First of all: thank you all for following my Advent calendar!
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3
The calendar was made using a randomizer: all the ships were added, then the prompts—and ta-da!
I’m planning to write more Demon Slayer, but I won’t be stopping BTS either (so don’t worry, okay? <3)
I wish you all a wonderful Christmas.
I hope that during this holiday season, you are surrounded, loved, and cherished.
And if you ever feel lonely… well, you can always dive back into—or discover for the first time—the Advent calendar.
Today is the first of December. You know what that means?
It means you're going to open the first chocolate window of your Advent calendar! Woohoo! I hope you get a sweet, sweet one. But if, by any chance, you don’t like chocolate, I have some pretty good news!
At 5 PM, you’ll get my little Advent Calendar, running until December 24.
Twenty-four texts with different ships — BTS or Demon Slayer.
Some gay, some not.
Exclusively on my Patreon, right here -> <3
And because it’s Christmas, I’m also adding a subscriber tier where you can request commissions. For only 12.30€, you’ll get two commissions per month! Woohoo!
Everything opens at the same time as the first window — don’t be late!
Love you.
More news and other things will come here someday! Stay tuned!
The weather outside is gorgeous for mid-October, and it suits you perfectly. You glance at your little notebook, adjust your ponytail, and let out a soft sigh. Today is a special day—you’ve been preparing for it for days, even weeks. Everything is going to be perfect; you’re certain of it because you’ve made sure of it.
After folding several small envelopes, you look at them as if they were tiny animals. But that nagging doubt, lingering in your mind for the past three days, creeps back like a subtle dusting of anxiety.
What if he doesn’t like it?
You and Jimin have been together for almost a year now, and everything has been perfect, full of sparkles and love. He’s so kind and gentle that sometimes it feels unreal, like there must be a catch. But no, he’s just an incredibly wonderful person.
So, for his birthday, you decided to plan a surprise—something intimate that retraces all the places you’ve been to for your dates, even the small ones. It was tough to get all the shopkeepers on board, but now that you think about it, they all agreed to play along.
All that’s left is to drop off the last three envelopes, which you quickly tuck into your handbag. Today, Jimin is going out with Taehyung, who’s in on the plan. When you told him your idea, he helped organize it, saying every time that Jimin would be blown away, thrilled beyond belief. And even though your fingers tremble with nerves, there’s no turning back now—you don’t have another idea or the time.
Finally, you step out of the bedroom, running a hand through your hair—a nervous tic when you’re anxious. Jimin is already sitting at the counter, sipping his coffee. His eyes light up when he sees you, taking in your outfit and hairstyle with a soft gaze.
“- I must be the luckiest man in the world.
Why?
Because I have the most beautiful person in the world in my living room.”
Your cheeks flush red, as they always do when he compliments you like that, a smile blooming on your lips. You lean in for a gentle kiss, which he gives you with the lingering bitter taste of coffee, and you rub your nose against his, making him smile with joy.
“- So, you still haven’t told me—what are we doing today? After spending the day with Taehyung, I’m going to miss you so much. Maybe I should cancel?”
Your eyes widen, and you gently push him with both hands, kissing him playfully while shaking your head. As if!
“- And disappoint your best friend? Don’t even think about it. Be nice, go with him. He’s been planning this outing for ages. And I told you, didn’t I? I’ve got work today—tons of emails and reports to write. I won’t be free.
- Tch. Fine, fine. Whatever you want. But if you miss me at any point, don’t forget I’ll tell Taehyung I’m not staying with him.
- Deal. I’m going to run some errands, and you’ll be gone when I get back! Have fun, and don’t tease Taehyung too much!
- I never tease him!”
A laugh escapes your lips as you leave the house, the door slamming shut behind you. You quickly drop off the last envelopes for the grand treasure hunt you’ve planned, a bit disappointed that you won’t see his face at each one. But your boss was clear: if you don’t finish your work by tomorrow, you’re in trouble. Even though you got a head start, there are still a few details to sort out.
When you return, the house is indeed empty. It’s always strange, even after a year—you’re still not used to the idea of him being gone for long. Maybe you’ll hide in his suitcase when he leaves for his long tours, just to make sure he still thinks of you after his fans.
It’s been about an hour now that Park Jimin has been traipsing around the city. Taehyung drags him from café to bar to restaurant. And at each stop? A small envelope, neatly folded, placed on the table with their orders. At first, he thought it was a prank by ARMYs for this special occasion, but he quickly realized it wasn’t the fans’ doing. The latest envelope was purple, with glittery ink that read: Remember where we had our first date.
Jimin felt his heart race in his chest. His eyes flicked up to his best friend. Taehyung had a slight, teasing smile, wiggling his eyebrows with an amused glint in his eyes.
“- Well, finally! I thought you’d never get it and we’d have to do another lap! You’re slow today, Jimin!
- You were in on it?! And you didn’t even tell me?!
- Of course I was! When she came to me, she told me not to say anything. It’s a big surprise. And I did the right thing. You should see your face!
- I need to go home!
- No! Go where the letter tells you! She’s probably there, thinking you’re an idiot!”
She’s waiting for me there?! Since when?”
With a slow gesture, Taehyung raises his phone to check the time, his smile widening.
“- Two hours.”
In a flash, Jimin is on his feet, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. He doesn’t think twice before heading to the place of your first date, running as fast as his legs can carry him.
You met in a café, but your first real date was in a small park, tucked between Hybe and your apartment. A cozy spot where you spent the evening laughing until Jimin mustered all his courage and kissed you. Your feet shuffle on the ground as you sit on the swing, staring at the dirt.
Jimin must not have liked your surprise. Or maybe he didn’t understand it? Your nose scrunches, and you feel the overwhelming urge to cry, feeling foolish for still waiting. Two hours, and he’s not here—there’s no way he’s coming. Standing up, you brush a hand across your face, your fingers smelling of the swing’s metal, and to make matters worse, rain joins your sadness.
A downpour begins, but you don’t care. You start walking home, only to freeze when Jimin appears in your line of sight. Tears stream down your face, and you’re not sure why anymore, a sob escaping as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, his eyes full of apology as your small fist taps his shoulder.
“- You’re late! What were you doing?!
- I’m just an idiot who didn’t get it until now. I’m sorry for making you wait.
- I’m not forgiving you! You left me waiting for who knows how long!”
With his signature gentleness, he pulls you against his toned chest, his lips brushing your forehead, rain be damned, before kissing your lips. You respond eagerly, and when you pull away, he looks at you with those soft eyes of his.
“- Is there another surprise for my birthday?
- No. At least, I forgot because you took too long! You should’ve hurried”
On Kim Namjoon’s birthday, you have no taste for anything anymore. Yet, an unexpected surprise will transform your sorrow into a moment you will never forget.
The pleasant smell of the food we cook makes you gently smile, as you roll in the blankets. It must have been around ten o'clock. Maybe a little longer, but not yet completely the time to get up. After all, what for?
In this big house bought on a whim, there was no one else but you. And even if it hadn’t always been the case, it doesn’t make you want to move from bed. After all, once again, for what purpose? No one was waiting for you, you had nothing to celebrate.
Last year, you could have had to get up. Make a superb cake, create things with your hands. But this year, you didn’t have to do any of that. Because you had already lost everything.
You had married Kim Namjoon, a strong man. But obviously not enough to survive the cancer that had carried him away. And you had taken a little too. When we buried him, we had to bury a piece of you. So, without any desire, you turn into the big bed.
Yet something bothers you. Now that you think about it, there was only you at home. Even more on a day like this. So the smell of food, where did it come from? In a now serious movement, you straighten up in bed. Was someone breaking in?
It was difficult to say that a thief was going to come and make you pancakes. And your little nose is wrinkling. Maybe one of your friends wanted to come and play a prank on you? Quite distasteful. You did say that you wanted to be alone.
Furiously, now you get out of bed to join the kitchen. Ready to smash the person who dares to prevent you from getting depressed in peace. And your whole body freezes, your eyes flutter. In front of you, the tall brunette seems to be doing a real buffet.
" - Ah, finally awake? I thought nothing was going to make you get up.
- Namjoon?
- Who else do you want, who makes pancakes for breakfast in our house?"
The teasing tone makes you blush, and you slur something. About a bad dream. Something about the fact that he was dead, buried for a year. And tears roll against your cheeks. You feel stupid. And his big muscular arms wrap around your shoulders to calm you down.
And you tell yourself that even if it was that life the dream, then it wasn’t a big deal. Because for the moment, you could celebrate Namjoon’s birthday with him. And that was the main thing.
AHHHH!!
I'm finally back! Sorry to have been all silent for this long, I have some… Problems? With my inspirations!
I hope you missed me very much (Mwahahahaah!)
Oh and yes, I'm late, sorry JK, Love you <3
We start this edition with a little Jungkook x You!
--------------
I will start posting more free things on my Patreon, not all about BTS, but also Demon Slayer, so stay alert!
Enjoy <3
Love you much, much <3
The sound of the wind pushing through your hair made you shiver softly, your eyes drifting down to your watch to make sure you weren’t too late. But then you realized the problem was actually the opposite—you were early.
A sigh slipped past your lips. You still had a good half-hour before he would arrive, so you decided to wander around the restaurant where you had made the reservation, hoping to find something to do while waiting for your boyfriend.
Because yes, even if you were still the first one surprised by it, you really were in a relationship with Jeon Jungkook, the world-famous artist of BTS!
It had happened in quite a simple way, really. You had bumped into him in a store, and you had mustered the courage to ask for an autograph. Of course, he had smiled, said yes, and signed your notebook. While he signed, the two of you ended up talking. For a long time. Long enough that you exchanged numbers, saw each other often after that, and eventually—you moved into his big house with him. Naturally, you had insisted on keeping it a secret, hoping to avoid toxic fans and not jeopardize his career.
But anyway, now the two of you were about to have a romantic dinner in a popular restaurant. Not one of those crazy expensive places he usually went to, but a cozy little spot that Google and your friends spoke very highly of. You hoped they were right, otherwise you’d have spent quite a lot of money for nothing.
Whistling a little tune you had heard on the bus ride over, you wandered past shop windows, barely paying attention to the world around you, when something caught your eye. Like a divine sign, the sun pierced through the dark clouds just to reveal two beautiful silver necklaces that would be the perfect touch for today: a birthday gift for both you and him. Simple, discreet, beautiful—just right.
You knew better than anyone how much Jungkook loved jewelry.
The little ding of the store door made you shiver, as did the scent of freshly varnished wood, but your goal was clear. Without wasting time on the other displays, you almost rushed to the counter under the surprised look of the shop assistant. Jungkook would be there in about ten minutes.
“—Hello, how can I help you?”
“—Hello, I’d like the pair of necklaces from your window. Do you still have them?”
“One second.”
He closed the case he had been cleaning and walked over to the display. Just imagining Jungkook’s face when you gave him the box made excitement rush through your body. He showed you other beautiful pieces, but you politely declined and hurried out with your little bag in hand—just in time to meet Jungkook so it would look like you’d just arrived.
“—Are you ready for this special day with me?”
“—Always. So, what have you planned for today?”
“—First of all, let’s eat! I’m starving!”
He smiled at you, though you could feel he was holding back from leaning in to kiss your lips. Too many people around. Someone might see, recognize him. You pulled back just in case, not noticing the slightly hurt look in his eyes as he opened the door for you.
The restaurant was chic but traditional. A small street-side place, wooden tables, half bamboo walls, half painted red, and beautiful round lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Cozy, almost like home. You both sat down at a bamboo table where menus were already waiting.
“—Order absolutely anything you want! Today’s YOUR day! I’m paying for everything!”
“—Are you sure?”
“—Of course, come on!”
His smile was warm, and everything went perfectly at first. The starters were amazing, the atmosphere light and fun. But when the main course arrived—that’s when things went wrong. The waiter smiled at you, brushing his fingers against yours as he handed you your plate, barely glancing at Jungkook.
You froze, unsure what to do. You could feel Jungkook’s irritation rising until his glass hit the table harder than usual, making both you and the waiter jump.
“—So, am I not disturbing you too much here?”
“—Sorry… would you like another glass of wine as well?”
“—No. Thank you. Just the food will be enough.”
The waiter frowned, and you twisted your fingers together, praying this wouldn’t ruin Jungkook’s birthday. But the mood shifted—no more jokes, no more little smiles, only the food left between you.
When you left the restaurant, you didn’t feel like celebrating anymore. You walked silently through the streets. Jungkook kept his eyes forward, quiet, and you had nothing to say either—afraid of making it worse. Soon, tears rolled down your cheeks, turning into quiet sobs that made him suddenly stop in his tracks.
“—Hey, don’t cry! I didn’t mean to make you sad. That guy just pissed me off. How could he flirt with you right in front of me?!”
“—I’m sorry… I just wanted everything to be perfect. But, as always, I ruined it…”
“—Of course not! It’s HIM, that bird-brained guy who thinks he can do whatever he wants just because no one knows we’re together!”
You lifted your head toward him, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to calm himself down. Finally, he pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that melted all the tension away. You closed your eyes, kissing him back, relief flooding through you.
When you broke apart, his hand caressed your cheek, his forehead resting gently against yours.
“—Do you want to give me the best birthday present? Tell the world we’re together, so guys like him won’t ever dare hit on you again. I want everyone to know you’re mine. Please.”
“—And what if your fans don’t accept it?”
“—Then too bad. They’ll stop being fans. That’s it.”
“—So… you don’t want your second gift?”
“—Wait, I get a second gift?”
Your smile returned as you wiped away the last of your tears, handing him the little package you had bought earlier. A bright smile spread across his face too, softening the air around you.
“—I’m really spoiled, having you all to myself. I think you’re the best birthday present I could ever ask for.”
Please, consider supporting me on Patreon or go check my gumroad!♥
Synopsis: Jungkook is your body guard <3
"– You’ll have to take care of my daughter. She’s not difficult, you’ll see."
The man in front of him made Jungkook want to punch him in the face, but he stayed professional. This was the last bodyguard contract he had accepted—and probably the last one ever. After this, he could quit and go back to school. He would have finally finished paying off his father’s debt and wouldn’t need to work for the ultra-rich anymore.
The door opened to his left, and he turned to follow the movement—just in time to see you appear in your pink pajamas, white slippers, and holding a giant plush toy that looked like some kind of plant he didn’t recognize. You walked over and sat next to your father on the couch.
The first thought that crossed Jungkook’s mind when you entered the room was: Another daddy’s girl.
"– This is my daughter. You’ll have to protect her throughout the trial, make sure nothing happens to her. Then you’ll get your check."
– When does the trial start?
– Tomorrow."
He nodded, his eyes falling on you, with that slight look of disgust you knew too well. He quickly looked away, not wanting to draw attention.
"– Will she be staying somewhere else during the trial?
– Yes, I’ve booked her a hotel room. Your job is to follow her everywhere—even if she wants a four-tier cake at three in the morning. You understand me?
– Yes."
He glanced at you again, already convinced you were the spoiled type who was going to make his life hell—unaware that in truth, you were afraid of him.
Tall, built like a prison gate, piercing black eyes, tattoos all over his arms, chest, probably even his back. An eyebrow piercing, a labret piercing, multiple in each ear. He was the type of bad boy you'd been warned to stay away from since childhood—someone who looked like he could pull a weapon and shoot you without blinking.
"– Father… I’m not sure…
– He’s the best, sweetheart. And you can call me anytime, day or night. Did you finish packing?
– Yes.
– Perfect. Your car is waiting outside."
Jungkook stood up, his muscles cracking as he stretched, making you shiver. He waited for you to get up, which you did quickly—almost jogging to the door so as not to upset him. You threw one last look over your shoulder as you left.
It was only going to be two weeks, but it was a matter of safety.
Your father was the city’s top lawyer, and he had decided to defend a Yakuza boss—part of a Japanese group that had spread to South Korea like wildfire. The boss had been arrested two days ago, and the media were all over it.
Like vultures circling a rotting corpse, desperate to get the best bite.
Naturally, Jungkook had been hired to handle this mess and make sure nothing happened to the daughter of the prodigy lawyer—who had both the case files and rock-solid evidence. The trial wouldn’t be too complex or long, so Jungkook figured he just had to last two weeks and then he could be done. There wouldn’t be much to do except follow you around like a poodle and then go back to his normal life.
If only.
The hotel was a luxury one, meant for the ridiculously rich, and to ensure his precious daughter had no problems, Jungkook had to live there with you. He rolled his eyes when he saw the enormous room booked for you—it looked more like an apartment.
A red canopy bed, silky wooden floors, a massive couch circling a lounge area that opened to a kitchen/dining space. The bathroom screamed wealth, with raw marble double sinks and a walk-in shower that could light up in a hundred colors and play stereo music.
No, Jungkook would never understand the rich and their obsession with always having more.
"– I’m sleeping on the couch. I get up at 5:30 a.m., and I’m not known for being quiet. I’ll do a sweep every time we leave or enter. I stay behind you unless I say otherwise. Survival only works if you listen. Capiche?
– I’m not a child, you know. I understand the risks.
– Oh yeah?"
He gave you a mocking smile, eyeing your pajamas, and you felt the urge to throw your plushie at his face. But you had the manners of royalty, so you simply turned away and placed the toy on your big bed. Looking around, lost for a second, you approached the curtains to do what you always did—watch the city live.
That’s when Jungkook’s hand snapped, and his black eyes shot toward you like bullets.
"– Don’t even think about doing that again. This isn’t a seaside vacation. If we make it through this trial without getting shot, we’ll be lucky. So princess, don’t paint a target on our backs.
– Sorry."
He said nothing, wondering how they’d survive two weeks together if you couldn’t even be discreet. He turned his back to head for the massive couch—not bad for a place to sleep—then looked back at you.
"– I’m taking a shower. No funny business, got it?
– Okay."
Trying to prove you were a grown-up, you stepped away from the window, hands in the air, and walked to your bed just as the sliding bathroom door closed with a sharp clack, making you wrinkle your nose. You glanced around with a small, awkward look.
You’d always been told to be careful, that out there, people could come for you at any moment. A sigh escaped your lips as you got up and laid out a blanket and two pillows for him, so he wouldn’t have to sleep sitting up, then you climbed into your own bed. The weight of the day hit you like a sack of stones.
Time dragged on. No phone, no computer—nothing that could reveal your location. Jungkook paced like a caged lion, and you were bored to death. Curled up on the couch, you watched TV, glancing up now and then to see him checking every corner of your so-called "safe house."
"– I want a coffee.
– Then I’ll order it.
– No. I need to go out. My father isn’t paying you to lock me up like an animal, but to protect me. I want a coffee."
He looked at you with his usual annoyed expression, clicked his tongue, and nodded. You jumped up excitedly to go change before he changed his mind.
Jungkook already regretted saying yes.
He watched you bounce with joy in your perfect little rich-girl outfit, wondering how you could be so cheerful when at any second, someone could shoot you.
But he kept a cool head and did his job: protect you, wherever you went. And of course, you took full advantage of that to go shopping—despite him constantly grumbling about your safety. You didn’t listen, which irritated him more and more.
And then—disaster struck in less than a heartbeat.
Jungkook had just a second to shove you to the ground, shielding your body with his own as a burst of bullets shattered the glass around you. Screams, chaos, people collapsing like bees when night falls.
When the silence finally returned—heavy and suffocating—you lifted your head.
Your ears rang like a hive, and the world moved in slow motion. Then you felt the warm liquid on your back.
"– Jungkook?"
No response. Your heart pounded as you tried to push him off, twisting slightly—only to see, with horror, a wound gushing blood, the kind that wouldn’t stop. You scrambled to press your hands to it, eyes darting around in panic.
The sound of the crowd makes Jimin’s head spin as he weaves through the various bodies.
Joy, love, balloons — everything seems perfect. The salty wind fills his mouth as he takes long sips of his tropical cocktail, a warm mix of alcohol and fruit juice, served in a coconut with a ridiculous little umbrella, waiting for the official ceremony to begin.
It’s hot — unbearably hot — maybe from the euphoria in the air, or maybe from the blazing sun heating the sand. Jimin rolls up his sleeves, shifting from foot to foot, just as nervous as if he were the one about to say “I do.”
Yet, he can’t help but feel genuinely happy for his best friend. Taehyung deserved this, and Jimin knew he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror if he hadn’t encouraged him to go through with the wedding.
“- How do I look? Is it okay?
- You’re perfect, Taehyung.
- Has he been waiting long? I haven’t seen his car.
- No, he just got here. Breathe.”
Easier said than done when you're not the one wondering if the person you love will show up. Though, realistically, there was no way Jungkook wouldn’t. Jimin had never seen anyone more impatient to lock Taehyung down for life.
It was both romantic and a bit suffocating, depending on how you looked at it. But Taehyung didn’t seem to mind. And Jungkook hadn’t come with a baseball bat to drag him in — he had waited out the storm like anyone would.
“- Okay, I think I’m ready.
- Perfect. Let’s go see your husband — he’s probably wondering if you’re coming.”
Jimin offers his arm, which Taehyung accepts nervously, clutching his bouquet of sunflowers tightly and taking deep breaths as they walk toward the beach. The long red carpet stretches ahead, leading straight to his future husband. Guests begin settling into their seats, watching Taehyung walk down the aisle at his best friend’s side.
None of Taehyung’s parents had wanted to come, and his grandparents hadn’t been able to make the trip. So, it was Jimin who led him to the altar, their mutual friends’ eyes glimmering around them.
“- We are gathered here today to witness the union of two exceptional people: Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook, who will be joined by the laws of marriage. If anyone has something to say, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
A beat of silence falls over the crowd before the ceremony continues. Vows are exchanged, rings slipped onto fingers, laughter and tears shared. Jimin feels caught in a whirlwind of joy and peace. Eventually, he finds himself seated at the newlyweds' table, directly across from his boss — Min Yoongi.
Yoongi had made an effort to wear color, as requested: no white or black for guests. Jimin came in light blue, Yoongi in a deep bordeaux red, his hair half tied up in a loose bun he seems to be growing out. It suited him — maybe too well.
But Jimin says nothing, enjoying the banquet without overthinking. He wants to bask in his best friend’s happiness. Across the dance floor, Taehyung and Jungkook are already teasing each other like no one else exists. It’s beautiful.
Jimin can’t stop his tears when they share their first dance, surrounded by people who love them. A real little family.
“- You look very handsome today.
- Does that mean I don’t normally, Mr. Min?”
Yoongi raises a brow while Jimin laughs softly, trying to stay composed as he turns back to him.
“You look very handsome today too, Mr. Min.
- I should hope so. It took me two hours to find this suit.
- You didn’t sew it yourself? I took you for a little fairy.”
Yoongi smiles at that, amused, and Jimin hands him a champagne glass from a passing tray, which Yoongi politely declines.
“- I have work early tomorrow. Can’t afford to get drunk.
- I didn’t ask.
- It was an answer to your unspoken question.”
Jimin shrugs, sipping from his glass as his eyes roam the crowd. The music is lovely, the breeze gentle, and the newlyweds move from table to table thanking everyone for coming.
“- They’re adorable. They make such a sweet couple. I’m jealous.
- Jealous? Why? You wanted Jungkook?”
Jimin chokes on his champagne, the alcohol burning through his nose painfully. Yoongi tries not to laugh too loudly, handing him a napkin.
He can’t believe Jungkook actually told people that story.
“- I wasn’t hitting on him! I was drunk and mistook him for a houseplant. I poured my drink on him to ‘make him grow.’
- Really? That’s not how he tells it.
- I swear I never tried to flirt with my best friend’s boyfriend. I genuinely thought he was Taehyung’s plant. Nothing more.”
Yoongi visibly relaxes, his shoulders lowering. Maybe he had been worried. But it wasn’t like there was any chance of something ever happening — Jungkook was married to the love of his life and would never change that.
“- Did they say where they’re going for their honeymoon?
- Some island. They won’t be reachable until they’re back in the city.
- Perfect. That way we won’t have their happiness shoved in our faces all week.”
Jimin laughs. Yoongi may act cold and detached, but now, he just seems human — more than Jimin ever expected. He bites his lower lip, bracing himself for the chaos he’s about to unleash in his own life.
“- I think I love you too.
- Excuse me?
- Don’t make me say it again. I won’t.”
Yoongi stares at him, shocked — just like Jimin had been when Yoongi first said it. Jimin bites his lip again, braver this time.
“- I mean I’m willing to try something… see where it goes. Maybe we’ll fall in love, like Jungkook and Taehyung. Or maybe not. But I want to try. I want to keep the doors open — so I won’t have regrets later.
- Then let’s try. No regrets.”
Jimin feels lighter after saying it out loud, his gaze drifting back to Yoongi as the man leans in. His scent washes over Jimin just before Yoongi presses a soft, loving kiss to his lips.
And god.
He could die if it meant he could feel that for the rest of his life.
Please, consider supporting me on Patreon or go check my gumroad!♥
10:46 PM, precisely.
At least, that’s what your watch reads when you flick your wrist to check the time, wondering why on earth you agreed to host an exhibition so far from your home country.
But you couldn’t complain — you were being paid very well, and managing a gallery wasn’t exactly rocket science. Whether in South Korea, America, or Cambodia, the only real obstacle was the language and figuring out what drew a crowd.
At least, that’s what you told yourself when you took the first flight to Seoul — before realizing what you were actually in for: hours of train rides to reach the small towns around the exhibition site… unless you decided to throw in the towel entirely.
You climb into the train once it finally arrives at the station, paying attention to no one but yourself — as usual — and slump into your seat. Your tablet unfolds into a laptop as you start reviewing everything you can’t do on your phone: professional emails, client accounts. Anything to keep your mind busy.
You were a virtuous businesswoman, after all — best not to forget that. Many people depended on your expertise. Even if you were in the middle of a tsunami, you couldn’t give up that easily. Though, an art gallery with nothing left to exhibit wasn’t exactly… ideal.
“- Did you know that the Japanese camellia flower has no scent? Bit strange for a flower, don’t you think?”
- Yes.”
You didn’t want to be rude, but he caught you off guard, speaking out of nowhere without invitation. You barely glance up from your screen, still typing, before his deep voice cuts in again.
“- They say all things in nature are alive, but I’ve never seen a rock cry. Have you?”
You let out a slight huff and finally raise your head to look at the man in front of you — just in time to be blinded by the flash of his camera. It takes you several blinks to see anything besides dancing lights, and when you finally do, you shoot him a half-offended, half-annoyed look.
“- Since when do people take photo's of strangers on trains without their consent?
- Sorry. You just looked so much like… you. I couldn’t help it.”
He can’t be older than seventeen — messy brown hair with a single green streak falling over his forehead. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in a while, and that thought alone makes your chest tighten. His clothes are dirty, his expression apologetic, and yet he still manages a crooked little smile — the kind people wear to keep themselves from crying.
You just… stare at him for a full minute.
His clothes are grimy, but his hair isn’t greasy — he must be washing it at least somehow. You can’t begin to imagine what he’s been through to end up here. Life throws people into chaos, and most of the time, you don’t even know the half of it — even if they try to tell you.
You finally close your tablet case to focus on him, nodding toward the beat-up camera in his hands.
“- Is it for school?
- No. It’s for the aliens.
- …Aliens?
- Yeah. So they can see life on Earth isn’t all bad. Maybe they won’t want to invade after all. Not that I know why they’d want to.”
He knocks the air right out of you, and you don’t know what to say. A small laugh slips past your lips — it’s the dumbest thing you’ve heard all day, and somehow also the most sincere. The aliens? As if they’d pause at a teenager’s photo album and decide world domination wasn’t necessary.
And now you understand why this poor kid is on a night train.
“- It doesn’t bother me, you know?
- What doesn’t?
- That you disagree. That maybe you think I’m stupid. I’m used to it — my dad says it all the time.”
Another flash goes off, this time aimed somewhere behind you — maybe a couple, or someone else he found interesting. And your heart clenches at his words.
You feel… stupid. And you’re not even sure why. Maybe you want to apologize — and again, you're not sure why you don’t.
“- One day I’ll do an exhibit. I’ll invite you.
- Oh yeah? What will you call it?
- ‘A Thousand Reasons Not to Invade Earth.’
- That’s… a lot of reasons.”
He nods solemnly, agreeing with your comment as you just look at him, enveloped in a comfortable silence. And you find yourself wanting to hear more of him. He looks a little lost, and then — flash. A third photo. This time of the train window, and he stares at the image with childlike wonder, like an artist studying his own work. Then, he continues:
“- That way, when they come, they won’t invade us.
- Logical. And how exactly do you plan to pull off that miracle?
- Well… by showing them life on Earth, like I said. You’re not very good at listening, are you?”
Touché.
You bite your lower lip, brushing a hand through your hair, a little stung by the comment. But maybe that was one of the reasons you wanted to talk to him more — because it felt like maybe you could understand him better than this broken world could.
“- Alright then, what are you planning to show them? Just random snapshots?
- Those are the most authentic. If you warn people, they freeze. They try to show their ‘best angles,’ and the photo ends up bad.”
- Why would it be bad if they like how they look?
- Because it’s not natural. And what isn’t natural isn’t beautiful.”
You don’t fully understand the logic behind what he’s saying, but it hits you somewhere deep. Two more flashes go off, and again, he looks at the images with a sort of quiet reverence — like an artist admiring brushstrokes only he can see.
Maybe he’s just a misunderstood kid. Or maybe he’s a little more naive than most. You shrug — more to yourself than to him — then nod.
“- So, how many photos do you have for the aliens?
- Seven hundred and twenty-two.
- Only?”
He shrugs this time, and your question feels out of place now that you think about it.
A breath escapes your lips as your right hand smooths down your hair — tied tightly in a bun that’s already giving you a headache. You slip your tablet into your handbag just as the train’s electronic voice announces your stop.
“- What’s your name?
- Kim Taehyung. I’m nineteen. I just finished the school year and I’m spending the summer with my grandma. I wish I could stay there — I don’t like being at home.
- I understand. I don’t really like being home either.”
- Does your dad hit you too?
- …No.”
You don’t know what else to say. It feels like a slap in the face. The train stops, and you dig into your purse quickly, pulling out your card as you rise from your seat under his curious gaze.
“- When you have your thousand reasons, call me. I’ll handle your gallery.
- Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
And you step off the train with your heart lodged somewhere between your ribs and your throat. You press a hand to your face and take a moment to breathe before diving back into the storm that is your life.
And you know you won’t forget him anytime soon.
You hope he’ll call.
The silence isn’t so heavy within Jimin’s walls, as he sets down a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Yoongi, who lifts his eyes to stare at him.
Jimin seems only slightly tense, as though expecting the conversation to be pleasant, and yet he can’t stay calm. He knows all too well that if things go wrong, he’ll be the one left with regrets.
Yoongi clears his throat, wrapping trembling fingers around the cup.
"- I'm sorry for what happened. I went too far, and I realize that now. If you don't want to be part of my world anymore, I would understand.
- Who said I don’t want to stay with you?
- You said you didn’t want the contract anymore.
- And I haven’t changed my mind."
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, trying to understand where Jimin is going with this. The younger man smiles—soft, playful—as he settles comfortably on the couch next to Yoongi, wanting to look at him directly during their talk.
"- I want us to write a new contract. One that includes things that suit me too. Let’s say I want to write for the joy of it—not because I have to satisfy some creep who just wants to jerk off to what I create."
- So what are you proposing?
- You pay me three times more, I keep writing one book a month, just for you. Only you. But at my own pace, with my own inspiration."
Yoongi seems to ponder this. It wasn’t any less profitable, and in the end, he nods.
He’d fallen in love with Jimin’s writing when it was raw and unrestrained—when he didn’t need to give it direction. And he had realized that during their brief collaborations.
"- Alright. But how will you know what I want?
- I’ll know. If you chose me, it’s because you wanted me, right?
- You’re right."
Jimin beams, brighter than Yoongi ever imagined he could. He pulls a new work contract from his laptop sleeve—already reviewed by his best friend—and clears his throat, a bit shy as he hands it to Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t hesitate long before signing it.
Whatever Jimin wants, he would say yes.
Once the contract is signed and returned to Yoongi—who promises to get Jimin a copy soon—the two fall silent again. But it’s not an unpleasant silence. It feels light.
Still, some problems linger in the equation, and Yoongi is a little afraid to step into the spotlight. Again.
Even if he hasn’t known Jimin as long as Namjoon has known Seokjin, or like Taehyung with Jungkook, he knows his feelings for Jimin run deep and true.
"- Jimin, we need to talk about something else too.
- Something else?
- I’m in love with you. You don’t have to say anything—really, I don’t care. I just want you to know."
Jimin blinks several times, watching Yoongi stand like a robot, walking to the front door without saying another word.
Leaving him there, unable to say or do anything but watch him go.
And when it hits, Jimin curls into the couch, groaning in sheer frustration at his own dumb reaction.
Yoongi loves him.
So what now? Does he love him back?
He doesn’t know. It’s terrifying.
Love—real, movie-type love? Was he even capable of that? Capable of returning those feelings with the same intensity?
And even if he was, was he sure of what he felt?
Maybe he was just confused. That happens in shows and films all the time. And people always ended up shattered, unable to get back up.
Jimin doesn’t know whether to laugh bitterly or cry.
This emotional nuclear bomb—no one had ever dropped that on him before.
The only time he ever confessed his feelings, the girl had told him kindly that his cheeks were too big for her.
And that she didn’t date pigs.
Not the most uplifting memory.
"- Hello, Earth to Jimin—are you with me?
- Sorry, Taehyung. What did you say?
- Which one?"
Jimin’s eyes drift from the white floor to the suit Taehyung is wearing—a pristine white suit, though perhaps less well-fitted than the previous one? He doesn’t know what to say. He shrugs, clearly not mentally present for wedding outfit shopping.
He’s still stuck in that conversation from a week ago.
And he still doesn’t know what to do.
"- So?
- The last one looked better on you.
- You think so?
- I’m sure."
Taehyung examines himself again in the mirror, while Jimin smiles.
Even if he showed up to the wedding dressed as Mr. Potato Head, Jungkook would still find him painfully handsome.
Maybe that’s part of love too—caring without needing perfection. Just accepting. No problems. No compromises.
"Jungkook’s wearing black?
- Obviously. If he wears white, he’ll look like a penguin in Africa.
- Then pick the red rose. He’ll probably have the white one."
Taehyung nods and pins the accessory to the suit he’s chosen—elegant but understated: a three-piece white suit with a red shirt, echoing the rose.
Jimin smiles again.
In two weeks, Kim Taehyung will become a Jeon.
And clearly, he’s much more nervous than he lets on.
"- Does this look alright? The suit doesn’t make me look fat?
- No, you look perfect.
- And if he doesn’t like it?
- Well, then we’ll run along the beach, go skinny dipping, get married ourselves, and adopt two labradors and a Maine coon. And buy a little house by the sea in Busan.
- Sounds like a great plan. Let’s do that.
- Objection—nobody’s stealing my husband."
Jimin can’t help laughing as Jungkook wraps his arms possessively around his future husband, whispering how adorable he is before giving Jimin a nod of greeting—still holding on to Taehyung like he might fly away at any second.
"- Isn’t it bad luck to see the wedding outfit?
- That applies to the wedding dress, not the grooms’ suits. Subtle difference."
That’s true, and Jimin wrinkles his nose.
He pictures himself in deep blue. Yoongi would be in black, like he’s attending a funeral. Or maybe red.
He’d carry a shield of lilac flowers.
He shakes the thought away quickly—what a weird image.
What if Yoongi doesn’t like lilacs?
"- Isn’t he acting a bit strange, Jungkook?
- Love, Jimin. Love makes people weird. Always. Did you choose your suit?
- Uh-huh. Just waiting for the date to get here now and it’ll be perfect.
- Then let’s get out of this awful store before he calls Yoongi to marry him instead.
- Great idea. As always."
They share a knowing smile, and Taehyung changes out of the suit, back into his casual clothes, followed by Jungkook who grabs his hand as they leave the shop.
And Jimin is left drifting in strange thoughts for the rest of the walk.
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Synopsis: You came for a cake. But something went wrong.
Your hands are shoved deep into your pockets, your gaze fixed on the display case in front of you: every cake looks more appetizing than the last, and you don’t know what to choose—they all spark a primal urge to pull out your credit card and buy them all.
Maybe it’s their colors? Or maybe the way they’re presented in the perfectly maintained glass cases. Something about this parade of little treats tells you to stop and take at least two, so you pushed open the glass door, hearing the bell chime.
Everything here smells of sugar, hot chocolate, and extra pounds.
Of course, you don’t linger at the entrance; it’s charming—there are asymmetrical shelves making towers of cakes getting smaller on each level, red tiles on white walls, everything breathes indulgence, and your eyes light up at each perfect glaze.
“—Hello, how can I help you?”
You feel like you shouted, before turning to follow the sound of the male voice, who answers with a small chuckle. The man is handsome—divinely handsome. He could be a model or a K-pop singer and probably makes heads turn in the whole neighborhood, and you already feel your heart race, not quite sure why.
You feel like you’re back in middle school, and your cheeks flush as you stammer.
“—I would like… a cake, please.
—Perfect timing, you’re in the best place for that. What would you like?”
You hesitate to tell him that absolutely everything catches your eye, and if you listened to yourself, you’d empty the shelves—but then you laugh awkwardly at the thought. Your bank account probably wouldn’t keep up anyway, so better stick to one, and just because it looks good doesn’t mean the cakes taste good—maybe it’s all just about the design.
“—What kind of raspberry cakes do you have?
—Raspberry? Wonderful choice. Follow me.”
You do so without really knowing why. This guy might not even own the shop, but you trust him deeply. He leads you between the shelves until several other racks appear.
Your gaze falls on various cakes glazed to perfection, some topped with fresh raspberries surrounded by gold petals, others simply with a flawless mirror glaze, and you don’t know what to choose. Until your heart breaks for a tart—it looks simple at first glance, but white and milk chocolate shavings are placed on the fruit, which bathes in an airy cream, all surrounded by a perfectly refined crust.
“—Can I have the tart?
—Excellent choice.”
He says no more, puts on red gloves, and places the pastry into a white box. Everything is calculated, almost like a show, before he walks behind you like a duckling to the cash register and enters the price of the pastry: 8,500* Won. Not expensive for such a cute dessert.
"—That will be all, I suppose?”
—Yes. Thank you!”
You take the box and leave this strange atmosphere, quickening your pace when you notice the time, thinking your best friend must be pulling her hair out—or calling the whole army to make sure you haven’t been kidnapped by a lunatic.
Box in hand, you arrive at the park where she’s already waiting, tiny, sitting on a bench as if she owed money, and you smile, letting yourself fall down too, making her raise a reproachful look, which then fades into interest as she looks at the box in your hands.
“—Two more minutes and I call the police for a mysterious kidnapping!
—Sorry, I found a little cake shop.
—And you decided to stay four hours straight? Did they have a tasting fresh out of the oven or what?
—Four hours?!"
It’s not that you don’t believe the girl in front of you, but you need proof. So, you pull out your phone to check her claim. And she was right—almost five hours have passed since you walked through the shop’s doors, and without realizing it, you even sent a message to move the meeting an hour earlier.
“—I swear I lost track of time! Want some? Raspberry tart with chocolate shavings.
—It better be incredible, that tart."
A nervous laugh escapes your lips as you open the now-empty box, and you start to apologize. Your best friend’s eyes lift to you, sizing you up. They’re not full of judgment or reproach, but rather worry for your health before she lets out a hearty laugh.
“—You could have just told me the tart was incredible! I wouldn’t have blamed you!
—But I didn’t touch it! I mean… It was there!
—And now the gnomes ate it? Stop, it’s nothing, next time okay? Come on, let’s go! We have plenty of shops to visit!
—Okay.”
Disappointed, you toss the empty box into the first trash can you see before following your best friend to the mall, quickly pushing aside the day’s strangeness and fully enjoying discovering the season’s new arrivals. The summer heat made the air suffocating, and you desperately needed new clothes, so you try them on one after another, forgetting your dizzy head and everything else.
A week flies by, and you feel something is wrong—your stomach hurts, your head is heavy. You feel like everything around you is spinning; your head feels like a balloon, and if someone poked a needle in your temple, it would certainly burst.
You splash water on your face several times, trying to shake off the unpleasant sensation of a hammer pounding your head before dragging yourself to bed. Your ceiling dances as your breathing hurts when the sound of your apartment door echoes far away, making you roll your head to the side.
“—Misty..?
—No, sorry, Misty isn’t here.”
You recognize the voice of the man from the cake shop, and your blood races in your chest. You sit up with difficulty on your elbows, seeing stars as he closes the curtains one by one, then comes back into the living room to look at you, a smile on his lips.
“—You don’t look well, you probably need help.
—What did you do to me… What do you want..?
—‘What did you do, what do you want?’ You’re all stuck on that, it’s pathetic. I’m an artist, come on, and what do artists do?
—… I don’t know…
—They find inspiration in recipes. And perfect them.”
Another man enters through the door, and your head feels so heavy you can no longer hold it up; you feel yourself fall backward onto the floor under the gaze of the two men, who seem to be watching you.
“—I brought what you asked for, Seokjin.
—Perfect. Thanks.”
The second man nods, leaving somewhere in your apartment before Seokjin pulls your ankles to drag you across the floor. You struggle, plead, but no one seems to come for you, probably because all that comes out of you are whispers, and you can feel the tarp beneath you as he throws you down.
"—What are you doing..?
—I’m harvesting ingredients for my next masterpiece, of course. You’re going to be magnificent in my shop, I promise.”
You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out except a sound drowned by the echoes in your head, which seems to implode, plunging you into complete darkness.
“We regret to report another disappearance—this person also went into a bakery before vanishing exactly one week later. Disappearances have now reached six, raising police concerns, who urge all citizens to stay alert and to report any suspicious bakeries directly to the police…”
The small bell chimes in the large bakery, blue tiles, red walls, the perfectly symmetrical displays beneath a yellow tiered cake, beautifully decorated with several edible flowers, and Seokjin slowly approaches the door, fixing his eyes on the new arrival, a smile stretching his lips.
Sitting on the couch in the home he used to share with his partner, Taehyung looked sulky. Of course he wanted Jimin to get his job back, so he went along with the idea because all he ever wanted was his best friend’s happiness.
But he just couldn’t get over everything Jungkook had said. Jimin was important. He should’ve known that. He should never have questioned it. Ever.
"— Listen, I’m sorry... But Yoongi is my friend.
— And your boss, the one signing your fat paycheck at the start of each month.
— That’s not the point! How was I supposed to believe he could do something so... stupid?!
— By believing me, when I tell you something serious, without doubting me for even a second? I’ve never doubted you. Not even when you told me Jimin himself was flirting with you! Never!"
Jungkook bit his lower lip and let out a long sigh as he ran a hand through his slightly grown-out hair. He was trying to find the right words—anything to make sure the door didn’t slam shut again like a thunderclap.
He sat on the couch, far enough from Taehyung not to scare him off, but close enough in case he needed comfort.
"— I’m sorry I didn’t believe your best friend... I’ll be more open-minded next time.
— What next time?"
Jungkook's heart cracked hearing Taehyung’s cold tone and evasive gaze. He kept looking at him, searching for a hint of something—humor, irony, anything—but all he saw was a cold stare and genuinely hard eyes from his ex-fiancé.
"— You can’t really leave me for good. I mean... Taehyung, you’re the love of my life! And—"
"— And you didn’t believe me when I told you about the first serious issue. How can I trust that you won’t do the same thing again later?"
Tears welled up in Jungkook’s eyes before he dropped to his knees, catching Taehyung off guard. He pressed his forehead to the floor, begging for forgiveness—just as Namjoon had told him to do in these kinds of situations. So he followed it to the letter.
"— Please, don’t leave me for good! I’ll change, I promise! You want me to quit my job? I’ll do it. Anything you want. You want me to go punch Yoongi in the face? Just say the word! But please… don’t really leave me."
He felt pathetic, pressed against the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks as he desperately clutched the ugly rug he had always hated—now even more, with his face buried in it.
Until he felt Taehyung’s hand gently on his back.
"— Get up, Jungkook… I don’t like seeing you cry.
— I’m sorry. I won’t cry ever again, I promise.
— I didn’t say that either!"
A laugh slipped from Taehyung’s lips while Jungkook sniffled loudly, looking up at the man he’d always loved, full of shame for being so pitiful.
Taehyung stroked his cheek before pulling him into his arms, whispering sweet words while swaying gently, comforting him as Jungkook wrapped his arms around his slender waist like he was clinging for dear life.
"— I won’t leave you forever. On one condition.
— Anything. Name it.
— We finally do your public live... while I take care of you."
The whisper sent shivers down Jungkook’s spine. He didn’t hesitate for a second—his lips crashed onto Taehyung’s, laughing into the kiss, before being pulled into the bedroom and the door shutting with a flick of a foot.
A sign of a physical reconciliation.
-x-
When Namjoon got home, kicking off his sneakers and leaving them at the entrance, he was surprised by the smell of dinner wafting through the air. It brought a sweet smile to his tired face.
He walked into the kitchen, exhausted but soft, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist and planting a kiss on his neck.
"— You should’ve told me you were back, I would’ve come to pick you up."
— And ruin the surprise?
— Fair point."
He let Seokjin turn in his arms, exchanging an incredibly tender kiss before Seokjin gently nudged him toward the bathroom, insisting he take a hot shower—which Namjoon didn’t refuse at all.
When he returned, the table was already set and Seokjin was opening a good bottle of wine. Namjoon took his seat, eyes never leaving his husband, who served two large glasses of red before joining him at the table.
"— How was your day?
— Absolutely boring. I missed you every single minute.
— You’re too sweet."
He saw the older man blush slightly at the compliment, and Namjoon couldn’t help but smile more genuinely as he sipped his wine. It paired beautifully with the red meat that melted on his tongue.
They shared a peaceful silence, far from drama or relationship chaos.
"— How are the two troublemakers, Taehyung and Jungkook?
— They’re working on things. There’ll be a wedding.
— Good! I thought I’d have to go knock some sense into those two. And Yoongi?
— It’s... complicated. We’ll know more tomorrow.
— Why? What’s happening tomorrow?
— They’ll talk."
Seokjin nodded quietly and the conversation drifted to lighter topics. From deep to mundane.
Eventually, they ended up wrapped in each other’s arms in a hot shower before collapsing into their shared bed—
Hoping that by morning, everything would be a little less broken.
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Synopsis: You want something more expensive than this..
"- I don't want your gift. Why can't you understand that?"
You glanced at what Yoongi had bought, laid out so obviously on the table, and wrinkled your nose. That’s all he could manage? A cheap little gift that couldn’t have cost more than twenty thousand won. You rolled your eyes, turned on your heel, and grabbed a glass of wine — something soft, expensive, and indulgent — bought with his card. It made you feel superior. You took a sip before looking back at him.
"-Save that for your fans. I'm better than them. I’m the one who shares your life, remember?
-But you said you wanted a new necklace.
-A necklace that fits my new lifestyle, Yoongi. Not some trinket."
A deep sigh escaped from the artist as he looked at you like he’d married a stranger. But you couldn’t help it — the only reason you had entered Min Yoongi’s life was to enjoy yours to the fullest, without ever having to do anything more than bat your lashes.
You were born to marry rich and live the dream life.
Whether it was him or someone else, it didn’t matter. In fact, the fact that your husband was a bit naive worked to your advantage. He hadn’t seen through your act during four years of shared life — why would he now?
With no shame at all, you slouched into a chair casually, your gaze falling on the so-called necklace. Two tiny diamonds seemed to be fighting to see which one sparkled more. You scoffed.
"Is that all I’m worth? A cheap necklace with no pearls or luxury?"
"Stop. You know that’s not true."
"Yet when you offer me things like this, it feels like I don’t deserve better. What will people say? That you don’t love me enough!"
Your crocodile tears didn’t seem to work anymore. Yoongi looked unaffected as he took the box and closed it slowly under your surprised gaze. Maybe the gift didn’t mean much in your collection, but it was still YOUR necklace. He gave it to you.
"- What are you doing?
- What I should’ve done a long time ago."
A victorious smile curled your lips as you straightened up, expecting him to finally get it — to finally understand you deserved more. You were already preparing to list everything your life was missing. First up: a luxury car. Maybe a Lamborghini, or a Lexus. You had browsed models recently — they all caught your eye, so you’d have to decide soon. Or why not get them all?
But he didn’t do exactly what you had in mind. Instead of handing you a blank check like before, he handed you a stack of papers titled: Divorce Request.
A laugh slipped from your throat — something between mockery and frustration — as you stared at him wide-eyed.
"- Wait, you can’t be serious right now, can you?
- I’m dead serious. This charade has gone on long enough.
- What do you mean? That I’m not good enough for you anymore?
- Exactly. Yes."
You choked slightly, outraged.
How could he divorce you after everything you’d done for him? He was your first concert, your first luxury dinner. And now he wanted to take away your lifestyle? That wasn’t fair!
"- We have a marriage contract! You owe me half your fortune!
- No, I had it voided.
- That’s not legal!
- The fine print clearly states that infidelity voids the agreement."
Your cheeks flushed red — part shame from being caught, part shock at what you'd done. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but he wasn’t listening anymore. You clenched your fists, swallowing your pride.
He’d come crawling back, you were sure of it. When he realized what he’d lost — you, and all your generosity — he’d regret it. Who else would want a man like him? Naive and bland? No one.
With all the pride you had left, you left the shared house — not without announcing the devastating news to anyone who would listen. But as if by magic, none of your so-called friends answered your messages anymore.
Well, whatever. Yoongi would come back. You were sure of it. All you had to do was wait.
But as time passed, the divorce became real. You lost all your status, all access to the shared accounts. You had to leave the hotel suite and find a job — one that paid ten times less than Yoongi’s income. You were now living in a small apartment, barely the size of your old living room, doing everything you could to “accidentally” bump into him.
Not that you’d admit to circling your old neighborhood every chance you got. You told everyone you had a stable job with great hours.
Still, deep down, you hoped he’d take you back.
"- Yoongi!"
You had seen him pull up in his luxurious new car, and without thinking, rushed toward it. He looked just as handsome as you remembered — but his eyes were different. Indifference. Cold. On his arm was a young woman — short blonde bob, green eyes — who looked at you with a sideways smirk.
"- Who is she supposed to be?!
- The new one. Your replacement, if we’re using your words."
You glared at her, your nose wrinkling, but Yoongi didn’t let her stop. He clearly had better things to do, and they walked past you like you were nothing, leaving you alone outside the house you would never enter again.
Insulted, you turned on your heel and walked away.
There were plenty of rich men out there. Him or another — what did it matter?
And yet… your heart ached. And this time, the tears rolling down your cheeks were real.
This Sunday… and every Sunday after that… something dark is coming to your screen.
Something sexy. Something supernatural. Something you won’t want to read with the lights off. 🖤
📚 Let’s Be Sexy – an exclusive erotica fanfiction
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🔞 NSFW | Supernatural | TaeKook-centric
🧠 Kim Taehyung is just a regular human.
His best friend, Park Jimin, doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons, or fate.
But when Jimin steals something he was never meant to touch...
That something wants it back.
And it won’t ask nicely. 👀
✨ Drama. Lust. Possession. Obsession.
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“ - Taehyung, you can’t stay mad at Jungkook forever, you know?
- Why not? He didn’t want to believe you! How do you expect me to be calm and peaceful after that?
- Because you’re letting yourself sink into depression on my couch, playing your favorite playlists on repeat. That’s not healthy for you.”
Taehyung sniffles loudly as he props himself up on his elbows, his eyes filled with tears he hadn’t stopped shedding since the big announcement of his breakup with Jungkook, making Jimin sigh softly as he runs a hand through his hair. It didn’t take a genius to understand that Taehyung was sinking into a depression, and even though he wanted to act strong, the truth was: Jungkook was the man of his life.
So, to try to calm the already delicate situation in his life, Jimin had come up with the plan of the year: simply go talk to Jeon Jungkook, explain the situation, pray he would listen, and then return to his miserable life now that his boss had ruined everything. He cleared his throat before telling Taehyung he was stepping out and that he shouldn’t raid the ice cream tub before he got back.
Jungkook must have chosen the café to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed, and when the model arrives, he is already breaking down in tears and pulling Jimin into a shocked embrace.
“ - Oh my god, I’m sorry, I should’ve listened to you, believed you. Look at you. You deserve better than me and my comprehension issues. Honestly, Taehyung leaving me made me rethink my life.
- I hope not too much though, I mean… Sorry, what do you mean by rethinking your life?
- I’m going to adopt a dog, his name will be Bam. And then I’m going to win Taehyung back.”
Now he understood what a soulmate meant, and a small laugh escaped Jimin’s lips, much less tense than he had been so far. He motioned for Jungkook to sit down before taking a seat across from him, ordering a bottle of soda, simple and effective, before Jungkook wrinkled his nose and ordered two full meals: appetizer, main course, dessert, to Jimin’s astonishment.
“ - I might just be on a break with Taehyung, but I know how you behave. I’m not going to let you starve; the love of my life would hold that against me forever, and then I’d have to end it all.
- Yeah, no. Let’s avoid that scenario. Sounds like a good idea.”
Jungkook nodded like a child caught in the act, and Jimin exhaled softly, looking around to soak in the atmosphere before having a heart-to-heart with Jeon Jungkook about his plan: to get Taehyung out of his house as soon as possible.
Make no mistake, he loved him with all his heart, but he didn’t want to watch him crumble on his couch, sad and depressed solely because of his ex-boss. The café/brasserie was quite pretty, cream tiles on the floor with black grout for a classy touch. The tables were egg-shaped, which was surprising but probably practical, paired with cream velvet chairs where they were seated.
Jimin hadn’t even dared to look at the menu, fearing he might have an instant seizure when seeing how much food he’d have to skip for the next three months. Everything screamed wealth: chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and large bay windows let in beautiful sunlight, creating a cozy yet magical atmosphere at the same time.
“ - You’re here to talk about Min Yoongi or about the love of my life who I miss every day, night and day?
- Taehyung. I’m here for Taehyung.
- Ah.”
He seemed initially disappointed, his gaze drifting outside for a second before meeting Jimin’s again, who nodded curiously, trying to understand the reaction. He should have been happy to have a plan to get Taehyung back in his bed, especially after the scene he’d just made, but he crossed his arms over his chest. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet.
“ - Why would we talk about Min Yoongi? I thought you wanted an idea to get Taehyung back in your life?
- Yes, but at the same time without Yoongi, you won’t have the means to support yourself. I can take back the contract if you want.
- Really?
- No. Forget it.”
Jimin frowned; something was definitely wrong, and he stared at Jungkook, carefully watching his movements and demeanor before realizing he was as tense as a clothesline. Jimin fixed him with his gaze, and without opening his mouth, Jungkook relaxed and started talking non-stop.
“ - They forced me to come here and deal with the situation temporarily.
- Who, ‘they’?
- Taehyung and Yoongi.”
Jimin opened his mouth then closed it, looking more like a goldfish than a human before taking a deep breath and leaning back against his chair. Now he understood why Taehyung kept making lame excuses whenever he asked about his nightlife.
“ - I told them it was a bad idea. But they never listen to me.
- Are they here right now?
- Yes. They put a mic on me…
- Perfect.”
He smiled slyly, ready to make his traitorous best friend regret his childish behavior, hoping to bring him back to reason with Yoongi. And even if the idea was noble, it wasn’t the right way: he had feelings, the situation had obviously escalated — we’re talking unwanted touching and threats from Min — but he had to stay coherent: he needed this job, and everything had to be out in the open. He wasn’t going to forgive easily, but with effort, contact could be resumed.
Jimin entered his revenge phase: flirting.
Throughout the meal, he made comments about how well Jungkook dressed, how good his haircut looked, and how nice his makeup was. With a soft smile, they left the café/brasserie, Jungkook even tenser than when he’d arrived, while Jimin instinctively headed toward the big black car parked right in front of the bay window, getting into the passenger seat under Yoongi’s surprised gaze.
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Synopsis: You have the biggest news for him, but don't know how he's gonna react.
First of all, I'm so sorry, I know that I have to come in Friday, but eh.. No polls for this week, you gonna have a You x Yoongi! Enjoy <3
And sorry, really.
The setting is idyllic.
A small cabin atop the Irish mountains, all around you seems like a wonderful scene straight out of the most beautiful postcards: lush green lagoons, mist rising from hot springs, the scent of cheese and warm coffee. It gives you that little thrill you felt on your first camping trips in the Korean mountains.
Your gaze drifts over the pure nature surrounding you—a small river pleasant enough in the afternoon to dip your feet into its clear water. You’re only slightly sorry if it leads to a spring that might eventually be bottled. Complete calm surrounds your vacation; no one is around wherever you go, and even the locals don’t seem to know Namjoon—probably because of their internet troubles, or maybe simply because they don’t want to meddle in your life, which feels more respectful than the people back home: Korea.
A soft breath escapes your lips, and Namjoon lifts his curious gaze, a teasing smile indicating you’ll be hearing about this until your wedding day.
“— Is it the Irish marmots making you sigh like that?”
“— What? No, their life is… really interesting!”
“— Ah, then you must already know they’re aliens from another galaxy, with the bionic power to tell if you’re lying or not.”
“— That’s really interesting, I didn’t know that.”
He keeps a genuinely amused smile while you eventually give up—yes, you hadn’t listened to a single word he’d been saying for nearly three hours now, even though he was genuinely fascinated by the local flora and fauna. But you couldn’t help it; your mind was stuck on what you’d been carrying for the past three months: you were pregnant. You didn’t know when or how it happened—you always took care, even if apparently not enough—and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.
Namjoon was terribly busy with his role as leader, his group, his passion, the magazines; you didn’t want to sink that fragile balance between you into a swamp of endless problems. It’s not that Namjoon ever said he didn’t want children, but he never really expressed a desire to have any either, which made the question complicated, especially since you hadn’t yet found stability in Korea.
Everyone on TV always talks about how foreigners quickly get money, houses, and roll in wealth. But the reality is Koreans love Koreans, and if you don’t start or take over a company, you end up like anywhere else: unemployed. It’s the sad fate of life, that no one can change. So you were struggling to find stable work, and even though you were dating one of the richest people in the world, you really wanted to finally gain your independence.
“— What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”
“— I don’t know... if you’ll take it well or not... I don’t want you to think I did this to ruin your life or force you into anything.”
“— Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
He studies you, trying to understand what you’re about to say, while you feel tears welling up in your eyes—it’s like you’re about to announce the end of the world or that you just robbed the Bank of Korea. Maybe it’s hormonal, or maybe you’re really sad thinking this might be the last educational outing with the love of your life.
“— I’m pregnant, Namjoon.”
“— … Wait, what?”
“— I’m pregnant. With you, in case you have any doubts.”
His expression looks like you just pulled out a taser and pressed it against his neck.
He blinks several times before turning his head to the distance, a large snowy mountain, then looks back at you. Without further ceremony, he stands and walks into the cabin, and you feel like an idiot, sitting there on your wooden chair, trying to keep a shred of dignity and not burst into tears immediately.
You take deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves, and when the glass door opens again, you’re ready to hear him say he’s leaving you. But nothing goes as planned: he walks toward you, kneels, and shows you a burgundy velvet box. This time, it’s you who looks at him as if he just tasered himself.
“— I wasn’t planning to do it like this, or so romantically after two more educational outings, but I think doing it now is better.”
“— Namjoon, I…”
“— Don’t say anything else but yes. I don’t care about anything else; I’ve never felt anything more beautiful than you and me together... And I want us to have this child.”
“— But what about the others...”
“— Well, they’ll have to deal with it and nothing more.”
You stare at him with wide, stunned eyes, but before he can launch into another speech, you rush to kiss him. Tears of joy—not pain—stream down your cheeks as you try not to implode with happiness. And you can’t say anything but yes, repeating like an old scratched record that needs rewinding.
“— Then, let’s get married tomorrow. No, tonight.”
“— Namjoon.”
“— What?”
“— Let’s not rush things, let’s do it right. For us, not for anyone else.”
“— Okay... but know this: as long as you’re the bride, I don’t care about anything else.”
You just nod, letting him overwhelm you with his tenderness and love, closing your eyes to kiss him with all the feelings you have for him.
“— And, Mrs. Kim, it suits you absolutely perfectly.”
I know, I said there would only be three… but Ta-Dah!
Stay tuned for what’s next x')
Want the audio on YouTube? Comment: Yoongi Marry Jimin!
Frustration was evident in the way Yoongi shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze fixed right in front of him, hand on his phone. A month had been swallowed by communication problems, and now he wondered if he should have talked to him sooner.
“– Still on that?”
Namjoon dropped into his chair with a terrible noise, gently setting his coffee cup on the table before looking up at the man across from him. Yoongi simply stared at him as if he had just turned into a giant glitter, licking his lips before returning to his train of thought and choosing to simply ignore him.
“– I told you you should’ve talked before this happened. But you only listen to yourself.
– Because I’m the best advice I’ve ever heard.
– Yeah, that’s why you ended up here.”
He rolled his eyes and simply turned his chair toward the computer, fingers tapping on the keyboard to make it clear he wasn’t listening anymore, which made Namjoon smile quietly. Namjoon fell silent and settled into his own workspace, taking long sips of his coffee before finally resuming the conversation where it had left off.
“– You know, you could admit I’m right.
– Never, not before your deathbed.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes again and fully returned to his work, trying not to laugh every time Yoongi almost jumped at his phone to check if Jimin had sent him a message or a new text read while doing embarrassing things. Oh, Namjoon would remember all his life his friend’s reaction when he sent the new message and caught on to the game — he had never seen Yoongi run so fast to find a quiet place to keep some dignity.
He only snapped out of his bubble when he heard Yoongi sigh like a bored child and wondered how long he’d lost his train of thought. Yoongi seemed to completely forget what he had been working on — the new music promoting their joint albums.
“– What?
– Finally! I thought you’d never react.
– Hyung.
– Jimin sent me a message. What do I do?
– Be natural.”
And if Namjoon had known, God, he wouldn’t have said a word.
“Natural,” apparently, did not exist in Min Yoongi’s vocabulary, and his lifelong friend realized this when Yoongi showed up the next morning, much angrier than any other day before, casting a clearly murderous look at Namjoon who was still wondering what he’d gotten himself into.
“– What?
– Jimin decided to end the exclusive partnership contract with me.
– What did you do this time?!
– I was natural like you told me to be!
– That didn’t mean go do shady stuff to him!”
Yoongi shot him an even colder look before sulking, turning his chair away to avoid seeing him, completely ignoring Namjoon whenever he tried to speak, forcing Namjoon to resort to plan B: after all, Yoongi had always followed Jimin’s writings, so Namjoon had given him that idea without thinking for a second that he’d act immaturely, much less threaten him. So he had arranged a meeting with Taehyung to see how they could solve the problem, and judging by how he arrived, there was no doubt about Yoongi’s trouble: he had really screwed up.
“– Thanks for replying to my message. Jungkook said he wasn’t sure you’d come.
– And if I’m here, it’s only to make sure your colleague never contacts Jimin again. And I swear on my own life I’ll personally sue him if it happens.
– Oh man, what did Yoongi do…?
– He used all his power to harass my best friend. And when I say harass, I mean: assault, and talking to him like a pimp would. He was really lucky I wasn’t there, or I would have torn him apart.”
Taehyung crossed his arms over his chest, letting Namjoon digest the information before sighing, running his hands through his hair, visibly about to commit murder. He took long sips of the soda just placed in front of him before trying to calm things down as best as possible to avoid Yoongi getting beaten up, even if he wanted to do it himself.
“– Wait, you know Yoongi as well as I do. Since you’re with Jungkook, you know how he is, right? He’s just not very good at talking to people. Communication isn’t his strong suit, but still…
– Oh. So Jimin would be lying?”
Namjoon bit his lower lip, feeling small and insignificant under Taehyung’s gaze, now understanding why he wanted to become a lawyer: he’d be unstoppable in court, no one could stand against him, especially with that look. With a smooth motion, he stood up, dropped money for the drink which he finished in one go, then slammed the glass on the table.
“– Listen to me carefully, Mr. Kim, I’ll tell you the only thing I told Jungkook too: Jimin has been my best friend forever, we were in kindergarten together, and if he says Yoongi assaulted him? Then he did, period. And tell Jungkook I’ll come get my stuff in a week.
– Wait, you can’t leave Jungkook…
– Oh yes, I’m doing it.”
Without further ado, Taehyung left the restaurant, leaving Namjoon hanging, trying to figure out how long before Jungkook would explode over this decision, and even more how Yoongi would take it. Damn, Namjoon was naturally angry with himself — how could a simple visit to one of his employees have gotten so out of hand?!
He left the restaurant too, ready to try talking to Yoongi, running into Jungkook on the way.
Apparently, he had just learned that Taehyung was leaving him, with a black glare and tear-filled eyes, and Namjoon tried to stay as calm as possible, throwing him a quick side glance before simply walking away — and he couldn’t blame him.
Their shared office was silent — even a cemetery would be louder — and Namjoon calmly sat down in his office chair, watching Yoongi who looked like he was about to cry, running his hands over his face again and again, before Namjoon broke the silence.
“– Hyung, what happened at Jimin’s apartment?
– I screwed up, okay? He’ll never talk to me again! Or even look at me! I’m finished…
– Calm down, I’m sure he… just needs time. What did you say to him?
– That if he let me pick him up, I’d give him more! He took it the wrong way! It got out of hand, I pushed too far…
– Hyung! What you’re saying is really serious!
– I know, but… but when I realized it I stopped, I promise! I left… And he said he never wanted to see me again… Never…”
Please, consider supporting me on Patreon or go check my gumroad!♥
Hello my little sunshine!
Summer vacation is getting closer, so let’s switch up the little reading nook a bit! YOU get to decide where you want to go with Namjoon for a sunny holiday!
The full audio versions of the texts will be out soon on YouTube, but tell me — do you prefer listening with or without the text?
I want to make sure the audios are absolutely perfect for you all! <3
Where do you want to go?
Montserrat; the deserted city of Plymouth
Tulum; the Mayan temple of Tulum
The Reykjadalur Valley; its landscape of steaming hills
