#but vmin is there to make me smile :') | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Text

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore / @hot-soop / @the-boy-meets-evil

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

#bts imagines #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts scenarios

412 notes · View notes

thoughts-on-bangtan · 6 months

Note

VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED VMIN ARE IN LOVE VMIN ARE MARRIED

Oh Anon you're so real for this. Honestly anyone who dared claim 'vmin divorce' should be sued because what we got to see today? There was never any talk of divorce, ever, if anything there was a vow renewal haha

When we heard that Tae would have a fan meeting as part of his Layover promo, we joked around about how cute it'd be if Jimin would come as special guest but ultimately dismissed the idea. We didn't want to get our hopes up concluding that likely there would be no guest or it could be someone else. So imagine our endless surprise when suddenly pictures and videos hit the TL on twt showing Jimin up on stage with Tae. No joke, I nearly dropped my phone and then thought there's no way, I had to be seeing things. I mean, I was but my eyes were not lying to me. Introduced as his best friend.

So not only did Tae's fan meeting give us Tae performing and having fun with ARMY, it also gave us Tae having fun with Jimin with ARMY. Jimin also spoke about how while preparing for today, Tae called him and asked him if he'd want to come so he'd asked if that would be okay, but in the end, he came as quickly as he could. And isn't that the sweetest thing? Having your first solo fan meeting and having your soulmate right there by your side to experience this with?

Please do check out this video of Jimin coming up on stage and Tae being so happy, it seemed like he didn't know what to do with himself and all this emotions so he smacked Jimin's ass, after Jimin cutely smiled at him, and then pulled him closer by the hip. Very vmin behaviour. Somebody hold me because I might combust.

Speaking of pulling people closer, we also got at least two endlessly adorable vmin hugs that had us yelling as well. The way Jimin closed his eyes? I cannot even.

Tae and Jimin also played games with ARMYs, including one person who came dressed as Bart Simpson saying they did it simply because it hoped it would make Tae happy and smile. How sweet is that? That's the kind of things Tae deserves, ARMYs showing him just how much they love and appreciate him because truly, look at him and tell me how anyone can dislike him. They did challenges and played ping pong and even danced, including Tae and Jimin dancing to Go Go with Jimin looking at Tae as though knowing that Tae is their choreography memory king and obviously he remembered every step. And we also got this sweet moment of Jimin caressing Tae's head.

We also had Tae announcing unplanned things like them going to Running Men together as well as this:

Mandakkoo translation on twt: Tae: first of all...me and jiminie..will work on a much cooler song..... Jimin: ..if you're like this then u Really have to do itㅋㅋ he just keep- talking bout things like this y'knowㅋㅋ u really Have to do it then... Tae: ..alright!

Which was brought upon by Tae and Jimin spontaneously singing Friends together with them finally singing the You Are My Soulmate line together, being cute AF while doing so, and making everyone cry in the process of it all. Earlier Tae also had Jimin sit down and sang him happy birthday along with ARMY as surprise. So cute!

How could these devastatingly cute smiles ever lie? Also the manager smiling at them, awww.

In the end, after their second super cute hug, with their arms still around each other, they sat down on the stage with their backs toward the audience so they could take a picture with ARMY to commemorate this day.

And just as Jimin was leaving the stage, Tae called out his name and shyly did a cute heart pose for him and got a heart back.

Generally there were just so many cute little moments that, after a year of comparatively barely any vmin, reaffirmed the fact that just because we don't see it, that doesn't mean it isn't there, as in, just because vmin don't constantly tell us about them hanging out or talking or doing something, that doesn't mean they don't still do that. Like that Jeju trip from which Tae posted pictures on his IG with Jimin and JK. If Tae didn't tell us, we wouldn't have ever known that this trip happened. Tae and Jimin were and still very much are soulmates, the vibe when they interact and look at each other so filled with mutual adoration and this soft spot they have for one another, and their bond is just as strong and beautiful as it was and will always be. As Tae said in the BTS book, Jimin is someone he can't live without and, from their TV appearance in 2021, Jimin is the person he likes the most.

But speaking of Tae liking Jimin the most and whatnot, I thought this anon message we got yesterday also fit in with this quite well:

From Anon: Did you see taehyung once again showed jimin a piece of art, this time jimin as an elf? Imagine being the fbi agent responsible for monitoring taehyung's phone and everyday you go like ''here we go again'' when taehyung pulls up 10+ jimin fanart tabs again

For those of you who might've missed it, during his birthday live Jimin shared what looks like an AI piece of art depicting Jimin as elf in a fantasy setting. He said Tae was the one who showed it to him and it made him giggle so much! Later as part of his public birthday wishes to Jimin, Tae posted another piece of AI art of Jimin this time as hunter/warrior also in a fantasy setting. This makes this the second and third time we've heard and seen Tae spend time on Jimin fan art since the moon tattoo on Jimin's back was also inspired by a piece of Jimin fan art that Tae had sent to him saying how cool it looked.

There were also a few silly little theories about what if Tae made those fantasy AI Jimin's himself, since some time ago he'd asked about a program or something to do this, but if that's what happened, who knows, but the thought is very Tae.

So yeah, after a long time without vmin, today was a day that just kept on giving and I hope Tae and Jimin got to have that drink they mentioned they would get together after the fan meeting. What a day to be a vminnie, wow.

Lastly there was this twt that I very much agreed with so I thought I'd share, it said: the way taehyung is so overjoyed that jimin is here with him? if he was any more giddy in love i’m positive he would’ve kissed jimin there and then

What a mood.

#vmin #taehyung #jimin #Taehyung fan meeting #vmin hug #BTS

52 notes · View notes

the-boy-meets-evil · 1 year

Text

come sail away | ksj (18+)

pairing: seokjin x f. reader genre(s): enemies to lovers (one-sided) | smut, angst (light), fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI! word count: ~7.8k written for: catch of the century - thank you so so much for letting me participate! (and sorry my summary changed lol) summary: kim seokjin is the captain of a sailing team bound for one of the biggest regattas around. only one problem: that team also includes taehyung, who's incredibly accident prone. will he let you save the day despite your history? warnings: drinking, swearing, mentions of past hook-up, seokjin is kind of an idiot, taehyung is clumsy, slight mention of side vmin smut warnings: explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, slight mentions of breast play?, they're both in control, reader calls jin baby one (1) time, i think that's it a/n: this fic was kind of a beast and i wish i'd gotten it posted by our beloved jin's birthday but what can you do? thank yous: @ugh-yoongi, @hot-soop, and @effortandmore for being wonderful friends and also keeping me sane/suffering with me (sorry jewel, i copied you)

Everything in the world has finally aligned. The stars and the universe and maybe one or two things closer to Earth. It’s not worth stopping to think about it too closely. Only one thing matters. Kim Seokjin has qualified for one of the biggest regattas in the world.

Well, his team has. But, he’s their captain, and the face of the team, if you will, so he’s taking this as his win. And when you stop to think about it, he’s hand-picked every person that he sails with, spent hours making sure that not only does he have the best people, but that they also work well together. He’s watched teams fold over a stupid argument and he’s determined not to fall victim to that.

No, this team is perfect and he’s not letting anything stand in the way. They’ve had their ups and downs in the past, plenty of almosts. Not this time. This is their year and he can almost taste it. This is the year that other teams start taking his seriously and stop calling them almost.

Especially your team. Seokjin pictures your face when he finally beats you in a major regatta and it’s probably the best thing he’s seen, might even be better than sex. It’s been at least 10 years of you somehow managing to beat him when it really matters, sometimes in the final few minutes, and he’s had enough.

The news calls for a celebration, at the very least. Actually, Seokjin would rather be planning and looking into conditions, making sure that they tackle this as best they can. Taehyung and Jungkook wanted to celebrate and Yoongi, the eternal sunshine that he is, didn’t care what they did. Since neither Jin nor Yoongi could ever dissuade Taehyung from anything, they were sitting at their favorite bar.

Seokjin looks over at the door and sees the last person he’s expecting walk in. You. Sure, he’s riding a high from the news of making the cut and he’s several drinks in, but he still thinks that you could ruin the night. And you seem like you’re looking for someone, not like you just wandered in by accident, which sets his nerves on edge. Who are you looking for? As your eyes land on his table, he looks away immediately. No, you’re not raining on his parade.

“Who invited her?” Jin asks in a low, biting whisper.

It’s Hoseok who speaks up after looking toward the door. “Oh! I did!”

His voice is full of cheer, smile not even fading when Seokjin casts Hoseok his most venomous look. Maybe he’s not doing it right or maybe he’s just not as scary as he likes to imagine he is. Or Maybe Hoseok, who’s known Seokjin for nearly 20 years, isn’t bothered.

In another second, you’re at the table hugging Hoseok and smiling around at everyone else. Like you’re supposed to be there. Like this isn’t weird. Like you hang out with them all the time. Like you don’t hate him and wish nothing but bad fortune on him at every turn. Okay, maybe the last one is dramatic but you’re rivals for a reason.

“Congrats! Hobi told me you’d been selected,” you say and sit down close to Hoseok.

Seokjin almost can’t believe his ears. What kind of tactic is this? You can’t just be happy for them, that doesn’t line up with everything that he knows about you. Which, admittedly, isn’t all that much. He’s been around you plenty, sure, just never listened all that closely.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says easily.

“Looks like we’ll be going up against each other again,” Seokjin says with all the pride he’s felt the whole time.

“What?” Your eyebrows are knotted in confusion when he makes eye contact with you. It annoys Seokjin because what right do you have to be looking at him that way? Is this a game to you?

“In the Regatta?” Seokjin says, biting back the tone of annoyance as best he can.

“Oh, hadn’t you heard? I didn’t enter a team this year,” you say, your tone casual. You’re not even really focused, more worried about stealing some of Hoseok’s drink and then pulling up your face when it’s too sweet. Seokjin is searching for something deeper. Are you just testing him? Is this some kind of pity since you’ve beaten him so many times?

The only question that comes out of his mouth is, “why?”

“Well Eunji is pregnant so she can’t really train right now and Chan fell in love and said he wants to focus on that for now,” you say with a shrug. “I didn’t really have time to replace them with anyone I trusted, which is fine, there’s always next year.”

And there was always next year for you. It was like you made the cut every year, sometimes without even seeming like you were trying. It was infuriating to see you so casual about missing it this year. Seokjin’s sure he checked the teams competing, but maybe he hadn’t looked that closely. All he can do now is fight to make sure it doesn’t seem like he’s bothered by your lack of participation.

With Seokjin so deep in his thoughts, he misses a lot of the next bits of the conversation. He doesn’t see you watch him for a moment before turning back to Hoseok. He doesn’t see Taehyung get up to seek out the pretty stranger he’s been watching across the bar. He doesn’t even see Yoongi order them another round until there’s a fresh drink in front of him, which he downs too fast.

This night isn’t going anything like he expects. Well, except for Taehyung. His friend is nowhere to be found and there’s a text in the group chat not to worry about him. They aren’t scheduled to practice tomorrow so it’s not unlike him to run off with a pretty face. Seokjin spares a passing thought that it’ll be nice if this one lasts a little longer because Taehyung deserves that. Jungkook is trying to convince Yoongi to sing karaoke with him, which is never going to happen. Well, unless Yoongi wants to impress someone by busting out a rap. Doesn’t seem likely tonight. What Seokjin really needs is another drink.

“You seem particularly upset about me missing the Regatta,” a smooth voice says from beside Seokjin along the bar. He knows it’s you without turning and turns anyway, taking in your eyes alight with something he can’t place.

“It just seems like a shame, I feel bad you’re down 2 team members is all,” Seokjin says, hoping it comes out even.

“Mhm,” you hum, quiet enough that he might miss it if he weren’t still watching you.

Stupid of him, he thinks. There’s no reason to be watching you. At least not that closely.

“I don’t know what else you expect me to say,” Seokjin says and turns away towards the bar again.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” You ask, a little challenging, a little annoying, completely on brand for you.

“Nothing,” Seokjin says, trying and failing to unclench his jaw before the answer pushes out.

“Are you…mad I’m not competing?” You’re getting far too much delight out of this.

“You know it’s not the same if…” Seokjin starts and then clenches his jaw again, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

“This whole competition thing is getting old,” you say with a sigh and Seokjin looks over again to see you really don’t seem engaged anymore.

“Not when we’re always competing,” Seokjin says and you shake your head.

“I win some, you win some, then it’s over and we have lives outside of the competition,” you say and Seokjin scoffs.

“Easy to say when you’re usually the one winning, at least the ones that matter,” Seokjin says and you move closer.

“I thought we’d worked on this, you know, when we…” you say.

“No, we’re not talking about that,” Seokjin says quickly, scanning to see if anyone else is listening.

Okay, so here’s the thing. The Big Secret that Seokjin doesn’t want anyone to know because it would ruin the image he’s carefully built up. Every chance he gets, he talks about not liking you, about thinking you’re evil and the enemy. And there’s no fraternizing with the enemy, that’s been rule number 1 as long as Seokjin has been captain. It’s inevitable that teams run into each other. There are only so many good areas to train and only so many places to spend your free time. That’s all fine. Anything beyond that breaks the rules.

Seokjin is a fucking hypocrite too, apparently, because he broke the rule in a pretty major way. It was late one night and the bar was emptying. Admittedly, he was feeling a little down because he’d just gone through a breakup and the one person he tried talking to at the bar was a resounding failure, not something Seokjin ever really experienced. He wasn’t drunk, just pleasantly buzzed, taking the edge off of what felt like two separate rejections. That was where you came in. Initially, it was any other time where you both jabbed back and forth before you realized that Seokjin really wasn’t in the mood. Then you listened.

You were actually a really good listener, Seokjin discovered. You were sympathetic, not judgmental at all, and you had good insight. You were patient too, as he rambled on repeating the same bits of the story because he was kind of angry about the whole thing. Nobody liked feeling rejected, but Seokjin took it especially personally. He invited you back to his apartment for another drink before even realizing what he was doing and you agreed just as quickly.

Fuck, Seokjin was only human and even though he was one of the most stubborn people in the world, he wasn’t blind. You looked good that night, full lips painted red, big eyes looking up seductively under your thick lashes, leaning just a little too close into his space so he was sure to notice how good you smelled. He can’t remember who closed the gap first. It really might have been him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care when you felt that good.

He’d told you then that it couldn’t happen again and you definitely couldn’t talk about it. There was no way the rest of his team could not what happened. Not only would they never let him hear the end of it, it’d be harder to enforce any team rules too. Sometimes it seemed like you just wanted to bring it up to see his reaction. Or cause some sort of trouble if someone overheard you.

This time you just raise your eyebrows and work to control a smirk. “You’re no fun.”

Seokjin is torn about responding to this because on the one hand, he is really fun and he wants to say that. But that definitely leaves a door open that he’s not interested. Maybe. He’s probably better off ordering another drink.

The drink might actually be a bad idea because now he’s feeling bolder. Everyone in his group is otherwise engaged when he finds himself sitting next to you. He leans in without thinking, continuing the earlier conversation. “I think we both know that I’m very fun.”

He doesn’t have time to think about if it’s a good idea or not (it’s not) before you slowly turn your head to look at him, smirk back in place. Fuck. Instead of catching you off guard, he’s played right into your hand. You briefly suck your lower lip between your teeth, thinking.

Before he can react, you’re leaning into him, lips close to his ear under the guise of it being loud in there (it is, but not that loud). The warm breath sends a shiver through him that he barely manages to contain.

“I think I’ve forgotten how much fun you can be, can you remind me?”

The question is loaded. And it’s a terrible idea. Monumentally awful. Yet, Seokjin can’t even fight the heat that raises up the back of his neck at your words. He doesn’t trust himself to speak even once you’ve pulled back to study him from a much more respectable distance. All he can do is nod.

The next moment, the spell seems slightly broken when you stand up and smile casually at nobody in particular. You announce you’re leaving, give out a few hugs, and leave without a backwards glance at Seokjin. He’s starting to think that he must have imagined the whole exchange. Or maybe it was real but you’re just toying with him. It’s stupid to think that anything is going to happen.

Then he gets a text message with an address and apartment code, telling you to wait at least ten or fifteen minutes before excusing yourself. That is, if you’re still up for the challenge.

It shouldn’t get his heart racing the way it does. Shouldn’t tempt him the way it does. One time can be a mistake, just a casual slip in judgment and nothing more. A second time gets a little more complicated. That’s not a mistake.

But Seokjin is just on the other side of buzzed and doesn’t really feel like making the right decision, whatever that is. He wants to feel good and he knows you can definitely do that. So he makes his exit as well, saying how he needs to make sure he still gets his beauty sleep and that he’s got things to do tomorrow. Nobody spares it a second thought and he’s on his way to your apartment. Again.

He shows up at your door and you pull him inside without saying anything. It’s unusual for him to feel this out of his element, this unsure. You don’t seem to mind making up for it, pulling him straight back into your bedroom and lightly pushing him onto the bed. The next moment, you’re straddled over his lap, unbuttoning his shirt as you slowly kiss up his neck. He runs his hands up your thighs, squeezing when you nip at his neck.

It’s too much and not enough, all at the same time. Seokjin moves one hand behind your neck to direct your lips to his, an urgency behind it. You kiss him hard and take advantage of his little gasp to slide your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. In the midst of the kiss, you finish unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his body.

You break the kiss and lean back to appreciate his body and the smooth lines of muscle that tense under your fingers as they skim across his skin. You’re entirely in control and Seokjin can’t help but be turned on by it. It’s not that he minds giving up control, exactly, because he doesn’t. It’s just so much more to give up control to someone he’s not sure he even likes when you’re both fully clothed. His attention is back on you as you remove your shirt and unhook your bra, discarding both to the floor.

You guide Seokjin’s plush lips to one of your breasts and he immediately flicks his tongue out against your nipple, earning a shudder in response. He takes his time with each breast before kissing up your chest to your neck. The kisses get messier, more frantic, more filled with need. Seokjin craves the skin to skin contact of your chests as he pulls you flush against him. With his hands still firmly gripping your hips, he feels when you start to slightly rolls against him. The material keeping the two of you apart isn’t nearly enough friction, but your movements have him getting hard.

It’s not enough though. You’re stunning and Seokjin loves to hear the little moans that he pulls out of you. But he needs more. He puts his hands under your thighs and flips you around so your back is on the bed, head on a pillow. It takes you a second to realize what he’s doing and then you’re undoing your jeans, pulling them and your underwear down in one movement. The second they’re added to the pile of already discarded clothes, your hand is on the back of Seokjin’s neck, guiding him back to you. He only lets you nip at his lip once before he’s pulling away again. It’s pure pleasure to see you pout before he begins trailing kisses down your body.

Once he reaches your inner thighs, you’re impatient again, trying to push his head where you need it most. But as fun as it is to see you needy, it’s even better to push you toward the edge. His tongue slowly reaches out, running lazily up your slit. And fuck, you’re wet. But he continues teasing, just slowly moving his tongue and ignoring your attempts to get him to move faster. Teasing you like this might be his new favorite thing.

The sounds you make as Seokjin finally licks into your cunt have him already hardening. They’re slow, purposeful movements, just enough to drive you even crazier. Your fingers grip tighter in his hair and your back arches when runs his tongue over your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck Seokjin, are you trying to kill me?”

He’s not, not really, he just really enjoys you squirming as he works you up. Enjoys taking his time with you, starting at a painfull slow pace. A thought that he’s not going to give too much attention.

“Please, please, please, I need more,” you beg.

Well, it’d be cruel to deny you that. He slowly inserts a finger while still focusing his mouth on your clit. Your hips buck against his hand and he knows it’s not enough, that it’s too slow, that you want him to go faster, but he keeps the movements slow. His finger slides in and out easily. Your want is so plain. He slides another finger in and you clench around him.

Fuck. He’s definitely straining against his pants now.

He doesn’t want to draw it out anymore, just wants to feel your release. He inserts another finger and curls them immediately. The moan that comes out at that is halfway to a scream and he knows he’s hitting where you need him. And he knows you’re close, just a little bit farther. He’s pumping his fingers in and out of you fast now, encouraged by your moans and the string of swears dripping from your lips, everything a half finished thought. He’s still working over your clit, alternating between a flick of the tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

Your other hand grips into his hair and your whole body starts to shake as you release. All he wants is to watch you unravel knowing that it’s thanks to him, but he continues pumping his fingers, guiding you though it.

As soon as you come back down, you pull his face up to yours. Your lips are on his before he can think about anything else, both breathing heavy and not caring if the kiss is a little sloppy. Your hands leave his to quickly undo his pants and slide them down along with his boxers. Seokjin breaks the kiss to remove them the rest of the way.

He can’t help the whine that escapes his lips when your finger slides over his tip, spreading the precum over the rest of his cock. And he’s thinking about those lips of yours wrapped around his cock again. Just like last time. Fuck, you’ve got such a pretty mouth. His cock twitches a little thinking about it. Or maybe it’s the way you start to work him over.

But no, he wants you and he wants you now.

“Do you have a condom?” Seokjin asks and you raise an eyebrow, hand stilling.

You nod at the drawer. “In there.”

Seokjin pulls one out, unwrapping it and sliding it on as quick as he can.

“Someone is eager,” you say and he wants to protest.

And he would’ve, if you hadn’t pushed him back onto the bed. Any retort dying on his lips as he watches you straddle him, hands using his chest for stability. You don’t bother to ask if it’s okay as you line yourself up, his face must’ve told you all you needed to know. You slowly lowered yourself onto him and he gripped your hips hard, not even caring if he left a mark. Maybe he wanted to leave a mark, make sure you remember this night.

But fuck. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be inside you. Once you adjusted, you find your pace, slowly moving up and down. You’re rolling your body so smoothly as you allow him to come almost all the way out of you before sinking back onto his cock. Seokjin thinks how hot it is to look up at you while you fuck him. It’s dangerous too, having you on top of him like this, completely in control. It lets his mind wander, just slightly, to think of how he might actually like to do this much more. Might like to take his time with you. Spend the night.

No.

Pretending it’s just too slow, Seokjin flips the two of you so he’s hovering over you instead, caging you in with his much larger frame. You run your nails appreciatively over his broad shoulders and he shivers. He needs the pace to be faster, needs to get out of his own head. You either don’t mind or don’t notice the slight daze before Seokjin picks up the pace.

It’s so fast, bodies slamming together and sweat starting to bead. You’re so tight around him that it’s like he can feel every movement and it only adds to the feeling. Even as your head tips back, Seokjin can’t stop looking at you. Memorizing the sight of you beneath him. Your hands slide down his sides and over his back to grip his ass and he groans again. He can tell your close by the way you’re meeting his thrusts, finding a perfect rhythm again and chasing another release.

You cum again, hard. Your nails are digging into him as the orgasm works through you and he has the fleeting thought hoping it’ll actually leave marks. Another thrust and he can feel himself at the edge.

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” you say, voice completely fucked.

“Fuck me,” Seokjin utters because that was hot. And he liked it too much. He doesn’t remember you calling him baby the last time he fucked you.

He thrusts several more times and then stills inside you, breathing heavy from the pace. His arms feel shaky where they still hold him suspended over you.

“It’s okay Jin, you’re not gonna crush me,” you say, soft and almost sweet, gently running your fingers up his arms to his shoulders.

He tries to scoff but instead, he just listens and lowers himself down onto your body. You’re both tacky with sweat and neither of you seems to care. It’s easy, far easier than it should be, to just lay there in bed with you. But that’s a problem for Tomorrow Seokjin. Tonight, Seokjin is just going to enjoy being in this moment as long as he can.

The last place that Seokjin wanted to go that night was a club that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a strip club judging by the poles at the edges of the dance floor. Not because he objected, he absolutely did not. It was just that he knew Taehyung’s new obsession was a dancer. Which meant that Jimin would probably dance on the pole. And that was fine, really, because he had mentioned classes. He knew what he was doing. Who couldn’t appreciate someone that moved with that much grace? Taehyung, on the other hand, did not know what he was doing.

Sadly, Seokjin’s objections fell on deaf ears and Taehyung tried to imitate the relatively intricate moves, including hanging upside down. Which resulted in him falling and having to be rushed to the hospital.

He’s fine, thankfully. But now Seokjin is waiting in an emergency room and, not surprisingly, he wants to be here even less than he wanted to be at the stupid club. Honestly, when was Taehyung going to learn to listen to his hyung?

Not today, that was clear.

“Your friend is going to be okay. He’s lucky and he didn’t actually break his neck,” the nurse says. She has overwhelming overworked and underpaid energy that Seokjin might feel bad about in any other situation.

“Good, so I can kill him still,” Seokjin quickly replies.

She leveled him with an unimpressed look. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“How long until he can leave?” Jimin asks. He tagged along despite Seokjin insisting they could handle it and has been weepy ever since the fall. He feels responsible despite everyone assuring him that it’s just what Taehyung does.

“We’re letting him go tonight but he absolutely cannot participate in whatever this sailing thing he’s been babbling about is,” she says and Seokjin thinks he must’ve misheard.

“It’s not a thing…” he starts before Yoongi cuts him off.

“We understand, thank you,” Yoongi says.

“Yoongi, you can’t be…” Seokjin starts.

“Leave it, Jin,” Yoongi says and the nurse raises an eyebrow like she’s actually entertained.

“I’ll let you know when he’s ready to go,” is all she says, though, before disappearing back through the doors.

“What am I supposed to do?” Seokjin asks nobody in particular.

“Absolutely expect Taehyung to get on a boat after he fell on his head,” Jimin snips.

Seokjin is not in the mood. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done some super complicated move.”

“How was I supposed to know that he’d try to copy? I was trying to impress him,” Jimin whines and Seokjin just rolls his eyes. Anyone that’s known Taehyung for more than a second knows that he can’t ever leave something like that alone.

“You know what you’re going to have to do,” Yoongi says and Seokjin just looks at him.

“What?” Seokjin asks.

“Hyung, we need a fourth person for the team,” Jungkook says, eyes even wider than usual. He’s hardly spoken since getting to the hospital.

“Yeah, and where the fuck am I supposed to find someone this close to the regatta?” Seokjin asks, running a hand through his hair and for once, not caring if it gets messed up.

“You’re kidding, right?” Yoongi asks, sharing a look with Jungkook that Seokjin isn’t entirely sure he likes.

“No?” Seokjin asks.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says. “You know there’s someone that could fill in. She’s got all the experience, and…”

Jungkook trails off but Seokjin catches the meaning. And now he knows that he doesn’t like that look. There is no way, no fucking way.

“No, absolutely not,” Seokjin says.

“Right, well I guess we’ll just have to forfeit unless Jimin here wants to try sailing out for the first time,” Yoongi says and turns kindly to Jimin. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Jimin says with a shrug.

“We could ask Namjoon, he was out with us a couple summers,” Seokjin offers.

“Yeah and he slipped every time he was on the boat,” Yoongi scoffs.

“Hobi, then,” Seokjin says.

“He’s booked solid with work stuff and he hates being on the boat,” Jungkook says.

“You have to call her and at least ask,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin’s stomach sinks knowing that you’re honestly the only option he has, at least if he wants a chance to actually win this thing. And he does. He’s been able to taste in since seeing they made the cut. He just doesn’t want to be trapped in close quarters with you training and then racing.

“She hates us,” Seokjin says.

“No, you think you hate her for some reason,” Yoongi says and shakes his head. “I actually think she likes us fine.”

“Yeah she’s always nice when I run into her,” Jungkook agrees.

“How often do you run into her?” Seokjin’s question is sharp and Jungkook’s eyes go wide again.

“You know what? Let’s just vote,” Yoongi says, ignoring their captain. “Who thinks we should call her and ask?”

Jungkook’s hand immediately shoots up, followed by Yoongi’s and, to Seokjin’s surprise, Jimin’s.

“You don’t get a vote,” Seokjin says and Jimin scoffs.

“Rude, I’m voting for Tae,” Jimin says.

“It’s settled, I’ll call her if you won’t,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin tries to protest that this isn’t a democracy (it is), that there are other options (there aren’t), and that he’s not a coward (he is). But, Yoongi is right. If they want to win, you’re the only option. So Seokjin does the sensible thing and agrees to call you. (By that, he means he agrees Yoongi can call. Apparently, you say yes immediately and seem excited to get to race after all, given you lost half your team).

The next couple of weeks fly by faster than they should. Seokjin spends most of the time that he’s not training either ignoring Yoongi’s looks of superiority over how well you’re working out or ignoring your attempts to have a private conversation with him. Jungkook, who was nervous at first, seems to be getting far more entertainment out of it than anyone should.

Yoongi is actually harder to ignore because you have been a great addition to the team, fitting in like you had always been there. It’s hard to ignore your talent or why you captain your own team. Yet, you seem more than willing to let someone else in charge. Which makes Seokjin nervous when he considers it. Makes him wonder what sort of game you’re playing because everything with you is a game. When Seokjin tells Yoongi about his concerns, Yoongi just suggests, not for the first time, that Seokjin might need help.

Jungkook is possibly even worse. From the first training session, he’s making conversation with you, asking personal questions, asking for tips. All this despite the fact that Seokjin has been training with Jungkook since the younger man was still a teenager. So much for loyalty.

To this, Yoongi suggests that Seokjin really needs to work on his jealousy. It’s the most ridiculous suggestion of all and Seokjin wishes that he had some other friends.

(Which, he does, but Namjoon is no help and Hoseok suggests there might be something else going on. Useless. Seokjin does not need them acting like they know what’s going on in his head when he doesn’t even know.)

After a particularly tough training session, Seokjin is considering that this may be the most cohesive team he’s entered in a race since he began sailing. It’s a weird thought and it feels a little like a betrayal to Taehyung to think it. But there’s also the voice in the back of his head that reminds him the most cohesive team could mean a win. Wouldn’t Taehyung be happy about that?

“We’ve really gotta talk,” you say and Seokjin curses himself for not checking his surroundings. He’d been so busy cleaning up that he hadn’t realized Yoongi and Jungkook had disappeared. Traitors.

He tries not to jump at the surprise, but he’s only got so much energy. “We talk all the time.”

“Seokjin, please,” you say. Plead, really.

And that’s…new. Seokjin has heard you say a lot of things in a lot of situations. He’s never heard you sound so raw. So defeated.

“I just don’t see what we have to talk about outside of training and the regatta,” Seokjin says, avoiding your gaze.

“How about the fact that you hate me? Can we talk about that? Because I really don’t get it.”

Now Seokjin does look at you because surely you’re messing with him. You must be. The rivalry has been fine and it’s been mutual all this time. Why change a good thing now? “You hate me too, I’m not really sure what’s so confusing about a rivalry,” Seokjin answers evenly.

“Hate you? What?” You look incredulous.

“Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious,” Seokjin offers.

“To who?” You’re looking at him like he’s stupid and for the first time in his life, he wonders if maybe you’re right.

“Uhhhh…” Seokjin is usually so eloquent. What the fuck just came out of his mouth?

“Seokjin, you’re a fucking idiot,” you say and it’s confusing because you’re laughing. “Let’s forget the fact that we’ve literally slept together. Twice. I get how that could be confusing for this rivalry narrative in your head. I also agreed to help your team when Taehyung got hurt. Who does that for someone they hate? I mean, unless we’re talking some long game, sabotage shit.”

“Is that what we’re talking about?” Seokjin asks.

“We might be now,” you say, no longer laughing.

“So you don’t hate me?” Seokjin ventures uncertainly.

“I didn’t, now I’m not ruling it out,” you say and gather your things quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, captain.”

And okay, that actually hurts Seokjin a little, to hear you use his title on the team instead of his name. He hadn’t realized how much he liked the way his name sounds in your mouth until you stop saying it. He’s also searching his brain trying to figure out exactly what just happened.

He doesn’t like what he finds. All of the conversations from the last few weeks feel different now. As if someone shattered a piece of glass and now everything has changed. Instead of you and him bickering, he sees that maybe you were being endlessly patient as he stuck his foot in his mouth over and over. Instead of you challenging his leadership, he sees that maybe you were just trying to share your own experience in both training and competing. Instead of distaste, maybe you were just tired of the way things were.

Seokjin doesn’t often feel a step behind on anything, prides himself on that, actually. Now he’s several steps behind and he doesn’t know what to do to catch up. He faces the realization that he needs to have an actual conversation with you.

Which ends up being impossible.

You’re the first one gone once training ends. Seokjin hadn’t even realized that you were always staying after Yoongi and Jungkook left, making sure that everything was where it belongs, until you weren’t. It had been such an easy silence to work in, in hindsight, and Seokjin had taken it for some kind of obligation. Like you owed him for giving you the chance to sail on the team. Or some sort of petty thing to show that you were better than him. Maybe you are. Not just at sailing, but also at dealing with people and emotions.

Suddenly it’s the night before the Regatta kicks off and Seokjin has already done all the things he usually does to prepare. Everyone is checked into separate hotel rooms so they can carry out whatever routine they need to in peace. Taehyung and Jimin also got a room to share because Seokjin is a sucker and didn’t want to listen to Taehyung whine anymore about missing things. He’s checked the weather for the weekend (it’s going to be perfect, exactly what he wants to race in). The team is ready, Seokjin knows they’re ready. He’s never been this confident in a team.

So why is he so unsettled?

He knows the answer, really. Has known it for a while if he’s honest with himself. But what he doesn’t know is how to fix it. Surely talking to you about the last real conversation you had the night before a set of huge races is a mistake. Surely he should be getting into bed, putting on something light, and just focusing on the race.

It’s not that easy.

The first race is definitely not Seokjin’s best. As in, he’s lucky that the rest of his team is so good at their jobs and able to pick up his slack. You still manage a win in the first round, but it’s not nearly as smooth as it should have been. This was one of the easier match-ups.

Jungkook is confused, asking if Seokjin is okay, if he got enough sleep, if there’s anything he needs. Yoongi waves Jungkook off, saying he’s sure Seokjin is fine and it was just an off-race. There’s a glare in Seokjin’s direction when Yoongi assures Jungkook their captain will be better for the next race. You, however, remain silent, not bothering to look at Seokjin.

The next race, which is against a tougher team, doesn’t go any better. Everything feels off and Seokjin just can’t focus on making sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to be. More than once, Yoongi or Jungkook just get there in time to push him out of their way before making an adjustment to the sails or their course. And sure, technically three people can run the boat, but it wasn’t built that way at this level.

After losing the second race, Yoongi tells you and Jungkook that him and Seokjin are going to have a conversation. You can grab something to eat and they’ll meet you under the tent as soon as they’re done.

“Seokjin, what the fuck?” Yoongi asks as soon as the other two are out of earshot.

“I know, I know. I’m just a little…off?” Seokjin can’t even find the right words.

“Well no shit, man, but you’d better figure your shit out before the next race or I’m going to file for a substitution,” Yoongi says and Seokjin scoffs.

“And just who are you going to replace me with?” Seokjin challenges. He’s almost thankful for Yoongi now. He can do this. He can fight with his oldest friend about sailing.

“I don’t know, maybe someone that’s not so fucking stupid that he lets feelings get in the way of sailing,” Yoongi hisses.

“What? What are you talking about?” Seokjin is sputtering again. Great.

“Come on, Jin,” Yoongi says, going uncharacteristically soft for a second. “I know you have feelings for her. I know you must’ve had some stupid argument, probably about this made-up rivalry.”

“I didn’t think it was made up,” Seokjin says quietly.

“Then why did you fuck her?” Yoongi asks and then shakes his head. “Actually, I really don’t want to know.”

Seokjin is choking on air, eyes comically wide. “You knew?”

“You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think,” Yoongi says with a sympathetic smile.

“But it’s against the rules,” Seokjin says and Yoongi laughs. It’s not unkind, but it’s definitely like he knows something Seokjin doesn’t.

“Sure it is,” Yoongi agrees, placating Seokjin. “Just like it was against the rules when I was fucking Nayeon or Jungkook was fucking Dahyun.”

“What??” Seokjin’s question comes out choked and Yoongi claps him on the back.

“Point is, you can talk to her tonight if you need to. But for now, get your shit together,” Yoongi says, all business again. “You owe it to us.”

And that, more than anything, clears Seokjin’s head. It’s true. He does owe all of them to be present and actually help the team instead of getting in the way. The two of them join you and Jungkook a few minutes later with an entirely different energy. Seokjin is locked in.

So locked in that they end up winning the next 3 races of the round-robin day. Including one where they were definitely down as the underdogs. It makes up for both the race they barely won and the one that they lost.

Dinner is a lighthearted affair. Everyone is happy, including Taehyung and Jimin who join in. Taehyung has nothing but praise for the team, not seeming the least bit upset that he can’t be competing himself. As long as he’s included and the team is doing well, he’s happy.

The only exception is you. You’re smiling when you feel someone’s eyes on you and answering any question directed at you, but you’re much quieter than usual. Seokjin doesn’t pause to consider that he knows what’s normal for you. Admittedly, he’s never been around you like this during a competition, but it’s not how you’ve been outside of training every other time he’s seen you. Usually, you’re the center of attention, cracking jokes and poking fun. Tonight, you’re much quieter, watching instead of actively participating.

Seokjin isn’t really sure what the best thing to do here is. On the one hand, the second half of the day went off as perfectly as it could. It was smooth sailing, pun intended because Seokjin did love a pun. Yet, on the other hand, there’s still a bit of a pit in his stomach. He still feels something off between you and him.

Maybe it isn’t the right thing to do. Maybe it’s going to hurt more than help. Maybe he should leave you alone. He can’t, though. And after dinner, he takes a couple of steadying breaths and goes to knock on your door.

“Jin?” You crack the door just a bit, not fully wanting to let him in.

“I know we’re all supposed to be in for the night, but I wanted to talk to you,” Seokjin says, slightly awkward. It’s more honest than he’s been.

It’s the first time he’s seen you look unsure about almost anything. After a moment, you open the door a little wider and step aside, allowing him into your space. Once he’s inside, you move back to sit on the edge of the bed, still looking unsure and a little vulnerable. You’ve got your hair tied up on top of your head and are wearing a baggy t-shirt with shorts, obviously ready for bed.

“What do you want?” The question doesn’t sound aggressive, just exhausted.

“To apologize,” Seokjin says simply.

“For how you sailed this morning? You’ve already apologized for that,” you say.

“No, for that argument we had a few weeks ago,” Seokjin rushes out before he loses his nerve.

Whatever you were expecting, it’s not that. Your body language changes, just slightly. “Really?”

“I’m just…I’m sorry,” Seokjin says. “I don’t know why I’d built this whole rivalry up in my head. Probably just because you give me a hard time all the time or me being too competitive. And then I felt guilty I guess? About us sleeping together, I mean. Because we’ve got this rule on the team…”

You get up from the edge of the bed and come to sit on the arm of the chair next to Seokjin, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re rambling a bit.”

“I know,” he exhales.

“I’m not going to lie and say it’s all magically fine or that it didn’t hurt a bit,” you say.

“I don’t expect you to,” Seokjin says and he means it. “Why did you stay?”

“On the team?” You wait for Seokjin’s answer and continue once he nods. “Because I couldn’t just leave you hanging.”

“I would’ve deserved it,” Seokjin nearly whispers.

“You would’ve,” you agree. “But Yoongi and Jungkook didn’t. So I stayed.”

“I know they’re thankful for that,” Seokjin says.

“And are you thankful?” Your eyes study his, looking for answers to more than just your last question.

“Of course I am,” Seokjin says.

“Because you still got to compete?” You’re pressing and he’s actually thankful.

“Well, no, because I like having you around,” Seokjin says and you open your mouth, but he carries on. “And no, not because of thinking we’re rivals. That was so stupid. I just like being around you. I like…too many things about you to list.”

“You could try,” you say and he looks up to see that sparkle in your eyes again, the one that’s only ever meant trouble.

“I will do whatever you want me to,” Seokjin admits and watches the surprise on your face.

“A dangerous offer,” you observe.

Seokjin shrugs. “I’ll take my chances.”

“I don’t forgive you yet, just to be clear,” you say and Seokjin smiles.

“I didn’t expect you to,” he says.

Seokjin takes a chance, opening his arms to you slightly. And you want to ignore him, he knows you do, but he’s looking like the perfect cross between pitiful and hopeful. So you give in, slide down into his arms and settle into him. It’s nice, he thinks, because all he honestly wants is for you to be close to him after the last several weeks. You wind an arm around his waist, all curled up in his lap, and he rests his chin on your head, not even minding the way your hair tickles his face.

It’s the most comfortable he’s been with anyone in ages, possibly ever. He knows that sometimes his words don’t come across the way he wants them to, knows that sometimes he can’t express himself. He hopes you can feel everything he can’t say while you sit like that.

(You can, you tell him weeks later when you’re going on your third actual date. It’s only the third because you made him actually try to apologize again, properly when there wasn’t a regatta to finish. He obliges because he says you’re worth it. But his words don’t come much easier. Instead, he wants to show you he’s sorry. And you agree to let him.)

Everything after that feels impossibly light. If Seokjin thought the team was running as well as it could the day before, he was wrong. Now that he’s actually feeling lighter and you’re less confused about where you stand, it’s like all of you move in a way that wasn’t possible before. It’s hard to tell where one person ends and the next begins, which translates really well for the next day of races.

(It translates even better for the final day, a day that Seokjin never views as a guarantee. And although the team doesn’t come in first, it’s still probably the best finish Seokjin has ever had in an event this big. So he’ll take it, to the slight surprise of Yoongi and Jungkook, who are used to him always wanting to do better. Instead, he laughs and says that drinks are on him that night.)

Really, it’s all kind of silly. Seokjin put so much energy into a rivalry that was all in his head and didn’t realize how much it was coloring everything he did until taking a step back. Now he realizes just how much he was holding himself back over something that was so stupid.

For the first time, Seokjin is both excited about what’s to come in sailing and seeing what it is he can accomplish with you by his side.

i hope you liked it! please let me know any thoughts ❤️

#btscarnivalnet #kvanity #thebtswritersclub #seokjin x reader #seokjin scenarios #seokjin imagine #seokjin smut #jin smut #jin x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #catch of the century

216 notes · View notes

not-goldy · 3 months

Note

Jikookers the only people in this fandom who are ever happy and its cause we actually like Jimin and Jk as people equally and respect their bond and their choices and their friendships with others. Imagine the two biggest fanbases hating each other and their biases favorite person. Could never be me cause I like being happy and not miserable. PJM's bias Jimin and Jimin's bias is JK, but they hate JK. JJK bias JK, but JK's bias is Jimin, but they hate Jimin. And since Jikook bias each other, they are the two that are the closest and are never gonna stop being close cause of fans. So you might as well just give it up the hate, cause you are never gonna get your way. Tkk are miserable because Jikook are close. PJM's are miserable because Jikook are close. Vmin shippers are miserable cause Jikook are close. JJK are miserable cause Jikook close. Yoonmin shippers are miserable because Jikook are close. Everyone is miserable because Jikook are close. No one in this fandom is ever happy because they can't control Jikook and make them stop hanging out. Jikookers however, sleep at night, always happy, well fed, always fresh face, moisturized and unbothered, because we know Jikook love each other and are always gonna choose each other and prioritize each other and the closest. Dating or not, Jikook have always been the closest and if that wasn't made clear, then them enlisting together, should have. If you love your bias, but hate who they love, you are never gonna be happy. It is that simple. I think about Jikook going to Japan right at Thanksgiving and ruined everyone's thanksgiving, but Jikookers. I ate damn good knowing Jikook were having the time of their life. Then right before Christmas they enlisted together and ruined everyone's christmas, but Jikookers. I had a damn good Christmas knowing my biases were gonna be together for Christmas and the next 18 months. If JK wants to hang out with his friends and travel or do whatever, more power to him, at the end of the day I know he loves Jimin and having other friends doesn't take away from that and vice versa with Jimin doing stuff with others, doesn't take anything away from him and JK. I don't need to make it competition, cause there isn't one, Jikook are always gonna choose each other. And its something I know in my heart. Therefore it doesn't bother me when they go out with others. Just like when Jikook wasn't Jikooking so loud, I never had doubt and look what happened. Jikook came in like a wrecking in ball in 2023 and said oh you thought we weren't friends and neck stomped this whole fandom. One thing after another, after another and didn't let none of these bitches breathe and now look for the next 18 months still in the same 5th division, just like they planned.

As a Jikooker I'm always happy as happy can be. I've had a smile on my face since November. The rest of y'all, stay safe out there.

Honestly fuck them all.

48 notes · View notes

jjkeverlast · 9 months

Note

Hihi! I'm the one that requested the vmin x reader. It's totally fine if it's too much, I figured with slow burn angst like that, it might be something a little too big for a one shot request. Thank you for taking the time to reply and notify me! If you don't mind and you don't have too many requests, could I switch it to something lighter? Tae x reader, childhood friends to lovers where she takes him to the beach for the first time? And he just confesses mid splash? Catches her off guard and then HUGE splash? Just something more lighthearted. If not that's okay! Thanks anyway 💜

summer feelings | kth

>> pairing taehyung x reader

>> genre/au's childhood bf2l | fluff | crack

>> summary taehyung catches you off guard during your first trip to the beach.

>> word count 558

>> warnings just fluff tbh

>> author's note hiii anonie!!! i hope you enjoy this cute lil ball of fluff <33 thank you for coming up with something else, i loved working on this!! this taehyungie is such a cutieeeeee

[keep in mind i do not do taglists for requests <3 thank you!]

“Would you laugh if I admitted I was scared?” Taehyung says as you reach the nearest beach.

“Nonsense, you’ll have a lot of fun Tae!” You respond to lighten up the mood, not wanting Taehyung to have second thoughts about going to the beach for the first time.

“Ah! Okay, fuck it. Let’s do it.” With that, he drops his bags in the sand, making a run for it towards the water. You trail behind him, giggling at how he runs in front of you.

Taehyung deep dives, covering his body with the cold water, as you still make a run from it. He emerges from the water, pulling his hair from his face. You gulp, feeling yourself staring too much as the sunshine infiltrates a glow onto his face.

Your gaze is interrupted when Taehyung begins to splash some water in your direction. You gasp by the sudden contact of cold water. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” Taehyung’s expression falters when you push forward, creating a huge wave with your left arm and aiming directly towards him.

“Stop!” Taehyung tries to swim away, laughing while being scared for life and you’re determined to piss him off with as much water as possible.

It turns into a fun little game of who can make the biggest splash, you in the lead. “You’re such a child!” He screams, as you start to push on his arms, causing him to fall backwards and get his head underwater.

Taehyung gets up quickly, wiping down his face and eyes. “Yeah, well you still love me.” You add, protecting yourself from whatever Taehyung is planning to do.

“Well I am in love with you, so that is true.” Before you get a chance to react, Taehyung splashes you again, your head turning sharply to avoid getting saltwater in your eyes.

“What?!”

“Shut up! You heard me.” He does it again, as you try and move forward to make him stop. You close your eyes and mouth, preventing the salty aftertaste in your mouth and the sting in your eyes. As you reach his arm, Taehyung stops, breathing heavily as he locks eyes with you.

“Say that again.” You take the courage to say, your heart almost beating out of your chest ever since he confessed.

“I’m in love with you.”

You don’t reply, instead you push him on the shoulder. “Don’t joke about that!” Fuck, your heart needs to fucking chill.

“I’m not.” He grabs your arm, blocking your next move.

“Taehyung…”

“What?” He moves closer, teardrops falling from his face and down his stomach.

“You’re making my heart go crazy. You really mean that?” Taehyung hums, smiling as you fiddle with his necklace, too flustered to look him in the eyes.

“Been in love with you ever since you called ice cream frozen milk.” He admits, making you laugh by the memory of you being determined that was the right word for it.

When you bring your gaze upwards, you don’t hold yourself back, leaning forward to plant a soft peck to Taehyung’s lips. Taehyung freezes under your touch, but quickly leans into your touch and lets your lips linger for a few more seconds.

The minute you pull away, Taehyung is smiling widely. “Wanna go eat some frozen milk?”

He clutches his hand in yours, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung drabble #taehyung fluff #taehyung imagine #taehyung x reader

49 notes · View notes

dearweirdme · 3 months

Note

Hello Rain👋,I trust this message finds you well. A few months ago, I stumbled upon your blog and have been following it since.

While I've been an ARMY since 2021, I haven't paid much attention to the shipping aspect of the fandom aside from vmin. I must commend you and your fellow followers for being some of the kindest and most level-headed individuals. It perplexes me, however, that you guys believe that taekook exists.

To me, their connection seems more like that of brothers. I've delved into various videos, including that recommended timeline blog, and while I acknowledge a few moments might raise eyebrows, they don't particularly stand out. Similar moments exist among other members too. For me, neither Taekook nor Jikook goes beyond friendship.

So, my question is, how did you arrive at this perspective? What persuaded you otherwise? How do these moments differ from interactions with other members? I'm not trying to criticize anyone; I'm genuinely curious and eager to comprehend your viewpoint. I would appreciate it if other Taekookers could share their thoughts in the comment section as well.

If you don't feel the need to answer, I will understand. I didn't mean any harm.

Hi anon!

Well, if you have been following me for some months and do not understand now, I don’t think anything I say now will make you reconsider 😊.

I see the members as some sort of brothers. I think there is no existing word to describe their bond for what it actually is, because how many cases like theirs are there. How do you describe coworkers/friends/housemates/people-who-are-on-a-joint-road-to-fame in one word? There isn't a fitting description for them imo. So, while I consider BTS members as brother-like.. to me Tae and Jk go beyond that. Because there's things they do and there's things other's do that does not fit the platonic brother bond.

They look at each other differently. And it's not pure friendship imo. At times, there's a pride and an admiration and a softness (yes, the softness!) in their eyes that they do not reserve for the others. And so many times that their eyes skid to the other for some sort of private moment of understanding or acknowledgement. I find them way more aware of the other than they are off other members, and I feel they look for each other more and look for the other's reactions to things more. Like.. they want to see how the other is reacting. There's smiles bitten away, there's a shyness at times that makes no sense in a platonic setting. And.. there's signs of attraction. Lipbiting, checking each other out.

The odness around them. Seriously, the whole narrative of them having been awkward/distant is such bs to me. I hate it so much! Because it just isn't true and the evidence of it not being true is right under everyone's noses. Instead of BH righting that narrative, they made it so that the whole of fandom (well not the whole, but a large part of it) actually believed it. But imo there is no way Tae and Jk ever were awkward or distant or anything less than friends. All throughout the years there's footage of them being comfortable and close. Directly after the ITS talk (and honestly even way before ITS) Tae and Jk were so super close. No way that happenend just because of them having one very public filmed talk. It's just such bs and I cannot conceive of a reason for that to have been a thing without there being a distinct reason for it.

The other members reaction to them. Seriously, Jm's reaction to them on several occasions 😂. He knows what goes around in their heads. Yoongi's text to both of them. Namjoon’s multiple instances of 🙄👀.

The way they hid in each other's lives. Like, what is the reason? Why not do a joint live when you're together?

Jk chooses Tae. Maybe not always with words, but he does with his body and his eyes. I get these long essays from Jkkrs telling me Jk always goes to Jm when he's troubled, but I think Tae and Jk are each other's main source of comfort. The way Jk reached out for Tae during Mama is really telling to me. That is how they really are. And I think that, because there's a shift in Jk that to me looks like he's breaking character. We get little snippets and hints of them taking care of each other. Jk with Tae when he’s not feeling well. Jk watching out for spicy food for Tae. Jk speaking out on Tae not being able to dance yet when he was injured. Jk pushing Tae to sit instead of him sitting incorrectly. Tae making sure Jk is not lonely. All the comforting motions. It’s actually way more than people usually consider, because it’s always something in the back and never the focus.

Tae is so obvious.

There’s probably even more. But to me the whole of it is just so much and it’s super consistent.

Edit to add these:

7. The way they hold back at times. Catching themselves when they start to reach out or touch.

8. The way they seem to know more about each other than the other members do.

#taekook #Taekook analysis

18 notes · View notes

daechwitatamic · 2 years

Text

Faithless || KTH

Title: Faithless: a Complete Faith prequel

WC: 5.5k

Warnings: language, drinking

The request/summary: @pamzn saw me reference that Taehyung had a crush on CF!oc for about a year before the events of CF and made me do this. Blame her.

// Taehyung thinks the new HR girl is pretty cute. Over the course of a year, things get a little out of control.

This acts as a prequel to Complete Faith. All events are before the events of Complete Faith! :) This is technically a POV drabble request that just got away from me. What can I say, I have no self control.

Note: Thank you to @kookstempo and @casuallyimagining for beta-ing! And thank you to @ssaboala for talking me through the title and not letting me call this “Pre-Faith” (: BIG big thank you to @itaeewon for revamping the Complete Faith banner for me!

Additional note: I didn’t mean for this to turn into such a lovesong for vmin’s friendship, but here we are. I’m a bitch for platonic soulmates, what can I say?

I wrote this with the intention of it being four individual and separate little "snapshot" drabbles, a very close picture of what's happening at the time.

Spring

Taehyung and Jimin have been friends for a long time. They know a lot about each other. One thing that Taehyung knows well about his best friend is that Jimin will spill tea about anyone, including - or maybe especially - him. So, when Taehyung notices the new HR girl - which is you - the challenge isn’t to play it cool with her… it’s to make sure that Jimin doesn’t sniff it out.

It’s easy for a while, since you work on different floors. It’s easy to forget when you’re out of sight for days at a time. He thinks you’re cute, that’s all. Sometimes he forgets about it for weeks, until he ends up on the elevator at the same time as you, and a prickling on the back of his neck seems to remind him, oh right, the HR girl, the pretty one.

But it isn’t until Taehyung gets an internal promotion that it morphs from a detached, distant sort of interest into a crush.

First, it’s because now Taehyung has to attend the daily Morning Meeting, and you sit right in his line of sight.

Second, Taehyung’s raise doesn’t go into effect when he expects it to, and he finds himself in your doorway, shaking his hands to alleviate the very unnecessary nerves he’s feeling before he knocks on your open door.

You’re on the phone, the receiver tucked between your ear and your shoulder, and you hold up a finger to indicate that you’ll be another minute, but you follow this by gesturing to the two empty chairs opposite your desk.

Just a second, but please have a seat, you say without speaking.

Taehyung does as you indicate, his latest check stub clutched in his hand. Behind you is a window that’s very nearly floor-to-ceiling, and it overlooks the circular drive out front, and the large oak tree that stands in the center. Everything out there is picturesque, a perfect postcard shot for a late spring afternoon. The sun shines merrily from a sky of unmarred blue, casting glow and shadows on the green of the leaves, the grass, the trees that mark the edge of the property.

“Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung startles. You’ve hung up the phone and you’re looking at him, a friendly, professional smile on your face.

“What can I do for you?” you ask, tone indicating that you may have asked this already while Taehyung was busy fantasizing about being outside.

“Please call me Taehyung,” he requests, and you nod, still waiting to hear what he needs. He looks down at the check stub in his hand and then smooths it out on your desk between the two of you.

“Was there a problem with your pay?” you ask, surprised; you don’t usually make mistakes.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Taehyung admits. He presses his finger to show the dates on the stub, and you lean in, peering at the printed numbers. “I received that promotion two weeks ago, but this seems to be my old pay rate?”

You twist your mouth to one side, brows furrowing.

“Let me check something really quickly,” you say, turning to your computer monitor and typing rapidly. Taehyung goes back to enjoying the view - the one outside the window, and the one across the desk from him.

“Ah,” you say after a few clicks, your eyes still on the screen. “This is why. Technically your position change was effective starting on the 17th, but I didn’t receive the approval until the 19th, and payroll closed on the 18th. Your next check will be at the new rate, and you’ll receive the back pay from this pay period on that one as well. It will show up here-,” you point at the line on the check-stub, “-as its own category.”

“Oh,” Taehyung says. “Well, that’s simple. Okay. Thank you.” He rises, reaching for the slip of paper. He starts to head for the door, then pauses.

“Something else?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, I just…” he trails off, then laughs at himself a little bit. “I just was thinking that this is one of those this meeting could have been an email moments. Sorry if I wasted your time.” He gives you a wry, self-deprecating smile that would make your stomach flutter… if you were single.

Your mouth quirks, the eyebrow stays put. “It could have,” you allow. “But this was nice too. I’ll see you around, Taehyung.”

He raps on your door twice on his way out. “See you around,” he says, like a promise.

He checks his phone on his way back to his desk. He’s got a text from the girl he’d met last night - his extended family had gathered to celebrate a birthday, and his cousin had brought a friend from her graduate program. She and Taehyung had spent all night exchanging covert glances. They’d ended the night by exchanging numbers, too.

Her name was Lily, which Taehyung liked. “You have a pretty name,” he’d told her. “Like the flower?”

“I don’t even like lilies,” she’d giggled. “My favorites are roses. There’s something… delicate.”

Taehyung was already planning to get roses when he took her out on Friday. He answers her text with something flirty and settles back into work.

After work, he stops by his parents’ house. He hugs his mother hello, shakes his father’s hand.

“Can you stay for dinner?” his mother asks. He hates telling her no, always has. And it’s not like he was going to go home and cook anyway.

Over dinner, she asks him about his plans for the weekend.

“Nothing too exciting,” he says. He doesn’t mention the date with Lily. It’s not worth mentioning. His mom will latch on, ask a million questions.

And somewhere, simmering in his subconscious, Taehyung already knows - if he’s going to sit through a full interrogation about a girl, it needs to be worth it.

They have a nice time on Friday night. She squeals over the roses, shares his desert, holds his hand as they walk away from the restaurant.

Taehyung breaks it off two weeks later. He can’t help it; he’s just bored.

He always ends up bored.

2. Summer

One thing Taehyung can always tell about Jimin is when he’s gotten laid. He could chalk it up to some best friend telepathy shit, but the truth is that Jimin has tells.

Taehyung decides midafternoon that if he stares at this particular spreadsheet for two more seconds, his eyes will officially stop working. He texts Jimin - breakroom? - and heads for the elevator, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes as he waits for the telltale ding of its arrival.

When he reaches the breakroom, it’s empty. He makes himself a hot tea, eyeing the windows as it steeps in the shitty foam cup that makes his tea always taste just a little plasticy. He really should bring a mug from home, he thinks absently, as he watches the trees outside dance and sway as the weather toys with the idea of a summer shower. Taehyung hopes it will rain - it’s been beastly hot for days. Taehyung hates summer, longs for cooler days. Hopefully, the rain will break the heat, at least for the afternoon.

When Jimin enters the room behind him, whistling - whistling - Taehyung turns around with wide eyes.

“Oh?” he inquires, an eyebrow raised. Jimin flushes pink instantly.

“What?” he asks innocently. Avoiding Taehyung’s gaze, he opens the fridge and digs around for a can of flavored seltzer he hid in the back.

Taehyung moves to sit in one of the plastic chairs, his eyes on his best friend’s very guilty back. “Did you have a nice night?” he asks, voice light.

The flush darkens, creeps up the back of Jimin’s neck. “Uh-huh,” he says, head still in the fridge, hiding his pink face.

There’s a burst of noise from the hallway as you, Nikki, and Yoongi make your way towards the breakroom.

“I’m sorry,” you’re saying, pouting playfully at Nikki as you all enter the room. Yoongi flops immediately into the chair across from Taehyung, nudging his leg with his foot in greeting. Nikki faces you, hands on her hips. “I want to go,” you continue, “but Ben’s coming tonight.”

Taehyung busies himself on his phone, since he can no longer tease Jimin in private.

“Are any of the rest of you coming later?” Nikki asks, moving on from you, disappointed in your answer. “To Jin’s cookout?”

“Ji-hyun and I will be there,” Yoongi promises.

“I can’t,” Taehyung says apologetically. “I have to help my parents with a few things tonight.”

“You two,” Nikki says darkly, pointing a finger between you and Taehyung, “are so disappointing.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and you giggle, both of you used to her dramatic ass. “At least I have a good reason,” he protests. “I could have bailed to go out with Silviaris tonight, but I’m not. Doesn’t that earn me any points?”

“No,” Nikki says flatly. “I am disappointed.”

You meet Taehyung’s gaze, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “It’s nice to have company,” you say, and Taehyung raises a brow, not sure he understands. “As Nikki’s greatest disappointment in life,” you explain. “It’s usually just me, by myself.”

“Ah,” Taehyung says. “Glad I could ease your burden. Maybe we should make it an official thing, make pins?”

“Yes!” you cry, clapping your hands together in mock delight. “You can be the Vice President! The Nikki’s Greatest Disappointments Club!”

“Motion to nominate Park Jimin as club Secretary?” Taehyung jokes.

“Ooh, motion seconded,” you say, eyes lighting up. “Jimin? Care to weigh in?”

“If you two nerds are done,” Nikki says archly, cutting you two off before you can get even more carried away with your bit, “I’m trying to figure out how much food I need to buy for tonight. Jimin, are you coming?”

“If he says no,” Taehyung points out, “he’ll have to join the Nikki’s Disappointments club. He’ll have no choice.”

Jimin ignores him. “I’ll be there,” he promises.

Apparently, Taehyung’s not the only one with the teasing Jimin agenda, because as she faces him, Nikki gasps, her eyes widening comically.

“Park Jimin,” she hisses, voice lowering to a scandalized whisper, “is that a hickey?”

Yoongi laughs - shoulders shaking - without even seeing the evidence as Jimin turns an impossible shade of red. His blush when it was just Taehyung teasing him was nothing compared to this.

“No,” he says, hand flying to his neck.

Taehyung giggles. “I knew it,” he brags. “I knew it as soon as I heard you whistling. You’re so obvious.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jimin snaps, but he’s fighting a giggle too. “Everyone stop looking at me!”

“So I’m guessing the date went well?” Yoongi asks, gums showing as he smiles at Jimin’s expense.

“Really well, it seems like,” Nikki supplies, leaning against the fridge.

“Better than my night,” Taehyung agrees.

“Whose place did you go back to? Are you going out again? How was it?” Nikki asks, rapid-fire.

“You’re all insufferable,” Jimin grumbles, but he’s fighting a smile, the deep flush fading back to pink.

You peer at the spot as Jimin sinks low in his chair, trying to hide from you all. “Ah,” you say conspiratorially, like you and Jimin are in on a secret together. “It’s just a burn from the curling iron, right, Jimin?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “Yes, I was just curling my long, luxurious locks this morning and had a little mishap - now everyone stop looking at it.”

“Yeah, we all remember your ‘burn’ last Christmas,” Nikki quips, air-quotes and all.

“Nikki!” you gasp, betrayal etched all over your face. “You’re one to talk! Remember when you…”

Yoongi rises, rapping on the table with his knuckles. “It’s only downhill from here,” he says to the other men. “Best to escape now, before they start throwing missteps from high school in each other’s faces.”

You and Nikki stop bickering long enough to glare at him. “Don’t act like you understand our beautiful friendship,” Nikki sniffs. Yoongi gives her a mock salute and heads through the door.

Silence falls over the break room in his absence, and you all look at the clock, realizing at the same time that your fifteen minutes are probably up.

“Alright,” Nikki says, also heading for the door. “Jimin, should I add a plus one for tonight? I just need to know how much food to get ready.”

“No,” Jimin mumbles, still pink. “Just me.”

Nikki heads out the door and you start to follow. Then, you pause at the door, turning back to meet Taehyung’s gaze.

“Meeting adjourned, Mister Vice President?” you ask lightly.

He smiles, he can’t help it. “Meeting adjourned, Madam President,” he agrees, inclining his head solemnly.

Your pleased smile splits your face, and then you’re gone.

Taehyung makes a little mental note, files it away. He hadn’t really known that you were funny. He likes funny.

Then, he turns his attention back to his secret-keeping best friend. “Okay,” he says flatly, no wiggle room allowed. “Spill, Park.”

3. Fall

Taehyung’s long accepted that Jimin’s favorite activity is gossiping - or sharing news, as he calls it. It usually doesn’t bother Taehyung, even though for the most part his job is to nod and make listening noises every now and then. Jimin just likes to share, it doesn’t need to be a dialogue.

It does bother him, a little, when the topic is you. But he can’t say so, or Jimin will be onto his little crush - still successfully a secret, somehow - in no time. He has no choice but to nod and make his listening noises, just like any other time.

“Y/N and her boyfriend fought again yesterday, I guess,” Jimin informs him as they stand in line to pick up the lunch orders they’d called in.

“Mmm?” Taehyung replies; Listening Noise #1.

“Yep,” Jimin continues obliviously. “I feel bad for her, you know?”

“Mhm.”

“It seems like he’s just… not in it,” Jimin muses. “Imagine? A girl like that, and you give her less than a hundred percent? Unfathomable.”

“It is,” Taehyung agrees, meaning it.

“You don’t seem to have much of an opinion about it.” Jimin narrows his eyes at him.

Taehyung shrugs as the line shuffles forward. “I guess I feel like we probably don’t know the whole story,” he admits. “How do you know they fought? Nikki?”

Jimin makes an affirmative sound as they reach the counter and pay for their meals, which are bagged and ready to go.

Taehyung wiggles his head. “It feels a little like a game of telephone,” he says as they head back through the restaurant, out the doors, and back to Taehyung’s parked car. “Y/N tells Nikki part of the story, Nikki tells you part of the story, you tell me part of the story…” He trails off, point made.

Outside, a brisk wind blows a group of dead leaves past their feet. Jimin shudders and pulls his sweater tighter around his shoulders.

Back in the car, Taehyung eyes his rearview mirror carefully as he backs out of the parking spot. A question simmers under his skin and it gets away from him, as slippery as a fish, right through his lips before he can call it back.

“Why do you think she stays with him?”

The escaped question is met with silence. Taehyung glances sideways at Jimin - mostly to see if his best friend has translated the question and heard “I’d do a better job than that guy,” which is what Taehyung thinks he means, if he’s being honest.

It seems like Jimin’s pondering the answer to the spoken question, not the silent one, thankfully. “Not sure,” he says finally, as they stop at a red light. “The familiarity of it, probably. It’s safe, she’s used to it. You know?”

Taehyung doesn’t know - has literally never had a relationship last long enough for it to feel familiar in the first place. Jimin seems to realize this as soon as he says it, and laughs.

“How’s it going with…” he trails off.

Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to laugh. “You don’t remember her name.”

“I do!” Jimin protests. “It’s… shit.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “If I marry her, I’m going to tell this story all the time.”

“You’re not going to marry her,” Jimin scoffs, sure. “She won’t last.”

Taehyung’s stomach twists. “That’s not very kind,” he says mildly.

Jimin reaches out, belatedly realizing how it had sounded. “No, I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I just know it’s not her, Taehyung, I swear,” he says. “I know you, I know what works for you and what doesn’t. This one… she’s not it.”

“You have to use her name,” Taehyung says flatly. He hates that he knows Jimin’s right. Jimin’s always right, to the point it’s annoying. “She’s not a car.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jimin laughs as Taehyung parks, and they both make their way back to the building. “I remember. It’s Kat.”

Taehyung eats at his desk, as he usually does if they leave to pick food up - they spend most of their lunch break in the car, not enough time left over to eat in the break room. He catches up on emails he missed, attends a dial-in meeting in which he contributes absolutely nothing, finishes updating several accounts, empties his voicemail. It’s well after three when he decides he’s sleepy and needs a caffeine break.

Down in the break room, he makes a hot tea and sits at the table so he can see out to the lobby. Through the doors, he has a nice view of the tree at the center of the circular driveway, currently all reds and oranges.

He sips at his tea carefully, testing the temperature with his lips, as he absently watches a blue sedan pull up and park before the glass front doors. It idles there for a few minutes, and then someone’s high heels click through the lobby. He knows your silhouette instantly, watches curiously as you approach the car, leaning down to speak through the lowered passenger side window. The autumn breeze assaults you; he notices as your hair is tossed around, as you press closer to the car as if you can escape the wind.

The back door of the car opens and a little girl gets out, the bookbag on her back almost bigger than her. You take her hand, wave goodbye to the driver of the car, and lead her inside. You both disappear from Taehyung’s view, heading back to the small hallway of offices behind the front desk.

Taehyung furrows his brow, trying to decipher what he’d just seen. Do you have a kid?

He gets this question answered a few minutes later when you click back through the lobby, the little girl right behind you, but this time you head in his direction.

You nod at him as you pass by, walking through the breakroom and stopping at the vending machine in the far corner.

“Sierra, this is Mr. Kim, he works with me,” you say, looking over your shoulder. The little girl looks at the floor, then up at Taehyung. He notices right away that she looks just like you.

“Hi,” he says, giving her a friendly smile.

“My little sister,” you say, answering all of his unvoiced questions. “Si, do you want cookies? Or chips?”

“Both,” Sierra says, coming to join you at the machine, forgetting all about Taehyung.

“A lady after my own heart,” Taehyung jokes.

You give him a dirty look over your shoulder, and then tell your sister, “Pick one, and then we’ll go visit Mr. Min in the kitchen and see if he’ll let you have some fruit. Okay?”

Sierra sighs, but it seems like she’s thinking about her choice. “Chips,” she decides finally. “You get more of them.”

“Sit here and eat them, please,” you tell her, “while I make my coffee. Then we’ll go see Mr. Min and get you an apple. Probably.”

As you make your coffee, stirring it briskly with a little wooden stick, you ask her, “How was school?”

“It was good.”

“Do you have homework?”

“Mhm.” A grumble. “Math and spelling.”

“Okay. Well, we should try to get one of those done before your violin lesson. Which one do you want to get done first?”

“Spelling,” Sierra growls.

You smile at her. “If we work on the math first, then it’s all done and you can put it back in your folder and stop worrying about it.”

Sierra huffs, thinking about this.

Taehyung rises, his fifteen minutes up, and nods goodbye to you as he makes his way out into the lobby.

“Nice to meet you, Sierra,” he says.

“Tell Mr. Kim goodbye, please,” you prompt.

“Goodbye, Mr. Kim,” Sierra says around a mouthful of potato chips.

He stops in front of the elevator; from there, he can hear the high pitch of Sierra’s voice as she answers your question, and then the low, firm tone of yours as you respond. He’s too far away now to hear what either of you are saying, but he watches through the doorway as you stop beside Sierra, resting a hand on top of her head, smiling down as you talk to her. Watching you this way, seeing your competence, your kindness, hearing how your voice goes soft with affection as you care for her... it makes Taehyung feel weirdly… kind of warm and fuzzy.

When the elevator doors close before him, Taehyung is faced with his own reflection, faced with the fact that he has the dopiest smile on his face. He erases it quickly, schooling his features, heaving a heavy breath.

Oh, is he in trouble.

4. Winter

Taehyung knows that Jimin loves Christmas shit. And Jimin knows that Taehyung loves winter. It’s one of the things that makes them compatible friends.

They both looked forward to the office holiday party every year. Not because the office party was fun - it very much was not. They looked forward to it because Nikki and Seokjin always threw a great after-party at his restaurant.

Taehyung arrives to the office party late - that’s one of the keys to surviving the boring part of the night, minimize time spent there in any way possible - and starts to head to the large open hall where the crowd is, when he hears a psst.

He spots Yoongi, down a currently unlit hallway to his right. Yoongi jerks his head, indicating that Taehyung should follow him, and takes off down the dark hall, towards his office near the kitchen. Taehyung follows, interested.

The light is on in Yoongi’s office, spilling out into the hallway along with the sound of voices. Inside, Taehyung finds ten plastic cups filled halfway up with what looks like orange juice. Yoongi’s girlfriend, Ji-hyun, sits on his swivel-chair behind the desk, chatting merrily with you and Nikki. Also crowded into the little room are Seokjin and Jimin.

Ji-hyun gets up when she spots Yoongi, and he takes the seat, pulling her back down onto his lap. Then he leans over and unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk, straightening up with an expensive bottle of vodka in hand.

“God bless you, Min Yoongi,” Nikki breathes.

Yoongi grins, gums showing. “If you want to pass the bottle and then use the juice as a chaser, that’s fine,” he tells the little crowd. “Or if you want to mix it, tell me and I’ll pour for you. But the vodka stays within these four walls, got it?”

Taehyung isn’t surprised to see Nikki reach for the bottle, taking a long swig before grabbing one of the orange juices to chase it down. He is surprised when you do the same thing after her. He opts to mix, knowing he has to drive from here to the after-party. He finds himself watching you as the rest of the group mix their drinks or drink from the bottle. You’re wearing a short black dress, the material thin enough to be a nightgown. It’s form-fitting, but you’re hiding your form beneath one of those butt-length, open-front cardigans.

Yoongi eyes the three cups left on his desk and raises eyebrows.

“I didn’t bring anybody,” Jimin explains.

“Me either,” Taehyung says. “It just didn’t feel fair, you know? To put someone through this?”

“And Ben?” Yoongi asks, looking at you.

You flush, then cover it by reaching for one of the three remaining cups. “Running late,” you say. “So I guess I get his share?” You hold out the cup for Yoongi to fill with vodka, which he does. For some reason, he looks at Taehyung as he does this.

When everyone’s cups are empty, Yoongi locks the bottle back in his desk. “Remind me to bring that to my car when we leave,” he murmurs low to Ji-hyun, and she kisses his temple in response.

Everyone files out of Yoongi’s office, heading back to the main part of the building. Music plays, and the sound of conversation floats around to this quiet, empty part of the building. Taehyung and Jimin wait as Yoongi locks up his office, Ji-hyun at his elbow.

Back in the main room, employees and their loved ones mill about. There are little plastic cups of cheap wine available, but Taehyung avoids them. Time passes slowly, and he keeps catching himself glancing at his watch, waiting for the minute they’d all break for their cars, heading to Jin’s.

Almost an hour later, Jimin appears at Taehyung’s elbow, giving his boss a polite smile and quick bow.

“Ah,” Taehyung says, acting like he’s never acted before. Or maybe, not since last year’s holiday party. He forces regret into his tone, frowns. “I’m so sorry to cut short such a lovely time, but…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, doesn’t wait for his boss or his wife to answer. He turns and follows Jimin, both of them giggling, out to the parking lot. It’s freezing, everything Taehyung touches feels like it’s going to stick to his clammy hands - the car door, the steering wheel, the seatbelt. The sky seems to threaten snow, but none falls.

It’s clear when they walk into Jin’s restaurant that most of the crew beat them there. Everyone is crowded around the bar, voices loud. You spy them, having the advantage of facing the door from your seat, and you shout, “Jimin and Taehyung are here!” You throw your arms in the air in celebration.

Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look. As they draw near the bar, Jin leans over and whispers, “She’s been imbibing. Nikki says to help keep an eye on her.”

You’ve lost the cardigan, and Taehyung literally hears static in his ears for a minute as he takes in the way your dress falls on the dips and curves of your body. Something protective growls just under his ribcage, strumming against his sternum.

Taehyung and Jimin find empty seats at the end of the bar and order their drinks. Seokjin comes around with plates of food for sharing, all of it vastly more appetizing than anything that had been laid out back at the office.

“Much better,” Taehyung sighs, relaxing into the atmosphere, and Jimin nods vehemently, his mouth full of whatever drink he’d ordered.

Taehyung talks with Jimin and Jin, cracks jokes with them, explains what happened with the last girl he was seeing, listens to Jimin’s latest escapade. But all night, he feels his attention being tugged to his left, where he can see you in his periphery, hear your voice as you (shout) talk to Nikki. All night, he’s fighting the urge to sneak glances over his shoulder, to memorize the way that dress falls, to just get up and go talk to you.

He’s glad he doesn’t when you squeal at the sight of the restaurant’s door opening, some guy stepping in out of the winter cold. The boyfriend, it must be. Taehyung tries not to watch as you wobble over to embrace the man. He looks down at you, frowning, asks you quietly where the rest of your outfit is. You giggle, like it’s a big joke. He looks at Nikki, accusing. Nikki’s face goes hard.

“Uh-oh,” Jimin murmurs, and Seokjin moves quickly, ready to step in if he needs to.

“Why’d you let her get like this?” the boyfriend asks, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. You beam at him, like he’s done something sweet and thoughtful. Taehyung looks down at his drink, swirls the ice cubes in a circle.

“Well, Ben,” Nikki says flatly, her voice carrying across the open space, “it’s not my fault she wanted to drink until she forgot to feel sad. Her words, not mine. I wonder whose fault that could be? Maybe the person who was supposed to be here--,” she glances at her watch, “--six hours ago?”

Ben scowls, and Nikki opens her mouth again, but he cuts her off. “Okay, Nikki, you made your point,” he says, still scowling.

Oblivious, you smile up at him. “Are we gonna stay and hang out? Or do you wanna go home?”

The boyfriend wraps an arm around your shoulders, shooting Nikki one last glare before looking down at you again. “Let’s go home,” he says quietly. “You need to drink some water.”

“No I don’t, I’m fine,” you protest as he leads you back towards the door. Before you disappear through the doorway, you turn and call, “Bye, everybody!”

Silence falls over the group once you’re gone, the bar’s speakers audible for the first time in hours. Seokjin goes over to Nikki and kisses the top of her head.

“I hate that guy,” she grumbles.

Back home, Taehyung lays in bed with his eyes closed. His mind is busy, it flits around like a hummingbird that isn’t sure where it’s safe to land. How good you’d looked in that dress swirls in his mind, but just as quickly his attention shifts to think instead about how crappy your boyfriend is. His mind flops back and forth between remembering the sound of your belly laugh to the sight of that guy’s possessive hand on your shoulder as he’d steered you away from the group. Back and forth between how much he wished he could have stood closer to you, found little reasons to touch you and how Nikki had said you were sad all night.

Frustrated, he flops on his side, bunches up his pillow. It takes him a long time to find sleep.

–

The worst part of the office holiday party, by far, is that it’s always held on a weeknight.

Taehyung spends almost the entire day fighting sleep at his desk; he even tries to drink a coffee, and he hates coffee.

At the end of the day, he’s called into his boss’s office. He goes, stomach sinking, already knowing what this would be about: he’d made mistakes on three different accounts throughout the day, all of them flagged by the computer system before he could fix them himself.

“Taehyung, I’m surprised at you,” his boss says kindly, leaning across his desk, peering at Taehyung closely. “Three in the same day?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung blurts. “I know that’s unacceptable.”

What is he supposed to say? I’m sorry, sir, have you ever experienced ‘brain goes brrrr’? I thought it was just a tiktok joke but I am currently experiencing it for the first time…

Or worse: I’m sorry, sir, I spent five of my allotted sleeping hours last night thinking about someone else’s girlfriend and how I could treat her better than he does.

“I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” he says, eyes on the ground. “I won’t let it happen again.”

His boss softens, tilts his head sympathetically. “See that you don’t,” he says, and gestures to the door, indicating that Taehyung was free to go.

He’s never felt less free in his life.

5. Spring, again

Outside the window closest to Taehyung’s desk, rain pelts the glass with aggression. It’s been raining all day, and the whole office feels gloomy, sleepy.

“Hey,” Jimin says, stopping at Taehyung’s desk, startling him completely. “Nikki says that she’s throwing Seokjin’s party at the restaurant this Friday. You coming?”

Taehyung had made plans with Jungkook for Friday. He pauses, considering.

Jimin notices his hesitation. “Y/N is going,” he says lightly, all innocence, and taps his knuckles on Taehyung’s desk just once before sauntering away. “I’ll see you there!”

Caught, Taehyung purses his lips… and wonders just how long Jimin’s known.

Masterpost | Ch 1 ->

Thank you so much for being here! I hope you enjoyed this little peek into Taehyung's life before Complete Faith began. You can find my full masterlist here!

#complete faith fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #bts x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff

153 notes · View notes