Have You Ever Seen A Man Break

HIDDEN STARS | PT.1 [M]

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | + | (completed)

pairing: jungkook x reader 

genre: angst, smut / idol au

word count: 9,925

description: It started out simple, but when your feelings start to grow for the idol who isn’t allowed to date, things get complicated. 

You could feel the music pulsing around your body as you swayed in time with the beat. There were packs of dancing figures surrounding you, and you suddenly felt the need for a break from the suffocating atmosphere. You wiggled your way through the mob of people until you reached the outside, and took in a relieved breath; but you immediately regret it because your lungs are instantaneously filled with cigarette smoke from the abundance of lounging celebrities.

You had somehow managed to make it into the VIP section of the club that night, probably due to the short red dress that hitched higher and higher up your legs with every movement you made. It was strange, every time you turned your head there was another famous person catching your eye. You weren’t too into celebrity culture, but you couldn’t help but find it kind of surreal seeing all these people that were usually just pictures in a magazine, or pixels on a screen, standing right before your eyes.

You couldn’t stop the fit of coughing that overtook you, as you tried to expel the rancid smoke that had invaded your body. You stumbled forward slightly, as you tried to make your way to the bar for a drink, when you suddenly feel a hand being placed on your back. You whip your head to the side to try and politely ask the stranger to not touch you, but when his face comes into view all of your words are lost.

There was no mistaking his raven black hair that paired with his fiery eyes, which contrasted greatly with his cute bunny-like smile.

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Eventually (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: Coriolanus could appreciate irony, but the one person he desires more than anything wanting nothing to do with him pushes him to new territory

Tags: (18+), cw: noncon, dark!coriolanus, deeply implied stalker!coriolanus, unreliable narrator coriolanus (boy is delusional tbh, no one is doing more mental gymnastics than him), pre-mentor era, obsession, unprotected sex, choking (only for like a second), virginity status undisclosed but as I was writing I began to imagine this being the first time for both of them—it’s not even implied tho, so do with that what you will

A/N: a character as evil as him I couldn’t conceive writing fluff for. he’s bad and guess what I’m not gonna fix him, but I also can’t make him not-hot so… hehe. please read the tags and proceed with caution <3

Masterlist

You wanted nothing to do with him, and that made him crazy.

No, if anything, you were the crazy one. Coriolanus hadn’t done anything but try to be your friend, but you snubbed him without reason.

Coriolanus did a good job at keeping the financial situation of his family a secret. No one knew, and he doubted you were an exception. Yet, it was as if you looked down upon him.

Although, you’d grown fond of Sejanus, so even if you did know, status wasn’t a concern of yours. It was something he admired, yet questioned all at once. There had to be a reason for your dismissal. A reason you couldn’t bring yourself to even offer a smile back. It’s not like he was asking a lot.

It’s not like he wasn’t trying, either. He’d gotten used to trying to make people like him, to see him as better than he was, but it was never this hard. It would’ve been so much simpler if you just told him to his face what your problem was, but whenever he came around, mostly when you were talking to Sejanus—they were friends, it was the perfect excuse—you just went quiet. You’d greet him, make no effort to continue the conversation, then excuse yourself.

All Coriolanus wanted to know was why.

“You’re watching her again,” Clemensia whispered to him, eyes flicking between him and the paper in front of her.

They were class partners, but Coriolanus was beginning to think he spent too much time with her.

“Who?”

Clemensia let out a small chuckle, mocking him. The professor at the front of the class looked up, and Coriolanus quickly looked down at his paper, taking his eyes off of you.

“You’re too obvious,” she muttered, a smirk in her voice. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you. Because you stare at her too much.”

She didn’t get a response—it didn’t deserve one. Coriolanus questioned why he ever told her anything. She made him sound like some sort of stalker. Which, for the record, he was not.

His eyes managing to find you frequently wasn’t a crime, and neither was crossing your path. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence most of the time, but it’s not as if he was harming you by watching you. He doubted you noticed anyway.

Seeing you nearly everyday had been enough to keep him sated, but then Sejanus started talking about you. Through no fault of his own, Coriolanus learned things about you. What he came to know made him curious to discover more. Even if you did not seem keen to let him.

Being content with what he had didn’t keep its appeal for long. Not when you were right there, your presence taunting him. Making him want what you would not let him have.

“You just need to talk to her, Coryo,” Tigris told him one evening, when he revealed everything to her. “Not in class and not with Sejanus. Just you. Let her know the real you and I promise she’ll like what she sees.”

Coriolanus took his cousin’s advice to heart. She was much more empathetic than him, she had to be onto something, right?

Everything changed when Coriolanus sat across from you at a study table in the library.

As beautiful as you were from a distance, being up close was something else entirely. He could admire you for hours and never get tired.

You looked up at him, he smiled and said hello just like Tigris advised. The smile you returned seemed forced, and you ignored that he had spoken.

It upset him, but not as much as when you got up and walked out. It was the last straw. Coriolanus was following you into the hall before he could think better of it.

He caught up to you, dropping his hand to your shoulder to make you turn around and face him. When you did, you looked surprised. That wasn’t what made Coriolanus hesitate, but the realization that he had never been this close to you before. Not even sitting across from you compared to touching you.

His heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” you questioned, a level of annoyance he thought to be unearned in your voice.

His heart started again.

“Have I done something to you?” Coriolanus confronted you, feeling a familiar sense of agitation creep over him. He had to know. “To make you feel such distaste for me?”

“I don’t dislike you, Coriolanus,” you replied, calmly after recovering from your initial shock. “I’m just… indifferent to you.”

The answer confused him more than it did enrage him. He smothered the latter feeling as he observed you.

“You’re… indifferent,” he stated, not asking. His feet shifted beneath him. It hurt, for some reason. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying him. It was the same way you’d look at your books when you were struggling with a subject, lingering behind in class or the library until a triumphant smile crossed your face.

Only, that smile never came. Your expression just faded back to normal.

“You shouldn’t put so much weight on what other people think of you,” you advised, stepping closer to him. His breath caught in his chest. You smelled sweet, like flowers. “Especially not someone you don’t even know.”

It was then, he realized, you hadn’t moved closer to him with purpose. You’d been on your way moving past him. His eyes focused on your back as you walked away, figuring out what to say.

“I’d like to know you,” he announced earnestly, verbally trying to pull you back. “If you’d only give me a chance.”

You slowed to a stop, looking over your shoulder. Coriolanus felt as if he was on display as your eyes raked over him, determining for yourself his sincerity.

“You’re friends with Sejanus, aren’t you?” you wondered. It wasn’t what he expected, but Coriolanus nodded. You sighed, which irked him to think it was pity. “If you’d like to join us for lunch I wouldn’t be against that.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, but you were already turning away. He kept to himself that he had already tried in the past.

His friend was nice. Too nice for his own good, truthfully. It wasn’t as if Sejanus completely abandoned him the moment he befriended you. It was more like he split his time, attending to both friendships. The only thing Coriolanus held against him was that he never tried to reintroduce the two of you. Maybe even put in a good word.

At lunch Coriolanus found you and Sejanus quickly, he knew where you liked to sit.

“Hey, Coryo,” Sejanus greeted, smiling. “About time you decided to join us.”

Coriolanus put on a smile as he sat down. “Well, I would’ve sooner, but I wasn’t sure I was welcome before.”

The comment made you smirk, in on the joke as Coriolanus looked at you.

“Who’s to say you are now?” you sarcastically replied, as if you hadn’t been the one to invite him.

Well, “invite” was being generous, but he still seized the opportunity nonetheless.

“Ignore her, she can’t help herself,” Sejanus said with a chuckle, used to your humor.

This time, when he tried to talk to you, you engaged. In between discussions of classes and assignments, Coriolanus had to dodge your quick wit.

He liked the challenge, and the next day, he went back for more. Even walked right past Clemanisa and Arachne, who tried to invite him to their table with Festus. You were waiting for him.

He noticed you and Sejanus already talking.

When he sat across from you, you raised your brows. “Seeking refuge?”

Before he could ask what you meant, you nodded your head towards the girls he’d left behind.

You knew about his friends?

“You could call it that,” he replied, a smile starting to appear.

You nodded and hummed.

“Well, what are your qualifications?”

“Excuse me?”

“You joke too much, Y/N,” Sejanus lightly scolded you, interrupting whatever path you were going down, which made you laugh. “He’s going to think you don’t like him.”

“He knows I don’t mean anything by it,” you assured, looking at Coriolanus. “I’m just trying to figure him out.”

Your tone was filled with confidence, but your face… Coriolanus wasn’t sure how to place your underlying expression. You had a shield up, he knew that much, but what did that have to do with him? Were you trying to figure out if you could let it down for him? Or something else?

“Of course,” Coriolanus answered, not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m an open book.”

“Are you, now?” You folded your arms on the table. “Your friends love to gossip, and I don’t think I’ve heard that about you.”

“It’s not my fault if they don’t know how to read,” Coriolanus quipped, proud of himself for being so quick.

None of his friends had wronged him, but the joke at their expense was worth it for what followed after.

He made you laugh. Not just smile, but truly laugh. It was exactly what he wanted, and it actually worked. Awe didn't begin to describe how it felt.

Joining your table for lunch became the best part of his day. Sometimes he forgot Sejanus was even there, far too eager to see you. He saw you all the time, of course. Watching you was a habit he had yet to break, but this was different. You were aware of his presence, and he was able to speak to you. It didn’t matter that you still seemed weary, it was enough.

Even if you didn’t like him, you still had conversations with him, so that was something.

Sometimes, if you were deep in a discussion, debating ethics—your favorite topic—it would continue beyond just the table. He’d walk you to class, wanting to hear your voice just a second longer.

“I want to meet this girl,” His grandmother declared one night, after Coriolanus drifted to the topic of you over dinner. He’d been doing it more recently.

Tigris gave him a look, a light frown. There was no way to do that without you coming to his home, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Let Coryo decide that, Grandma‘am,” Tigris insisted, patting the older woman’s shoulder.

“Well, he has feelings for Y/N,” she argued, looking at Coriolanus. He used your name enough that she remembered it. “And she likes him too—doesn’t she?”

Coriolanus gave a tight smile. “Yes, she does.”

Keeping up appearances.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Grandma‘am decided.

“I think it’s time you get to bed,” Tigris intervened, getting their grandmother up from her chair.

Later, when they were alone, Tigris asked him, “Does she even know how you feel about her?” She knew him too well. He took too long to answer. “You should tell her. From what you’ve told us, you two should be together. But it won’t happen unless you make it known how you feel.”

Coriolanus’s dreams were filled with you, as they usually were, but something was different the morning he woke up after the conversation with Tigris.

All he had to do was prove himself to you, and he knew that now.

Coriolanus found you in the library a lot, often pretending to stumble upon you. This time, he didn’t put on a facade.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he acknowledged, sitting down beside you. Often he’d sit across, but he was testing the waters. Seeing if you were put off by the proximity. “Studying for Featherly’s class?”

“I’m terrified for his test,” you confided, rubbing your temples as you hunched down at your book. “I feel like my mind has no room for anything else. I’ve memorized nothing.”

With a sigh, you sat up and pushed the book away.

“I can help you,” Coriolanus insisted, reaching for the book. He read over the page you were on, knowing he’d already perfected the subject. “You should’ve asked for me sooner.”

Maybe it was a little spiteful, but he hadn’t purposely meant it to come out that way. You still noticed it, taking your book back.

“I’m not asking for your help now, Coriolanus,” you muttered, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

You were the last of his friends to still call him that. Most everyone else called him ‘Coryo’. Not you. But you were stubborn in many ways. This too, apparently.

“I didn’t mean anything against you,” he said lightly, even chuckling a little. It was forced, but he wanted to show he wasn’t being that serious.

Using your own words on you did not have the desired effect.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed.

Coriolanus tilted his head down, trying to get you to meet his gaze. You gave in, facing him, looking unamused.

He wanted to wipe that look away, but didn’t know how. If he could just make you like him—

Suddenly, your watch began to beep.

“Test time,” you grumbled, taking back your book and getting up.

Coriolanus followed you down the hall and into class. The tests were already on the desks, waiting. You two were early—he noticed that because of the clock on the wall.

He walked you to your seat and wished you good luck. To his surprise, you offered the same in return. Then, he went to his own. Other students filed in quickly after, professor Featherly being the last to enter the room.

The professor declared, “Begin,” then sat at his desk in the middle of the room and began to read.

The test wasn’t easy, but Coriolanus knew what he was doing. One look around the classroom and he saw that wasn’t the case for most other students. He felt a sense of pride, until his gaze landed on you. You were one row down and four seats to the left. He’d counted before. You were fiddling with your pencil, struggling to come up with what to write down.

While he could’ve been the first to finish, Coriolanus let other students turn their tests in before him. An hour passed by, but it moved quickly.

There were only a few students left when you finally got up. You radiated an anxious energy, much like the others, but Coriolanus didn’t care about the others.

Clemensia stuck her hand up in the air, waiting for the professor to notice her, distracting Coriolanus briefly. When the professor looked up and noticed her, Clemansia got her wish.

Coriolanus considered himself lucky, convincing himself with his own mantra frequently. As he watched you leave your test on Featherly’s desk and rush from the room, he realized how he could help you.

He quickly marked down the rest of his answers, having stalled so he could leave when you did. The professor was making his way away from the desk, while Coriolanus got up and went in the opposite direction.

With a swift, hard kick to the leg, the professor's desk wobbled and papers spilled off on the other side. It looked like an accident.

Featherly looked over his shoulder at the noise.

“Sorry,” Coriolanus apologized, kneeling down behind the desk to collect the papers.

Without anyone watching, he found your test. He had no time to change the written questions, but he made quick work of erasing and re-doing the multiple choice, with his own test and knowledge as reference.

He had to give you credit for getting a decent amount correct, but not enough for a passing grade.

When Coriolanus fixed that, he stacked together the papers and placed them back on the desk and exited.

Everyone was waiting in the hall. Against tradition, the professor graded tests directly after and would call students in to give the results. It was time consuming, and kept everyone on campus after hours, which was against the rules, but perhaps he’d gotten some kind of exception.

You were leaning against the wall opposite of the classroom, talking to some girl from the class—Coriolanus didn’t bother to learn her name. He wanted to go to you, but Sejanus got to him first instead.

“How do you think you did?”

Coriolanus shrugged, looking down at his friend. “Fine, I think.” That was the humble answer, right? “How about you?”

“Not perfect, but I passed.”

Clemensia trotted out then, a confident look on her face.

“What was so important you had to ask during the test?” Coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder. She’d unknowingly helped him, after all.

“Just clarity on a question, wanted to make sure I got it right,” she answered with ease.

“And did you?”

She gave Sejanus a look.

“Yes, of course.”

The last person exited the class, and professor Featherly closed the door. And so the grading began.

One by one, the professor called people in. There was no method to the order, it seemed likely he shuffled the papers or chose which one to grade next at random.

Time passed, Coriolanus didn’t know how much exactly, but it was beginning to get dark outside. Tigris would be worried until he got home, but she’d understand. His studies came first.

Eventually, Coriolanus realized it was dwindling down to be just you and him left. He was lucky today.

The third to last student was in the classroom, leaving you across the hall from one another.

You pressed your lips together before speaking.

“Do you think you did alright?”

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip twitched up at the sound of your voice.

“Yes, I think so,” he answered humbly. “What about you?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh. “When I said I was terrified, I wasn’t being dramatic.” You sighed, accepting your fate. “I’ll have to do perfect on the next one, I guess.”

“I can help you with that,” Coriolanus offered.

The smile he gave you spawned a mirror reaction. He knew he was charming, he had to be, and this time you actually seemed receptive to it.

“Maybe you can.”

The sound of a door opening made Coriolanus turn. Arachne was leaving, a smug look on her face as she thanked the professor.

Then the door closed, and the professor graded another test. There were only two left.

“I wish he wouldn’t do it like this,” you filled the silence. “The others don’t make us wait like this.”

“It builds suspense, I suppose,” Coriolanus mused. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“That’s not something I need right now.”

“At least you have good company,” he noted flirtatiously. He couldn’t help but grin at his own words, especially when you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling.

“Could be worse, I supposed,” you retorted.

More time passed. The door opened again.

“Coriolanus Snow,” the professor addressed him next. “Your turn.”

As expected, Coriolanus did close to perfect. One answer off. Best in the class.

Back in the hallway, when he was done, Coriolanus waited with you. He didn’t announce he was staying, he just returned to his spot against the wall.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting. How did you do?” you asked, departing from the wall.

Coriolanus wondered where you were going, but then, you stood next to him, leaning back against the wall. There was still an arms length between the two of you, but it was something. You’d gone to him for once.

“You’ll think I’m full of myself if I tell you,” he teased lightly, which made you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I already think that, so just tell me,” you insisted.

The comment made him falter.

“Best in the class,” he divulged.

You almost looked impressed. “Good for you.”

The door opened.

“Y/N L/N, you’re up.”

“Wish me luck,” you said under your breath before following Featherly in.

“Good luck.”

Coriolanus waited for you, just like before. He tapped his foot. The professor didn’t actually go over the answers, he just told you the grade. You’d have no way of knowing what he did for you, but he’d be there to share in your excitement when you discovered how well you’d done.

Or, how well he’d done for you.

Not long later, you and the professor exited the class together.

“Wasn’t expecting you to still be here,” Featherly addressed Coriolanus. “You should get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Then, he left you and Coriolanus alone in the hall, presumably leaving the building.

“So,” Coriolanus began with a smile. “How did you do?”

“He asked if I’d been studying with you. Apparently we had all the same answers,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Except when I asked him to show me my exam—which I did great on, apparently—I saw answers circled that weren’t mine.”

Coriolanus hadn’t expected you to find out so quickly, but a part of him was relieved you did. It meant he got to take credit, and he could show you that he really did want the best for you.

Or, he could always lie.

“You weren scared of failing,” he finally admitted. He offered a sympathetic smile. “So I helped.”

“No, you cheated!” you accused, causing his eyes to go wide. “You’ve implicated us both. If anyone finds out…”

“Don’t be so loud,” he hissed out in a whisper, stepping closer to you. The professor could still be in the building. He doubted anyone else would be. “I just wanted to help you, okay? You needed it, so I—“

“You helped, I get it. But I didn’t ask you to do that for me, Coriolanus. I have never asked you to do anything for me,” you sneered, somewhere between offended and betrayed.

He saw the way you scanned his face—his eyes. The pleading was beginning to seep through.

A wave of realization washed over you before he even opened his mouth.

“You didn’t have to ask me to,” Coriolanus said meaningfully, stepping closer to you. “I wanted to. I wanted to help you.”

You back hit the wall. The hallway was so empty it seemed as if the subtle sound still echoed.

“I’d do anything for you, don’t you get that?”

The sound of a large door closing carried from a distance.

Coriolanus reached for your face, wishing he could take away the concern that riddled your expression. Instead, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face.

You swallowed. Why did you look so nervous around him? You were friends now, weren’t you? You never looked scared around anyone else. Why him? Why now? His own questions frustrated him.

“We’re not supposed to be on campus after hours,” you said calmly. It was the same tone you used when you first described your indifference to him. Coriolanus thought about that moment a lot. “Featherly already left. We should leave before we get caught.”

The corners of his lips twitched down.

“We’re still talking, though, aren’t we?”

You let out a shallow breath. You had no reason to look as scared as you did.

“I think we’re done.”

Coriolanus thought back to his cousin’s advice. He could’ve followed it better if she’d written it down, perchance.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Coriolanus pondered, smiling to himself at the sight of you. “You caught my eye from the beginning and I—I couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with me.” You watched him carefully. He wondered if you could sense the dejectedness brewing. “Did you see something in me? Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted under your breath. “People like you, and you’ve been making an effort to be my friend, so I don’t know what told me to stay away from you, but something did. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I still…” you swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The confession should’ve been a relief. That’s what he imagined it would be. That you would admit the truth, and he could fix whatever misconceptions you had.

Coriolanus did not know what to do with “I don’t know”.

Staring down at you, Coriolanus noticed your back was against the wall. Literally. He hadn’t meant to put you there, but he had.

It got you to listen, didn’t it? He’d gotten an answer?

“Can we start over?” Coriolanus suggested, even throwing in a smile that would charm most anyone. It worked on you before. “We can forget all this mess.”

You blinked. You didn’t believe him.

For most people, he wouldn’t simply let numerous slights go, but for you, if it would fix whatever this was, if it meant the two of you could have a real chance, then he’d overcome his instincts—old and new.

“I’m afraid my memory is too good for that,” you finally said, looking up at him with defiance.

Defying what, was the question. It wasn’t as if you were enemies.

The thought made his jaw clench. He let out a laugh that was sharp. It lacked any sense of humor.

“Why can’t you just accept my apology?”

Your brows arched up, questioning him.

“That was supposed to be an apology?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But it’s not as if I owe you one.”

“I never said you did. I never said anything. You took it upon yourself to insert yourself into my life and now you are not happy with your place in it. You’ve overstepped, and you need to let me leave.”

Coriolanus frowned.

“You act like I’m keeping you here by force.”

You look up at him, silently telling him you believed he was.

That frustrated him further.

In an act that jarred even him, Coriolanus pressed his palms against your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall when you tried to move away.

“This is force,” he declared sternly, leaning down, making you maintain his gaze.

Everyone liked control, but he hadn’t used it in such a physical way before. It thrilled him in an odd way.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why should I? You already think so poorly of me, why not let you be right?”

You moved again then, trying to catch him off guard and squirm away. But Coriolanus was quick to shove you back against the wall.

“We can still start over. If you would give me a chance, I think we can be good together.”

He let one hand rise to rest on your cheek. Your skin was so smooth. He inhaled deeply, resolve slipping further as his eyes fell to your lips.

If Coriolanus could just prove it to you, he was sure you’d understand what he meant.

He leaned in cautiously, gauging your reaction. You didn’t flinch away. You tilted your chin up, even. That familiar skip of his heart returned.

Coriolanus’s lips only just brushed against yours before you reacted. He had a second of relief before you brought your knee up, jabbing him in the lower stomach, although he doubted that was where you were aiming. It was still enough of a shock to throw him off his game. He stumbled back, and in a flash, you were gone. You were running down the hall—trying to get away from him, like usual.

Only this time, he didn’t feel like letting you go.

Something he had slowly come to learn was when he wanted something, it wasn’t just going to be handed to him. Vying for the Plinth Prize highlighted that, alongside his childhood.

He caught you easily, hand snapping out like a snake to grip your arm and yank you back to him. You collided with his chest. It was like you weren’t even trying. Not really. Just toying with him.

“Am I a game to you?” Coriolanus hissed into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. “Something for you to play?”

“I haven’t done anything to you! I hardly even know you!” you defended, but it just made him hold you tighter.

“I know you,” he implored, fighting against your squirming. He lost balance and when you fell to the ground, you took him with you. Coriolanus got you onto your back, sitting on your thighs, gripping your wrists in his hands to keep you from swinging at him. You let out panicked breaths, staring up at him. “I know more than you think.”

Something about the position made the front of his pants begin to feel constricting.

“Coriolanus, you’re frightening me,” you enunciated, as if trying to reason with him.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” Coriolanus grit out, working to maintain his composure.

“What?” you questioned, brows pinching together, a deep frown on your face. Confused and scared. Coriolanus used to feel that way. “Just let me go.”

“And then what? You go back to ignoring me? No I can’t… I can’t go back to that. If you just give me a chance I can show you.”

Coriolanus didn’t know what happened next.

Tigris told him it was like he left his own head, sometimes. She said he’d get so caught up, he wouldn’t notice things. At the time he had laughed. If anyone stayed aware, it was him.

It wasn’t that he left his head, but got lost in it. Lost in his own inner monologue to realize what he was doing.

In this case, what he’d done.

Far too busy thinking of ways to convey everything he wanted to say to you, how to make you understand, visualizing your reaction, he’d already acted.

Maybe there were two people living in his mind. One with a conscience, one without. Or perhaps that was just something he used to justify his less than decent actions. An excuse. He’d never let himself know the truth. Not really. Not yet.

What he did know was what he could see. You, beneath him, clothes torn from your body. The only thing left was a shirt. Too much effort, apparently. Your wrists were snatched together in one of his hands.

The power stirred something within him.

One might say he was out of excuses when he reached for the zipper of his pants, but no one else was here, were they?

Your mouth was moving. Speaking. Maybe even yelling. Looking at him, looking around the room. He couldn’t hear a sound but his own heart thumping in his ears paired with his own eager breaths. Was that normal?

He moved, wedging himself between your legs, nudging them apart to make room for himself.

“It’s just us,” Coriolanus spoke, loud enough to hear himself. You flinched. “No one’s here.”

He gripped himself, stroking his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. His patience was running incredibly thin.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You stopped struggling at his words, accepting it for what it was. Good.

“Why are you doing this?”

He heard your voice clearly, that time, despite the strain in your tone.

Coriolanus observed you carefully, squeezing your wrists together in one hand and lovingly caressing your hip with the other.

He finally understood the answer you’d given before. He found it fitting now.

“I don’t know.”

To him, it was the truth.

The moment Coriolanus pressed himself inside of you, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. After so long of wanting you in every way, shape, or form, this was long overdue.

“You’re perfect for me,” he breathed out. Coriolanus gave a shove of his hips, his gaze falling to your mouth as an unwilling yelp slipped out. “I knew you would be.”

You were tight, too tight, even. Unwelcoming. Yet still, you felt like home.

His hand—the one that was on your hip—drifted between your legs. He found your clit, running his thumb in small circles, trying to ease the pressure you must’ve been feeling.

Coriolanus did not want to hurt you.

He looked into unfocused eyes. Where were you? Were you trying to be somewhere else?

He let your hands go. You didn’t move to slap him or shove him or anything. You were learning.

He leaned over you more, reaching for you face with his now free hand, and ran his thumb over your cheek, encouraging your gaze to actually meet his. He smiled softly when you did. You got more beautiful every second he looked at you. It was even better when he could see you were present.

Coriolanus found himself unable to resist it, so he gave into the urge to press his lips to yours. A real kiss, this time.

Your lips were softer than he’d imagined. You made a noise when his tongue tasted your mouth. His kiss was hungry—aggressive, even. But he’d waited so long he didn’t know how to contain himself.

Your body reacted to his touch. Your bent knees inched up his hips to accommodate him, and your walls were becoming slick, accepting the invasion.

A deep moan escaped him, cock throbbing inside you at the feel. The sound was muffled by his lips pressed to yours, but he still felt vulnerable, giving himself to you in this way.

Coriolanus pulled back from the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours and breathe out a small puff of air from his lips.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. Not even the Plinth Prize,” he confessed in a whisper.

“What’s the difference?” You finally spoke, voice wavering. “You have to earn the prize?” The accusing tone felt like a slap.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Coriolanus muttered, eyes boring into yours. “You’ll see.”

He gave you one more searing kiss before moving his hips.

A gasp that morphed into a moan clawed its way up your throat. The sound was like music to his ears. He wanted to hear it again.

He began to move more consistently, finding a pace that suited him. Rough enough to keep you present, but not so harsh as to hurt you. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, even if you were trying to avoid it.

Still figuring you out, Coriolanus found your sweet spot with a hard thrust, causing you to wince. Instinctively, you tried to push him away, just like you had before, not wanting to surrender.

You stilled when you felt his hand. He hardly realized how he’d reacted until he felt your throat bob beneath his palm.

Coriolanus retracted his hand, like your skin and shot a volt through him. His movements slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized earnestly, brushing the hand through your hair gently. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your chest heaved as you breathed shaky breaths through your nose. Your lips pressed together in a line.

You weren’t going to dignify him with a response. In a way, he understood.

Coriolanus locked his arms under your body and in a surge of strength, pulled you from the ground and into his lap. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Forgive me,” he requested softly.

You shifted in his lap, adjusting yourself to find comfort in the new position. You did not speak.

He slammed his hips up, forcing a gasp from your lips. That was something, wasn’t it?

You pulled back, and he did it again. And again. And again.

You fell against him, jarred by the change in his movements as he thrust into you. He liked it, feeling you in his lap, your chest against his, leaving you no choice but to hold onto him.

His lips latched onto the skin of your neck as he moved, barring his teeth and nipping the skin. You reacted as if he were venomous, straining away from him, but he’d left his mark.

You could pretend all you wanted that you didn’t like him, but Coriolanus could feel your body reacting to his. He could feel the way your walls squeezed around him, drawing him in, and how your body quivered as he pushed you closer to your edge.

“Just let go,” Coriolanus whispered, holding you tighter. He cradled the back of your head against him as he moved inside of you. Soothing and rough at the same time. “It’s okay, I know you want to.”

“Shut up,” you hissed into his neck, hands finding his chest.

Were you really going to try and get away from him? It was a bit late for that.

Coriolanus moved his hand between your bodies, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb, speeding along the process.

“What was that?” he taunted, feeling your legs start to shake.

A moan tore from your throat as you came around him, body slumping against his as he shoved himself deeper inside you. He wanted to feel your body tensed around him.

“That’s it,” he drawled, pressing his face to the side of your head. He inhaled, letting your scent flood him. Every sense was overwhelmed by you and if anything, it made him hunger for even more.

You became more pliable in your daze, going easily when Coriolanus laid you back down on the cold ground. He planted one hand on the ground near your head, where he held most of his weight, while the other rested on the base of your neck. Not squeezing, just resting. Reminding you of before.

Now that he’d taken care of you, made you realize the pleasure he could inflict upon you, it was his turn. Coriolanus was relentless with the thrust of his cock inside you, stretching you around him, groaning with nearly every movement. You felt so good, he never wanted to leave the warmth of your body.

You shifted beneath him, squirming as the intense feeling. Coriolanus was tempted to drag it out, to watch your face as the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

If it wasn’t for the desire to fill you, to claim you, he would’ve. There would be more times after this, he’d ensure it. He didn’t own a lot, but he treasured the things that he did.

“I can’t let you go, not now.” He meant to keep it inside his head, but the words spilled out. “You’re the only thing I want.”

At that moment, it was true.

Coriolanus gave one final shove of his hips before spilling inside of you. It crashed over him in an unexpected wave. His whole body shivered with pleasure at the feel of your body milking him. You wanted him. Your denial would eventually fade. He was sure of it.

Coriolanus let out a heavy sigh of your name as he watched your face. You’d turned your head, wincing as he filled you to the brim.

“Hey,” Coriolanus said when he finished, voice low. He ran a delicate hand over your face, persuading you to open your eyes. “We’re okay.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Coriolanus withdrew from you. You’d given up fighting against him, so he took the opportunity to help you redress. You were so pliant, it was like dressing a doll.

You rested your arms on your knees when he made you sit up. He wasn’t keeping you from moving from the floor, you chose not to.

Coriolanus watched you cautiously, searching for the same fire in you before, trying to figure out if he’d somehow snuffed it out.

There was a nagging in his gut. It was only for a brief second, but his confidence wavered.

“Can you talk to me?” he pressed, laying a hand on your shoulder and he knelt across from you, pants readjusted.

It was as if nothing happened, but you both knew that was untrue.

“Why should I?” You wrinkled your nose as you focused on the ground.

“Because, I care about you,” Coriolanus replied without thought, gaze softening. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t think you care for me,” you said in a tone so hushed, Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you even meant for him to hear. Then, you met his eyes. The fire had only been dulled, not put out. “I think you’re a liar, Coriolanus Snow.”

His hands fell to clasp yours. He brought one to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of your palm. You eyed him as if he were some sort of predator, but he managed a smile nonetheless.

“Let me prove it to you, and you’ll come to learn you’ve been wrong about me all along.”

Reblog if it's okay to befriend you, ask questions, ask for advice, rant, vent, let something off your chest, or just have a nice chat.

im utterly torn apart, but in a good way..?

the train of lost souls

↳ fantasy au

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader, hoseok | reader ◇ genre: angst and tiny bits of fluff ◇ word count: 13.610 ◇ warnings: mentions of past death  ◇ author’s note: I promise it’s not tragic, though it might seem like it at first. pls believe in me! :)) on another note, let’s just pretend they are all the same age here, since I planned the story that way~

The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.

You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you’ve ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile — all of it, completely gone.

Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.

You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it.

The choice is solely yours.

Keep reading

---

one of the most amazing things ive ever read and its not even the first part. stunning.

heartburn (2)

pairing: jimin x reader

wordcount: 13k

glimpse: you thought jimin would’ve been relieved to break up with you in order to be with the woman that makes him happy; five years and an engagement ring, in exchange for late night conversations that make his cheeks hurt. you mean nothing to him anymore, that much you’re sure of — why would he be beside your hospital bed, crying out of his mind?

alternatively, jimin emotionally cheats on you while your wedding’s six months away, and the aftermath of it all hurts much worse.

[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]

[ still a lot of angst, some wholesome moments, mentions of arrhythmia + brief hospitalization, fainting n nosebleeds, emotional constipation and baggage, majority of all the confrontations you’ve been asking for, reverse card (?), intense longing and yearning plus hurting that u can’t explain into words ]

notes: i am still in so much awe of all the love and feedback i’ve received from the first part + intermission. as i said before, this does come from somewhere and even if this is fiction, pls read with care bc this is on the heavier side <3 im very sorry yet honored to all da people who sent me an ask saying that the first part made them cry, so if u think that this is tOO much and you’re bawling with no breaks, pls take a breather!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) this is most likely not the last installment, so even if i have plans in making another part, hearing it from u personally makes me even happier n motivated :D | series masterlist

Emergency, Emergency, Emergency. This is Alpha, Juliet, Kilo. Can you hear me, Tower?

Jungkook feels like his heart is being ripped open at the sight, at the anxiety that lives in his chest — at the sight on his left; at the sight of you. He's flew planes countless times before, that's a given. He's been in the company longer than you do and he's just met you practically three weeks earlier prior to this, but he can barely recall the shock he experienced when you're not that much older than him and you're fresh in the company, but you already became captain. You're his captain. He's sure it was a fluke at first because when he caught wind that there would be a new pilot joining the airline, he became excited at first because he was always hyped up that he'd get to mentor the next one that comes in through the cockpit. He's sure his surprise was justified. That the hate he had for you at first was justified. After all, who wouldn't be surprised when they hear that the newest hire's previous job was being a personal assistant? That even if she's racked up 1,500 hours of flight hours and has her ATPL, not to mention the fact that she stopped working as soon as the specific requirements were achieved, she's already a captain upon entry to the company? And then he was paired up with you, hand-picked actually, by the president of the airline. Jungkook thinks it's normal to be mad. It's normal to despise you because it seems like you hadn't worked as hard as him but everything got handed to you so easily that it desensitizes his efforts. He's worked his ass so hard to even be in this company; he's been in here longer than you were, he has more hours than you do, and he's clearly the hardworking one between you both — why does he have to work under you out of all people? He thinks it's more than normal to be mad when he hears that your dad's the president of the company. Of course, that explains why you have it so easy and much better than he does. Because obviously, you're your father's only child — of course you'd be favored. Of course you'd be spoiled. But now? Now that he sees you on his left, body limp and passed out, Jungkook realizes that he's never once thought if you wanted any of this. Never realized if you've ever asked to be in this position nor wanted this treatment in the first place. He trembles, actually. For all the past three weeks, he's been faking his warmth to you because he thinks it would benefit him. If he wants the promotion, he wouldn't want to be snarky nor have bad blood with the president's daughter. He takes his time to ask you, to half-ass his concern for you, to make it seem like he cares. And you respond to him nonetheless, but the appreciation you've showcased for him was never staged like how he did it. It makes sense in Jungkook's head now — the empty eyes and the vague answers, the lack of a picture underneath your hat, and the hint of a tan line on your ring finger; all of those he's tried to connect to a discarded calling card you used to keep on your wallet for good luck, right at the trash bin in the rest cabin. Prod. JIMIN in a monochromatic card that's worn out from time with how it's aged on the sides, preserved intact at the expanse of your wallet, a handwritten note at the back of it. My first business card!!! Thank you, I love you.

Jungkook feels like his heart is being ripped open at the sight at the sight of you, realizing that he's misjudged you all this time but it's only when you're not talking; unmoving at all.

Affirmative, Alpha, Juliet, Kilo. What’s your emergency?

Seokjin’s back straightens even more the moment he hears the panicked voice in his headphones, keeping his cool.

He's what, three months in to the job? The deepest concerns he had to attend to as a controller were either turbulence or air traffic at most, but besides that, he's never really heard an actual call for emergency, much less a young panicked voice at the other end.

My captain passed out. Her nose is bleeding. She’s leaning on my shoulder.

Jungkook breathes in deeply at the weight of your head on his shoulder, wiping at your nose with his finger for the blood not to trickle down his white uniform; to distract him from the fact that you've fainted and are unresponsive.

She’s incapacitated then. Suspected unconscious or dead?

He chokes at the last word because not once did he consider the possibility since it was a far shot. He knows the controller he's talking to is just doing routine and his job but he feels agape somewhat, leveling his breathing in long paces.

Unconscious. I can feel her pulse. It’s f-faint, but it’s there. One crew member is a registered nurse, checking on vitals. Passengers are unaware of the situation.

He immediately noticed you were out the moment he's only heard silence when he expected you to relay the weather conditions upon preparation for arrival, looking at you in anticipation because if you weren't going to, then he'd be the one to tell Tower.

But he knew it. Knew there was a silence that lacked one less dimension of audible breathing. Knew it when he saw you with your eyes closed that you weren't just sleepy since you'd never do it on the job. Knew it when he called your name softly instead of your title but instead of being replied to, all he notices is the blood that gathers on your philtrum.

What’s your name, Alpha, Juliet, Kilo?

Seokjin raises his hand to flag down his superior and within a minute his senior is by his side, listening in to the conversation with all his concern. All eyes were on him and yet the nervousness he feels isn't for himself, but rather for the wellbeing of the pilot that audibly sounds worried.

He asks his name to ground him; to somehow calm him with the semblance of his name. They all speak with code and their names are basically rendered unnecessary, but Seokjin thinks it's needed this time. He thinks it'd help the pilot on the other line not only because it's his job, but also because he'd hate for the roles to be reversed and not one person thinks outside of the protocol.

First Officer Jeon Jungkook.

He speaks with no hesitation but his eyes are wary all-over, his neck oftenly craning to his left.

You are now the acting Captain of Flight 917, Jungkook. Are you able to land your plane on your own?

The taste of the title on his tongue should be sweet but he finds it the complete opposite, knowing that it's only a reminder of how he's failed you somehow. He could've intervened when he saw you being sluggish during the pre-flight check, or could've even made you take a rest for awhile when he saw you holding onto the lavatory door for support when you were all greeting the incoming passengers on-board.

He should've seen the signs. Should've been a better co-pilot. Should've atleast coaxed you to take a nap as he continues to monitor to forego lunch time. Should've noticed you weren't okay.

Affirmative, Tower. 15 minutes until arrival.

Jungkook's done this countless times before. He could land a plane by himself, with or without a senior. He knows he'll do well, but he's devoid of the awareness if he'll do it well enough because you're not awake. You're not like the other captains — you're kind. You'll praise him yet tell him gently on how he could improve his control of the brakes. You'll encourage him to make the landing announcement instead of yourself. You'll tell him he did a good job, to take it easy, and that you'll see him tomorrow.

Make short approach to runway 19, cleared to land.

He has a semblance of hope that you'll be okay — you should be, right? He doesn't know the controller personally but he feels like he can ask him for a favor even if it should be a given, the sentiment more than enough to prove that he's concerned for you not as a co-worker or a junior, but as a dear friend.

Able. Prepare emergency services upon arrival, please. She’s my friend.

Seokjin smiles gently to himself, making notes to call emergency services himself and not pass it to anyone else.

Will do, Jungkook.

It's not protocol to console the pilot but he feels like he should do it nonetheless, even if mere words aren't included in his paycheck. The acting Captain's soft please was too vulnerable that when he thinks about it, a little empathy wouldn't hurt; a round of tiny reassurance wouldn't harm anyone.

Your captain will fare.

( ♡ )

Jimin doesn't know how to face Yoongi at all.

He hasn't come to work ever since you left — didn't send his friend one message at all because he figures that he already knows what happened. He was always the sharp and keen one between the two of them, in fact, maybe he's even anticipated the whole breakdown.

Yoongi knows, of course he does. The moment that you've stopped reading his messages at the speed of light as soon as sent them, and Jimin didn't come into work the next weekday without so much of a notice, he knows.

What he did was work by himself. Wrapped up Eunji's EP and never entertained her curious yet devious eyes why Jimin isn't coming into work anymore.

Son Eunji, as an artist, is undeniably talented and charismatic. Her work ethic remains amazing and so does her drive even if she's spent quite the time in the industry. She's grace and genuineness personified — as an artist.

Son Eunji as an individual however, is cunning. She knows her way around and knows her own cues without buffering. She's consistent, driven at the most. She knows what she wants and won't stop until she gets her way to it, still poised as she shoots her shot even with her heel outside the boundaries. Even if it's unethical, even if it's foul.

Yoongi admires artists but never idolizes them; always giving a space for deficit because he knows no one is inherently transparent. He admires Eunji as an artist but he knows Jimin idolizes her. He always did.

His heart dropped the moment it set into his instincts that Eunji seems off. That Jimin is either oblivious or knows exactly what he's doing. Something was off when Eunji didn't flinch at all when he told her that you were Jimin's wife with every ounce of seriousness in his tone. That something's off when he checked the cameras to see that Jimin let her in so he could eat dinner with her.

Yoongi's all the more surprised to see Jimin come into work today, clearly down compared to the days he used to come in here when he had you at home and had Eunji in the studio.

He came into work two days after the EP was finally wrapped up. He didn't need to tell Yoongi he broke whatever emotional dependency and intimacy and affair he had with her because somehow, Yoongi almost always knows.

“Is it worth it? Is she worth it?”

He speaks thickly into the air when he realizes that Jimin just came into his studio to linger there, to just be with him and possibly talk to him (even if he didn't know what to say), instead of working.

Jimin didn't expect his friend to break the silence but he indulges in the venom on his voice nonetheless because he deserves it, one of the pinning questions in his mind stumbling from his lips in a shameful whisper.

“If you knew, why didn’t you stop me? Scold me, even.”

Yoongi stops. He actually stops doing the tracking beats he's been working and trying to perfect restlessly in favor of scoffing at Jimin, turning his body fully to seethe at him.

“And say what? That it’s only because I called you out that you stopped cheating on Y/N?” he's disappointed him and he has no ounce of mercy in trying to cover it up in favor of appeasing him. He doesn't tolerate Jimin and he will take sides, no matter what that means for their friendship. “What I did is tell Y/N what I saw, not what I assumed. I’m honest, Jimin.”

His friend in question pales as he desperately shakes his head no, eager to correct the assumptions plaguing Yoongi's mind.

“I didn’t — I-I didn’t sleep with her.”

He knows that.

Of course he knows that.

Yoongi may be blunt but he thinks Jimin's pathetic. He's still his friend but he thinks he's outright pathetic. He knows he's in a state of remorse and regret but he doesn't feel as much pity for him as he does for you, a clear show of his morals he always tries to keep in check.

“You don’t need your dick inside anyone for it to be considered cheating, dumbass.”

( ♡ )

Taehyung doesn't hire a personal assistant after you.

He doesn't hire one even if you've made him promise that he'd choose one from the handful of resumes you've hand-picked specifically for him. "They're much more skilled than me too, Mr. Kim. This would be great for you!" you've said to him excitedly, but that's just you.

That's your opinion. That's not his.

Two years ago he was lost beyond refuge. An entire company's waiting for him even if he didn't ask for it. It was shoved into his responsibilities and despite his name that people knew even if he's only stepped into the company floors once, as a child, one that had no idea he'd be named the CEO of several years later despite not wanting it at all — he was scared.

He was scared even if people did nothing besides looking up at him.

He was gonna start on a Monday and he hired you at a Sunday.

The whole meeting itself was impromptu. His dad's secretary gave him a whole box of resumes of aspiring personal assistants that bore such honorable degrees — all of those accolades, and yet they wanted to work for him. Him who barely knows anything about the whole marketing industry within itself outside of the spoon-fed and compulsory business degree his dad made him take, and yet these people wanted to work for him specifically.

He exhausted his own eyes reading sheet after sheet and he comes across to the last one on the bottom of the pile, his eyes skimming in surprise at your degree and he doesn't wonder why yours was at the very bottom. An off-chance. Perhaps an accident that was only mixed up in there but his eyes linger on your sheet the longest even if it wasn't even as lengthy nor decorated as the ones before you.

He meets you at a coffee shop on a Sunday, and the both of you start your first days on a Monday.

Taehyung is scared beyond his own relief and so were you, even though you'd never admit that you were terrified to know that you're perhaps the only one on the floor and the entire company with an unrelated degree and its accompanying experiences.

Taehyung was scared, but he was scared with you.

The both of you learned and grew together in spaces that were never built to house the two of you in the first place. It was terrifying and vulnerable to be in such esteemed positions that people would quite literally spend their whole life trying to gun for, but it was less terrifying and vulnerable with each other.

With you resigning from your position, Taehyung feels scared and anxious all over again.

The most he did was to assign two interns to the job that only belonged to you; one to take care of the calls, one to take care of his schedule.

He debates on texting you every now and then because ever since you've resigned, you haven't reached out even once. He's hesitant to do so because he thinks it'd be unprofessional, but after all, you're not working for him anymore and therefore it negates all crossed lines. The only link he has with you is your fiancé's wedding suit made by his personal tailor, but even that he's not sure of.

Could it be that you resigned because of your fiancé? Was it the pay? Was he not paying you enough that it made you quit?

Taehyung has to personally shake away all his thoughts because he figures that it's wrong to still dwell on your departure. It was your decision and the least that he could do is respect it. He knows he's not in any position to worry about you, but he knows you worry for him.

You worry for him when you see him fidget when he has a meeting with much older people that bear significant position within their own companies, the lines on their face telling him that it's their life's purpose to be the frontrunner of their business.

You worry for him when he types in emails that require great detail and attention and he triple-checks them for great measure, even beckoning you over to come take a look.

You worry for him when has to look over HR's reports of who's lacking and therefore needs to be fired because it seems like they're underqualified, and yet it's him who's sitting on the comfiest and most expensive chair in this building with his plaque that oversees papers explaining who's incompetent.

He worries for you too.

"Would this be Mr. Kim Taehyung? Of Kim Group of Companies? Would you happen to be related to someone in the name of-"

Taehyung hears nothing but ringing in his ears.

At first, he doesn't even know why the unknown caller's obtained his number in the first place, and his personal one at that. He thinks it must be someone he's blocked before (he has more than several) and it's just a new number that's calling him.

By the second sentence, his eyebrows furrow. He assumes it must be urgent somehow, and if it really was then it should be coming from his dad or atleast his secretary. Besides that, his number is never up for grabs for any of the other employees besides one. If someone wanted to know that you were working for him and his company, the HR's telephone lines would be provided.

By not even halfway through the first sentence, he realizes it's you.

It's from the hospital and it's about you.

He can't even begin to think that the reason he was called in the first place was because it's his calling card that it's in your pocket, linked to you directly. Your airline ID card was on you but it could only be traced back to you and your company in the event that it was lost, therefore doing nothing for them.

The hospital staff saw a picture folded in between your notes of money, but at a quick glimpse at you when you were wheeled in, the family of four on the fading photo doesn't include you at all.

They're mere faces; faces they can't trace, faces that they can't link back to you.

Taehyung listens attentively as he gathers his things and makes quick note to tell his makeshift assistants that he'd be gone much earlier or for as long as necessary, barely blinking as he listens to the speaker on the other line.

"O-oh. I'm sorry, sir. I did a quick search and it seems to be that you're the CEO of your company back there, correct? I'm afraid that Miss Y/N is in Jeju. Would you happen to know any of her relatives that I can call instead?"

Taehyung barely blinks at the fact that in order to get to you, he'd have to take an airplane. He's been given a brief explanation of your condition and what he's absorbed is that you're hurt, in a different place altogether, with no one.

"I'll see what I can do to check on her family and friends," he fidgets while he almost dashes to his car, thinking of the fastest route to get to the hangar that's a product of wealth he's somehow always been uncomfortable with, but now he's conveniently thankful for as he thinks about a certain private jet he doesn't have to check in baggage for nor queue lines with.

"It's okay, getting to her won't be a problem to me."

( ♡ )

Taehyung feels pity for you before he feels awe.

He feels pity for you at the base of his chest because the first person you'd wake up to wouldn't be your fiancé or family or anyone you'd want to be with the most in a hospital that lacks a sense of home — no, you'd wake up to him.

He's only connected to you as a formal boss; someone important enough to be in your wallet but not probably important enough to be considered as your first contact in a time of emergency such as this.

And then he feels awe.

He feels awe because such an unprecedented and terrifying thing happened to you mid-air but here you are, looking a little more vulnerable than how you used to in a hospital bed with sheets that aren't familiar like how they are in clinics back home, and yet the first thing you do when you wake up is gasp at his presence, the shock of seeing him dissipating into a warm smile.

"Taehyung? What are you doing here?"

You sound genuinely curious and surprised, no underlying malice beneath it. After all, who wouldn't be surprised to see your former boss as the first person beside you in this specific circumstance?

"Because you forgot to throw the trash in your wallet, that's what," he chuckles as he waits to see everything sink into your mind of how he ended up here, his face turning confused on how you unconsciously pout at him.

"But your calling card's my lucky charm," you tilt your head and jolt in place anyway when the curtain gets swept away, mumbling the rest of your words when you turn to greet the attending doctor to you. "I'm sorry that you had to be dragged into this, Mr. Kim."

He slacks at the return of the professional title, scratching the back of his ear because his wording and tone definitely could've used some more work if he just chose to focus on how relieved you looked having someone with you.

"It's Taehyung," he sighs as he nudges your elbow with his knuckle intentionally, looking away sheepishly as an attempt to apologize for sounding so dismissive of you, "and I'm here because I wanted to be here for you anyways."

You feel awe for Taehyung before you feel pity.

You're awed at how he's even here in the first place, the only context you had in mind being his calling card placed in your wallet and someone must've called him for you, but as straightforward as it sounded, it could've been all that you needed to know.

You know it's the time Taehyung would be leaving the office judging from the peek you took at your doctor's watch and it makes you think how if Taehyung's here, right now, he left the office during work hours — he left the city during work hours in favor of coming down here to be with you.

And then you feel pity.

You feel pity because he's still dressed in his expensive suit and you're reminded at the lengths your boss would go for you, the realization dawning in you that perhaps you're not exactly alone.

You pity yourself because you landed up here, with your former boss classifying as an emergency contact because there's no one else.

"Should I call your fiancé?"

"Yeah I'm — what? Hm?" you're preoccupied with answering questions from your nurse and tending to Taehyung at the same time that that you don't notice how he's angling towards your bag, having waited for you to wake up because as much as he felt compelled to ask for permission to call your family or better yet him, the guy whose name is Jimin whom he assumes is your lover for the numerous times he's seen the name in both your personal and work phones.

He's barely heard your confirmation (which really wasn't for him in the first place) before he rummages through your bag, already knowing his way around. He knows where you keep the gummies he munches on in between snack rides. Knows exactly where's your powerbank that became his overtime because he didn't want to lug around a brick. He's aware of which nook of your bag your phone's placed in and even knows the password, having played games and watched shows there before when he didn't want to open his own phone because of the notifications he gets.

Taehyung doesn't know why Jimin isn't visible throughout your recent notifications but it appears soon enough when he searches for him in your contacts, tapping to call the number without hesitation — he's even surprised when it gets answered at the first ring.

"Hello? Would this be Y/N’s fiancé?"

Your ears immediately prick that it makes you whip your head around and call for him sharply, slightly startling the nurse who's drawing your blood.

Taehyung immediately stops talking as he looks at you with a wide mouth, never having heard such a venomous tone from you. He even pulls away the phone from his ear, tuning out the voice from his hearing that he's unaware is already frantically calling out to him.

"We’re not together anymore."

It takes one solid second for Taehyung to understand and he immediately drops the call and practically your phone as if merely holding it burned him, mouth closing in distaste.

He apologizes at the miscommunication and how he's become a little too overbearing to you a little too quickly, being dismissed quickly with a smile that told him you understood — after all, it wasn't his fault. How would have he known if you've never even told him a single thing prior?

Jimin whines at his phone as if raising his voice to it wasn't enough. He's only heard incoherent mumbles before it was dropped so violently, swearing that he could've heard the sharp tap of the thumb ending the call.

Yoongi only looks at him blankly, only the least bit concerned about Jimin's state when he heard your name in the beginning because he mumbled it underneath his breath.

He only looks but he catches Jimin's gaze anyway, frantically shaking his head even if he wasn't interrogated about what happened in the first place.

"No, no. someone called me," he swallows, tapping the number again but it couldn't be reached this time. "The number's not accepting calls from me anymore but the guy said Y/N's name. He asked me if I was her fiancé and-"

He couldn't believe it at all. Jimin's been trying to reach you for weeks and this is the only time he's ever saw your number again, believing for a second that he was restricted during the time. Why was it your number but not your voice? Why would someone ask him a question such as that, especially coming from your number?

"It could just be a harmless prank," Yoongi scoffs because even he doesn't believe it, crossing his arms when even he knows too that a mention of the f-word such as that isn't harmless. "Y/N never said anything to anyone. No one knows that you're engaged."

It was true anyway. The only logical thinking behind the whole action of calling Jimin from your phone but from a different person altogether would be too far-fetched that it seemed comical.

Yoongi types a little too harshly on his keyboard.

"No one knows Y/N."

Jimin's on the verge of pulling his hair and his friend's words do little to even try and soothe the panic he feels in his stomach, the column of his neck burning.

"Maybe her phone got stolen. It's probably a pap wanting to dig dirt on you by mentioning her name at the same sentence as fiancé. Didn't even call you by your first name. He just wants to hear your voice, it's recognizable," he pokes his tongue to his cheek, snorting at how it's likely but Jimin still chooses to believe that someway somehow, you'd be the one to willingly reach out to him.

"Don't be delusional, Jimin."

And he tries. He tries not to.

He tries not to be delusional when he sits at the secluded smoking area for the sake of being alone, the lingering smell of cigarettes reminding him of the faint scent of it on his dad.

Tries not to be delusional that at the same time his dad crosses his thoughts, it's his number that appears on his phone. Apparently he's been calling him three times in a row and this is the only time he's noticed his phone was ringing incessantly in the first place.

He picks it up, was originally about to apologize for not getting to it sooner, but now Jimin just feels sick to his stomach.

His dad's always been a hit with the kids. Has always been a good friend and father figure to many which is one of the main reasons why he has so much godchildren, ranging from ages that are older than Jimin and even younger than Soomin.

One of his godsons are Kim Namjoon — the nice, tall older friend that Jimin used to play with consistently when he was a kid, but stopped being friends with after him and his family moved to Jeju.

Namjoon really doesn't want to meddle in his patients' businesses if it's not necessary but when he does his rounds in the emergency room for those who are just waiting to be placed in a room, and he sees you, he thinks it's necessary.

He hasn't met you before but he definitely knows you. He's seen you in countless photos in social media that his godparents are still trying to work their way around with, your name being tagged so oftenly.

He's confused to why you're here despite having seen your airline ID and uniform and even the rundown of what happened to you, you're only with this well-off looking guy that's been brooding ever since he got here.

Jimin isn't here. His family isn't here. You're here with a guy he hasn't seen before.

Namjoon doesn't know what type of moral compass he should let prevail at this moment in time while you, the rich guy, him, and his nurse are all within the curtain — but he calls his godfather nonetheless.

Jimin could only take so much all at once, his mouth drying to have heard your name linked in anything but positive news.

"She's... s-she's in the hospital?"

( ♡ )

You fall asleep after the multiple tests Dr. Kim made you undergo.

By the time you wake up, baby blue curtains don't greet you because it's instead a wide expanse of a room with much better lighting and a view that does, realizing it was already night and you weren't in the emergency room anymore.

Instead, you're in the private VIP hospital suite, and you didn't remember deciding on this room or any room at all for the matter.

"Did you get me transferred here?"

You speak particularly to no one right in front of you but it summons Taehyung anyway, coming from the large partition between your bed and what you assumed to be is the seating area that rightfully comes with this of an expensive-looking suite (this is in fact one of the only three rooms they have in the hospital), a smile on his face.

The meek upturn of his lips tells you enough, attempting to crouch just far enough to get your bag from the table next to you before he could even stop you.

"Charge it on me please," you make quick work of outstretching your card from in-between your fingers to Taehyung, a light-hearted chuckle leaving you when you notice his look of hesitance. "Don't worry. I can afford it now."

Taehyung looks for one, two seconds before he bursts out laughing, shaking you off as he pulls up a chair with cushions this time, sinking into them comfortably as he didn't even flinch when he swiped his card awhile ago for your room's amount that didn't even make a single dent to his account.

"Nah. Just consider this as an ex-employee benefit," he yawns, abandoning his suit jacket awhile ago to be in his white dress shirt that he's already untucked, taking solace on how someone's gonna be here the next morning to bring him his change of clothes and the extra things either he or you would need. "You didn't even take a sick leave anyway when you were working for me."

"You're not gonna go back home?"

You could only hope that he'd tell you he would go home because that would help alleviate your guilt of how he already far and beyond for you, yet you can't deny either that having company for the night would be something you wouldn't oppose.

"It's okay. You need a guardian anyway."

He chuckles when he sees your eyes narrow, reminding him of the times you'd deadpan at him when you walk on him playing Overwatch instead of tending to his job.

"I'm an adult."

"I know."

You know it's a lost cause to argue with Taehyung anyway but atleast you know now that you took your chances, tilting your body to lay more comfortably on your side when you think about a crucial detail. "Do you have anywhere to sleep in?"

"VIP room, I told you," he reminds, awed instead of pitying when he thinks about how you're worrying for him despite the state you're in. "There's a pull-out couch and I can ask the front desk for blankets and pillows."

If anyone told you what would be happening to you on this day alone, you wouldn't have been surprised with how it all seemed untimely and incoherent.

But if anyone told you that despite all the pacing of the past few weeks, or this day alone, that even for a night you wouldn't be alone because someone's there for you, Taehyung is, you would've thanked them for the bout of safety they've just allowed you to bask in.

You feel the urge to tell him the truth. You don't want him to carry your burden but for once, you want to feel like you have someone to share it with. The people you'd normally share it with aren't with you. They're your past. A reminder of your past and your dreaded present, knowing it'd be heavier to contain everything in.

You're not alone.

You shouldn't be alone.

Yoongi made you feel you weren't alone when even up to this morning, because that was the last time you've checked your phone, he checks in on you and tells you about things he think would lessen the pain your heart.

He did it when he didn't want to feel complicit for all the things he's seen and the instincts he's been through, taking the risk of being ashamed in the event that he gets proven wrong (he wasn't) than not telling you at all.

Taehyung makes you feel that you aren't alone by the time you tell him the breakdown of everything that's been going on in your life, details that didn't used to be privy to him because of the state of your professional relationship now being open.

He does it when he looks at you but this time it's without the pity. It's without the concern that's born out of not knowing what was going on. It's without the apologetic eyes of how he should've cared for you as a personal assistant as much as you did when he was your boss.

It's the warmth.

"Do you have anyone to pat your head for you?"

"What?" the question naturally catches you off-guard, shaking your head no as soon as you realize what he was asking. "I — no. I don't."

His question isn't something to dwell on for any longer because he hums with no critique in his eyes, making you blink twice for clarity.

"Okay," Taehyung says softly, tucking his left hand to the pocket of his slacks as he reaches out his right, gently placing it on the top of your hair.

"I'll pat your head for you."

( ♡ )

By the time Jimin learned you were in the hospital, the nearest flight he was able to book was the earliest flight the next day.

By the time he was boarding the plane, he bumps into his own family, only to know that they've booked the same flight unknowingly, only a couple of rows apart from each other.

Neither of them speak to each other. They don't ask each other why they're here in a plane bound to Jeju at the crack of dawn and their responsibilities abandoned.

Jimin didn't have to tell Yoongi he wasn't gonna be working for some days. His dad gave the neighbors a week's supply of cat food in case Miso comes looking for them. His mom cancelled on her once-a-year friend outing. Soomin made an excuse letter complete with a fake doctor's note to excuse herself from her classes for atleast the rest of the week.

None of them question each other. The four of them know anyway why they're here and who they're here for.

The concept of planes itself bring a chill on Jimin's spine as his eyes keep flickering on the cockpit every now and then, just hoping by a miniscule thread that all of this must be some sick joke and you've been comandeering the aircraft the entire time.

He pretends he doesn't hear it at all when this guy comes out of the cockpit and speaks into the intercom, the title of First Officer Jeon or something like that slipping his ears easily because it isn't as significant as your name.

Now that he thinks about it, Jimin hasn't seen you with his own two eyes working as a pilot — not even once. He knows he hasn't seen you in your uniform because of the exact reasons you've told him but here he is anyway; endlessly worrying but feeling pathetic nonetheless because he feels like he doesn't have a right to.

Jimin feels pathetic and he know he's selfish.

He's pathetic and selfish when he barely waits for his family who's moving as quick as him and almost shut the door on his sister when he hailed a cab that could get him to the hospital the fastest.

He's pathetic and selfish when he lets himself cry as the gravity of your situation dawns on him because you must've been so alone and vulnerable, unknowing either if his presence would've made it better but he thinks other wise.

He's pathetic and selfish when he bursts through doors and without conscience, tell the front desk that you're his fiancée and he needs to see you immediately, oblivious to how his anxious family behind him is added to the equation because none of them needed to act the role of being worried for you.

You're unaware of the turmoil brewing behind your door because Taehyung distracts you from the anxiousness towards your upcoming test results all the same, the bickering being light-hearted that it eases you immensely.

You're unaware of what happens to your heart the moment the door to your room is opened in blind panic, registering the confusion in Taehyung's face before you could recognize what's gotten him so shocked.

Jimin, most of all, feels pathetic and selfish when you look at him as if you're terrified — intimidated, blank, and unlike yourself when you take into sight the entourage of the all too familiar people behind him.

"I thought you left me for good."

You could only see a flash of hair before you feel someone at your side, embracing you for all of dear life and it's when the familiar fragrance of a house, not a home, guts you in the abdomen just as quick.

"Soo-?" you swallow the lump in your throat because she feels all too solid and all too real, your trembling hands above her skin being the one to remind you that she's exists. "Why are you here?"

"Jesus, are you okay, dearie? How are you?"

The scent of a particular house hits you from the other side of your bed, eyes unconsciously whipping to greet the eyes of the man that's looking at you with utmost concern.

"Mr. Park," you tremble in your words but he's the one who recoils at the unfamiliar endearment or if you could even call it one at that point, eyes unblinking as you try your best not to let your tears prick. "I-I'm in Jeju. We're in Jeju. How did you-"

"I'm sorry we couldn't have come sooner."

The maternal scent of the house takes you off-guard when she almost crushes you, embracing you with all her might just like how Soomin did but this time, it's desperation twofold.

You're overwhelmed and it makes you want to cry. Your VIP room is large enough to host a party of 20 and yet you feel suffocated, abruptly straightening your posture on your bed that rings the bells in their head.

"I'm Taehyung."

The deep familiar voice reminds you of your friend's presence and your chest deflates in relief, seeing him make himself known and visible to the room, shooting you a look of understanding.

“Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s old... boss," he clears his throat, a little crowded but not bowing nonetheless to the unclear gazes they give him. "I’m Y/N’s friend.”

None out of the four of them speak but it's broken as soon as Mr. Park pulls him into a hug, sighing in relief at the appearance of the tall and well-dressed man before them.

"Thank you so much for taking care of our daughter."

Your tears prick even more painfully and the tick of your jaw remind Taehyung why he even spoke up in the first place, maximizing the time that their attention was on him.

"I-I think it would be best if we all let Y/N breathe on her own right now. She looks a little overwhelmed," he lays it on as gently as possible and even attempts to deflect their realizing but concerned glances away from you.

"Right, right. He's right, honey," Mrs. Park agrees almost immediately as she reaches her hand out to Soomin, her other hand empty in the realization that Jimin's still rooted at the door.

They all know clear and well that Soomin wants to disagree with Taehyung, wanting to stay by your side.

Jimin's still frozen. His own eyes are pricking and they never left you, not even once throughout the whole time he's opened the door, but he feels like he can't see you at all.

He doesn't know if he can see you because he's unsure if this is even you at all.

"I'm sure your son knows when Y/N's overwhelmed."

Taehyung cuts the silence by speaking thickly into the air, a hint of a dare to his tone as he sets his eye on Jimin who takes the millisecond to spare him a look that's nothing but poisonous, clenching his jaw as he looks down on his shoes.

Who does this guy think he is? His features now appear in his mind that they did indeed belong to your former boss, the belated anger he had for him reforming again as he's the reason why you've made countless sessions of overtime. Of how he's worked you to the core and are probably a contributing reason why you ended up here anyway, despite switching jobs.

"Let's sit outside for awhile."

Jimin speaks and his family complies to follow him with no issue, leaving you alone with Taehyung once again.

You don't have the slightest clue of how they're here — of how Jimin's here.

Of why they'd even come all this way for you.

Of why he looks like he's devastated beyond repair as he's flown out to be with you and left his responsibilities, when he's proved to you once that you weren't enough for him to even stay.

( ♡ )

There has never been a more infuriating guy to Jimin than Taehyung who sticks to him like honey, shadowing him from behind with every move he does until it becomes overbearing.

He's annoyed that Taehyung tailed him all the way to the waiting area and sat himself at the other end of the row of armchairs. Angry at how he even thinks this guy has the right to act like the bigger person between the two of them; as if he knows something that he doesn't.

“Did you know Y/N’s a workaholic?”

The suddenness of the question isn't what made Jimin cough, but rather it's to how Taehyung even thought asking him would make him prove an unnecessary point or somewhat.

Who gave Taehyung the right to have his nose in your business that he isn't even involved in?

“Of course I do, she’s my fiancée. I know her like the back of my hand.”

Taehyung looks at the guy who was your lover of five years and he could see why you would love him, basing on the words you've uttered to him last night of how you've never loved anyone else like you love Jimin; a power so true that it's unknown.

But the more Taehyung thinks within the span of a second, he could see even clearly why Jimin, despite loving you beyond belief, has also hurt you unlike no other.

So he scoffs. He genuinely scoffs at the way the guy at his right sounds so adamant.

“She’s not.”

The sight of the two of them on both ends of the row is something to behold. It's ironic to anyone who knows anything beyond the level of superficiality.

The way they sit is different. Taehyung stands proud as if he has everything underneath his pocket but Jimin's hunched over, cold and calculating as he looks like he's weighing the world on his back.

It's on the difference of their outfits and their state. Taehyung’s been here earlier, longer, but he looks tidy and well-rested. Jimin’s just shortly arrived but he’s messier, more disturbed. He's unkempt.

"You don't even know what happened to Y/N that made her land up here."

"I don't know yet," Jimin bites back but the guy barely flinches, leaning to the cool metal more as he looks at him lazily.

"Don't you think you're being unfair by bringing your family with you?"

"Don't talk about them," he grits because the fucker's clearly crossing a line that he's not even familiar with, completely sure that no one would ever truly understand just how much is shared between you. "They came here to see Y/N for her sake because they care for her. They didn't come here in behalf of mine."

He's so angry that he only sees white, seething with every word.

"Don't talk as if you know Y/N," he rolls his eyes. No one knows about you as much as he does and the fact Taehyung seems so mighty is what pisses him off. "You're nothing to her."

"I'm her friend," Taehyung sing-songs, tilting his head forward to Jimin. "And you are?"

Jimin clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he humorlessly laughs, shaking his head in disbelief at the absolute gall and ego this asshat had on himself, fists clenching in attempt to calm himself.

"Did you know Y/N's a workaholic?"

Taehyung repeats, but this time he's met with no reply.

"Because I do. She takes up overtime practically everyday."

Jimin doesn't know at all where he's leading with this but he chooses not to speak, knowing that the moment he opens his mouth, he would immediately lose the diminishing amounts of self-control he could only muster to have for so long.

"I know it because she asked me about the suits I wear and she wanted to buy one for you," he picks at his cuticles, the pity he has rising up to his throat like bile. "Wanted to save up enough to buy you an expensive suit for you to wear at your wedding."

Jimin freezes and he doesn't even care if Taehyung finds him out like that. He's unmoving and he remains that way as the lump in his throat grows in size, lodging a singularity that even if he tries clawing at it, it would do nothing for the shortness of breath that he feels.

"My tailor sent the rough cut with your measurements to my address. Have you been home enough to realize that one of your suits is missing from your closet?" he doesn't relent, remembering the text he's gotten just last week but decided against on forwarding to you because he wasn't sure if you would reply to him. "I didn't tell Y/N because she probably wants nothing to do it with anymore."

He didn't tell you because he felt something was off.

Didn't tell you because he didn't know enough back then, but now that he knows, Taehyung's ever so sure that the bundle of fabric wouldn't ever reach the designated owner.

"Your suit doesn't fit me."

"It doesn't fit you because it's not meant for you."

"Oh, I know that."

Taehyung twirls his silk handkerchief with his finger, looking at your lover straight-on without quivering, no matter the misplaced anxiety he feels.

"I'm just saying that your wedding suit makes a nice pair of pajamas for me."

( ♡ )

Something bad always happens on Soomin's birth month, or even the day of.

It's something she's shared to you one night, on the day that you came over to spend time with her and Jimin's family but you were oblivious to the fact that she and Mrs. Park had a big fight the night before.

It just happens, she explains. It's her personal string of bad luck that makes her dread for her birth month to even come, much more anticipate her actual birthday if not for you that gave her something to look forward to.

Soomin thinks that this is it.

She thinks that her loss of you in her life is the worst luck she's ever received in her whole life because it incapacitates her whole, leaving a gap on her heart that only takes up to the shape of you.

"I'm sorry he hurt you like that."

She's nuzzled to your side as you've allowed her to, holding onto her firmly because it feels like she's slipping away from you in the bed. There's a railing that cages you into her but it feels like she's going through the cracks, the inevitable fall being plausible despite holding onto her just as tight,

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from my own brother."

"Minnie," your voice cracks despite having only spoken a single word to her once for the time she's sneaked into your room by herself, your heart tightening at how she's blaming herself for a sin she wasn't even aware of. "I-it isn't your job to protect me."

"B-but you're my family."

She cries to you so hardly that you only hear her. You don't feel the rush of the pressure to your ears from suppressing your urge to cry. You can't even hear your own pounding heartbeat with how she folds in on herself just sobbing.

"Your parents and Jimin are your family."

It's the truth that's apparent. It's unavoidable. You're not Soomin's family and nor are you anyone else's. You're a stand-in, is what it feels like. You're a placeholder and a seat warmer for someone that's always gonna be greater and better than you; someone you can't be.

"Y-you're not supposed to be on my side. I-I'm not your blood and flesh, Soomin. You know that."

You only try to be gentle and yet she cries even harder that she trembles, feeling the pain of grieving for someone who's alive yet out of her grasp, an unmistakable feeling of contrition for being here in the first place.

"How could he let you go like that?" she trembles with everything she has, her hand holding onto yours that didn't have your IV sticked in it, closing her eyes so tightly that she sees static.

Soomin's empty from the inside out and she's found solace on a big sister she's never had. On a big sister that's just as old as her brother but she feels everything to her all at once. Her shelter, she feels. An embrace she can come home to at the end of the day, warm even when everything else is freezing.

"How could I let you go?"

Her pain is what breaks you and it hurts even worse than your heartburn, whispering the words to her because it feels like you can't even breathe at this point.

"Your brother unlearned how to love me, Soomin. You can do it too," you smile in encouragement but it's the words she'd want to hear last in her life. “Eunji can be your sister.”

Soomin stops her sobbing as she vehemently shakes her head, making herself dizzy even more with how much she exhausted herself crying. "I don't want her. I hate her," she seethes, "I fucking hate her so much."

You remain silent as you watch her bury herself to your side even more. As if you're the lone neighborhood cat an abandoned kitten cuddles up to for warmth, unrelated yet engrained.

"I don't want to forget you."

Soomin admits in a whisper when she feels her head throb, getting her last words in before she lets herself succumb to sleep, holding you as if it's her last time.

"I can never forget you."

( ♡ )

There are only several people you feel warm with outside of them.

Yoongi, the one who was with you in the beginning.

Taehyung, the one who was with you all along.

Jungkook, the one who was with you at the end of your rope.

It's Jungkook who's the second person of your second day in the hospital who bursts in through your door, tackling you by the side (with utmost care) to engulf you in a massive hug.

"Don't ever do that to me again."

He visits you straight from frigid cabin air, fresh from all the flights he volunteered for in behalf of your schedule you had to forego. He didn't complain, not even once when he knows all too well that what you must've felt is thrice more exhausting, in all aspects, than how he felt.

You look better now than how you did two days ago and it gives him relief, but not enough to the point that it brings the light back behind your eyes. It was barely even there when he first met you, but now they seemed more of an abyss more than they seemed like relief.

"I was so scared. Did you know that?"

"I could tell," you chuckle at the sheer comic relief Jungkook's presence alone brings you, already feeling lighter in your smiles. "I couldn't hear you when I was out, but I could tell."

The last recollection you have of what happened to you was having Jungkook look at the side of your face intensely before the wave of whatever it was that knocked you out crashed, your memory as hazy as it was incomplete.

"You probably cried to Tower or something like that."

It's a careless guess but you know you must have struck in a nerve somehow, seeing Jungkook's lip purse and his eyes avoid your playful gaze persistently.

"God, I hate you."

It's a welcome moment of purely just laughter between the two of you. It's a relief to laugh over something that's happened to you as if it never even happened at all, making you breathe without a single hitch.

It's warm even after the laughter dies down, the look of determination being plastered on your junior's face as he clears his throat.

"Y/N, I flew to here," he picks at his thumb. "I flew your dad."

You didn't expect the change of degree with the words exchanged between the two of you but just like Jimin's appearance, you know it's something you can't avoid together.

You chew on your bottom lip in anxiousness, an unknown type of parental longing blooming in your chest after so long. You don't know if he'll visit you at all. For what it's worth, he could just be here for business.

"You've known him longer than I did. You see him in the company more than I used to see him at home when I was a kid," you look down on your hospital gown, unable to meet Jungkook's eyes. "Did he seem worried?"

It's a question he didn't anticipate but he welcomes it nonetheless, answering you truthfully.

"Yeah. He didn't seem like himself."

It fills you even if it's the minimum. It fills you up even if it's a scrap because it's the feeling akin to not having anything at all — enough to make you feel needed.

"Okay," you nod surely. "Thank you, Jungkook. Thank you for looking out for me."

"Anything for my captain."

Jungkook gives you one more hug and the promise he'll visit soon again, exiting the door quietly but he practically yelps when he's greeted by a lady that's familiar, worried in her eyes but soft in her features — has he ever seen her before?

She's waiting, it seems like.

"O-oh! You must be Y/N's friend! How is she?" Mrs. Park asks but she's afraid that she down-right terrified the guy. "Sorry, I just got here. What happened to her?"

"Right! You must be Y/N's uhm-"

Jungkook tries to find the word or even locate the face, just knowing that she seems familiar somehow and he can't deny it.

"Mom," she answers with no hesitation but later clears her throat when it's too quiet, realizing that the guy in front of her must know too. "Mom figure. I-I'm kind of like a mom to her, in a way."

It's enough.

Jungkook can feel it. It makes sense. He tells her.

Tells her the way you've been feeling a little faint ever since that morning and how you continued up until late noon, never taking a break in the rest cabin.

How you've refused to eat your meals because you felt like you had heartburn, feeling as if your chest was tightening and you were immediately gonna throw up what you eat.

How you were getting a little too quiet, your head leaning forward as if it was heavy before he sees the crimson red ooze out of your nostril, the sight obviously being foreign to yourself even.

How you pick your head up but it leans backwards as if there's a weight to it, your eyes closing and your whole body obviously going limp even if you're sat down.

How your heartbeat was slow and he could barely hear your pulse.

( ♡ )

Mrs. Park and Soomin think that Taehyung is perhaps one of the most beautiful men they've ever seen in their entire lives.

Dr. Kim allowed and even encouraged you to get some fresh air, as long as you were in a wheelchair to avoid unnecessary straining with someone else pushing you because someone told him (it was Jimin but you don't know) that you're quite the mastermind when it comes to attempting to do everything yourself, not admitting that you needed help.

You were gonna be kept here for less than a week until you feel stronger. Until all the tasks could be ran and interpreted. Until you master your spirometry test and can blow the little balls up to the top of the casing, until it no longer becomes a competition between you and Tae who has trouble with it too.

Taehyung gleefully volunteered himself to push you and even no matter how much you tried to convince him that you can do it yourself, it only became the equivalent of conversing with a wall.

The two of you were in the elevator when Mrs. Park and Soomin were just about to enter to visit you upstairs, stopping in their tracks sheepishly at the sight of you.

They want to be with you too.

"Well aren't you a handsome man?"

Taehyung laughs openly, flicking your ear as if to remind you that you're also hearing what he's hearing.

"I try my best."

Jimin watches — he does nothing besides watching. He's never tried approaching you when it's only the two of you even if he's had plenty of windows. Didn't try getting the two of you alone because as much as he wants to talk to you, he's scared.

He knows. He knows now what happened to you because his mom cried last night to him of how painful it must've been for you. He knows because he's spent the last hour crying to his hands when his mom spoke in whispers of what happened to you, tearing up herself for something that wasn't her doing.

He's hurting but not as much as you do and it pains him — it pains him that the only way he could hurt is through you and yet you do nothing. You don't give him the hell he knows he deserves. You don't give him the pure hurt he's supposed to feel because that's what you are — never the one to share your burdens; never the one to give him pain because you wanted to shield him away from it.

“I’ll take it from here, buddy.”

Jimin's shoulder barely even grazes Taehyung's and yet he recoils, stepping away immediately.

His mom and his sister freeze briefly but they continue walking. They don't say anything. They're only here to be with you.

The sky's upset with how the thunder rumbles, the tiniest droplet of rain getting on your hospital gown that it reminds you you're still outside.

Jimin takes his hoodie off and puts it on you, putting the hood up to your head in the event that the rain gets rougher and the winds get colder, wanting to bring you back inside because he doesn't want to risk anything.

His scent is there.

It's on his hoodie.

It's everywhere.

It's overbearing, all at once.

( ♡ )

There's something comforting about your doctor.

He looks inviting and welcoming, his dimpled smiles enough to make you know that he must be a favorite in the hospital by many of his patients.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?"

Dr. Kim asks as he comes to your side, shooting Taehyung a pleasing smile too as he acknowledges his presence.

You answer and yet it isn't you who does so too, or atleast you're the one who does it verbally.

Jimin and his family are sitting just beyond the partition where your hospital bed lays and where the reception area of your VIP room resides, giving you privacy.

His family sleeps at a hotel nearby, it's more than decent, but they barely get any sleep at all. Jimin didn't book a room for himself. He's slept last night while sitting up but it felt like a nightmare within itself.

They aren't even sure if Namjoon knows that they're there but it's too late for them to slip out of the room unnoticed, calming their breathing in the process.

It's ironic. People you looked to as family, now tucked away and hidden.

"Finally gathered all the results for your tests today, Miss Y/N."

To be honest, you didn't even know that today would be the day you're getting the results for what Dr. Kim made you go through, a relief in your chest that it'll soon be finally over, but a sinking one at the opposite of it because it just feels like you won't be out here as easily.

Dr. Kim is welcoming and inviting. Warm, because he needs to.

He needs to before he breaks the news to you.

"Does your family have a history of arrhythmia?"

Your mouth becomes dry at the mention, blinking your eyes in succession.

"Not that I know of, no."

He nods once, immediately understanding. "Arrhythmia is a heart problem that's linked with how it beats. It's an irregularity, per se. The heartbeats of someone who has arrhythmia aren't coordinated."

Namjoon pauses in his words as he looks up at you, patiently looking up at him without an ounce of fear.

"According to your ECG, how do I-?" he straightens his dress shirt, looking at you personally because somehow he feels for you, even if he only knows you to a far degree. "You've said that you experience heartburns, right? Quite frequently nowadays?

You nod meekly.

"According to the tests I've ordered, you have arrhythmia. Bradycardia, to be exact."

The term piques at your ears and you're unaware of how you've tuned everything out because it feels like it's only you and Namjoon at the moment, your tunnel vision fixing upon him.

"I do?"

You verify but you're calm. You don't sound panicked — you're composed even if it's Dr. Kim who seems to be more nervous between the two of you.

"Is she gonna die?"

Taehyung asks in a panic, blinking fervently when Namjoon dismisses him with a squeak, shutting down his worry instantly because he was bothered by it too.

"Your heart rate's slow. That's normal, it happens to a lot of people more than you think," he explains. "But what happened to you in your flight, it was just a little too slow. It missed one, two beats repeatedly."

It makes sense even if he's only said so little, the awareness you've had all this time being unexpectedly named at this point in time.

"What you have is mild bradycardia. You may have not noticed the symptoms before because they felt normal to you. The fainting incident only happened now, correct?" you nod surely as you're transparent, still casting light doubt over Taehyung who's worried out of his mind. "Do you feel fatigued even if you haven't done much? Lightheaded, even. The chest pains, the heartburns, they were symptoms too."

Your heart, as if on cue, tightens. It wraps over your own chest like it has its own coil but oddly enough, it doesn't hurt. It merely squeezes you but it doesn't suffocate you. The ache just reminds you that it's there simply because it exists.

"If it got to this way, your body and mind must've normalized it enough that it only felt like regular days. Regardless, what you do have is mild bradycardia," he reassures you, a close-lipped smile on his face. "Your routine medical tests in the airline are accurate despite this. Your heartbeat is just slow enough to be considered normal, it's still medically acceptable to be in your line of work. I uh, I may have to put you in observation for the next two weeks to a month because I wouldn't want you to go back to work to faint again. I'm sure your co-pilot who was crying in the ambulance and all the souls onboard wouldn't want their captain fainting either."

It's over.

It's done.

You have your prescription already and Dr. Kim's finished giving you your results, already feeling much free and yet it feels like you're the only in this room who's relieved.

"You're right, I've checked. It doesn't seem to be congenital and it doesn't run in your family. All the other tests came out clear."

Not only were they clear but they all surpassed the healthy levels of what should be normal with flying colors, deducting to his final cause.

"Have you been emotionally stressed and exhausted these days? Psychological tolls, traumas and high anxiety can normally trigger mild bradycardia."

You didn't expect him to add more and yet you nod but you don't meet his eyes.

Taehyung only looks at Dr. Kim softly as if to tell him that this should be enough even if it's his job, the latter catching on fairly quickly.

"You're not gonna die, Y/N. Don't let Taehyung get into your head," he snickers and it alleviates the tension in the room, making you chuckle.

"It may not be entirely possible, but moving yourself away from psychological stressors can help significantly."

He's oblivious to the very people behind the partition, ones that he didn't seem to notice.

He's oblivious to how his godfather holds Mrs. Park so tightly as he suppresses his cries softly.

Of how Soomin is blank and unmoving at all.

Of how Jimin is the one who cries the hardest but is the most silent, putting his own hand on his mouth as he feels his knees give out to the carpet underneath him, the pain in his chest exceeding the ones he's ever had the experience of feeling.

( ♡ )

It's okay — you should be.

Knowing what you have somehow gives you a new perspective altogether. It alleviates the pain in your chest from time to time that you allow yourself to be hurt because it was meant to be there.

It was always there from the start.

"You're getting released tomorrow."

Taehyung sings to you as he spies the tiny frown in your face to cheer you up, opting to stand beside you instead of pulling up a chair. "You okay?"

His tone's lighthearted but you know it packs much more than it should in the first place, setting a tentative glint to your visage.

"I can't tell either," you answer truthfully but there's no shame when you say your next words, the period for that long gone in your state. "I want to feel, Taehyung."

His brows raise in genuine curiosity, fixing his posture to get a better look at you and to gauge your reaction.

"What do you want to feel?"

"Anything."

He merely chuckles at the candid answer but he knows it's the truth nonetheless, bringing up his hand to pat your head.

Taehyung stands a little too close to you, the soft smile on his cheeks making you mirror him, the words leaving your lips before you could contain them.

"Can you kiss me?"

And he does.

Taehyung leans to your side of the bed, as gentle and as sweetly as he could, his warm hand on the side of your face before you get to taste him, the smile appearing in your face instantaneously.

You don't look for his lips when he pulls away because you're thankful to have it on yours in the first place, a snort from him coming out as soon as you make eye contact after.

"Can you feel now?"

"I felt it."

You feel him poke at your cheek and it reminds you of the warmth, tilting his head to meet your eyes.

"I don't wanna take advantage of you, Y/N. You're vulnerable and it happens that I'm here," he says sincerely. "I feel vulnerable too, seeing you like this."

You understand where he's coming from and so does he, a complete connection between the two of you that's not as fragile as a kiss between two people would be.

"Just a kiss, Mr. Kim. I'm not asking you to marry me," you playfully roll your eyes, the laugh escaping you before you get to finish your words. "We all know how that turned out for you the last time."

It's painful but it's happy, a genuine laugh being fished out of you and Taehyung finds himself mirroring your sentiment, burying his face in his hands.

"One last vulnerable kiss," he leans in to press to you, catching you off-guard but you entertain it regardless. "And I'm getting you something else for lunch because stealing your hospital pudding makes me feel like I'm doing you a favor."

It's okay.

You feel okay.

( ♡ )

Jimin knew he had all his inhibitions out the door the moment Dr. Kim entered your room awhile ago.

He's pathetic and selfish and to hell if he stands by it, the whole gravity of everything that's been happening to the two of you, to you, knocks his equilibrium as a whole.

He's lost his way and it overthrows him completely because it seems like a maze with its only purpose being to close around him, the heartburn in his chest being a mainstay.

It wasn't there in the start, but now it never leaves.

Jimin cries even before he gets to your door because he feels too weak enough that opening it makes his arm give out, one glance at your bed to know that you're alone tonight and it's only the two of you.

You know it was him.

You know it's from the way he opens the door and how he sniffles outside his room, his sobs echoing in his ribs.

He only sees you and it reduces him to tears at the first glance, barely even making it near your bed before he collapses on his knees and folds himself on to the floor on the sheer pain he feels, dragging his knees to the floor to get to you — practically crawling.

"Don't do that," you mumble under your breath, your heart panging at the sight of Jimin.

But he doesn't hear you. He can't hear you until he's near to you enough to see how you're still yourself but you look different. You're unlike yourself and it's almost as if he can't recognize you.

Is it you who changed or is it him?

“My mom’s been going to the temple to pray," he admits to you on his knees with his hands on your arm, no matter how you try and nudge to pull him up to his feet. "Prayed that the heavens will take your pain away," he smiles through tears, "she's repenting in behalf of me."

There's something wrong with your heart and it shakes him to his core and hurts him like no other, your heartbeat too slow and yet you're here — still here as if you hadn't spent the last five years with him with your heart in the state, the pace enough to love him in slow motion.

He cries to your chest the moment you've regained enough strength to pull him to his feet by surprise, making you remove the barrier that separates you both.

It's heart-wracking enough to hear him because he sounds distinct enough, but it's even more heartbreaking to see him as is in such a state. He's holding to you on whatever way he could, making your tears spring nonetheless.

"Jimin," you whisper, the words leaving you with no warning. "Taehyung and I kissed awhile ago."

It's silence.

He looks up at you and he's not angry. He's not annoyed either. There isn't one bit of disdain on his face regarding what you've said, seeing him nod instead.

“That’s good. That’s nice. I’m happy for you.”

The gears turn in your head but he catches you in surprise when he pleads to you, your breath getting caught in your throat.

“Kiss him again.”

Your eyes bulge from their own sockets as you tilt your head, wanting to yell at him and yet it never comes because your voice sounds too frail; to unlike your own at your disbelief.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to be unfaithful.”

He's asking you to be unfaithful even if now, there's nothing between the two of you.

Unfaithful, just like I once was, he was about to say.

He doesn't have to digest your words because he's already processed it long before, nodding even if you haven't said anything.

“It’s okay if you sleep with him. Sleep next to him even.”

Jimin's eyes well up with tears and it brings you to your own, unsure if you were looking at a mirror because it feels foreign. Feels all too new to see him in this state.

Is it you who changed or is it him?

“As long as you come home to me, please,” he brokenly mumbles, enveloping your hands within his own. “As long as you come home to me.”

It's a singularity that forms in your chest that expands the more you see Jimin hurting — the more you see him pleading to even have a sliver of you to himself.

It's a pain that grows in your heart that you weren't even sure is built to house a mass so big, making you sob within your own chest.

“It’s okay if you aren’t fully mine,” Jimin nods as he assures you, lip trembling as he tries to make you feel that he's sincere with his words because he's more than willing. “As long as I’m yours.”

“One day, you’ll wake up and it isn’t me anymore, Jimin.”

“That day will never come.”

Jimin shakes his head no as fast as you've raised him the possibility.

You don't know if it was you whom he picked the morning he woke up and decided that Eunji makes him happy, but what you do know that it's you now. That he's pleading for you without end.

“I’d rather not wake up than have the day when it isn’t you anymore happen.”

“Let me go, Jimin," you could only whisper because it could only hurt so much when you say it out loud.

“That’s the thing,” he whispers back, hands trembling. “I can’t.”

“You can let me go, if you want," Jimin offers and you don't know if you're hearing correctly, stinging eyes looking up at his that are boundless with how much he continues to search for you even if he's holding you. “But I can’t say that I can do the same.”

It's your hurt that pains him the most.

“Yell at me. Cheat on me. Slap me if you want,” he tries to take your hand and yet you fight his will to even tap your palm lightly on his cheek. “Whatever you give, I can take it.”

“I can take it, I swear.”

Jimin smiles through the heartburn, wiping at his tears as he tries to wipe at your own.

“I promise I’ll take it.”

HES SO LOVELY

The story behind Yoongi’s iconic chicken little spiked hair

Bonus: 18 yo Yoongi being his iconic self (for reference hehehe).

[cr: vid - @jung-koook​, tr - parapiobuin]

amen

why do we need exams why can’t my professors just trust me

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again. 

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

“you would die for her, for him.”

“You’re dying.”

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

“At this rate, you won’t have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn’t have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I’m afraid there’s not much to do.” He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future’s passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair’s arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, “You’re an idiot, y/n.”

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