of the reaction the brunette would have had. He wouldn't have blamed you, because he knew how much your position as heir to the throne made you suffer, but knowing Taehyung, he would have stepped back to make it less difficult for you.
The thought of not being able to see him again killed you.
Before you could say anything else, a man you recognised as one of your father's guards burst into the room. Your first reaction was to move away from Taehyung as quickly as possible, but the man seemed upset for a reason worse than that: his breath was short and his face completely pale.
"Princess Y/N, we've been looking everywhere for you!" He spoke without ever taking his eyes off you. That's when Taehyung removed his jacket, placing it on your shoulders.
"What's going on? Is my father looking for me?"
"Princess, I- I'm sorry…" He stammered in a slurred voice. "His Majesty, your Father, he…"
You were silent, waiting for him to finish the sentence as the man beside you loosened his grip on your shoulders.
