Get Well Soon Yoongi, Jin And Namjoon

Someone explain this to me:

My taste in men irl is quite healthy. I'm only attracted to souls that are kind and genuine; the wouldn't hurt a fly type. Embodiment of sunshine™

Meanwhile...my taste in fictional men is downright toxic. Only the most feral, disturbing and sadistic motherfuckers get simped for, like?? Wtf??

ot7 ending fairies ♡

nexus (m) part 4

pairing: ot7 x f-reader | smut: jimin x reader, jungkook x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest

summary: the murder of your best friend prompts you to team up with a vengeful detective to navigate a web of lies, betrayals and love. trust no one. people are never who they seem, and the most horrid one of all might just be the one you love most

characters: detective!jungkook, ex/bartender!yoongi, bestfriend!seokjin, ceo!namjoon, fiancee!taehyung, model!hoseok, therapist!jimin

genre: 18+ smut slow burn angst romance thriller mystery eventual yandere casino!au organizedcrime/mafia!au arrangedmarriage!au revenge!au

wordcount: 8.8k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes, proceed with caution. public sex, dirty dancing hehe, breast play, degradation kink, some hand stuff, fingering, dubious consent, somnophilia, rough sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, obsessive, possessive, manipulative behavior & themes, allusions to gambling addiction, implied stalking behavior, mentions of psychiatric facilities, implied sexual trauma, depiction of unethical therapy, physical violence (jk beats jimin up woo), slight slut shaming, gaslighting, alcohol use, partying, themes of social class resentment, but! also! love confessions! kissing! and! reunions! but lots of angst

taglist: @raynom @gimmythatjib00ty @yoshiure @greezenini @victoryscreech61 @tbzhubrecs @namjooningelsewhere @sugarcoffeemochi @jiminie-08 @jinssexytoe @kooookie @only4sana @pinkcherrybombs @taeslarityy @natalie-rdr @mageprincess7 @hopeonysus @bibbykins @sameifnn @shadowmoon21 @juliemae80-blog @gaeguuliii @dvalitaes @satorinnie @fournia @kassandravictoria @jazmine2904 @marslena @iloverubberduckiez-blog @manchuria @btseverafter7 @jamlessstars @doublebunnykoo @you-are-my-wind @toughbook @mini-euphoria-deactivated202302 @lvrseok @n4mina @imjinvolved @rp171198 @codeinebelle @itsallabouthedetails @btseverafter7 @just-me-and-myselfs @blonde-bummer @hcneybees @babycoffeefire @totallynoanalien @seokjinkismet @itslanaanditssad @rhyperia @sporadicfuryface @azazel-nyx @hani-neko-nee-chan (rest of tags on reblog)

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“Taehyung” The name left your lips in a shudder. Shut eyes quivering, entrapping you in your nightmare.

Miles away, Taehyung stared out the window. The rolling hills hinting at a familiarity. His head ached, he felt nauseous as the vibrations of Jungkook’s car hit his core. He didn’t want to see you—not that anyone would understand. He remembered you vividly—remembered his own infatuation with you. You were a shining idol in his eyes. Someone who he looked at in awe, like he did his eldest brother.

Years locked away can change one’s perception.

Years left alone can brew resentment.

You never came for him. He was certain you didn’t even try.

A grin tugged at his lips.

The name uttered from your lips had Jimin’s eyes shooting open. Woken up from a dream—the dream where you and him were forever, and he wasn’t pretending. A world where you loved him—Park Jimin.

Your body lay curled into itself. He couldn’t help but touch you—fingers drawn to the curve of your back. Trailing down softly.  You were a troubled sleeper. He could see it in the way you flinched at his actions.

Pulling you into his warmth, he kissed the nape of your neck with a loving tenderness, ghosting up to your ear where he whispered your name sweetly.

Your name. The first words Seokjin ever said to him. He was the most complex patient he’d ever faced. One that brought meaning to his monotonous existence.

Jimin had been bored. Bored with his brilliant mind that allowed him to become a young doctor. Bored with his high profile patients who were all simply rotten with their first-world problems. He was losing his mind. Day in and day out—stuck within the four walls of his office. One brat in, another out.

Kim Seokjin was a special case. He had asked him simply—what’s on your mind?

You. You were on Jin’s mind.

It was tough to say if you had a leash on him, or he you. As Jin would ramble on about how he couldn’t rationalize his feelings for you, Jimin would bite back his smile, scribbling the word obsessed onto his notebook.

The irony.

It started as curiosity. Jimin had a reputation for being successful with all his patients, but it often required a hands on approach. In the corner of the casino, Jimin would observe you like an animal in the wild—you in your element. Throwing yourself at Jin’s elitist friends, while swindling them out of millions.

He watched you. Learned you. Studied you until he swore he could write a thesis.

And here you were.

Engaged. To be married. To be one.

Sighing deeply, he let his hand trail between your legs. Fingers prodding at your folds, smiling lazily at the way you’d twitch and shudder. Simply unphased. Deep in your sleep.

He let your wetness coat the sensitive pads of his fingers. Nose pressed against your neck, he inhaled, reveling in your scent as his fingers pushed in and out of your cunt.

The intrusion into your tight walls was slick. Yet you accepted him so well he simply had to add another. He still couldn’t believe he got to have you—got to cum inside you. Something he knew for a fact Jin never had the pleasure of doing.

Jin was an enigma and you were his doll. His plaything where he could easily manipulate your surroundings and puppet you without you realizing it. A fascinating man. Attached to you like a baby to a binkie. As if knowing you since birth gave him some right over your life.

Jin had cameras set up in your house, which he revealed in a delusional confession about how he was upset his younger brother had taken your virginity. Of course, Jimin already knew this. He hacked into them to watch you as well.

Jimin chuckled to himself. You were so naïve. Clueless. Didn’t know how badly you needed Jimin to save you. Jin was far more dangerous than Jimin could ever be.

Jimin was simply there to fill the hole in your heart. Ease the tension between your legs where he let his flushed tip prod. Cock heated with need, heavy with desire. He cursed, sliding his shaft through your folds slowly. Your body responding through subtle twitches. Cunt seeping at his touch.

His cock sunk inside you with ease, feeling you clench down violently at the intrusion. Your body shifting, coming alive, regaining consciousness, because here he was to save you from yourself. You knew not what forces bound you. Kept you from freedom. Jimin was here now. He would take care of everything, lest you worry your pretty little head.

He’d keep you safe. Away from the Kim brothers, away from the judgements of society. He would purify you. Wash out your sins with his cum, fuck you until you only knew pleasure in his name.

“Taehyung” Your lips parted, forehead furrowing as you realized your reality. He shushed you—you wouldn’t want to make him angry with that name, would you? Maybe one day he would tell you to call him Jimin. Under the guise of roleplay, or perhaps, if you had no escape.

“Good morning, princess” He could feel you shudder. He was so deep in your trenches you couldn’t move. Couldn’t run from him—his hands slipping over your breasts. Pinching at your nipples. He cooed at the warmth spreading to your cheeks. The way your eyes fluttered, euphoric in feeling. Wedging himself even further inside of you with a sharp thrust.

You yelped, a soft, gorgeous sound which he elicited with every move. Tight, rough—as he hooked your leg over his arm. The other wrapping generously around your neck. Your back arched against him, his teeth shadowing over your ear. Splashing into your waters, he rammed into you like a fever. Balls slapping against your ass, smacks echoing through the serene room. Tangled with the early morning sunrise.

He could easily lose himself in your sensation. How Jin time and time again passed up the chance, he knew not. The man had self-restraint, if nothing else. Your pussy squeezed the life out of him, making him want to give you everything he had and more. For what purpose was anything else? This is all he ever wanted—all he ever needed. Fucking into you just like this. He’d make you fall so in love you’d never want to leave. Exist pliant with his cock stuffing you as he pleased. His own princess. His virtue and his demise.

“Taehyung” Your voice muffled by lack of air. His hand so tight around your throat, constricting more when you uttered that damned name. “C-can’t breathe” You slapped his hand, as though signaling him to release you. Jimin chuckled, as if you had any say in this.

You were a puppet even before he came into your life. A puppet before he knew of your existence. Why should you ever be anything else? You didn’t know any better. Nevertheless he let you breathe, let you gasp for air because he wanted you to remember that he allowed it. He listened and he cared. Shoving you onto your stomach, he battered himself back onto you, ass cushioning his pistoning hips. You were a means to his end. He wanted to die buried inside you like this, so close to his edge his vision was red hot. The unsatisfying and addictive heat sprawling over his bare chest.

Teeth digging into his own lip, the best and worst sensation combined. He didn’t want the pleasure to stop, the tight, unwavering grip of your cunt as his cock hit you straight in your core. Over and over again, fusing your bodies together. Holding down your shoulders, keeping you in place as he pounded into you with fury.

He swore he’d never been so high in his life—no ecstasy could quite compare. The bed creaking underneath. The only sounds of your bodies clashing, your lips gasping and him—groaning deep as his cock twitched inside you. Swelling before everything snapped at once. Dozed over, cum spilling hot inside of you. He collapsed onto your back, spent for all his worth. Keeping himself nested in you even while he kissed your cheeks.

You slipped away from him, limp cock falling out as you reached for a robe. He admired the brief glimpse of his cum, sticky between your thighs.

“You awoke a beast in me” Jimin chuckled shyly, resuming his act as the whipped Kim Taehyung. “Couldn’t even help myself”

Jungkook gripped the wheel of his car with a ferocity that had his knuckles turning white. The tension in the car thick. In the rearview mirror he could see him. Kim Taehyung. The root cause of all the shit he’d ever faced. The rat that sold out his father and got him killed.

He could never forget. Never forget the eyes that watched in horror as his father was shot by an animal. Jungkook so badly wanted to blame him. To let out his anger and get his revenge on this bastard—but he couldn’t.

For your sake.

You were the centerpiece now. Caught in a web of whose design—Jungkook was still trying to figure out. Internally he battled his opportunity to avenge his father, with his duty to you as a Detective. You fucking little brat who he loathed and yet had an inexiplicable desire to shield you from all harm.

His foot lowered on the gas. Who knows what you were doing with this Park Jimin creep. Miles whizzed past as he sped up. What if you were hurt—what if he—

The Kim mansion was in sight. Jungkook parked the car, turning to face Taehyung with skepticism in his eyes. The boy had barely uttered a word in the car.

“Jimin could be armed and dangerous” Jungkook swallowed thickly, “I’ll go in first just to make sure, and I will bring Y/n to you. You guys wait here”

Taehyung looked down at his hands. He was playing with something in his palms. Finally looking up, Jungkook was taken aback.

The look in his eyes was dark. Almost terrifying.

He said nothing. After getting an uncertain nod from Yoongi, Jungkook stepped out. Making his way to the side entrance, hand glazed over the gun sheathed by his side. With a light nudge, the door opened—he stepped inside, muddy shoes staining the crystal clean marbled floor.

Silently, he slipped through the halls of the maze-like home. He could hear something—following the echoes into the kitchen. You were there. Alone. Bent over the sink while the microwave hummed behind you.

You were choking out. Gagging as if you would throw up. Only a flimsy silk robe holding you together.

Jungkook’s gut twisted.

You didn’t.

He couldn’t afford to scare you in the state you were in. If you screamed, Jimin would know he was here. Quietly, he treaded towards you, nearing until he was close enough to lick the sweat beading on the hollow of your neck.

In a swift movement, his fingers covered your mouth. You jumped in shock, eyes wide. “It’s me” Jungkook assured you as you writhed in his hold. He repeated himself until it sunk in, whispering “It’s just me. Don’t scream”

Backing away from him, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered angrily.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the cleavage of your robe, splitting open more than you likely meant it to. The round edges of your breast vulnerable to his sight. Flustered, you tightened it around your body, ignoring the dark flash in his eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes still steady on your chest before snapping back to reality. He looked at you, serious, “Are you alright?” He glanced towards the sink which was empty. “Sick?”

You shrugged, brushing off his concern. “Why the fuck are you here, Jungkook?”

 “Did you fuck him?” You made a face. Sighing, Jungkook explained. “He’s not Kim Taehyung. He’s an imposter”

“Oh I know”

Jungkook’s lips pursed. “You know?”

Chuckling lightly, your head turned as the microwave began to beep. Grabbing what seemed to be a muffin, you casually took a bite. Jungkook squinted as your teeth sunk into the pastry, crumbs dotting the edge of your lips.

“Sure. Taehyung had a mole, it wasn’t there. This guy has the tattoo—Taehyung wasn’t there when they got it. And he won’t answer any questions about where he’s been.” You spoke while chewing, “You know but the way I knew for sure was when he began fucking me while I was asleep”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed.

“What?” He searched your eyes. Is that why you were—he looked again towards the sink.

“Yeah” Your voice was curt. He seriously questioned if you were hurting more than you let on “Maybe you and I should try it sometime. Kinda hot”

Jungkook huffed, “That’s not—”

“What?” You grinned at him, batting your eyelashes. Moving in closer as your finger hooked into the collar of his shirt, tugging playfully “You don’t wanna? Me lying all helpless while you ram your big fucking cock in,”

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice raised sternly as he pushed your hand away.

“That’s what all you guys want anyway, to bend me over like a little brainless cocksleeve” You tossed the half of your muffin into the trash with a tantrum-like attitude.

“Tell me where he is” Jungkook heard you, took note of the subtle bitterness in your tone and to talk to you about it later, but focused on the task at hand. “He might be Jin’s killer”

You nodded, gulping down your bite. “He’s upstairs, follow me”

You led Jungkook through the halls, up the grand winding staircase of the foyer. A large, glimmering chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. So much excess wherever Jungkook looked.

This was normal for you—this was your status quo. Your silk robes and ignorance. You slept with a man who could have killed your best friend—knowingly. Jungkook tried his hardest yet he swore he couldn’t understand a thing about you.

And he’d never care to admit just how much of his headspace you consumed.

If Jimin had hurt you.

If he had taken advantage of you in someway.

Jungkook’s fists tightened.

Opening the double doors to what he could only assume to be your bedroom, Jimin sat on the bed, waiting expectantly.

“Park Jimin, you’re under arrest under suspicion for the murder of Kim Seokjin” Jungkook slid past you quickly before Jimin could try to escape. He didn’t move, allowing Jungkook to handcuff him without resistance. He simply stared at you, amusement in his eyes.

“Murder?” Jimin tilted his head, grinning “I didn’t murder him baby”

“Why would I believe a fucking word you say?” You spat at him. Jungkook watched as your eyes flashed with rage. “You lied to me. You pretended to be my Taehyung”

“You’re gonna regret this” His smile didn’t waver. “You’re gonna wish you played along like the good little doll you are. What, you think this is good for you? Oh baby, you just wait. Put me behind bars and you see what hell is going to come knocking at your door. Who’s going to look out for you hm? This fucker?” He nodded in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook ignored him, calling on his radio for backup. Pulling Jimin to stand, he dragged him out the door. Jimin dug his heels in, slowing him down.

He laughed, a dark sinister cackle. “I’m the only one who cares about you Y/n. You think Jeon Jungkook is going to help you—please,” Jungkook shot him a glare, “You don’t know what I know”

“That’s enough” Jungkook roughly pushed him forward. Suddenly he heard something shatter.

You had thrown a vase in Jimin’s direction.

“You crazy prick” Your teeth were gritting. As though this were your last straw, letting down the series of dominos do drive you over the edge. “I’m not a doll—I don’t need anyone, least of all a fucking psycho like you!”

“You love it baby” Jimin taunted, “You think Jin is any better? He allowed it, princess. This was all his doing. I was perfectly content watching the footage he’d send me of the cameras he set up in your room—”

You lunged towards him, but Jungkook stepped in your path. Hands gripping your waist, holding you back. Touch gentle, but firm.

“Y/n” Jungkook whispered, “Easy”

“Let me fucking at him. I’ll show him”

“I know” Jungkook stood, pushing back as you tried to resist him, “Let me take him in okay. He’s gonna get what he deserves. Go grab something to wear” Jungkook urged, “Meet me downstairs, yeah?”

You frowned slightly, before ultimately agreeing. Jungkook exhaled, turning back to a thoroughly entertained Jimin. He swung a punch straight into his gut, causing Jimin to buckle over. Immediately then grabbing his neck, choking him as he lifted him onto his toes.

“That’s for Y/n” Jungkook hissed, “Psycho” Jimin squirmed in his hold, but Jungkook simply tightened his fingers. Jimin’s smile grew.

“As if you wouldn’t have done the same, Detective. Like father like son”

Jungkook tossed him across the room. Crashing into the wall, Jimin let out a pained grunt. The officers had arrived. He left Jimin on the floor, knowing he’d have nowhere to run.

Downstairs you waited, a baggy shirt and sweats which likely belonged to one of the brothers. Jungkook was reminded suddenly of who was waiting in his car. Police officers rushed passed him, grabbing Jimin and escorting him out. Jungkook took you and followed, watching as they drove off with him, twisted smile steady throughout it all.

“You good?” Jungkook asked again, voice barely above a whisper. His fingers brushing against your palm as if to nudge you. The sirens screamed loud in the distance. From the corner of his eye, he could see you take a deep breath.

He hated that he noticed. The way you fought to stay afloat through it all. He much preferred his own cowardly ignorance, where you were not someone he’d destroy in his quest, but rather righteous, deserving collateral.

Reality kicked in. Taehyung was waiting to see you in the car. He wondered if maybe throwing that on you now in the state you were would be unwise.

Maybe he just didn’t want you to meet Taehyung. He wanted to talk to you. Ask about what you said before, make sure you were really alright.

Unfortunately for him, the choice was robbed.

“Namjoon?”

The look in your eyes made Namjoon’s heart crumble. You looked so hurt. So betrayed.

Namjoon looked between you at the man by your side—vaguely familiar. He glanced as his badge to see Detective Jeon roughly inscribed.

“Bold of you to show up here” The detective muttered; arms crossed over his chest.

“Hobi said you called so I came”

It was a poor excuse. Just like when his mother died, again he had ignored your needs. Disappearing wordlessly, abandoning you when you needed him most. Left you to face your grief, the pain from Jin’s death which was no doubt hitting you the hardest of all.

How could he ever explain himself? Justify himself or earn back your trust? He was never blind to your affection, but simply possessed by a battle more prominent at the time. A battle with his brother which in hindsight felt pointless. The demands of the company consumed his every waking moment.

You said nothing. Simply stared at him in shock. He longed to reach out, to hold you, and offer a shoulder to lean on. Doubt held him back.

“Are you okay? The cops outside told me what happened. About the imposter.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know, I hadn’t seen him since—”

“You killed Jin”

Your voice boomed. Echoed through the grand walls of the foyer. Seething with anger, your jaw clenched. Tears brimming at the edges of your red eyes.

The words stung. Stung because he couldn’t say you were wrong. Because you could be saying fact—and Namjoon didn’t know if he killed his brother or not.

“Y/n please”

He didn’t want to lie to you—perhaps it wasn’t lying until the trust was discovered.

“You killed him and I loved him”

Perhaps those words stung even more.

Namjoon reached for your hands. “I need you to know that I never wanted you to marry Taehyung. I never wanted to force you to do anything. You deserve to live your own life”

He fell to his knees, keeping your palms in his. Not knowing how else to beg for your forgiveness.

“I got so drunk the night he was killed. The night before your engagement because—fuck Y/n, I didn’t want to do this to you. I didn’t know how bad things were, I was so blind—I wish I could go back. Fight for you”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill him Namjoon”

Namjoon swallowed tickly, diverting his eyes.

“Tell me the fucking truth”

He kissed your hand softly. He didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already had. But perhaps it was that mentality alone that was his biggest betrayal. His family’s biggest betrayal to you—lying. Lying under the guise of your protection when all it did was dig you a deeper grave.

“I-I don’t know” He confessed, giving in. This was how it had to be. This was the only way he could even hope to repair his relationship with you. Glancing briefly at the detective, he continued “Maybe”

He stood up, “Can we go somewhere quiet and talk, please?”

“Actually um—” Jungkook interrupted, only for Namjoon to shoot him a glare.

“Don’t you have a fucking criminal to interrogate? We’re obviously pressing charges. Go to your job—I don’t pay so much fucking tax so you can harass me and my—”

He bit his tongue.

“Fine” You broke the pause. “Let’s go talk.” Turning to the detective, you gave him a reassuring nod.

“Well can you please come to the station after?”

“She’ll come when she’s ready” Namjoon snapped. The detective rolled his eyes.

Namjoon took your hand in his again, leading you upstairs. Into your room. Noticing the messy sheets. The remnants of your clothes thrown around the room. His jaw hardened.

“You slept with him” Namjoon rationalized. “The imposter”

“Yeah, and?” Huffing, you leaned against the window. “I already feel shitty enough about it so don’t you run your mouth at me”

“No I—” He moved closer to you, searching your face. Your eyes mixed with vulnerability and resilience. You were tough, he knew that. He saw that so clearly even through the years he dismissed you. “Come here”

He pulled you into his chest, hand cradling the back of your head. He hugged you—he couldn’t remember the last time he had. Probably over a decade ago. He didn’t deserve to hold you, he knew it deep down. But whatever little he could offer you now, he would do it. He would do anything for you.

“I’m so sorry” He mumbled into the top of your head. “I won’t abandon you again, I promise”

He could feel your shoulders relax, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“This is your fault” You sobbed, “Everything is your fault Joonie”

“I know” He kissed your forehead, gazing into your teary eyes. His palm cupping your face, thumb wiping away your tears. His heart twisting in his chest.

Seconds passed so incredibly slow, yet too fast for him to think.

“I love you” His eyes widened as the words left his mouth. You blinked at him in confusion.

“W-what?”

“I know you hate me, and you have every right to. But I—I love you Y/n. I always have. Jin looming over my shoulder all my life just made me not realize it”

“Are you fucking kidding me Joonie? I always wanted you” You stared at him in disbelief. “You—you used me. I still have trouble opening my heart to anyone because of what you did to me—and now you’re saying you love me??”

“I know. Okay. I know what I did and I regret it every single day. I just hated Jin so much. More than I loved you, and now that Jin’s gone I can finally let myself feel it”

“You’re the fucking reason that I was engaged to Taehyung! I had a choice—I chose you”

Namjoon blinked. “Huh?”

“Yeah and you asked me if I loved Jin and I said I didn’t, so you told your mother to set me up with Taehyung”

“That’s not what happened”

“The fuck you mean it’s not what happened Joon? I clearly remember—”

“Y/n” Namjoon held your shoulders tightly, “I didn’t even know they asked you. Jin just told me one day. I swear”

You receded in silence.

“I’m pretty sure Jin was the one who decided too. Did you know, mom never left the company for him? He tricked me. Made me promise to see your engagement through and give him Nexus shares in exchange for the casinos”

You gulped, quiet for a moment to process before speaking: “He was also apparently seeing someone. A serious relationship”

“Yeah” Namjoon gulped. He had a pretty decent idea who it was, but didn’t want to tell you anything he didn’t know for sure. He’d put you through enough today. “I heard”

You gulped. Staring into his eyes. Until your eyes dropped to his lips. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat. Rhythm rushing the blood in his veins.

“Namjoon—” You looked away, but Namjoon held your chin steady with his finger. Tilting your face up to his.

“I love you” He repeated. “I’m here now, nothing will happen to you. No one can hurt you anymore. Not even him”

He leaned in just a tad. Pausing to ensure you wanted this. He wouldn’t push you. Wouldn’t manipulate you ever again.

“Don’t”

A man’s voice came from the door.

“Please—don’t”

Jungkook rushed back to the car. Taehyung and Yoongi were clearly in the middle of some sort of intense discussion.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked, looking around. He squinted at Namjoon’s car. “Wait—is that—”

“Yeah” Jungkook exhaled, turning on the engine, “Namjoon is back” He looked to Taehyung, “You can go in if you want, but we already arrested Jimin”

Taehyung remained still. Silent. Only the sound of his shaky breath until finally his eyes rose to meet Jungkook’s.

“Yeah” Jungkook glanced at Yoongi who shrugged. “I’ll go in”

“Do you want me to come with you Taehyung?” Yoongi reached out to him. Taehyung shook his head.

“Thanks Yoongi hyung. I should be fine. They’re family”

“Tell Y/n to call me when she can okay” Yoongi called out as Taehyung exited the car. Jungkook peered at him, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Alas he had more pressing issues at the moment. He rushed back to the station.

Jimin was locked in a cell when he arrived. Grinning wide. Infuriating Jungkook.

“You father would be so disappointed in you, interfering with the fall of the Kim’s” Jimin taunted from behind bars.

“You don’t know my father” He hissed under his breath.

“I was Kim Seokjin’s therapist—I know quite a bit about your father” Jimin walked up to the bars, pressing his face in between them. “And that he deserved to die”

“Enough” Jungkook snapped, his voice dropping low. “I have a few questions, and then I’m leaving you here to rot, got it?”

Jimin clicked his tongue in amusement. “Go ahead then. Ask me what you really want to know” He grinned wide, “Like how tight Y/n’s little cunt was”

Jungkook’s fist slammed against the pole. “Haven’t I beat you enough for today? Or are you a freak who likes it?”

“You like it too I bet. Beating people. Your dad sure did”

“Say one more thing about my dad” Jungkook hissed. Jimin pursed his lips in amusement.

“Am I in here because of impersonation? Because I didn’t commit any fraud, technically. Lying isn’t a crime”

“You’re a person of interest in the murder of Kim Seokjin”

Jimin giggled, “God, you’re all fucking idiots. I didn’t kill Seokjin. I was his doctor. And you can’t ask me about him because that information is protected by law”

“I can, since he’s fucking dead, and whatever he confessed in therapy might help us find out what happened”

“How long are you going to pretend, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin asked, “How long are you going to act like this wasn’t all you?”

“Please—don’t”

Both you and Namjoon turned towards the voice. Namjoon’s lips parted in shock, while you stood—frozen in time.

Curly black hair. Eyes that glimmered so uniquely they made you want to stare at them for hours. Soft, thin lips. Pretty lashes. The resemblance was uncanny.

Pain seared through your chest.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon’s voice shattered your flashback. “Is that really you?”

He nodded, turning to his brother. Namjoon hesitated, before awkwardly opening his arms to embrace him. Taehyung melted into him—a boy reunited with his brother. It was a heartwarming sight.

“My god, Tae” Namjoon muttered, “Where the hell have you been?”

He turned back towards you. You were still too stunned to speak. His eyes scanned you up and down—in a way that made you feel like he could see through you. Straight to your bones.

“Hi” His eyes softened, but his face remained still. “Remember me?”

He must have spoken, but you couldn’t hear anything but your heart hammering in your ears. Panic flooding your veins. Your head feeling light—dizzy. Everything shifted, everything blurred.

"Are you scared of me, princess?"

There it was. The nickname. You stiffened as he leaned forward, fingers trailing up your jaw until he held your cheek in his palm. Held you gaze in his own, eyes drifting with mystery. His voice was so incredibly soft. Sweet even. Contrasting the ever so slightly amused glint in his eye.

You exhaled, heart throbbing through your ribs, almost to the point of suffocation.

"Hyung," Taehyung shifted to look at Namjoon who was watching the scene unfold intently, lips pursed in worry. Truth be told, he had been shocked at the intimate moment he almost walked in on. He never recalled Namjoon having any affection for you—or anyone for that matter. “Can we have a minute?”

"Yeah, of course. I’ll be in my room" Namjoon stood up slowly, looking to you for some sort of affirmation that it was okay to leave. You sent him a slight nod, to which his shoulders relaxed.

Ten years. Shocking nightmares every single night. Screaming to you, if maybe you might look back. If you might spare him a second glance and save him.

Taehyung was no idiot. He wasn’t oblivious to soft glances of attraction between you and Jin, speaking through nothing but the shy glimmer in your eyes.

Year after year passed, and he wondered if you’d care enough to find him. Wondered if you’d dare to question the actions of his brother—you didn’t.

And his resentment grew like a tumor in his soul.

You stood, a ghost from the past—a figment of this twisted reality. And Taehyung could finally drink you in. Your eyes were filled with a dead numbness. There used to be a light in there.

You were his princess. He was the first to say it, the first to think it, and as far as he was concerned the only one who truly had the right to call you it.

But where were you during his darkest days?

Your features softened, a mix of recognition and affection filling your gaze.

Taehyung didn’t know when he moved. Who moved first. The whole moment was a timeless blur. Wrapping his arms around you, the storm seemed to fade. All the years of separation melting away, resentment and distrust fading to dust, leaving only the warmth of your embrace.

He didn't want to hold you too tightly and yet, he couldn't bring himself to let go. Truth be told, Taehyung had never been more afraid in his entire life. Afraid of you. Afraid of his feelings for you.

Afraid of the ability you had to drive him completely and utterly insane.

“Are you real?” You looked into his eyes. “Fuck, Taehyung, I missed you so much”

Stepping away, he regarded you. Looking you up and down before his jaw hardened. The dark spells of his mind knocking on the forefront.

“You missed me?” He scoffed, tongue rolling in his cheek as he cocked his head. “You could have tried to find me, Y/n”

“Taehyung I—” His heart leapt when his name left your lips. “I don’t—I don’t even know why they sent you away”

“Did you try and find out?”

You gave him a guilty look. Reaching out for him but he flinched at your touch. “I thought about you all the time”

“Answer me” He snapped. You gulped.

“Well, Jin—”

“Don’t say his name to me” Taehyung hissed, “He did this to me, do you even know that Y/n?”

“I can’t” You shook your head rapidly, tears spilling from your eyes. Taehyung felt queasy at the sight, “I can’t deal with this. Why can’t you be happy to see me?”

“I spent ten years. Ten fucking years locked in psychiatric facilities, Y/n” He gripped your shoulders, “You were here, playing princess in my house—don’t tell me how I should fucking feel”

“I didn’t know” You pleaded, reaching for his face, “Taehyung I swear to you, I didn’t know”

“My mom is dead” He exhaled, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I didn’t even know about it—no one even fucking told me. And hyung too”

“Taehyung” You ran your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t help but croon into your touch. Muscles relaxing under the sweet sensation. “I’m so sorry”

He let his eyes flutter shut, you rested your head on his chest. He was taller than you. His hands holding your waist steady. Forehead resting against yours as tears began to drip down his face.

“I want to know everything” You spoke in hushed tones. Your voice soft, like music to his ears. He could feel your breath on his lips. “I want to make up for the time we lost, okay, I promise you”

He nodded lightly, sniffling.

“You’re so handsome, Tae” There was pride in your voice that brought a shy smile to his face. “Look at you, all grown up” He chuckled, wiping his tears away. He looked at you again, sighing deeply before resting his head back on your shoulder.

You pressed your lips to Taehyung’s cheek before stepping away from him. He gasped for air, the walls closing around him suddenly at the loss of your touch.

“Listen, I need to go to the station to give my report. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He watched, again you were leaving him. Without looking back.

He almost believed you.

Almost.

It was a lie.

A pathetic lie, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing Taehyung—the real Taehyung, made it all too real.

Can we not meet at the station?

You sent the message—not knowing if Jungkook would respond.

Could use a drink. Meet me here—he sent an address. Tucked away in the inner city where no one would recognize you. None of Jin’s lackeys, or your mother’s goons. It was hardly your kind of crowd. You were surprised—pleasantly even. Jeon Jungkook didn’t come across as someone who liked to party.

“Hey” He showed. No longer in his stupid leather jacket, he looked different, simply in a white t-shirt. Chain on his neck. Hair haphazard, rather than the slick back he wore to work. “You good?”

Jungkook orders two shots at the bar, sliding one to you as you settle into the barstool next to him. Remembering the last time the two of you were like this. The first day you met.

You clink your glass against his before downing the bitter liquid. You watch Jungkook’s face scrunch with distaste, followed by a smile.

You avoid his question, asking him instead: “Did you talk to Jimin?”

Jungkook nodded, “First, I want to talk to you about this morning” He placed his elbows on the bartop, leaning forward slightly. His voice lowered, “We were in a rush, but I want to hear what you were trying to say”

You scoffed.

“Did he hurt you, Y/n?” You glared at him. “You said he fucked you in your sleep…”

You exhaled slowly, “Honestly I wouldn’t mind what he did, if we had discussed it first. But in my gut I just knew, Taehyung—would never violate me like that” Your fingers curled into your palm, “He was so rough. So insane. I just” You shook your head, disgusted by the bought of pity in Jungkook’s eyes. “I’ve grown up with men like that”

He nodded, absorbing every word.

“Wanna dance?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Detective Jeon Jungkook dances?”

He gave you a sly wink before grabbing your wrist. With a tight pull, he leads you into the crowd. Locking his eyes with yours, everything else fading to dark as his magnetic pull drew you in.

You tried to focus on the music. The familiar feeling of a loud bass, a crowd of people and booze. Even still, intrusive thoughts knocked at your mind—Namjoon was home, Taehyung was home.

Taehyung resented you. Taehyung blamed you.

“Look at me” Jungkook leaned into you, hands ghosting over your hips as they began to sway to the pulsating beat. “Don’t think about them. Only look at me”

His eyes flickered with a softness. A pain which he also was trying so desperately to escape. You reckoned that Jungkook might have been a kind, fun loving person if not for the trauma the Kim’s put him through by killing his father. Instead he was trapped in the same web as you.

Your hands slid around his neck, loosely as your fingers weaved through his hair. He guided you, shielded you from onlookers. His eyes on you and nothing else. Transfixed to you like a curse.

It was ironic. Dangerous even. Everything about Jungkook made you distrust him. And you had no doubt he didn’t trust you either. Within the walls the two of you built, you had somehow grown closer. You couldn’t even pinpoint when. Somewhere along the way you began to see him clearly, or let him see you.

His touch is tender as he pulls your ass in, pressing your chest up against him so he can grind into you. His bulge gratifying, easing the tension throbbing between your legs. Stroking your ego, making you feel desired without the ugly aftertaste that often came with it. His large hands feel so good on you, you never want him to let go.

Your eyes flutter shut, surrendering completely to him. He turns you around so he can trace your neck with his nose. His fingers light fires across your sides, and you want to feel more but he doesn’t push it.

He stops suddenly, gazing at you with the colors of the flashing lights reflecting through his wide doe eyes. A glow on his face that you weren’t sure was real, or if it was simply the tone of his stare.

He looked as though he wanted to say something. And you desperately wanted to hear him. His mouth opened slightly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

The space between you vanishing.

Inch by inch.

Until you swore you could taste him.

Your phone vibrated suddenly. Jungkook flinched, stepping back. With a guilty look, you excused yourself, slipping into a quiet corner of the club.

“Mazel tov” The snarky voice echoed through, “The prodigal son returns”

“Where the fuck have you been?” You snapped. “How could you let this happen? How did you not know?”

“Relax darling, I’ve been caught up entertaining your lover boy. Glad to finally have him out of my hair, truly. He’s bad for my cortisol”

“Well did you get a confession?”

“He doesn’t remember. Which is good for us. I can easily plant evidence for your Detective”

“Good. Do it soon. Jungkook wants the murderer to be Namjoon so it’s likely he will believe anything he gets. Not sure what to do about this Park Jimin fellow”

“Well darling, like I said last time. You say the word, and I’ll clean up your mess”

Rolling your eyes, you hung up the phone. Turning back around, Jungkook stood where you left him, bewildered.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the sea of dancers. You didn’t know why—you didn’t care. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than that Jungkook’s hands all over you. His lips on yours. You wanted his snarky little comments, his profound advice. To learn his every scar. Every crevice. And show him yours. You wanted to run away with him and never look back.

“Kiss me Jeon Jungkook” You hooked his shirt, dragging his face down to yours. Catching his lips in a desperate kiss.

The heat was overwhelming. Shamelessly, you kissed him in the middle of the crowd. Music numbing out into the sounds of two pounding hearts. His hands finding the small of your back.

You’d kissed him before but this was different. Even in the fire of the moment, you could feel how much he wanted you. How much he craved your lips, just like you craved his. He was water, and you were dying of thirst. He was air, and you were drowning.

He cupped your face, deepening the kiss as he pulled you impossibly closer. Finding breaths through your parted lips, you dared not pull away.

“Car” He breathed into your mouth. Voice raspy, feverish.

Grabbing his wrist, you led him out of the club. The fresh outdoor air hitting you with a sharp coldness. Loss of the bodies around you.

Jungkook slammed you against the hood of his car, pinning you down before sucking into your neck. You moaned loudly, his thigh slotting between your legs giving you barely any friction. You bucked your hips desperately as his lips moved down.

You were still wearing Namjoon’s clothes. Jungkook hissed, grabbing the hem of the hoodie and yanking it off of you. There was nothing underneath. Your nipples hardening in the cold as Jungkook smirked, rolling his thumb over one. Watching you writhe and twitch under him.

“You’re so fucking hot” He hissed, latching his teeth onto your tit and sucking lightly. Tongue darting out, flicking the sensitive flesh as your back arched. Looking down at him, as much as you wanted to look away. The pleasure unbearable.

He moved onto the other breast, taking his time as if the two of you weren’t in public. As if someone couldn’t just walk up and see how Jungkook shamelessly sucked your tits. Pulling away, you could see a string of drool land on your chest as he smacked his lips.

“Tell me what you want” He ordered, fingers gripping around your neck. Not tight enough to impact your breathing, but enough to make sure you knew who was in charge.

You were speechless. Irritated, Jungkook slid his thumb into your mouth and watched you suck it obscenely.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked again, replacing his thumb with his tongue, tangling it with yours into another kiss.

“You” You gasped, loving the weight of his strong body on yours. “I want you, Jungkook”

You could feel his lips curve into a grin. “For the record” He whispered, teeth grazing your lips, tugging at them. “I still hate you”

You nodded. Awestruck as he pulled his cock out, not letting you look anywhere but his eyes.

“I hate how entitled you are” He tugged your sweats down to press his heavy tip against your clit, “I hate how you’re so bratty”

He pressed his cock in, sliding into your folds just a bit. “Full of fucking attitude, think you’re fucking invincible.”

You gulped, recalling Taehyung’s similar words.

“I hate all these men in your life. You’re complicated. You’re messy. You’re manipulative, and I can see it” With every word he pressed in a little more until he bottomed out. Hissing sharply, he met your eyes again. “Playing victim, but you’re just as bad as the rest of them”

“So why the fuck” His lips were tight against yours, hardly kissing but more just breathing into one another, “Do I want you so much?” He thrust into you slowly, rolling his hips. You kissed his neck, moving your hands through his hair and onto his back as he found a steady rhythm.

Your legs caressed his back, moving up and down against him with every thrust. It was filthy. Your naked body against the cool metal of his car. Desperately throwing yourself at this man.

And yet, you held onto him as tight as you could, crying out as he pistoned in and out of you.

His hands moving under your thighs, nails gripping into them painfully as he lifted you up. You forgot how strong he was—effortlessly he carried you, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Face burying into your neck, lapping up the skin with open-mouthed kisses.

“You think you’re a princess do you?” Jungkook grabbed your neck, setting you back to lie on the car.  Stilling for a moment he watched your fucked out eyes. “I’m thinking you’re more like a little desperate slut”

“I am” You exhaled, nodding dumbly, “I’m a slut for you. Wanna do whatever you want Jungkook please f-fuck”

He rammed back into you. Cock hitting you deep. You walls clenching around him, leaking to which Jungkook growled under his breath. His fingers finding your clit, working it expertly, causing your eyes to roll back as pleasure seized you.

Twitching all over, shocks of lust pouring through your veins. Jungkook coerced your orgasm as his cock sheathed into you. Your folds fluttering around his length, tightening it’s visceral grip.

“They can’t make you cum like I do baby” Jungkook pulled out, stroking himself against your thigh. “Get on your fucking knees”

You obeyed. Sliding down the car until your bare knees were on the parking lot. Jungkook’s cock stood proud in your face. You watched, eyes blasted and needy, before placing your own hands in place of his.

He watched as you stroked him. As your lips pressed against his tip before you let him sink down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you gave him everything you possibly could. Bobbing your head up and down, the noises bringing shame to your cheeks.

“Show me your pretty tits baby” Jungkook grabbed a fistful of your hair, “Want to cum on your tits”

You gasped, releasing him with a pop of your lips. Immediately pressing your tits together so Jungkook could slide his heavy cock between them. It felt good. Him rubbing up against you like this. Your heart against his pulsing need. You pulled him closer, wanting to feel him more. He licked his lips, watching you intently.

You stared up at him. Eyes gleaming. Jungkook spurted all over you, cum landing on your chest. Your heart sunk, knowing the moment would end. Reality was waiting for you at home. Your escape had ended.

Jungkook’s eyes softened, as he helped you up. You kissed him again, urging him for more. Urging him to fill you up again. To fuck you senseless all night long. Moaning into his mouth, you rolled your body against him.

“Fuck baby” Jungkook gripped your waist, stilling your movements, “You need me that bad huh?” You nodded, biting your lip as he teased you, “Yeah? You want more huh?”

You turned around, bending over so your ass was on display. Jungkook cursed under his breath as you spread your legs. An open invitation. Every man’s dream.

Licking his fingers, he ran them through your folds, spreading them out and pushing through the wetness. You gushed over him. Whimpering. He kept rubbing you, his movements strong but not rushed. Lips grazing your bare back.

His other hand slid between you and the car, gripping your breast hard. He pumped his fingers inside you, chest pressed against your back. You could feel his breath against your nape, riling you up even more. Heat pooling all over you.

He chuckled. The vibrations of which hit you right in the core. You were so turned on you couldn’t help it. You leaked all over, squirting into you palm. Jungkook laughed more as you came. Your fingers digging into your palms as you screamed.

“Already? You’re so fucking desperate”

“I don’t wanna go home” You confessed. Jungkook paused.

He turned you around, palm resting against your cheek.

“I know” He stiffened, “I’m sorry, for what you’re going through”

Jungkook pulled you up, grabbing your clothes from the ground. He led you to the backseat of the car where he let you tear his clothes off of him.

Settling onto his strong lap, he let you grind your wet pussy against him. Naked bodies fused together. You clawed at the back of his head, moaning at the top of your lungs as you sunk down on Jungkook’s cock again.

He watched you, amazed. Your eyes shut, bouncing up and down on him. Rutting desperately.

You’re not sure when you stopped. The two of you like hormonal teenagers, touching kissing and fucking until your limbs were sore. Jungkook, surprisingly, ever the giver, made you cum more times than you ever had in one night. And even when you were too sensitive for anything more, you still couldn’t find the will to leave.

Until you remembered the look in Taehyung’s eyes.

Jungkook held you. Lightly kissing your back as you cuddled into him. Again, another position you never thought you’d find yourself in with Jeon Jungkook.

“You should go” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper. You gave him a hurt look, “I know, I know. You’ll be okay”

Sitting upright, you began to put your clothes on. Jungkook watched before speaking again,

“Jung Hoseok”

You stilled.

“Jin was seeing Jung Hoseok. The two of them were dating. I had a suspicion and Jimin confirmed it earlier.”

Shit.

“You acted like you didn’t know”

You looked at him. To see if he was actually hurt by your lying, or used to your games.

“I don’t know anyone named Jung Hoseok”

Jungkook stared at you before scoffing.

“Not only do you know Jung Hoseok, but I know that you called him many times before Jin’s death. I have evidence that both he and Namjoon were with you at some point that night,”

You remained silent, fuming.

“He was the one who called you earlier, wasn’t he?”

You swallowed.

“I’m not the one unwilling to be on the same side” Jungkook sighed, “I told you before, we can help each other out. You’re hiding so much from me, and have the audacity to think of yourself as a victim. All you need to do is tell me what happened that night, and I can help you figure this out”

“Fuck you Jeon. This was a mistake” You snapped, “Take me home”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, “Right. Home to your Kim boys. To your palace”

⟵|| previous || next ||⟶

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1. Asterism || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 1: Asterism

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, kissing, fingering, explicit protected s*x WC: 9.5k

Part 1: Asterism Asterism: (noun) a recognizable pattern of stars that does not make up the full constellation

Things start when your mother texts you asking for a favor.

To be more historically accurate, things started when you were a child. But for the sake of brevity, for a tighter focus on the now, it starts with this text -

[5:41 PM] Mom: can you do me a big favor?

When you send her back “sure”, she calls you, which you expected all along. You’re surprised she texted first at all, instead of going straight to the phone call. She’s a creature of habit, your mother. 

“I cooked a few dishes and stuck them in the fridge,” she tells you. Pacing across your own kitchen, a fifteen minute drive from her place, you squint as you pass through the one exact spot where the afternoon sunlight assaults you from the window every day around this time. You’ve lived here for years - you’ve just been too lazy to put curtains up in this room. Your mother continues, her voice coming through your phone so loudly that you can hold it like it’s on speaker (although it’s not) and still hear her loud and clear. “You’ll see them, they’re in the tupperware with blue lids? Can you bring them over to the Kims’?”

“What?” you say - not because you didn’t understand the directions, but because you didn’t understand the why. She starts to repeat herself but you cut her off, clarifying, “Why are you making food for the Kims?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” she asks. “Or at least Minji? Mr. Kim had his knee replacement today.”

You call Minji from the car, but she doesn’t answer. You’ve been best friends since kindergarten; her dad’s house is just across the street from the one you’d grown up in, where your parents still live. You kids have all grown up, and away - you, Minji, and her two brothers - but Mr. Kim still lives in that same house, the light blue one that you can see from your childhood bedroom window. 

You still live close, and Minji’s just a few towns over. Her brothers moved far - requiring planes and trains to get back. You see Minji at least monthly, if not more often - usually you meet for brunch at a place between your houses. Sometimes, though, you meet back home home - for holidays, usually. The last time you were at her dad’s house with her was for the winter holidays two years ago; you’d rung in the New Year on her back deck. 

You try not to think about that night. 

You let yourself into your parents’ empty house with the code and head straight for the kitchen. As promised, there’s a small stack of blue-lidded containers, and you load them into a reusable grocery bag you steal from the cabinet beneath the sink. You lock the house back up and head across the street on foot. 

Once upon a time - for most of your life, really - you would have just let yourself in. You and Minji grew up in each other’s homes. This was your second home, her dad your second father. It had been like that your whole life. But once you and Minji went away to college, things changed - just slightly. Part of it’s just becoming an adult. You don’t barge in anymore, you knock. 

You expect Minji, or maybe one of her aunts if they’ve come to help, to answer the door. Instead, it swings open to reveal her older brother, Seokjin - full lips frowning slightly, strong brow furrowed as he tries to piece together why you’re standing on his father’s doorstep holding a grocery bag. 

The moment stretches, stills. It can go one of two ways - you can let it be awkward, or you can be sure that it isn’t.

“Hi,” you say, hoping it sounds breezy. “My mom cooked some dishes for you.”

Seokjin takes a minute step backwards, lips parting to speak, but then you hear your name squealed from over his shoulder and you brace yourself for impact. 

Jin acts fast, grabbing the bag of food from you and flattening himself against his open front door as Minji launches herself past him to hug you, laughing.

“I called you on my way over!” you scold her, smiling, hugging her tightly back. 

“Sorry!” she says, still holding you, still laughing. Jin’s still holding your food, just to the side of you, watching this display with a blank face. “I was helping my dad lay down. I left my phone in the kitchen, I think? You should see his knee, it’s disgusting. Is that food?”

She releases you and turns, heading through the house towards their roomy kitchen. You know you’re expected to follow. You reach to take the food back from Jin, shooting him a thankful smile. Your fingers brush as you take the bag, and you drop your gaze, hurrying to follow the sound of Minji’s voice as it floats through the house. Seokjin stands in place as you leave, and you hope he doesn’t see you shudder against goosebumps as you hurry away.

He’s had that effect on you since you were fourteen years old.

But that’s ancient history.

There’s a lot you want to ask him, starting with how long he’ll be in town, ending with… well. Not now. 

In the kitchen, Minji is trying to make room in the fridge for everything your mom sent over. You sit at the table, watching her absently, answering whenever her chatter pauses to ask you something. 

Jin joins you two wordlessly. He reaches over Minji’s head and then turns and holds out a beer bottle, offering it to you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you say, taking it from him. Minji looks up to see what you’re talking about and then nudges Jin’s shin - which is next to her head - to indicate that she wants one too. He sits across the table from you and sets a beer for Minji at the seat to his right. When she’s done in the fridge, she sits heavily next to her brother and they both look at you as they drink.

“So,” you say, because you have to say something about now, have to keep yourself from getting swept up in twenty-something years of memories that this house holds for you. “How’d the surgery go?”

“Great!” Minji beams. “The surgeons said it was exactly as expected. He’ll start physical therapy next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you tell her genuinely. Mr. Kim was always important to you. You turn your attention to Jin, who’s downed half of his beer already. “Are you staying long?”

He nods, swallows, then answers. “A few weeks, probably,” he tells you. “I got approval to work remotely through the end of the month. Hopefully by then he’ll be back to a point where he doesn’t need someone here 24/7, and Minji can just pop in on him…” 

He trails off, his eyes going over your shoulder, watching a few birds hop from the bird feeder to the deck railing. The deck railing where you’d hung wet bathing suits to dry on never-ending summer afternoons, where you’d placed soda cans with rivulets of condensation running down their sides, where you’d leaned with Minji as you talked about boys and school and boys again, where you’d buried your hands in Seokjin’s hair as he’d - nope. 

Not going there. Not unless you want to drown.

“Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Minji asks, throwing you a life preserver by dragging you back to the present. 

“Ah,” you say, letting your regretful tone do the answering for you. “I’d like to, but… I should get home.”

I should get out of this house, you think. I should get away from your brother. 

She grins at you slyly. “Got that man to feed?”

You laugh in surprise. Seokjin is suddenly very interested in the label on the beer he’s almost finished. 

“No,” you say. “He’s out of the picture.”

Minji narrows her eyes at you, assessing. “We don’t seem sad,” she observes finally. 

You shake your head. “We aren’t sad,” you confirm. Jin gets up wordlessly and opens the fridge again, reaching for a second beer. His shoulders take up almost the whole space. You try not to notice, try not to think about the muscles of those shoulders rippling under your fingertips - enough. Enough, now.

You stand, needing the escape, needing to get away, draining the rest of your beer in one long drag that would make your college-self proud.

“Listen,” you say to the room at large, to both of them, after placing the empty bottle back on the table, “call me if you need help, okay? My place isn’t far. I can pop over if you need an extra pair of hands, or a break, or some errands handled. Okay?”

Seokjin’s still hiding in the refrigerator, taking a million years to choose between two of the same beer. Minji, oblivious, takes your hand gratefully.

“Thank you,” she says warmly, giving you a squeeze. 

You start to head back towards the front door, Minji still clutching your hand. 

“Bye, Seokjin,” you say over your shoulder.

He glances up at you around the open refrigerator door.

“See you,” he says. There’s something hollow in his voice. 

You get it, though. 

The last time the three of you were here together, two years ago, he’d welcomed in the New Year buried inside you against the back of their house, gasping your name against the inky dark of the frigid December night.

You’ve never told a soul, and you don’t think he has, either.

You’ve never talked about it at all.

You and Minji spent New Year's Eve out at bars and clubs together almost every year. The year you were twenty-six, though, something had changed. Suddenly, the idea of vying for bar space, in heels, for overpriced drinks and sleazy dudes seemed abysmal. 

“We could stay in,” Minji had suggested. “Pretend we’re sixteen, sneaking booze into dad’s basement again? Seokjin is back in town for the week because he dumped that shitty girlfriend of his for the sixth time, might be kind of fun to all hang out.”

You’d pretended to dislike the idea, grimacing a little as you thought it over. Your brain snagged on dumped his shitty girlfriend. 

“Come on,” she’d said cajolingly. “We can put on 90’s music and play card games, like we used to.”

You knew the whole time that you’d go; all you needed to know was that Seokjin would be there. Since he’d left for college, he only came home twice a year - Christmas holidays, and over summer breaks. Since he'd moved far, even those weren't promised.

Minji ended up with a small crowd - a few that you were friends with in high school, but most of them you thought were friends of her brothers. 

You’d spent most of the night trying to avoid staring at Jin - or at least avoid getting caught staring. It had been about two years since you’d seen him last - four years since he moved away. He was twenty-eight to your twenty-six that year, and you weren’t sure if it was the way he was aging or if it was the tequila, but he seemed - somehow - even more handsome than you remembered. 

It had gotten more and more difficult as the night went on to focus - on conversations, on card games, on how to balance as you walked; your brain wanted to spend its energy cataloging the quirk of his full lips when you said something funny, his windshield-wiper laugh when Minji dropped a whole tray of lemon slices she’d spent twenty minutes cutting, the strip of bare skin his shirt revealed when he bent down to help her pick them up. It was like your brain was trying to soak up every little detail of him that it could after so many years of distance, of him being somebody you used to be close to.

Eventually, you’d retreated to the back deck, alone, just minutes before midnight. Outside, the noise of the party fell away, and you took in deep gulps of cold air, your hands gripping the splintery wood of the railing. 

When the door opened behind you, you expected Minji. Instead, Seokjin stood there, staring at you like he’d asked you a question and was waiting for an answer. 

Maybe, in his own way, he had. Maybe it had been all the quick glances he’d given you that night. Maybe it had been the way he’d stuck close, listening when you talked, smiling wryly when you cracked jokes. Maybe it had been the way his eyes had followed you from room to room, the way his fingers had tightened around his glass when you bent down to grab one of the wayward lemon slices.

You’d stared back at him, unsure what the right move was. This was Minji’s brother, and you’d promised her almost fifteen years ago to never get tangled up with her family. This was Minji’s brother, who had bought you girls beer before you were old enough, who had once driven to pick you up from the mall on a rainy day when your date had gone badly. This was Minji’s brother who’d once held your hand in the backseat of your dad’s car as you sobbed over a broken wrist, who’d often let you sit and watch him play video games even after he’d told Minji to bug off and leave him alone.

This was Seokjin, who was staring at you so intently that for a moment you weren’t sure if he hadn’t asked you something.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes met yours.

“Explain to me how you got even more beautiful?” he’d murmured, and your heart had leapt into your throat.

“I - what?”

He was close enough to touch. You’d dreamed of this for so long - pathetically long, really. You’d never dreamed that he’d want you.

He stepped closer, and you did touch him - one hand acted without permission, coming up and resting lightly on his chest, over his heart. It had thumped beneath your tentative fingers. 

Your fingers had curled in the material of the thick hoodie he’d been wearing, had pulled him just closer.

And then his mouth was on yours, searing, and your hands were in his hair, and that deck railing was pressing into your lower back as he pinned you against it, and one of his hands was creeping beneath the hem of your shirt, and you could feel him hardening against your lower stomach, and -

And through the window, you could see the party carrying on.

You broke the kiss, pushed gently on his forearm to extract his sneaky hand from inside your shirt.

“They can see us,” you’d gasped, and he’d followed your gaze somewhat dumbly, like it hadn’t occurred to him that everyone else existed in the same place as the two of you.

Then he’d taken your hand, pulling you down the deck steps, away from the glow of light from the house’s windows, down into the darkness, where witnesses would have to work a little harder to see what was going on.

He’d pressed you against the wall of the house, beneath the deck, and as you’d tipped your head back to allow him access to nip and soothe lines up and down your neck you’d thought of all the summer nights you’d spent in this exact spot. This is where the keg usually goes, you’d thought absently as that sneaky hand returned to the bare skin of your belly beneath your sweater.

You hadn’t felt even remotely cold, despite the threat of snow in the air. 

You’d kissed until your lips hurt and you wanted it to hurt just a little more, your hands starting to toy with the waistband of his jeans as his thumb rubbed determined circles around your puckered nipple beneath the fabric of your bra. 

“Tell me what you want,” he’d said, the words mumbled against your lips. He’d pulled back just enough, just enough to watch your face as you told him -

“Anything. Everything. All of it… all of you.”

His hand had traveled up the back of your thigh, beneath your skirt, fingers pushing the cotton of your panties aside before stroking through your center. You’d moaned, low, aware that anyone could come out onto the deck above you without warning. His breath had hitched in response, and his hand had left your pussy long enough to tug you to him again, pressing you against his hips for just a second before returning. This time he didn’t toy with you, pressing his index finger into your messy heat, followed quickly by a second digit.

You’d mouthed his name against his jaw, trying to keep yourself upright as he pressed you against the brick of the house, as he pumped his fingers leisurely, fingertips rubbing circles against your front wall until he found the place that made you gasp and buck against his hand. He’d laughed, asked, “Yeah?” in a cocky voice you’d never heard on him before. It’d made you, impossibly, wetter. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you’d whispered, half delirious, and he’d laughed again, like he knew already.

There had been a flash of foil between his teeth, the sound of his zipper echoing across the frozen backyard, and then he was pushing inside you, fingers still wet from you now gripping your hip to keep you in place. 

You’d groaned in unison as he slowly bottomed out. The brick had bit at your back, the winter air had bit at your face, and Seokjin had bit at your lower lip as he pounded into you steadily. 

It had been hurried. It had been hushed. 

Your name on his lips when he came took the air from your lungs.

You’d wanted this, wanted him, in silence for as long as you could remember. Before you had words to put to it, before you were old enough to understand why your stomach hurt when he left the room. 

It had hurt, after. The scrapes from the brick wall. Your sore hamstrings. Your chapped, cracking lips. 

His silence.

You’d both missed the countdown. Happy New Year.

You don’t know what you had expected after seeing Seokjin at his dad’s house unexpectedly. Apparently, some foolish part of your subconscious thought he’d reach out to you, because you find yourself disappointed when he doesn’t.

Stupid, you think. I don’t know what you were thinking. Aside from that one slip on New Year’s Eve two years ago, you’d done a stellar job at orbiting Seokjin in silence, keeping your feelings under control and out of sight, never pushing yourself into his path but never letting him stray so far as to forget you, either. Nothing’s changed. 

You tell yourself this for two days, until Minji’s name lights up your phone as you’re packing up from work on Thursday evening, your stomach growling and your feet aching to get out of their heels. 

“Yeeees?” you answer her as you power down your laptop and cast your gaze around your cubicle for anything else that needs to come home with you.

“Are you still at work?” she asks, sounding a little breathless, a little irritated.

“Packing up right now,” you tell her, rising and pulling your bag onto your shoulder. You give Dale, your cubicle-mate, a silent wave goodbye and head for the elevators. “What’s up?”

“I tried your mom first, but your parents are apparently out to dinner tonight,” she says. “Is there any way you can swing by my dad’s? I think Seokjin is having a hard time with dad, and I’m stuck here at least another two hours -.”

“No problem,” you tell her, cutting off her explanation. It isn’t needed. “I’ll head there now. Tell him I’ll be like…” You glance at your watch for the time, “...twenty-five minutes, tops, if traffic is bad.”

“You’re a saint,” she breathes in relief. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I promise I’ll hurry. Did I tell you that deal with Mr. Lee fell through? I have been non-stop -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell her, meaning it. “I’m happy to help. I’ll be there soon. See you later, okay?”

You grew up on a dead end. You never tell people that, now. You always fancy it up if it’s brought up in conversation - you call it a cul-de-sac, though it isn’t according to the yellow sign that marks where you turn left to reach your parents’ house. 

Every inch of this street is steeped in memories for you - memories of growing up with Minji and Seokjin, running wild through these streets whenever the weather allowed it, learning to ride a bike, having snowball fights and water balloon fights and - once - even a foodfight. Thinking of your childhood with those two, you think mostly of chaos and laughter. 

You miss it, a little, and that’s only a little bit nostalgia talking. Maybe the lack of chaos is nice, but the lack of laughter kind of sucks. 

It takes Seokjin forever to answer the door when you knock. When he does, it’s evident immediately why Minji had called for backup. 

He’s sick as a dog; his nose is red, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and sleepy. 

“Minji sent me,” you explain. “She said you need help with your dad.”

“I don’t,” he protests, just a little whiny. “We’re fine. Why’d she call you? I told her we were fine.”

This clear untruth is punctuated by a fit of coughing. You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

He shakes his head, recovering. “It’s just a cold,” he says, doubling down. “I’m sorry you drove all the way here, but I don’t need help. I was just about to help Dad get showered - I need to get back up there, he’s waiting.”

He starts to turn to go, but you reach out, catching his sleeve. He turns, brows furrowing in frustration, but you cut him off.

“Jin,” you say seriously, “come on. I came here to help. What needs to be done? Do you want me to start heating up dinner while he showers?”

He sags back against the wall behind him, raising one hand to rub wearily over his brow, his eyes, down over his mouth. You let his sleeve slip between your fingers and you wait as his resolve cracks. 

He sighs heavily, eyeing the ceiling. “Could you strip his bed and put on clean blankets? So when he’s done showering, I can put him back in a clean bed?”

“Absolutely,” you say, relieved that he’s delegated a task. He leads you upstairs silently. Your feet remember the way to Mr. Kim’s bedroom. You weren’t often allowed to play in there as kids, but you have to pass it to get to Minji’s room; you think you could walk the path in your sleep.

Halfway up the stairs, you pause, stopping by one of the dozens of framed photos on the wall. You smile, putting your finger on the glass. 

At the top of the stairs Seokjin pauses, turns to see why you stopped. Something on his face softens when he sees. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That one’s still up.”

You give him a small smile. The photo your finger rests on is a group shot with blue water meeting blue sky as the backdrop. 

Mr. Kim stands in the middle, beaming, one arm around Minji and the other around Seokjin. Minji’s little brother Jungkook - only a year behind you girls in school - sits on the ground at Seokjin’s feet, grinning with a scrunched nose. You’re behind Minji, peeking around her shoulders, your eyes closed as you laugh. You’re all kids in the picture - Seokjin, as the oldest, is probably around ten. 

You’d been shy to be included in the picture, but Mr. Kim had told you that you were one of his kids in spirit if nothing else. You’d all been at the lake that day. Seokjin had been the one who made you and Jungkook laugh as the camera snapped. You remember it like it was yesterday. After the picture had been taken, you girls and Seokjin had dug a hole in the sand and buried Jungkook up to his neck. You’d splashed in the water, squealing over the slimy rocks that lined the lake’s floor. Later, you’d all eaten thick slices of watermelon, the juice dripping on your bare legs as the summer sun set over the horizon, the four of you sitting in a row on the picnic table bench like a matched set. You’d chased fireflies until Mr. Kim called your names, ready to pack you all into the car to return home, smelling like sunscreen and lakewater. 

It was one of your favorite memories, that whole day. 

You strip the blankets and sheets from Mr. Kim’s bed and toss them in the hamper. You collect a clean set from the linen closet in the hallway without needing to be told where they are. You spent as much time in this house as your own growing up. In the ensuite, you can hear the shower running, the low murmur of both men’s voices as they chat. You make the bed, fluffing the comforter, and then take the hamper down to the basement, where you dump them into the washer and get it started. 

When you head back upstairs, Seokjin is in the living room, slumped sideways on the couch, eyes closed. You’re not sure if he’s awake, if he knows you’re standing behind him. He has that hand pressed to his brow again, and you know a headache when you see it. 

You pad quietly up the stairs and into the hallway bathroom, where Mr. Kim used to keep all the over-the-counter stuff - bandaids, pain-killers, lozenges, even tampons back when Minji still lived here. 

Heading back downstairs, you grab a glass of water from the kitchen and find Seokjin exactly where you left him, pressing his face pitifully into the arm of the couch.

You nudge him gently, and hold out your offerings - fever reducer and the water. 

He grumbles as he takes them, pushing himself to a more upright position so he can drink from the glass without spilling.

When he sets the glass down, he looks over at you somewhat warily. “How have you been?” he asks, and there’s something resigned in his voice. Something defeated. You wonder what battle he’s lost, to make him sound like that. You feel - have always felt - that so much of what goes on in Jin’s mind is kept behind the curtain. For someone so loud, he’s the most private person you know.

“I’ve been fine,” you shrug. “Normal.”

He looks sideways at you for a long moment. “Is that a lie?” he asks finally, voice low. 

“No,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. It isn’t, right? You’ve been fine. What happened between you was two entire years ago, the lid closing tightly on a lifetime of maybes. You’d had your moment together and it hadn’t led to anything. What choice did you have, but to accept it and move on? So, there you have it. You’ve been fine.

You make the decision, right there, not to bring it up - what happened two years ago. His lips on yours, his body under your hands, the way your legs had trembled as they’d struggled to hold you up. Better to let it stay dead. If Seokjin had wanted to talk about it, he’s had two years and four months to do so. If he wants to pretend he didn’t fuck his sister’s best friend and then ghost her completely, who are you to mess with the plan? 

You need something sweet; you’re far too bitter.

But honestly, you can’t even hate him for it. He hadn’t promised you a thing, so logically there’s no reason to feel like a toy played with and discarded - even if you’re left wishing he had never picked you up to play with at all.

You look him over, taking in the sheen of sweat on his brow, the haze you can still see in his eyes. “You look like shit,” you tell him.

He lets out a single puff of a laugh, his eyes closed. “Now I know you’re lying,” he says, lips quirking into a smile. 

“You look like you have the flu,” you say flatly, ignoring his nonsense. 

“It’s just a cold,” he says.

You lapse into silence. He keeps his eyes closed, that hand still resting on his head. Finally, you say, “How about you? How’ve you been?”

He shrugs. “Been fine. Working. You know.”

A tiny smile tugs on your lips. “What are we playing these days?”

The smile creeps sideways across his face and he opens his eyes to actually look at you, sending you a conspiratory smirk. “Now you’re asking the right questions,” he says, and starts to tell you about a console game he got last week. 

You head to the basement when it’s time and move the sheets you were washing into the dryer. You pause in the doorway when you return upstairs, looking Seokjin over from afar. He looks better than he had when you’d arrived - eyes less glassy, cheeks less pink. 

“I think your fever’s down,” you say, as you return to where you’d been sitting before.

“I feel better than I did,” he agrees. He looks at you appraisingly, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. And, considering the fever, maybe he is. “So Minji said you live pretty close?”

You nod. “Not far. That apartment complex over behind the plaza with the grocery store? You remember, the one that we used to go trick-or-treating at?”

“Wow,” he says, giving an appreciative whistle. “Those are swanky.”

“I’m swanky these days,” you joke, smiling. 

Just then, there’s a soft beep from outside - someone locking their car.

“That’s Minji,” Seokjin observes, and you find yourself standing, feet carrying you towards the kitchen. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” you call over your shoulder. Jin is watching your sudden departure, clearly bemused. You busy yourself in their fridge, even though you don’t have a real reason to. You just didn’t want Minji to enter the house and find you and Jin having domestic hours on the living room couch.

The front door opens, and Minji calls your name through the house.

“I’m in here!” you call back, and head for the doorway of the kitchen. 

Minji hurries to you, setting her bags down on the kitchen floor and flopping dramatically onto the doorjamb. 

“I am so sorry,” she says. “Thank you so much for coming over.”

“Your brother’s sick,” you tell her flatly. “He had a pretty high fever when I got here.”

Her eyes widen, and she turns to look over her shoulder at Seokjin, who gives her a cheery thumbs up. 

“He says he’s fine,” you inform her, “but he’s got about two more hours before the fever-reducer wears off and then he’s gonna be useless again.”

“Thank you for the warning,” she tells you, while Seokjin squawks from the living room, “I am not, and have never been, useless!” 

You give Minji a quick hug goodbye and head for the front door. 

You meet Seokjin’s eyes as you pass through the living room. They’re sharp, now that the fever’s receded, locked on you and looking. 

“Feel better,” you tell him. “Make sure you hydrate.”

“Hey,” he says, making himself comfortable against the couch cushions, “thanks.” Then, an afterthought - “Seriously. Thank you.”

You give him a tight smile and slip out the front door.

Going home doesn’t stop you from worrying, even though you know Minji is home and capable of taking care of everything. But at work the next day, your eyes keep darting to your phone screen, as if you’re expecting updates on how Jin is feeling, if everything is okay at the house. 

No one texts you. 

You can’t ask Minji. She’s too fucking smart. If you so much as said, “Hey, is your brother feeling better?” she’d be all over it. 

You try your mom instead, texting her, “How’s Mr. Kim doing? Any updates?” 

She answers, “Haven’t heard anything!”

You groan, tapping the corner of your phone on your desk in frustration. You try to focus on work for a little bit, but it’s truly a lost cause. With a defeated sigh, you open your phone and thumb through your contacts. 

Kim Seokjin. 

You’ve had his number in your phone since you got it - your mom was the one who programmed it in for you when you were fourteen, citing Jin as someone you could call if you had an emergency. As if by being two years your senior, he qualified as a helpful adult. 

You haven’t used his number in over five years - not since you were still in college, probably. 

Actually, you realize, you remember the last time - though there were definitely parts of the night you didn’t remember. 

It was your senior year, the first weekend of December, and you and Minji were drinking in some girl’s dorm. You’d never even met this girl before, but there you were, perched on her desk with a bottle of flavored vodka in hand, watching her LEDs change color along the ceiling.

You and Minji were both wasted, even though it was relatively early - not even midnight yet. You leaned against each other, holding the other up, both of you giggling and tapping around on your phones as the conversation flowed around you.

That’s what had happened - you’d noticed it was about to be midnight, the clock about to change from 11:59. And despite being so drunk that Minji was mostly propping you up, so drunk that you had to close one eye to read the letters of this girl’s alarm clock, so drunk that you’d be throwing up in just minutes - a little part of you brain informed you that midnight meant it was officially December 4th. 

You’d texted Seokjin happy birthday at exactly midnight, one eye closed to make sure you were typing actual words. He was hundreds of miles away, had graduated and moved out already, and you hadn’t talked since the day the Kims had loaded all of his shit into a rented moving van, about five months ago. 

And he’d answered - “thank you! what are you doing up??”

To which you’d replied, “getting baja blasted with your sister” and he’d replied, “i do not want to know, thank you!!”

And then Minji had looked at you drunkenly and narrowed her eyes. “Who are you texting with that smile?”

The floor had swooped below your feet, and you’d run for the bathroom. Minji had forgotten about interrogating you, and you and Seokjin had never texted again.

Now, at your job, you stare at his name on your phone screen, wracked with indecision. 

“This is ridiculous,” you finally sigh. Behind you, Dale glances over his shoulder to determine if you’re talking to him or yourself. Ignoring Dale, you tap Seokjin’s name and type, “how are you feeling today?”

You don’t even have time to feel nervous about it - his response is almost instantaneous. He sends you a picture of a gaming screen, where he’s clearly playing a shooter POV. He follows it up with the sunglasses emoji. You laugh out loud, trying to keep your chuckles quiet to avoid calling attention to your cubicle. 

“What a nerd,” you mutter affectionately. You type back, “you must be fine then 🙄”. 

Seokjin’s played video games his whole life; it’s one thing you do know about him. How many hours of your childhood had been spent with him, Jungkook, and Minji crowded around the tv in their basement, fighting over whose turn it was to play?Usually Seokjin got to play the first controller (since he was older, stronger, and technically the console belonged to him), which left you and Minji and Jungkook to fight it out over the second one.

But you remember other times, too - especially as you got older - when you’d just sit in silence and watch him play. By the time you were a teenager - fourteen to Jin’s sixteen - Minji was over wanting to join him. She’d argue for use of the tv, and when she lost she’d flounce upstairs to her room to sulk about it. Sometimes you’d join her - usually, you’d join her. But sometimes you’d cast a glance at Seokjin, see if you were welcome. He’d always play it the same - look at you sideways, give you a tiny nod, pat the couch behind him like an invitation. (Seokjin played video games from the floor, letting the base of the couch prop him up. He said he focused better that way.) 

You’d sit, quiet, watching him work the controls, listening to him whine and groan and complain and shout his way through each map. And you’d feel special, because he let you stay after he’d told Minji to fuck off, because he didn’t mind your presence, because sometimes he’d ask if you wanted him to teach you how, even though you always said no thanks. 

You text your mom and ask what she’s making for dinner.

“Why?” she sends back. “Are you asking me to feed you?”

“Maybe,” you send back. 

You join your parents for dinner, “just because”. It’s not that uncommon for you to join them for a meal now and then, considering how close you live. You go because you love your parents and you want a home-cooked meal - definitely not because you know it puts you back in proximity to Jin.

Your mom glances up at you from across the table approximately every four-tenths of a second through the entire meal, until finally you slap your palm on the table and snap, “What?”

She purses her lips, amused. “Nothing,” she says, feigning innocence. “We just don’t usually see you on Friday nights.”

“Jagi,” your dad warns, his voice full of affection. Like he knows it’s a lost cause but he thinks he should try to rein her in for your sake. 

“I’m just saying!” she says, still all innocence, eyes wide. “I’m not complaining! It’s nice to have you here.”

You grumble a response, aggravated that she seems to be onto you. To escape their scrutiny, you rise and move to bag up the full garbage, tying the top of the bag and heading out to the trash cans at the end of the driveway. 

You pause there after hefting the bag up and into the bin, taking a second to breathe. It’s a nice night - the sun has mostly set, the sky deep and dark above you but still clinging to shades of pink down near the horizon. It’s warm, too, for April. 

You’re standing there, arms crossed, watching the sky inch closer and closer to darkness, when you hear a door shut across the street. Your eyes follow the sound immediately, and you see a man’s silhouette do the same thing you were doing - make its way down the driveway, a trash bag in hand. 

Romantic, you think wryly. A garbage date. You stay rooted to the spot, watching as Jin - just an outline, a shadow - tosses the bag into the bin and brushes off his hands. Then, he stops still, seeming to notice you.

You hold your breath, not sure how this will go, and then he starts to lope over, and you exhale in a whoosh.

“Hi,” he says simply, as he gets close enough that you can finally see his face through the dark.

“Hi,” you say around a tiny smile. “You seem better today.”

He scoffs. “I told you it was just a cold. I just needed to sleep it off.”

“I’m glad,” you tell him softly. Maybe it’s dangerous, maybe it’s stupid - to be soft with him. To act like you didn’t already get your answer from him, years ago. To pretend your affection for him is still as pure and untainted as it was when you were a teenager. 

But it feels safer, out here, away from his dad’s house. In there, the memories of that New Year’s Eve are too fresh, too strong - they cling to the air, slide down the walls. The heating unit sighs to life and you hear your own sighs as Seokjin’s fingers danced along your bare skin. The refrigerator grumbles and you hear the grumble of pleasure that originated low in Seokjin’s throat as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. Someone’s footsteps crunch gravel outside, and you hear the crunch of gravel as Seokjin made his way back to the front of the house in the dark, leaving you hidden in shadows, clutching the bricks and gasping for breath.

It’s better out here. In the fresh air, away from that house, the memories are looser, less focused - bike races, raucous laughter, chalk drawings, bouncing beams of light from flashlight tag.

“Thank you for the help yesterday,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s embarrassed. “I know I kind of gave you a hard time.”

“You didn’t,” you say, letting him off the hook. You’ll always let him off the hook, for everything. You always have. “How’s your dad?”

He glances back at the house over his shoulder, like he needs to verify this answer before giving it. “Not so good today,” he admits. “He’s in a lot more pain, starting to get frustrated needing so much help.”

“Hmm,” you deadpan. “A Kim man who gets frustrated at needing help. Interesting.”

Seokjin laughs, full from his belly. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s no ire in it. “Can I help it if I’m a chip off the ol’ block?”

“We’re supposed to learn from our parents’ mistakes,” you tell him, like a reminder. “Not continue them.”

Just then, a car turns around the corner, the headlights casting you in blinding white light before throwing you back into shadow. You both turn to look - since it’s a dead end, traffic doesn’t just pass through here. 

You recognize the car - it’s Minji’s. She parks and pops out, calling hello to you, ignoring her brother. He makes a face at you like, what am I, chopped liver? 

“I have your mom’s tupperwares, do you want to take them?” she asks, pressing the lock button on her key fob and making the car behind her beep once, loudly. 

“Sure,” you say, following her into the house. A glance over your shoulder tells you that Seokjin is following, too, a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets. 

Inside, Mr. Kim is sitting sideways on the couch, his leg propped up on a small stack of pillows, a bag of ice over his knee. He perks up when he sees you, lowering his phone away from his face and pushing his spectacles further up his nose. 

“How are you, sweetheart?” he asks. “I’d come hug you, but -.” He gestures at his leg.

“I’m doing fine,” you assure him. “I heard you had a rough day today.”

Mr. Kim shoots a dark look at his son, who looks innocently at the ceiling. “Just a little pain today,” Mr. Kim demures.

Seokjin glances at his phone. “We might want to get you upstairs soon,” he tells his father. “You know you’ll be asleep in about fifteen minutes, so unless you want to spend the night on the couch…”

You watch, feeling awkward and unable to help, as Seokjin helps his dad swivel and stand, an arm over Seokjin’s shoulders. They make their way slowly and laboriously up the stairs, and you feel a little anxious watching. 

“Are they okay?” you ask Minji as she returns from the kitchen, pushing your mother’s empty tupperware back into your hands.

“They’re fine,” she says easily. “It takes a while but they’ve got it down to a science. Hey, listen, do you want to go grab a drink? It’s Friday, and I’ve had a hell of a week, and what I would really like to do is Uber into town and drink like college-Minji.”

You laugh at this. “I’m not sure I’m prepared for the return of college-Minji.”

“Pleaaaaaaaase?” she begs, blinking her lashes at you. “We haven’t gone out together in ages.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh. “Let me go tell my parents goodbye and drive home and change. Text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yessss!” she cries, dancing in place a little. You feel a swell of affection for her; you love Minji with your whole heart. You’ve been through a lot together. You’ve been through a lot separately, but always side by side.

There have been many times through your life where you felt like you were clutching Minji’s hand through the fire. 

You still remember clearly the way she’d bounded up to your locker, back when you were thirteen, squealing and excited because the most popular girl in your year had asked her for her number, had invited her over. 

You still remember clearly Minji sobbing on your bed weeks later when it came to light that the girl - who wouldn’t be the last to try - was just trying to get an “in” with Minji’s hot older brother.

“You know I would never, right?” you’d promised her. Stupid, at fourteen, not clarifying that you mean never use you to get to him. Stupid, because then you were sixteen and then eighteen and then twenty-one and then twenty-six and you weren’t sure what you had actually promised - had Minji heard it as I would never get involved with him? 

“I know,” she’d sobbed, reaching one hand blindly to clutch at yours. “I know you wouldn’t.”

And now you’re twenty-eight and the secrets you’ve kept keep piling up - each day you loved him, another pebble atop the pile. The slightest shake could topple the tower, and you’d be absolutely buried. 

You could never let Minji know you loved him. Not when you were fifteen and he was untouchable. Not when you were twenty, and he was the best part of coming home. Not when you were twenty-six, pressed between him and the deck railing. 

Not now, after two years of existing outside his orbit again. 

The bar she picks is small, but quiet - quiet enough that you can actually carry on a conversation from opposite sides of a wooden booth, which is exactly what you do.

What you hadn’t banked on was that Seokjin would join her, sitting on her side of the booth, complaining loudly that he’s not going to come out with you two ever again, he’s never been such a third wheel in his life.

“You could have stayed home with dad,” Minji says, giving him a swift elbow to the ribs. “Don’t be such a complainer. You jumped in on my plans.”

“Can we please talk about something besides your hot coworker, then?” he begs. “Anything, anything else.”

“We could talk about my hot coworkers,” you offer, even though you have none. But this - teaming up with Minji to push Seokjin’s buttons - is a song and dance you know by heart, something you’ve done since practically infancy.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Believe it or not, that’s not better,” he deadpans. 

You laugh, knocking back the rest of your drink and sliding out of the booth to go get another, leaving the Kim siblings to bicker in your absence.

You don’t expect Seokjin to follow; you don’t expect him to press up behind you as you stand at the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention. 

But he does, his body heavy and warm against yours. The blood rushes to your pussy so fast it almost makes you mad. All he’s doing is standing in close proximity, can your body get it together?

“What are you doing?” you murmur, trying not to meet his eyes in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

“Minji wants shots,” he answers easily. Like his body isn’t pressed against yours, like he isn’t causing your heart to hammer against your ribs.

“You’re too close,” you manage to say, because it’s the best option you can think of. Better than she’ll see us. Better than you still aren’t close enough. Better than don’t do this if you’re just going to leave again. 

He does catch your eyes in the mirror, then. He must read something honest on your face, because he shifts sideways, leaving you cold. The bartender comes by, takes both your orders. You take your drink back to the table. Seokjin follows with a tray of bad decisions poured into tiny glasses.

Even though he gave you the reprieve when you asked for it, it’s clear he’s got a mission to ruin you. You’re sure of it, more and more sure as the night wears on. Sure of it when you reach for the same shot glass, your fingers brushing, his lingering. Sure of it when his eyes on your face make you so warm that Minji accuses you of having a drunk flush. Sure of it when his foot hooks around your ankle beneath the table, slides up and down your calf, slow and tantalizing, inches from Minji’s stilettoed feet. Sure of it when this causes your breath to hitch and his fingers tighten around his glass and his gaze goes to the opposite wall, anywhere but towards you.

You’re drunk, but it’s Seokjin that’s sending you spinning. 

You’ve made this mistake before, you remind yourself sternly. Nothing good can come of it. 

You excuse yourself and head for the bathroom, a marked up door at the end of a narrow, poorly lit hallway. You grip the sides of the sink and breathe deep, closing your eyes. The room sways and you press your forehead to the mirror, trying to ground yourself. 

“You cannot fuck him again,” you whisper to yourself, eyes still closed. “It wouldn’t mean anything even if you did.”

The alcohol catches up to you as you whisper these words; the truth of them slam you harder than normal. You blink away tears, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“Time to go home,” you tell yourself firmly, turning off the water and wiping quickly under your eyes in case any makeup ran. 

This is what it means to be in Seokjin’s orbit, now: to crash into each other, to fight with yourself - fight with the truth that he doesn’t want you, and then run away scared until he’s too far away to hurt you again. Spin idly along until the next time your circles cross paths. Do it again.

He’s in the hallway when you emerge, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. You have to pass him to get back to the table. He pushes off the wall when he sees you coming, stumbles a little. A tiny, sensible part of your brain whispers that he might be drunker than you are as you sidle into his personal bubble.

“What are you doing, Seokjin?” you ask him for the second time that night. 

His eyes comb your face. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for, what question he’s secretly asked you in his mind. 

“You tell me,” he retorts, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, but speaking somehow brought him looming closer and you’re drowning in the smell of him, the warmth of him, the desire to feel his body hard against yours again, to feel him split you open again, to have his mouth hot on your skin again -

You close your eyes, sag a little. His hands come to your elbows quickly, holding you up. “You’re confusing me,” you whisper, and then look up at him through your lashes. 

There’s something aching on his face, and then he whispers back, “I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so sorry - I never meant -.”

The click-clack of high heels approach and round the corner. You and Seokjin leap apart like you’re burned, your arms tingling where his fingers had been.

It’s not Minji. The stranger murmurs an apology and brushes past you both, towards the bathroom.

Spooked, startled out of the moment, you turn to head back to the bar, back to Minji. 

Seokjin grabs your arm, pulls you back. You teeter back a step, then look at him expectantly as you regain your balance.

Seriously, so seriously, he tells you, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you.” Then he releases your arm with a tiny push, guiding you back out of the dirty hallway and into the light.

You Uber home alone. You brush your teeth, remove your makeup. You change into pajamas, drink a glass of water. 

You wake up to your phone buzzing incessantly next to your head.

[10:14 AM] Jin 😎: oh [10:14 AM] Jin 😎: my god [10:14 AM] Jin 😎: i think i am dead? [10:15 AM] Jin 😎: are you dead too? are we ghosts? [10:15 AM] Jin 😎: can ghosts throw up??? 🤔

You giggle despite your own headache. 

[10:15 AM] You: whats wrong old man, you can’t hang anymore?? [10:16 AM] Jin 😎: WOW [10:16 AM] You: 😇

You check all your other socials, answer a few emails, and then finally drag yourself out of bed and head for a hot shower. As you stand beneath the hot water, you think about your first hangover, when you were sixteen. 

You’d woken up next to Minji on her basement floor, a hoodie balled up beneath your head like a pillow. You’d closed your eyes again, hoping the splitting pain in your head and the roiling adrenaline in your stomach were a bad dream. 

They were not.

You spent most of the next hour in the basement’s tiny bathroom, curled up on the floor next to your porcelain jail. When you felt like you could stand, you rinsed your mouth and pulled the pillow-hoodie onto your body, taking comfort in the way it swam on you, the hemline brushing your thighs just below your cutoffs. 

You’d made your way upstairs, hoping to sneak past Mr. Kim and your own parents and make it unscathed to your own bed. You wanted nothing but to sleep for the next fourteen hours. Or years. 

You got busted at the top of the stairs. Luckily, it was Seokjin bustling around the kitchen, not his father.

He had taken one look at you and started laughing, low in his belly. “Too much fun?”

“Shut up,” you’d whined, literally covering your ears against the noise. “Or I will throw up again, I promise.”

Jin had smiled at you, open and easy. “Sit down, kid,” he’d said kindly, jerking his head towards the kitchen table. “I have an age-old remedy.” 

And actually? It had worked.

After drying your hair and throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt, you scavenge your kitchen. You have most of what you need, and you toss it all into a tote bag and hunt for your keys. You finally find them on the floor next to the kitchen counter - chances are you’d tossed them at the counter last night and missed - and head out.

Your parents are home when you let yourself in. They both stare at you, baffled, then exchange a sly, knowing look.

“You’re back, I see,” your mom says, something sneaky in her tone.

“Do you have any bean paste?” you answer. “I’m going to go make Minji hangover soup.”

Only one word was a lie.

This makes your mom laugh, and she rummages in her cabinets and helps you complete the list of ingredients you need. 

The Kims’ front door is locked, so you make your way around the side of the house and fish the key out of its hiding spot, letting yourself in the side door that leads to the kitchen. 

The house is still and quiet, and you try not to clang any pots and pans as you get to work. When you finish, over an hour later, you set up the table - a bowl of hangover soup, and a mug of steaming hot coffee, black.

You text Seokjin, “come to the kitchen”, and set your phone back down, turning to start on the dishes. 

You’re informed of his presence by his laugh. You turn, hands red under the hot water and covered in suds, to see him sitting down at the spot you’d set up. He looks up at you, amazed, an uncertain smile playing across his face. 

“It’s an age-old remedy,” you tell him seriously.

“You are…” he trails off with a quiet laugh and reaches for the coffee. 

You’d love to know the end of that sentence. 

When you finish the dishes - save for the pot with the remaining soup, still on the stove for when Minji wakes up - you pour your own mug of coffee and sit across from Jin, watching as he finishes his soup. He closes his eyes and sighs happily, then sets down his spoon reverently.

“Thank you,” he says, like a prayer, but also like a joke. “That was so needed.”

“Consider it payback,” you tell him. 

It feels different, sitting across the kitchen table. Different than sitting across that booth at the bar. Less charged. Like it wasn’t something physical burning between you, like you’d thought, but the need for catharsis, for apology. Even if you don’t know what he’s sorry for, even if you still don’t know what exactly happened with him two years ago.

He’s thinking about it too, apparently. He says your name quietly, and you look up to meet his eyes. You can read the apology all over his face. The house is still still and quiet, no one awake but you and Jin. Like no one exists but you and Jin.

You’ve felt that way before.

Sitting beside him in the basement. In the passenger seat of his car, driving through a rainstorm. In his backyard, in the dark, your breath visible in the air as it leaves your mouth in desperate puffs.

“I kind of wanted to talk,” he admits, and your stomach twists. Maybe you should have had some of the soup. “About -?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quickly, already standing, already moving to gather up the tote bag you’d used to carry ingredients. You shrug back into your jacket, ignoring Jin’s wide-eyed look of surprise. “I should get going,” you say, still not looking at him. You go back to the kitchen door you’d entered through, picking up the key so you can return it to its hiding place outside. You pause on the threshold, turning, eyeing the stovetop thoughtfully. 

“Tell Minji you made the soup,” you instruct, and then you close the door behind you. 

Next ->

Thank you so so much for reading - i hope you like this one as much as I do! Please don't feel shy about letting me know what you think!

Part 2: Retrograde will post next Friday, June 2nd. Hope to see you there!

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” - Unknown

I love you too. (Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook One Shot)

Requested by @adsku

Summary: You don’t want to love again, thanks to Kim Taehyung and your best friend’s little secrets but Jungkook doesn’t want to give you up. Not when you always deny the three words he keeps telling you.

Pairing: Jungkook×Reader, Taehyung×Reader

His heart beat rhythmically in his chest, your head resting on the expanse of his skin and your hands wrapped around his waist. His fingers drew circles on your back, a smile gracing your lips at how content you felt. 

“I think we should get a seven tiered cake on our wedding.” Taehyung voiced, earning a chuckle from you as you looked up at him. His lips turned into a pout, eyebrows etched together in a frown. “I wasn’t joking." 

You shook your head, picking yourself up and straddling him. Taehyung rested his head on the headboard of the bed, his eyes raking over your body which was covered only in undergarments as an aftermath of the sexual activities you had engaged in, just moments ago. He placed his hands on your hips, smiling at the promise ring that glinted on his finger. "You haven’t proposed to me, Taehyung, it’s only promise rings.” You replied, your voice soft and breathy in the dark room. Taehyung rolled his eyes, getting up and pushing you onto your back before hovering over you. His rubbed his nose against yours, his forehead resting upon yours.

“It’s a promise ring. Which means I promise to be with you forever. I’ve booked you for myself so someday, we’re definitely getting married.” He explained, holding your wrists in place on either side of your head. You bit your lips, your heart racing in your chest as you admired the man before you. Taehyung was simply beautiful. The charming personality was just a bonus. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that it had been three years since your relationship began, every day being something new with Taehyung by your side. All your friends always told you that he was a gem, especially Jane, your best friend since forever. You treasured your love, knowing that you’ll never be so smitten with anyone else. 

“Okay then, my future husband. What else do you have in mind?” You asked sweetly, laughing when Taehyung’s head fell to your shoulder, a soft groan escaping his lips at the nickname. “You make me absolutely insane. I love you so much.” He mumbled, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck which had you fluttering your eyes shut. His lips trailed down your body, his hands letting go of your wrists and caressing your skin.

“I love you too.”

____________________________________________

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers across the smooth material of the light blue dress you were wearing. Your silver stilettos glimmered in the lights, your hair neatly styled at the back of your head. Your make up was subtle, enough to hide all the flaws that tainted your face. You sighed, concluding that you finally looked perfect to be attending a wedding. 

“And who gave you permission to look so gorgeous? Now I’ll have to fight every man who looks your way.” You rolled your eyes, a faint smile playing at your lips as you turned around to see your boyfriend standing by the door, clad in a dark grey suit. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him smiling fondly at you, a dimple digging into his cheek. “Says the man who has every patient of his swooning over him.” You teased, grinning as Jungkook walked towards you while laughing. It was ironic, actually, seeing as you used to be his patient too. The difference was that Jungkook was the one who started wanting something more from you. 

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yoongi trying to open jungkook’s shirt more with the zipper 😅

he is just walking…

HAPPY 25TH BIRTHDAY, JEON JUNGKOOK! (in•sp) September 1st, 1997

the ironed blacksmith || jjk

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.  

➻ title: the ironed blacksmith  ➻ pairing: blacksmith!jungkook x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.4k  ➻ rating: 18+    ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | cum shots/cum play | overstimulation | more fat ass cock !!! | degradation | hard dom!jk | sub!reader | bdsm | sadist!jk | restraints(spreader bar) | degradation/heavy name calling (slut, bitch, whore) | controlled orgasms | pull out method | doggystyle | missionary | rough sex | mentions gagging | pain kink | this bitch is crying again | begging | wrist pinning | spanking | mentions branding | mentions teasing | mentions bullying(back story) | mentions infidelity | a bit of aftercare | we know how we end these so yeah… rip koo’s feelings | I think that’s all      ➻ author’s note: Can y’all believe we’re almost done? Thanks again @taechwitaaah for helping me clean these up. I hope everyone is enjoying themselves. Love you !!

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