hours in silence

If you compared your company, Beyond the Sound, to a rose, then Jin would definitely be the thorn. A big ol’ prick. As the other junior talent manager at your company, he drove you insane. Whereas you chose to use skill and knowledge and your relentless drive to achieve your goals, he preferred to coast along on his charm. And his considerable good looks.

As much as it physically hurt you to think nice thoughts about him, you couldn’t deny that he was one gorgeous man. Tall, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a small waist. Long, thick black hair that kissed the nape of his neck and fell into his eyes when he didn’t wear it swept off his face.

And that face. Dark, expressive eyes that crinkled merrily when he laughed, which happened a lot when he was schmoozing clients. Plush lips that puckered when he was displeased, which happened a lot when you were around. Cheekbones and a jawline to die for.

It was a fucking perfect face and you hated it.

You took a seat, crossing your legs demurely as your boss, Sejin, cleared his throat.

“I’m sure by now you’ve both heard the news. Irene is leaving us.”

Since it had been the only topic of conversation around the office for the last two days, you had in fact heard the news. Irene, the company’s hotshot manager, was leaving for greener pastures (aka more money from a larger management firm).

“She’s leaving us in a bit of a lurch, too. But the company’s loss is your gain,” he continued, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. “I think it’s time for a promotion.”

You sat up slightly, as did Jin.

“I’ve been more than pleased with the two of you and how you’ve served the company over the last year. You’re both in line to be promoted. But, there’s only one spot available - the one being vacated by Irene.” Sejin paused, letting his words sink in.

One spot. Two candidates. You glanced at Jin, only to realize he was already looking at you. Assessing. Narrowing your eyes, you turned back to your boss.

Sejin stood and looked out the floor length windows that made up the back wall of his office, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed the city below the high-rise. “I mentioned earlier that Irene is leaving us in a bit of a tight spot. The two of you are familiar with Euphoria, correct?”

Of course you knew Euphoria. They were one of the company’s biggest clients, an incredibly popular band from South Korea who had helped make Beyond the Sound into the powerhouse it was. Volatile didn’t begin to describe the band - they were the most chaotic group of artists you’d ever come into contact with since you’d started working in the music industry.

Well, okay, you personally hadn’t had much face-to-face interaction with them, beyond a quick hello at a party or industry event here and there, but you’d heard plenty of horror stories during your time working at Beyond the Sound.

The three members each had their own distinct idiosyncrasies that made them difficult to manage. Lead singer Park Jimin was an incredibly gifted vocalist and guitarist who hypnotized fans with his sexy shenanigans on stage. Unfortunately, this also led to a lot of offstage sexy shenanigans, and your company was usually scrambling to cover up any potential scandals caused by his various romantic entanglements.

The bassist/saxophonist/keyboardist Taehyung (just the one name, like he was Adele) was a renaissance man and a true artiste. Unfortunately, he took that second label extremely seriously, and was prone to flaking on public appearances or locking himself in his studio for days on end if he felt something or someone was interfering with his “vision.”

And then there was the drummer, Jeon Jungkook. Essentially the human version of Animal from the Muppets, he was loud, unruly, and prone to literally running amuck while the other two members were usually arguing.

They were exclusively Irene’s responsibility.

Sejin appeared to be waiting for an answer, so you and Jin both chirped, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. The band is releasing a holiday album this year - titled “Sleigh, What?!” - and in order to drum up publicity for it, they’re putting on an exclusive one-night-only concert, to be streamed around the world.”

Ah, so the rumors were true.

Euphoria reinvented themselves with every new album. Their first album was r&b-influenced boy band pop; the second, a punk rock fantasia; and their last, an ear-shattering mashup of screamo metal and EDM that left fans confused and led to a short-lived breakup followed by an immediate reunion. From what Sejin was saying, apparently they’d decided the best way to score a big comeback was with a collection of festive tunes. You’d heard whispers about the album through the office grapevine, but had chalked it up to a joke, assuming someone was mocking the band’s tendency to swing wildly from one genre to another.

Clearly, you’d been wrong.

“When and where is the concert?” Jin asked as you pulled out your phone to take notes. He arched a thick eyebrow, glancing at your phone, then tapped his temple, implying that he didn’t need to write anything down. Rolling your eyes, you waited for your boss to answer the question.

“Next month, the week before Christmas. And it’s being held in Christmas.”

“It’s… what?” Jin tipped his head as you paused in your typing.

“They’re putting on a concert in Christmas. As in the town about 1500 miles from here, in the Northeast. We struck a deal with the mayor - he’s letting us put on a show there to promote the album and his little middle-of-nowhere village gets major press for hosting one of the world’s hottest bands.”

You frowned as your thumbs tapped across your screen. “Wait a minute… I think I’ve heard of this town,” you stated, looking up from your notes. “It’s a real tourist trap, isn’t it? They have a Christmas-themed store that’s open year round, and all the mail stamped in the Post Office says “North Pole” on it, that kind of thing, right?”

Jin laughed. You winced, annoyed at his mirth. “Sounds like the setting for a Hallmark movie.”

Sejin nodded, returning to his desk. “Yes, and that’s exactly why we chose it. We really want to lean into the homespun holidays character of the place. The goal is for people to associate Euphoria with Christmas - both the town and the holiday - so that when the album drops, they’ll all buy it. Spread that magical cheer in their own houses with it.” He paused. “Or whatever. You get the idea.”

It was a cynical cash-grab, in other words. Just another day at the office.

“Everything has already been arranged - travel details, lodging, venue, an interview with that dreadful morning show Rise and Shine!, and so on. Irene has done her usual job of making sure everything is squared away down to the final letter.”

“So, what do you need me to do?” Jin asked.

You scowled before correcting him. “What do you need us to do, sir?”

Sejin smiled, but it seemed less comforting and more apologetic. “We need you to go to Christmas with the band. Both of you, together.”

If you’d had a piece of coal in your mouth, you would’ve produced a diamond from grinding your teeth so hard.

You didn’t want to go to this cheesy little town called Christmas, especially this close to the holidays, when the place would be swarming with crowds of sightseers. You didn’t want to have to babysit Euphoria and try to keep them from imploding yet again. But most of all, you absolutely did not want to be stuck in that tiny village supervising the band with Seokjin Motherfucking Kim.

What the hell did you do in a past life to deserve this?

“You’ll be responsible for ensuring that Euphoria makes it to all of their scheduled events. Especially the concert. Look, I’ll be frank.” He removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If they miss the interview or the meet and greet we’ve arranged, it will be unfortunate, but not the end of the world. But they cannot miss this concert! We need this performance to revive their fanbase and boost their album onto the charts. If “Sleigh, What?!” tanks….” he trailed off, looking at you and Jin in turn. “Then Irene won’t be the only one leaving Beyond the Sound.’

Well, fuck. Basically, if you and Jin didn’t pull this off, one or both of you would be fired? Fantastic. Just the cherry on top of this crap sundae.

“No problem, boss,” Jin cooed, shooting Sejin a set of finger guns. You grimaced. How had this guy’s schtick not worn thin by now?

If your boss found Jin as corny as you did, he didn’t let on. Instead, he simply nodded. “I have the utmost faith in both of you to handle this situation. I know everything will run smoothly and according to plan under your supervision.” He glanced at the shiny, undoubtedly expensive watch that adorned his wrist. “Please reach out to Irene for your travel details and itineraries. She’ll have everything you need.”

You rose to your feet. “Thank you, sir.” Spinning, you swiftly stalked towards the door, Jin close on your heels.

“Looks like we’ll be spending Christmas together, Princess,” he drawled as his long legs quickly caught him up until he was walking by your side.

“No, we’ll be working together before Christmas, and how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” you retorted, firing him a dirty look. He just grinned, holding the door open for you to exit your boss’s office. You didn’t bother to thank him, but that didn’t deter him from continuing to walk with you.

Jin had gifted you with that nickname during your very first week at work. One of the managers you were shadowing offered to buy the two of you lunch as a reward for a stressful day of training, handling a temperamental solo act. Fresh out of grad school, you were broke and more than appreciated a free meal. But you were a bit particular about your order and took a long time, and for some reason Jin decided that made you a princess.

So you were a woman who knew what you wanted and weren’t afraid to ask for it. Was that really such a bad thing?

The nickname drove you crazy. You weren’t a princess, some fairytale creature who would only have value in relation to the men in her life - the prince or the king. Fuck that noise. You stood on your own two feet and claimed your own victories.

Yet no matter how many times you asked him to stop, Jin refused to listen. Now, a year later, the pet name persisted, a constant reminder of how aggravating he was.

After a few minutes of walking briskly, trying but failing to shake Jin, you arrived at Irene’s office. Knocking on the door, a quiet voice called for you to enter.

If there were a pecking order at Beyond the Sound, Irene would stand at the top of the pack. She was everything you aspired to be - glamorous, perfectly put together, and fierce as hell. No one fucked with Irene. Not even Jin. He knew she’d rip him to shreds with her signature blood-red stiletto fingernails and not break a sweat. Or a perfectly manicured nail.

You really wished you knew her secrets.

“So, Sejin saddled you two with Euphoria duty, huh?” she inquired, gesturing for you both to take a seat.

“I’d say unfortunately yes, but you’ve been stuck with them for years, so it doesn’t feel right to complain,” you responded.

Irene smiled. “They’re not so bad if you keep them in hand. I advise you to set a firm line with them from the start.” She eyed the two of you carefully. “The guys can be very charming when they want to be. Don’t fall for it.”

She looked directly at you when she said that last statement, and you frowned. Was she suggesting…?

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she keeps it professional,” Jin smirked. “No client/manager relations on my watch.”

“Excuse me, are you questioning my ethics?” you snapped, rounding on your coworker. “I certainly do not need you telling me how to do my job or - or monitoring my interactions with my clients!”

“Of course you don’t, Princess. Forgive me,” he apologized, but his grin belied his words. “But maybe I’ll just keep a sharp watch just in case.”

“I will email you all the info for the trip - flights, lodging, itineraries,” Irene ignored your sniping, as everyone in the office was long accustomed to the two of you squabbling. “Every day has been planned down to the last minute. All you have to do is make sure the band sticks to the schedule.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jin trilled, and you fought the urge to gag.

“Thank you, Irene,” you replied graciously. “Your hard work won’t go to waste, I assure you.”

Irene just smiled, a vicious grin that actually sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, truly, I don’t care! By the end of the week, Euphoria will simply be an unpleasant memory for me. They’re your problem now!”

As you left her office, Jin snickered. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really looking forward to this trip even more now.”

You spun to look at him. “You know what I’m looking forward to? Getting the promotion.”

“Oh, you think it’s yours already?”

Stepping closer, you glowered up at him. “I know it is.”

“We’ll just see about that, Princess.” He winked, walking backwards as he headed towards his workspace. “Can’t wait to see you all bundled up for the chilly weather. Bet you look real cute in earmuffs.”

You clenched your fists so hard, your nails nearly drew blood. You couldn’t wait to kick that jerk’s ass. That promotion was yours.

**********

As irritating as the nickname was, it wasn’t Jin calling you Princess that made you hate him.

It was the Nevamind incident.

A few months into your time with Beyond the Sound, the company tapped you to work with a recently signed artist, an up-and-coming rapper who went by the stage name Nevamind. He’d been building buzz online with a series of mix tapes featuring brilliant lyrics and ridiculous beats, and it would be your job to get him ready for his debut album release.

For several days and a few long nights, you threw your every waking moment into creating an action plan for the rapper. You wanted to show your boss that you were ready to handle managing on your own, so you worked your ass off to prepare.

Excited, you showed up to the first meeting with the artist feeling nervous, but ready to share your ideas.

Only to find Jin waiting to meet with Nevamind as well.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out, staring at your coworker who had risen from his seat at the conference table, expecting the rapper to be the one walking through the door instead of you.

“I’m presenting to Nevamind, obviously. What are you doing here, Princess?” he responded with wide eyes.

“Uh, no, I’m the one doing the pitching! And don’t call me that!”

“Actually, you’re both pitching,” Sejin declared, entering the room behind you.

Apparently, there had been a misunderstanding. You weren’t assigned to help Nevamind, you were being asked to present your ideas to him. Along with Jin. Whomever the artist picked (with your boss’s input, of course) would become his manager.

This mix-up didn’t rattle you. No, if anything, this simply fueled you even more, now that it was literally a contest. Forget your anxiety - you were fired up, determined to win.

Jin sold his idea first. It was hardly a proposal - no slideshow, no binders showing statistics, just a measly single page handout. And him mostly talking off the cuff, flashing that killer smile, even throwing in a wink or two as he promised the moon to the rapper.

You were aghast at your coworker’s breezy attitude. Was that how he worked? Did he really care so little? He wasn’t just unprofessional, he was a total buffoon. It was all you could do not to laugh during the entire meeting, since your boss was also present.

Then it was your turn. Nevamind seemed to agree with the plan you painstakingly laid out with your multimedia presentation - interviews with some huge media outlets, a series of streaming episodes giving a behind-the-scenes look at the album’s completion, and then a major party to celebrate the release. You even got a bit of a flirty vibe from the rapper, but you quickly shut that down, wanting to maintain a firm boundary between work and pleasure. By the time you left, you were more than confident that Nevamind would be your first client.

Instead, a week later, that asshole was announced as the rapper’s manager. All your hard work went down the drain.

How on earth had that guy won? Flabbergasted, you turned to your coworkers for an explanation. Everyone had their theories - Nevamind preferred a male manager, or Jin blackmailed your boss for the job, and so on. The rumor mill churned, but you never got a satisfactory answer, and you stewed in your anger, knowing that your plan was the better choice.

Within a month, Nevamind had terminated his contract with Beyond the Sound. Jin managed to fuck it up somehow, and that just stoked the flames of your wrath.

At a happy hour gathering a week after Nevamind dumped your company, you found Jin sitting alone at the bar, looking slightly rumpled in his designer suit. Sliding onto a stool next to him, you ordered a drink before swiveling to face him.

“So. How’d you fuck it up, Jin?”

He didn’t reply, just shot you a glare.

“I still don’t understand how you even got the assignment in the first place. That proposal of yours was a joke.” Several whiskeys into your night, all the nasty things you’d been thinking about your coworker started to slip from your lips.

He set his gin and tonic on the bar and regarded you carefully. “I got the job because I’m good at what I do. Maybe managing isn’t all about statistics and powerpoint slides. Did you ever consider that?”

“Maybe not, but this job requires a hell of a lot more effort than what you give, Jin. I mean, that’s pretty evident considering your first client fired you within a month. Perhaps next time, you might try actually working?” You swirled your drink with the little stir stick, tapping it against the rim of the glass to emphasize your point.

Again, he leveled a long glance at you, taking his time before answering. “You know what? Believe what you want to. I’m sure you will no matter what I say. That seems to be how you operate.”

“Whatever,” you shot back. Not the most eloquent comeback, but you were too tipsy to care. “Just don’t expect it to happen again. You winning, I mean. That was a fluke. Next time, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Is that so?” He tossed back the rest of his drink, rising from his seat. “Then bring it on, Princess. Show me what you’ve got.”

“You can’t handle what I’ve got, Jin.” Wait, was that what you’d meant to say? Maybe not, but you were flustered by how close he stood to you, and whatever you’d intended to say had gotten lost in the ether.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find Jin attractive. Even though he vexed you with everything he said and, well, everything he did, too, you still found yourself distracted by his stunning looks.

Your pulse began to race as he examined you with those dark eyes, wandering slowly over your frame. He towered over you as you peered up at him, and your breath hitched as he bent towards you.

“But I bet you wish I’d try, right?” he whispered, hot breath tickling your ear as he exhaled. You shuddered, and with a smirk he walked away, leaving you sitting alone, head spinning.

From that moment on, he shot to the top of your hit list. Seokjin Kim, enemy number one.

**********

Three days, four nights. That was how long you’d be in Christmas. That was how long you’d have to suffer through this nightmarish work assignment with your nemesis. You could do this.

You chanted those words to yourself as the days flew by after your meeting with Sejin. Over and over again, repeating them until they became your mantra.

But now, sitting on the private jet, on your way to Christmas, you were starting to doubt. Just a little.

Introducing yourself to the band went better than you expected, given all the awful testimonies about the members that your coworkers had told. Each had politely greeted you and bowed.

Good to know they had some manners after all.

In the meantime, Jin strutted onto the plane looking like he’d just walked off the runway in Paris, wearing a gorgeous three-piece navy suit underneath a stunning long red and black plaid coat. The entire ensemble was Louis Vuitton, which you knew only because he wouldn’t stop yapping about how he’d had to show the boutique’s sales person his company ID because she didn’t believe him when he said he wasn’t a model.

Was it possible for a person’s eyes to roll right out of their head? You feared you might find out on this trip.

But seriously, who flew in a suit?

Not that Jin was the only one taking advantage of your travels to purchase a new wardrobe. Flying to the wintry northern half of the country meant you’d bought a few essentials - some cozy sweaters, wool skirts, thick tights and several pairs of boots (both dress and snow). You’d also splurged on a Burberry puffer coat and a pair of Gucci leather gloves, in matching black, to help keep you warm.

The perks of having a company card.

Once the plane took off, you’d intended on using the time to review the week’s itinerary as well as to set some ground rules with the band. But you might as well have tried to fly across the country by flapping your arms. You’d have had a better chance of accomplishing that.

“Guys, can we please focus?” you implored the group for the fifth time. No one responded. Jimin flirted with the flight attendant while Taehyung read an intimidatingly thick book on the history of jazz rock. Jungkook had completely tuned out, a giant pair of VR goggles on his handsome face as he played some game.

Meanwhile, Jin was sitting across from you, doing nothing to disguise his laughter at your struggle to get the band’s attention.

You scowled. “You know, this is important for you, too. Do I need to remind you what is at stake here?”

Jin sighed. “Oh, take a breath, Princess. Let them settle in a bit, then we’ll run through the schedule. They’re literally a captive audience.” He cocked his head, considering. “Although Jungkook is an experienced skydiver, so I wouldn’t put it past him to jump out the door at any moment. Though I hope the lack of parachutes would at least give him pause.”

“Fine.” Leaning back in your seat, you pulled out your phone to scroll through your notes. Jin leaned over to gawk at your screen. “Excuse me! Do you mind?”

“Just curious if you were actually going to relax. Doesn’t appear so,” he replied, flagging down the flight attendant. “Can I get a whiskey, neat? Thank you.” “Really? Drinking at this time of day?” It was only just past noon when you’d finally taken off. Jin shrugged. “I fly better when I’m a little tipsy. Plus, if you’re going to be this tightly wound, I’m going to need to be even looser. You’re giving me second-hand anxiety.”

“God forbid you be serious about your job for once,” you muttered under your breath.

The flight attendant brought Jin his drink and he smiled politely before giving you a scrutinizing look. “I’m perfectly serious about this job. I just have my own methods for getting results.” He winked, and you clicked your tongue in disgust. “What I want to know is, do you ever relax? Let your hair down, allow yourself to have a little fun while you’re working?”

“I have plenty of fun,” you sniffed, grabbing the pashmina shawl you’d stuffed into your carry-on and wrapping it around your shoulders. You always froze on flights. “But I don’t let it interfere with my responsibilities. The job comes first.”

“That’s where you and I differ, then. Fun comes first.”

“You mean, you come first,” you rejoined.

Jin smirked, and you realized you’d walked into a trap. “Oh no, it’s only fun for me if others come first. I always make sure of that.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Every time.”

Cursing yourself for setting him up, you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your plush leather seat, hoping he’d take the hint and stop talking. He did, but not before you heard him snickering to himself.

Three days, four nights. The clock was ticking.

**********

The closest airport to your final destination was two hours away, so a chartered bus had been set up to transport you and the band. Most of their equipment and belongings had already been sent ahead of them, so a whole bus wasn’t technically necessary, but you appreciated having a little space.

Because the guys were driving you insane.

Halfway through the five hour flight, you’d awoken to the dulcet tones of Jimin and Taehyung arguing. As usual, Jin was useless, somehow sleeping through the loud curse words pinging around the cabin of the plane. You wondered how many glasses of whiskey it had taken to knock him out like that. Jungkook still had his headset on, but he was now pacing around playing some sort of dueling game that had him pretending to slice everyone in half with a joystick sword.

It turned out to be a fight about nothing - an argument over which movie to watch - but it was enough to give you a slight headache. Which did not bode well considering you were only slightly over two hours into your whole trip. But you stepped in and calmed them down, promising they could both watch whatever they wanted since they weren’t even sharing a screen, and then collapsed into your seat, hoping to rest. Discussing the week’s plans would have to wait until later, when your coworker would be more helpful. Or at least conscious.

On the bus, you took a seat near the front, frowning as Jin slid in beside you.

“Really?” you asked, gesturing wildly. “All these empty seats?”

“Yah, calm down, I just wanted to see if you wanted to go over the schedule now, while everyone’s still awake and quiet.”

That was actually a useful suggestion. Color you shocked.

“I suppose this would be the most opportune time,” you conceded, standing up to gaze at the members who had strewn themselves across seats scattered throughout the bus. Jin followed as you staggered down the aisle towards the band, the swaying of the bus making it difficult to walk a straight line.

“Uh-oh, here come Mom and Dad,” Jimin sniggered, legs dangling over the armrest of his seat. His pink hair hung in his face as yawned widely. “Are we in trouble again?”

Nope. You didn’t care for that one bit.

“I’ll thank you for addressing us both by name, Park,” you declared, and he quirked an eyebrow at your commanding tone, lips twisting into a smirk. His eyes ran up and down your figure as you stared him down.

“Yes, noona,” he purred, arching an eyebrow. Irene’s warning echoed in your ears.

You were going to have to tread carefully with this one.

Jin said nothing, seemingly content to let you run things, surprise surprise. You continued.

“I know you’ve all been given copies of this week’s schedule, one printed and included in your carry-ons and one emailed, but I thought we should run through it just to confirm that we’re all on the same page.”

No one answered. You plowed on.

“Tonight, we just need to settle in. The bed & breakfast we’re staying at has been completely booked by us, so we have the whole house to ourselves. It’s the,” you consulted your notes, “Blitzen Inn. The proprietors have assured us that we will have total privacy there, since it’s fairly out of the way.”

“Wait, we’re staying at a bed & breakfast, noona? Not a hotel?” Taehyung piped up, removing his gigantic headphones, shaking out his silvery-white locks.

“That is correct. Despite the tourist trap nature of this place, it’s a pretty small town, so they don’t have a lot of lodging options.” And most of the hotel rooms had been booked by the fans who would be attending the concert.

“So no room service? No on-call masseuses?” Taehyung pouted. “No free mini bottles of shampoo?”

“You’re a millionaire, Tae, you can buy all the shampoo you want,” Jin commented.

“But I like the little bottles.”

“Anyway. Tomorrow there is an early morning interview with Rise and Shine! You’ll be joined by the mayor for that as well, and the local newspaper will be there, taking photos. We’ll be at the venue for the taping, and then in the afternoon you’ll have time to rehearse. Thursday morning is more rehearsal time and then a fan signing event at Santa’s Workshop, a holiday-themed store that will be the first place to stock your album. And then of course Friday is the concert. Saturday morning, we’re back on the jet and heading home.” You glanced up. “Any questions?”

“Will they have little bottles of shampoo at the bed & breakfast?”

“Does anyone else have any other questions?”

Jungkook raised his hand.

“You don’t have to raise your hand, Jungkook. What’s your question?”

“Noona, how does it work, exactly? Do they serve us breakfast in bed?”

You turned to your coworker, who had stretched his long frame across two seats, cackling as he listened. “Do you want to help me out here?”

Jin sighed, sitting up. “Do you guys have any questions about the schedule? It’s not too packed, but it’s important that we stick to it very carefully.”

Three heads shook no.

“Great! Then just relax for a bit. We should be at the Blitzen Inn in about another ninety minutes or so.” Jin laid back, his tiny bit of effort completed for the day. He’d probably exhausted himself.

Sighing, you trekked back to the front of the bus, taking a window seat and slinging your legs onto the space next to you so as to prevent anyone (Jin) from sitting there.

“I think that went well.”

Apparently, he’d decided to sit right behind you. His face appeared over your shoulder, in the space between the back of your seat and the window.

You snorted. “Of course you do. You didn’t do anything.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, you did stay conscious for the whole discussion, so I suppose that’s something.”

His laughter made you grimace. You reminded yourself that you just had to put up with him for a few days. Once that promotion kicked in, hopefully you wouldn’t have to deal with his bullshit again.

You leaned against the window, staring at the scenery as the bus trundled along. It was certainly a different view than what you were used to, living on the west coast. Verdant mountains rolled across the horizon as the sun began to sink from view. Exhausted after a stressful flight, your eyes began to droop as the bus’s rhythmic bouncing lulled you to sleep.

**********

The Blitzen Inn stood at the edge of town. Two rows of tall pine trees lined the winding road leading to the inn. The bus barely fit, but thankfully no other vehicles were approaching from the opposite direction.

Stretching, you took a moment to admire the house as the bus approached. A white two-story colonial with black shutters and a wraparound porch, decorated with hanging garlands and a large green wreath with a big red bow on the front door, it very much looked like something straight out of a holiday movie.

A garden took up one entire side of the house, though it had been turned over for winter. Around the other side of the house stood a large white gazebo, adorned with strands of white Christmas lights. Behind the house was nothing but trees, as the house was nestled against the border of a forest.

Green trees, green grass, green everywhere. How disappointing. The temperatures had been unusually warm in this region for this time of year, according to the weather reports you’d watched religiously in the week prior to leaving home. Having grown up in the land of sand and sun, you were hoping to see some snow on this trip. Just a little would do - enough to turn the land into a sea of white.

Ah, well. This was a business trip, and there was more than enough to focus on besides pining for snow.

The bus gradually rolled to a stop and you disembarked, boots crunching on gravel as you strolled towards the house. Your breath hung in the chilly night air, tiny puffs that dissipated as you walked, and you pulled your coat a little tighter around you. Once again, Jin nipped at your heels.

Two men waited by the door, a platinum blond who wore a blindingly bright smile and a smaller, slighter man with hair black as night who merely blinked languorously as you neared.

“Good evening,” the blond man greeted you, bowing slightly. “You must be Ms. _. Welcome to our home!”

You bowed in return. “Thank you.” You instructed him to call you by your first name. “This is my colleague, Seokjin Kim.”

“Call me Jin,” he said, bowing.

“I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi, and this is my husband Yoongi,” the blond man introduced himself and the dark-haired man, who simply nodded.

You turned to introduce the band, but none of them had reached the porch yet. Jimin and Taehyung were standing in front of the bus, bickering about who would get to stay in the presidential suite (neither aware that the bed and breakfast did not have suites), and Jungkook was sitting in the gazebo, silently gazing up at the lights hanging above.

Huffing out a sigh, you gestured. “That’s Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. They’ll be along in a minute.”

“No rush, they’re welcome to explore the grounds,” Hobi replied with another grin. “Why don’t we help you bring in your bags and then we’ll show you to your rooms? I’m sure after all that traveling, you’re about ready to crash.”

Luggage in hand, Hobi took you on a quick tour. Despite its large size, the interior of the house was incredibly cozy. There were six guest rooms upstairs, each with its own bath. Downstairs, there was a kitchen, dining room, another bathroom, sitting room, and library. The owners had a master suite down a hallway in the back.

You tried not to gawk, but it honestly felt like you were walking through an issue of Architectural Digest. Hardwood floors, wooden ceiling beams, and dark wood accents flowed throughout. All of the rooms downstairs had fireplaces, and the sitting room also included a baby grand piano tucked into the corner. The decor was an intriguing mix of antique and modern, from an exquisitely carved dining room table and chairs to a comfy couch straight out of a Swedish furniture catalog. And Christmas decorations had been stuffed into every available nook and cranny, with more poinsettias, wreaths, and Christmas trees than you’d ever seen in one house.

Walking through the house felt like touring Martha Stewart’s wet dream.

“How do we want to divide up the rooms?” Jin asked as you climbed the stairs.

“I don’t think it really matters, unless someone has a preference,” you responded. You followed Hobi to the end of the hall. “I'll take the first room down here.” Hobi nodded, carrying your bags inside for you.

“Then I’ll take the next,” Jin said. “Unless you’d prefer to share?”

What a stupid question. You stopped to gawk at him. “Why the fuck would I want to do that??”

Hobi returned to the other end of the hallway, where the band members were attempting to determine which room was the largest, despite multiple assurances that they were all the same size.

Jin leaned against the doorway of his room.

“Have you ever vacationed in this part of the country before during the winter?”

“No.”

“Well,” his voice dropped low, “it gets awfully cold out here at night. You might want something to snuggle up to. Keep you warm.”

“And what, you’re offering yourself as an option?”

“If you’d like.”

You’d spent a lot of time working with this man, and most of it glaring at his handsome face in exasperation or disgust. He often gazed back at you with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. And there it was again.

But there was a tiny glimmer of something else, too. Something that made a slow heat crawl along your neck, despite the loathing that flowed through your veins.

Before you could even begin to envision his suggestion, you shut it down.

“That’s what blankets are for, Jin,” you sneered, opening the door to your room and slipping inside before he could reply.

Needing a few moments to yourself, you surveyed your room. A king-sized bed lay in the center of the room, covered in a fluffy stack of pillows and a plush down comforter. In the bathroom, you found a claw-footed tub, shower stall, and pedestal sink, and a soft white robe hung on the back of the door. Fresh white roses arranged in a slim vase greeted you on your nightstand.

The room would’ve been perfect for a relaxing vacation or romantic getaway. Too bad you were stuck on the work assignment from hell.

**********

After freshening up a little, you rejoined the group downstairs. Everyone had gathered at the dining room table, which Yoongi had piled high with snacks - charcuterie boards overflowing with meats and cheeses, plates of crackers and toasted breads, and multiple platters of every Christmas cookie you could think of and even a few you didn’t recognize. You were more exhausted than hungry, so you nibbled on a gingerbread cookie while rehydrating.

“We received your itinerary,” Hobi informed you as he placed another platter of assorted cookies on the table. “Since you’re our only guests this week, we’ve adjusted our meal times to meet your needs.”

“Thank you, that’s wonderful,” you replied. “We appreciate your flexibility.”

“Of course. If there’s anything else we can do for you while you’re here, just let us know. Our home is your home.” He smiled and excused himself to join Yoongi in the kitchen.

The band chattered happily amongst themselves as they gorged on the delicious treats. You scrolled idly through your phone as Jin leaned across the table towards you.

“Care to join me for a nightcap? Hobi gave me a tour of the sitting room while you were upstairs and there’s a decanter of whiskey in there with my name on it.”

You glanced up. “A nightcap? Don’t you think you should get to bed so we can get a good start tomorrow? We have to be at the venue early for the interview.”

“Oh, come on, just one drink. It’s been a long day. Let go a little.” He waved his hand. “You know everything’s all set for tomorrow. But if it’ll ease your mind, we can still discuss the itinerary while we drink.”

Seokjin Kim, focusing on work for once? This you had to see.

“Fine. Just one.”

A pair of gorgeous red velvet couches sat on either side of the ornamental rug in front of the fireplace in the sitting room. Curling up on the corner of one, you tucked your legs underneath you as Jin played bartender with the decanter.

Handing you a tumbler, he lifted his in a toast. “To a successful trip.”

“To my promotion,” you countered with a grin.

“Okay, Princess, let’s just enjoy the drink, shall we?”

You dutifully clinked your glass against his, then brought it to your lips.

The delicious aroma washed over you as you swirled the brown liquor in your glass before taking your first sip. As the liquid coated your tongue, you held it there, savoring for a moment before swallowing.

“Mmm,” Jin hummed, inspecting his glass. “I think I need a bottle of this.” He smacked his lips obnoxiously.

Turning the glass around in your hands, you stared at the gentle sloshing of the liquor. “It’s sweeter than I typically prefer, but still has a bit of bite to it.”

Jin cocked an eyebrow. “You some kind of whiskey connoisseur?”

“Maybe,” you retorted, chin jutting out. “I’ve tasted enough to know what I like.”

Whatever dumb rejoinder was forming on Jin’s lips was interrupted by Mariah Carey.

🎵 All I want for Christmas is yoooooou 🎶

You cocked an eyebrow at his choice of ringtone.

“Tis the season,” he grinned, answering. “Go for Seokjin.”

Fuck, he even answered his phone like a tool.

“Hello, sir,” he suddenly sat bolt upright, glancing at you. “Yes, she’s here. Of course, one moment.” He set the phone between you on the couch.

“Okay, sir.”

“Good evening,” your boss’s voice boomed. “I assume there weren’t any problems with your flight?”

“No, sir,” you replied, frowning. Your boss wasn’t the type to micromanage, and he definitely wasn’t the type to phone just to exchange pleasantries. If he was calling, it meant he was extremely stressed about this album release.

“Good. The band isn’t giving you any trouble?”

“No, sir.”

“No issues with your travel or lodging arrangements?”

“No, sir.” You felt like a broken record, repeating yourself.

“Good, good. And everything is all set for tomorrow’s interview?”

Jin finally jumped in. “Everything is completely taken care of, sir. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I give you my word that by the time you’re awake tomorrow, Euphoria’s Rise and Shine! Interview will be the top trending item on every social media platform.”

Stabbing the mute button on his phone, you turned to your coworker as your boss expressed how pleased he was to hear Jin’s response. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

He clucked his tongue. “Have some faith, Princess. I know what I’m doing.” He unmuted the phone as Sejin began to wind down. “Thank you for checking in, sir. I really appreciate it. We’ll have Euphoria back in the number one spot by the time we touch down back home on Saturday!”

“Let’s hope so. That promotion is riding on it. For one of you, anyway.” As if you could forget. “Have a good evening.”

“You too, sir!” Jin pocketed his phone as he finished his whiskey.

“Holy shit, Jin, do you always have to kiss so much ass? How the fuck hasn’t Sejin gotten tired of your bullshit yet?”

“Are you jealous? I can kiss your ass too, if you want. Or anywhere else you’d like.” He puckered cartoonishly.

A gagging noise was your response, making him laugh. His stuttering windshield wiper giggle hit you like nails on a chalkboard.

You drained the last drop of your whiskey and stood. “Okay, I’m calling it. Good night, Jin.”

“Good night, Princess. Don’t forget - I’m just a wall away if you need me.”

You just rolled your eyes, dodging as he blew you a kiss. That ridiculous squawk of a giggle followed you up the stairs to your bedroom, where you closed the door with an exhausted sigh.

Saturday couldn’t arrive fast enough.

**********

At five am on the dot, you tossed back the plush blankets on your ridiculously comfy bed and climbed out. Pausing by the window, you glanced out at the forest behind the house. Dawn was still several hours away, so the world outside was cloaked in darkness. Not an early riser by nature, you sighed, shuffling off to shower yourself awake.

To your complete lack of surprise, you were the first to arrive downstairs. Hobi sat at the dining room table, sipping on a mug of coffee, while Yoongi bustled back and forth from the kitchen, arms laden with plates of food - sausages, bacon, home fries, pancakes, basically any breakfast food you could think of, he brought out.

“Good morning,” Hobi beamed.

“Good morning.” Taking a seat, you smiled gratefully at Yoongi as he set a steaming mug of coffee in front of you. “Yoongi, you’ve outdone yourself. This is a veritable feast!”

“That’s my Yoongi,” Hobi cooed, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “Always spoiling everyone.” Yoongi dipped his head in embarrassment, but not before you caught a little gummy smile lighting up his handsome face.

Feet pounded down the stairs, and Jungkook stuck his head into the dining room, purple hair bouncing. “Oh shit, that looks good!” he crowed, grabbing a plate and loading it with food. Jin arrived not long after, and followed suit. Jimin and Taehyung drifted down last, immediately digging into Yoongi’s banquet.

Jin was once again dressed to kill in another crisply tailored suit, this time in charcoal grey, a white tie expertly knotted at his throat. Meanwhile, you had dressed in a chunky oversized sweater and thick wool skirt with your knee-high boots, wanting to look stylish while staying warm at the concert venue.

And then there was the band.

Of the three, Jimin was the most casually dressed, if one could consider wearing a two thousand dollar red satin Saint Laurent jacket to be “casual.” Underneath, he wore a simple white t-shirt, with several long necklaces dangling on his chest, and black jeans. Taehyung appeared to be headed on a dreamy date, dressed in a blousy white top, slightly unbuttoned, with a black boutonniere and a black and white scarf tied loosely around his neck. And Jungkook’s tall frame was adorned in a sheer black top under a leopard print button up, completely unbuttoned, and obscenely tight leather pants.

Not exactly the best outfits for an interview about a holiday-themed album. You made a mental note to look into purchasing some ugly Christmas sweaters for the fan-meeting tomorrow - surely you could find those at Santa’s Workshop, right?

As everyone ate in comfortable silence, you cleared your throat.

“Morning, guys. We need to leave here no later than seven for the meet and greet with the mayor and the Rise and Shine! taping. Remember, this is live tv, and the local paper will be there to take photos as well. So please, no swearing and no rude gestures.” You stared directly at Jungkook, who nodded.

“Got it, Mom,” Jimin chirped as he reached for another stack of pancakes.

“Park.”

“Sorry, noona.”

**********

Despite your months of experience working with the media, and despite the fact that you yourself were not going to be on tv, you were nervous as fuck as the band prepared for their interview. Tiny pinpricks of sweat began to bead on your forehead as you and Jin watched from the wings of the stage.

The venue for the big comeback concert was the town’s small community theatre space, a boxy room with a simple stage and approximately 200 seats in the audience. Beyond the Sound was clearly hoping for an intimate experience for the lucky ticket holders, all of whom were longtime Euphoria fan club members who had been randomly selected in a raffle.

Rise and Shine! had sent a single camera operator and one producer to oversee the remote interview, and they were hustling about, preparing for the live feed. The photographer from the local paper was sitting in the audience, waiting for the mayor to arrive so she could snap a few photos of him with the band. Meanwhile, the band members themselves were helping each other touch up their makeup. So you were left with only Jin to calm your nerves.

Naturally, he wasn't helping.

Instead of focusing on the scene in front of him, or helping you take your mind off of your anxiousness, Jin scrolled through his phone, giving off the appearance of a man who would rather be anywhere else in the world.

Well, honestly, so would you, but you had a fucking job to do, so you were going to make sure it went off without a hitch.

"Shouldn't the mayor be here by now?" you asked, glancing at your watch. In less than fifteen minutes, the irritatingly chipper hosts of the morning program would be streaming through the monitor in front of you as they asked Euphoria some blandly inane questions about their album. The mayor was supposed to participate in the conversation and really help sell the whole folksy angle your company was hoping to achieve.

“I’m sure he’s on his way. Just breathe, Princess.” Scroll, scroll, scroll.

“Stop. Calling. Me. That,” you spat through gritted teeth, as the door at the back of the theater suddenly slammed open.

“I’m here!” a voice yelled. As everyone watched, a tall, beefy man in a beanie and black peacoat dashed down the aisle towards the stage. He tripped over his own feet and you gasped, expecting him to faceplant, but he recovered and kept running.

Hand outstretched, he made a beeline for you and Jin. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” he huffed. “Hi, I’m Namjoon Kim, nice to meet you.”

“Mr. Mayor, it’s lovely to meet you,” You shook his hand. “Thank you for allowing us to hold our concert in your beautiful town!”

Jin snickered softly. If that ass kisser thought you were laying it on too thickly, then you definitely were overdoing it. Fighting the urge to stomp on his big clown feet, you smiled at the mayor as if you hadn’t heard anything.

“Oh, it’s our honor to host you! And please, call me Namjoon,” he smiled, shaking Jin’s hand in turn. “I was sad to hear that I wouldn’t get to meet Irene after all our correspondence. She seemed very… thorough.”

“Yeah, Irene never left anything to chance,” Jin laughed. “I can only imagine the novel-length emails she sent you.”

Another glance at your watch. Ten minutes. The band members had finished their touch-ups and were now… uh…

Where the hell had they gone?!

“Would you please excuse me?” you smiled at Namjoon, shot Jin a look, and left the two men standing there, discussing Irene’s Type A tendencies.

Wandering the backstage area of the theater, you hissed names like a balloon slowly leaking air. “Jimin? Taehyung? Jungkook! Where the hell are you??”

“Relax, noona.”

Stifling a scream, you whirled and found Jimin snickering behind you. “Fuck! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a person?”

“I wasn’t sneaking, you just couldn’t hear me over the sound of your panicking,” he replied drolly. “Come on, they’re back here.”

You followed him into a small dressing room, where Taehyung and Jungkook were digging through racks of costumes.

“What are you -”

“Found one!” Jungkook interrupted you, proudly brandishing a Santa hat. “And look, here’s a pair of reindeer antlers, Jimin.” He tossed a headband at his bandmate.

“Perfect! What about Tae?”

Taehyung turned away from a mirror on the wall, where he had been inspecting his handsome visage. He tucked his long hair back, revealing a pair of elf ears.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys look fantastic - very holiday appropriate! Now, why don’t you go get your mics and get ready for the countdown?”

Santa Jungkook and Elf Taehyung strolled out of the room. But Reindeer Jimin merely shook his head. “You really don’t have to worry about us, noona. We know what to do. How to hit our marks and spout the company lines.”

“I wasn’t worried!” you lied.

“Right. Of course not.” He trailed you back to the stage. “Why would you worry? It’s not like you haven’t heard a million nasty stories about us, right? About how difficult we are, how unprofessional, always needing tons of close handling. Nothing like that?”

You blinked, but didn’t reply, unsure what to say. The last thing you wanted to do was rile him up when they were mere seconds away from a live broadcast.

Jimin laughed derisively. “That’s what I thought.” He waved the producer over, patiently letting her mic him up. “I know what everyone at Beyond the Sound thinks of us, even though most of you never even met us.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” you fudged, trying to untangle yourself from this situation. “Beyond the Sound has always championed Euphoria. We’re doing everything we can to make sure you guys are taken care of, and to see that your comeback is a success.” You gave him a shaky smile. “We have your best interests at heart.”

“Ha!” he huffed, shaking his head. “Our best interests. If you say so, noona.”

He left you gawking as he joined his bandmates, introducing himself to the mayor. Four stools had been placed on the stage, in front of a simple snowy backdrop and a large fake Christmas tree. As they settled in, the producer waved her arm, indicating the countdown to being live had begun.

“You okay, Princess?” Jin whispered as you clenched and unclenched your fists, silently counting along with the producer.

“Of course,” you sniffed. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin’s words had rattled you a little, but you weren’t about to tell Jin that.

“They’ve got this. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

The lights were off in the wings, and in the darkness, you could barely make out Jin’s profile. He looked completely relaxed, as usual.

“Will you stop saying that stupid phrase? It’s completely inane!”

Jin just honk laughed.

The interview went off without a hitch. Jimin was right - Euphoria were seasoned pros, and knew how to handle the press. The only slight hiccup came courtesy of the mayor. As he gestured to the venue space behind him, he nearly smacked Taehyung in the face. Taehyung spun to avoid his arm, which made Jimin guffaw, which led to him falling off his stool.

Could’ve been worse.

**********

After lunch, the road crew showed up to set up for rehearsal. You sat in the audience and flipped through notes on your phone as the band practiced their setlist for the concert. Jin had folded himself into a seat in the row behind you, legs propped up, humming along to the music floating through the theater.

Euphoria’s new album was a mix of holiday standards like “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” and several original songs, including the one they were currently playing, nonsensically named “Claus I Said So!”

“Oh god,” Jin murmured, leaning forward to rest his arms on the back of the seat next to you. “This might be the worst Christmas song in the history of the world. How do they expect this to sell albums?”

You scowled at the sudden nearness of him. “They don’t. They expect us to sell them, remember?” He did have a point, though. The song was truly atrocious, the lyrics some vapid nonsense about how everyone had to do Santa’s bidding or there would be no Christmas this year. But all Santa kept telling everyone to do was to “rock!”

Mentally, you added earplugs to your list of items to bring to the concert.

“I’m honestly surprised they agreed to this album in the first place,” Jin admitted.

You stopped scrolling long enough to turn and look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I understand why they went along with the punk album. They do have legitimate musical talent and it was an opportunity to flex their skills. The screamo album took a lot of persuading from Irene, and I heard even Sejin had to cajole them a bit. But a holiday album?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Never thought they’d agree to it. Especially now that I’m hearing the songs they were given - could you imagine having to sing this crap with a straight face?”

“Jin?”

“Yeah?”

“Literally what the fuck are you talking about?”

Euphoria were chameleons, constantly changing their look and their sound. But that was all them. Always their idea, always their music.

Wasn’t it?

Jin stared at you. “Oh, Princess, tell me you know.”

“I know what?” Your eyes narrowed.

“That Beyond the Sound is responsible for all of Euphoria’s crazy reinventions? The company plans out every album, from concept to songs?” His eyebrows shot up at your silence. “Oh no, you really thought they came up with all that crap?” He gestured at the stage. “Do they look like they want to be performing this tripe?”

The song ended, shifting into another original tune, “Don’t Be Elfish,” as you carefully examined the members on stage. Jimin’s eyes were as lifeless as a doll’s as he crooned into the microphone. Taehyung strummed his bass mindlessly, staring into space. Jungkook looked like an automaton, drumming mechanically.

They all seemed absolutely miserable.

Holy shit, how could you have missed this? All this time, thinking the band was full of chaotic wildlings who jumped from genre to genre on a whim, with no rhyme or reason. Assuming they were monsters that couldn’t be tamed.

And why had you thought these things? Because that’s what your company told you.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

You twisted in your seat to face him. “Why would they agree to this? To any of this?”

“Their contract. Beyond the Sound basically locked them into a terrible deal. Their original manager was… not a good guy.” He pursed his lips. “He made a hell of a lot of money off of them when they signed with Beyond the Sound, then split. Our company uses them as guinea pigs, trying to tap into new markets. The punk rock album got them a bunch of deals, but that last album didn’t net any new clients. Or fans.”

Well, shit. Maybe you needed to stop assuming so much based on what you heard around the office. That place seemed to be overflowing with lies.

Then again, how did you know that Jin wasn’t lying to you right now? Why should you trust him? He’d probably heard all this stuff through the rumor mill, too.

“That is… unfortunate. But at the end of the day, they signed on the dotted line. They agreed to this.” Even as the words left your lips, you doubted them slightly. But if you had to pick between listening to your employer or listening to your maddening coworker, you were choosing Beyond the Sound. “If they want those albums to sell, they’ll suck it up and sing those terrible songs.”

Were you imagining things or did Jin look disappointed with your response?

“Right. It’s all about the bottom line. Good thing you’re here to keep everything under control, Princess.” He leaned back again, out of sight.

But not out of mind, as his words kept tumbling through your head.

“This one’s for you, noona,” Jimin’s voice boomed over the sound system, interrupting your thoughts. You looked up to see him pointing at you, and the band launched into a slinky cover of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” Jimin’s smooth voice poured out of the speakers, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover Jin’s laughter behind you.

“Shut it, Jin!”

**********

The band seemed beat by the time rehearsal ended. The ride back to the Blitzen Inn was quiet. You didn’t mind, because you were still trying to make sense of your conversations with Jimin and Jin.

But everyone perked up once they saw what a feast Yoongi had whipped up for dinner. Large slabs of meat, various types of potatoes and grilled vegetables, and freshly baked breads covered the dining room table. As everyone tucked in, Hobi played the gracious host, a role he was well suited to, asking questions and keeping the conversation rolling.

“So, this is your first time visiting the east coast in winter?” he inquired, pouring you some more wine.

“Mmmhmm. Any time I’ve been here before was during the summer.” You swirled your wine, letting it breathe. “I’m a little disappointed, honestly, that there’s no snow. I’ve never seen any.”

“Never?” Jin interjected, looking surprised. “None at all?”

You shook your head sadly.

“Not even at a ski resort or anything?”

“What exactly aren’t you grasping about never, Jin?”

“Well, I have some good news for you, then,” Hobi cut in with a smile. “They’re predicting we’ll get a little dusting tonight. Not much, but enough to cover the ground, at least.”

“It’s gonna snow?” Jungkook looked up from wolfing down his food. “When?”

“Later tonight. Again, it’s probably not going to amount to much, but at least you’ll get to finally see some,” Hobi said to you.

What a pleasant surprise. None of the weather channels you’d monitored prior to the trip had mentioned anything about snow. You didn’t care if it wasn’t going to amount to much - all you wanted to was to see those precious little snowflakes drifting down, just once. That would be more than enough.

“You know, snowy nights are perfect for cuddling by the fire,” Jimin informed you, sliding his chair closer. “Just picture it - you, me, a bottle of wine. Curled up on the couch, keeping each other warm. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“What is this weird obsession with keeping me ‘warm’? Am I giving off hypothermic vibes?” you scoffed, taking a swig of wine.

Jin cackled as you held out your glass for more wine.

Dessert was yet another delicious extravaganza, this time a grand selection of little cakes. Yoongi truly did spoil his guests. Afterward, Jin retired to his room to “network,” which you assumed meant he was probably going to nap. The band took up residence in the library, crowding around the piano as they discussed some tweaks to the concert setlist. Hobi and Yoongi were in the kitchen cleaning, so you had the sitting room to yourself. You turned on a fluffy holiday movie, a guilty pleasure of yours, letting it play in the background as you answered some work emails.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie - just as the confused protagonist was about to realize she might have feelings for the antagonizing male lead - that you caught something flickering in the fading evening light outside the window.

Snowflakes.

Quickly setting your work aside, you dashed out into the hallway, grabbing your puffer coat from the rack by the door. Others must’ve noticed the snow as well, judging by the excited shouts you heard behind you as you pulled the front door open.

The world outside was awash in white. Snowflakes tumbled through the air, gently coming to rest on the lawn. You walked through the yard, tempted to spin in circles like the lead of one of those silly holiday movies you loved to hate.

Aw, fuck it.

Arms outstretched, you twirled, giggling to yourself as you tilted your face towards the sky. Opening your mouth, you caught a few flakes, letting them melt away on your tongue.

Eventually, your wandering led you to the gazebo, where you sat on a bench under the Christmas lights, feeling a strange sense of peace. The world was hushed, a serene silence falling over everything. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there when you heard Jin’s voice.

“Oh, I missed it.”

You shifted and saw Jin walking towards the gazebo. He shuffled forward to join you, wrapped in his red plaid coat again, with a navy scarf tied around his neck, a rosy glow on his cheeks as the night air nipped at his face.

“You haven’t missed anything. It’s been snowing for a while.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see it start. There’s something really magical about those first flakes.”

“Is that so?” Standing, you propped yourself against one of the pillars holding the roof up, and turned your face to the sky to watch the snow, sighing happily. Not even his irksome presence could bother you right now.

He nodded, stepping a little closer. “I grew up in the north, you know. There’s this moment when the cold air gets so crisp, you can almost feel time slowing, like it’s starting to freeze, too. The world stills. And then the clouds themselves begin to fall, bit by bit, fluttering to the ground as tiny snowflakes.”

“Fuck, maybe you should be in PR instead of management. You’re really selling it,” you commented drily.

Jin smiled, huffing a soft laugh. “I’m just trying to explain how beautiful that moment is. I really wanted to experience it again. And I…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You what?” you prompted him.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to see the first snow with you. To share it with you, since I know you’ve never experienced it before.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t realized how close he was standing until you caught his gaze, his eyes shimmering like the delicate flakes that danced around you. His tongue licked nervously at his plump lips as his face angled down towards yours.

He looked so handsome in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, you could almost forget how annoying he was.

Almost.

“Well, that’s just too bad,” you murmured, stepping down from the gazebo onto the path back to the house.

“Did you enjoy it, at least?” he called out as you retreated.

“It was lovely,” you replied over your shoulder, not looking back.

Nearly everyone had drifted outside to admire the snowfall. Hobi and Yoongi cuddled on the porch swing as Jungkook perched on the edge of the steps, attempting to pack what little snow was on the ground into a snowball. You briefly considered bribing him to aim for Jin.

Meanwhile, Jimin leaned in the doorway. “Come watch the snow with me, noona,” he wheedled, batting his eyelashes. “Look.” He pointed to where a little green sprig dangled over the porch swing. “Want to take a turn after our hosts get up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Give it up, Park.”

“Aw, come on, you don’t want to sit under the mistletoe with me?” He pouted. Despite your best efforts, your gaze flitted to his luscious mouth briefly. You knew millions of his fans would die to be in your shoes at that moment.

If only you could switch with any one of them.

“Believe it or not, I don’t.” you remarked, sweeping past him into the house. Over your shoulder, you called out, “Besides, mistletoe is not romantic. It’s a parasite!”

**********

“Don’t worry. He knows you’re not interested,” a deep voice rang out from the library as you passed by.

You wandered into the room to find Taehyung sitting at the baby grand, fingers gently coaxing a soft melody from the keys.

“What did you say?”

“Jimin.” His dark eyes assessed you as you took a seat in a plump armchair near the wall of books. “He knows. He’s just flirting for show.”

“Jimin? The world renowned player?” You frowned. “Flirting is his first language. What do you mean, it’s for ‘show’?”

“He’s acting. Playing the part written for him, to prevent the truth from getting out.”

You were lost. “And that is…?”

“He’s celibate.”

“Shut up!” You popped upright, stunned. “But… all those scandals! What about the flings, the one night stands?

“They never existed.” The key changed, shifting to minor. “All lies, dreamt up by Beyond the Sound, to deflect from the reality of the situation.”

“Why?” Once again, you found yourself struggling to understand. “Why would they fabricate such wild stories? Why hide the fact he’s celibate?”

Taehyung laughed mirthlessly. “To mold him into their desired image. Who wants a lead singer who’s abstinate? Euphoria needs a sexy star for fans to ooh and ahh over.”

Mulling his words, you fell silent, allowing Taehyung’s song to wash over you as you reflected. He was such a gifted pianist, and you mourned all the music he’d never been given the chance to play, being forced to perform Beyond the Sound’s dreck instead.

“Taehyung… when you were working on the punk album… why did you lock yourself in the studio for six days?”

If the sudden change in topic threw him, you wouldn’t know it. He continued to play as he answered. “I never did that. That’s when I flew back to Korea, to be with my family when my father was ill.” He dipped his head, striking the keys hard as the music swelled. “But we couldn’t have that getting out, could we? Wouldn’t exactly look like a tempermental artiste if it turned out that not only did I not write the album, but I spent the time I was supposed to be doing so at my ailing father’s bedside.”

Fuck, was anything you’d ever heard at work even remotely true?

“And what about Jungkook? I remember Irene comparing him to a wild animal, running untamed.”

He gave you a look. “You’ve seen him. He’s not some feral beast. He's… he’s a puppy. Too much energy, sure, but also full of boundless enthusiasm. And sweetness. He’d do anything for any of us, even our hosts if they asked.”

You ruminated for a moment. “Okay, so, basically, everything I know about Euphoria is a lie. But… why are you telling me all of this?” you asked.

He shrugged, fingers gently coaxing out quiet notes as the song began to diminuendo. “If I can be blunt?”

Waving your hand, you granted him permission.

“You don’t strike me as the next Irene. Or Sejin. You still have a soul.” He grinned sadly. “Don’t let Beyond the Sound take that from you.”

You blinked. Well, shit, you had told him he could be blunt.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten.

“Don’t stay up too late, Taehyung,” you advised as you stood to leave. “Even if we don’t have an early start tomorrow, you should still get some rest.”

“Noted, noona.”

As you crossed the room, he called out your name, and you paused in the doorway.

“Maybe we’re not the only ones who deserve a second look.” His song ended, the last note sustaining as he turned to face you.

Okay, he was getting a little too personal now. But damn if he didn’t have perfect timing. Like a true artist.

With a curt nod, you walked away, heading for the quiet respite of your bed, and the blissful promise of sleep.

**********

Snow. Everywhere you looked, as you stared out the window the next morning. The world was covered in white, shimmering in the cloud-filtered glow of the morning sun.

Bundling up in your robe, still dressed in your silky pajama set, you trudged downstairs and found Jin, Yoongi, and Hobi already gathered in the sitting room, watching the news. All were still in their pajamas as well. Jin was of course wearing a set of Louis Vuitton sleepwear. At this point, you assumed he’d just bought out the entire boutique.

“That’s right, Bob, as you can see here, we’re up to 13 inches and snow is still coming down! Looks like we might get that white Christmas after all!” the orange-hued weatherman yapped as he pointed to the screen behind him.

“Someone needs to lay off the self-tanner,” Jin snarked as Yoongi greeted you with a steaming mug of coffee. You were really going to miss the incredible service here when you returned home.

“Did he say 13 inches?” you inquired, blowing into your beverage.

Hobi nodded. “So far!”

Walking over to the windows, you peered outside. The road leading to the house was nowhere in sight. Yoongi joined you, munching on a biscuit held in one hand, the other clutching his coffee.

“At what time do they plow the road?”

Hobi and Yoongi laughed before they caught your expression.

“Oh, you’re serious?” Hobi blinked.

You frowned. “Sorry, lifelong beachtown resident here. I don’t know how it works when it snows. The city plows the roads, don’t they?” Leaving Yoongi at the window, you plopped down on the couch, grabbing a biscuit from a tray on the coffee table and slathering on some butter.

“Sure, they plow public roads. But we’re on a private road out here. So we’d have to plow it ourselves. And we don’t own anything that could do the job.” Yoongi explained. Almost 24 hours in their house and this was the first time you’d heard Yoongi actually speak.

“Plus, anyone who could do it for us is going to be busy today. And even if we could get the road plowed, the snow hasn’t actually stopped. So if you leave, you might end up snowed in somewhere else.” Hobi continued. “Or worse, you could get into a horrible accident on the slick roads.”

Jin sipped his coffee. “That all sounds terrible. Essentially, you’re saying we’re stuck here.” “For now, at least,” Hobi stated.

You and Jin exchanged a look. But before you could speak, a loud whoop sounded from upstairs. The two of you rushed to the doorway to see what was happening. “WOOOOOO! LOOK AT ALL THAT SNOW!”

Jungkook stampeded down the stairs, clad in only a towel. His dark purple hair dripped puddles on the hardwood as he dashed barefoot to the front door, wrenching it open. “I’m gonna make snow angels!” he shouted as he sprinted outside.

“What just happened?” you asked, stunned.

“Am I seeing things or is he only wearing a towel?” Jin asked.

From his post at the window, Yoongi smirked. “Well, he was wearing a towel.”

The speed with which you snapped out of your trance and ran outside was nothing short of superhuman. “Jungkook, naked snow angels aren’t a thing!!”

**********

By midday, the snowfall total was up to 18 inches. And there seemed to be no end in sight.

“I don’t understand,” you groused, still in your robe, still on the couch. “Aren’t these people supposed to be professionals? Don’t they make an entire career out of predicting this stuff? How did they not see this coming??”

Irene had done an incredible amount of legwork for the trip, including compiling initial weather reports and consulting almanacs to determine how close to the holiday the concert could occur without the threat of inclement weather. Once you’d taken over, you’d done the same, making sure to keep updated on any changes that could potentially derail the concert.

Not a single report had said anything about a freaking blizzard.

You mentally added meteorologists to your ever-growing list of enemies. It was practically a novel at this point.

Everyone was now gathered in the sitting room, all staring at the tv in surprise and dismay. Well, you were dismayed. Jungkook was thrilled, Taehyung and Jimin were a strange mix of concerned and excited, and Hobi and Yoongi were indifferent.

And Jin? He was relaxed as always.

“It is what it is,” Jin proclaimed sagely. You stopped glaring at the weatherman long enough to glare at him instead. “What? I’m just saying, we can’t do anything or go anywhere right now. Might as well make the best of it.”

“That’s the idea!” Hobi chirped, nudging his husband. “Yoongs, maybe we can whip up a special snow day dinner for everyone? Something to warm them and lift their spirits at the same time.”

Yoongi tipped his head, contemplating. “Let me see what I have to work with. Maybe some sort of stew? Of course, if we’re having stew, I’ll need to bake some sort of crusty bread to go with it…” He trailed off as he strolled into the kitchen.

“Perfect.” Hobi clapped his hands, rubbing them excitedly. “Until then, we have plenty to keep you entertained! In addition to books, there are puzzles and games in the library. And we have lots of extra winter gear on hand, in case anyone wants to go outside.”

“If anyone needs me, I’ll be napping.” Taehyung announced as he disappeared upstairs.

“You said there are puzzles in the library?” Jimin inquired, drawing a curious look from you. “Some people meditate. I do jigsaws, okay? They’re very calming.” He wandered off in search of his zen.

“Jungkook, have you ever made a snowman?”

Jungkook just looked at Hobi with wide eyes, who giggled and gestured for the drummer to follow him.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Jin cupped his hand behind his ear.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! Isn’t it wonderful?” Jin grinned. “If this snow gets us out of babysitting for a few hours, then it can’t be that bad, can it?” He stretched and leaned back on the couch, flipping idly through the channels. “I think I’m just going to watch a movie. What about you?”

“Are you serious?” you sputtered incredulously. “What am I going to do? I’m going to do my job! Which is what you should be doing!”

Confusion twisted Jin’s pretty features. “What exactly am I supposed to do? Did you not just have the same conversation as the rest of us? We’re stuck here!”

“Just because our hosts don’t want to hire a plow doesn’t mean we should just give up! I refuse to believe we’re just housebound for the day. There has to be a way to get someone out here to dig us out!”

“The band will be fine if they can’t rehearse today. They’re pros.”

All you could think about was your boss’s threat about Irene not being the only one leaving Beyond the Sound. “Sure, that’s fine, but what about the fan signing event tonight? We need that support!”

Jin frowned, eyebrows drawing in tight. “Come on, you heard what Hobi and Yoongi said. The plows are going to be busy with public roads. And we shouldn’t go out there until the snow stops. Do you really want to spend the night at that Christmas shop if we end up snowed in?”

You threw up your hands. “No, of course not! But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m not built that way.”

“Built what way?”

“Built like you!”

“Yah, what does that mean?” He blinked, sitting up.

“It means that I can’t just take it easy and smile and wink and expect everything to magically fall into place for me!” All the frustration that had been building as the snow fell was starting to bubble to the surface as your voice rose slightly. “If you can’t use your charms to get it done, then it’s not getting done! Meanwhile I work my ass off, because I actually give a damn about my job!”

“Again with the snide comments about me not taking things seriously! Is that really what you think of me?” Jin asked, jumping to his feet. “That I’m some lazy asshole who doesn’t give a shit?” “Well, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck and shoots finger guns like a fucking lameass duck... ” Springing to your feet, you took a step forward as he stepped back. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think!”

At that moment, Yoongi walked into the room carrying a tray of cookies. Spotting the two of you circling the coffee table in an intense standoff, he smoothly executed a swift one-eighty degree turn, and walked back out of the room.

“Are you kidding me? I’m the only one here who cares!”

Laughing dismissively, you doubled over. “You? YOU? Come the fuck on!”

“Yes, me! Because I am the only one concerned about our clients!”

Red. Your vision literally turned red for a second as your blood boiled. “Excuse me?? How dare you insinuate that I don’t care about them!”

“It’s true!” he nearly shouted, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. “You care about the job, sure - just the numbers! Ratings, views, sales. That’s it! That’s all you give a damn about! Meanwhile, I’m trying to ensure that our clients - the actual living breathing musicians we’re meant to serve, the people - are safe and sound and happy! Look at right now, for example - you really want to send them out there in this?” He waved his hand towards the window. “Why? Just so they can sell a few albums?”

“It’s not just a few albums, it’s also our jobs on the line,” you hissed.

Jin just shook his head. “Not to mention, they’ve told us how miserable they are with Beyond the Sound - don’t look so shocked, I know what they’ve said to you, because they’ve said it to me, too! But all you do is recite the company line to get them to shut up and do whatever is best for the numbers - not what is best for them!”

“Hey!”

A loud voice hollered from upstairs. You and Jin drifted into the hallway to peer up the stairs at Taehyung, who leaned over the railing, looking pissed off in his plaid pajamas.

“Some people are trying to sleep! Either take this outside, or buy me some better ear plugs!”

Neither of you responded, locked in a fierce staring contest.

“Well?” You gestured in Taehyung’s direction. “Your client is not happy, Jin! Shouldn’t you do something about it?”

Jin glared at you. “Just tell me - are you planning on doing your oh-so-important work out of this room today?”

You blinked, confused at the abrupt shift. “Maybe? I haven’t decided yet, why?”

“Because,” he yelled over his shoulder as he stomped up the stairs, “I want to be wherever you are not!” He punctuated his sentence by slamming his bedroom door shut.

Jimin’s head poked out of the library doorway. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Uh-oh, Mom and Dad are fighting. Looks like we’re getting two Christmases this year!”

“Shut it, Park!” you snapped, whirling and stalking back into the sitting room. Sinking onto the couch, you stared at the ceiling, wondering exactly when things had gone from potential nightmare to outright catastrophic disaster.

**********

Despite you doing your best all afternoon to find one, there were no plows anywhere even remotely nearby who could dig you out. Which meant the fan-signing event at Santa’s Workshop had to be cancelled.

By the time dinner ended, you were starting to worry that the concert tomorrow might also suffer the same fate.

And that no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t going to pull off this assignment after all.

A long dram of your hot cocoa did little to settle your nerves, despite the large kick of peppermint schnapps Yoongi had generously added for you. This was your second mug, and you were still too keyed up to feel the effects of the liquor.

“At some point, it will stop snowing, right?” You asked the question half in jest, gazing out the window of the sitting room at the flakes that just kept falling and falling, but the tone of your voice betrayed your anxiety.

For once, you’d gotten your wish. The world outside was indeed a sea of white. Unfortunately, it seemed to be just as boundless as the ocean itself.

“Don’t worry,” Hobi said comfortingly, “it can’t snow forever.” He was lying on one of the velvet couches, still keeping an eye on the weather channel.

Jimin and Yoongi sat on the floor around the coffee table, assembling a jigsaw of a covered bridge together. Jungkook was draped across the other couch, lost in his VR headset again. You could hear Taehyung in the library, tickling the ivories and providing you with rather soothing background music.

Or it would have been soothing were you not wound so tightly that you were about to pop.

Jin had returned to his room as soon as the dishes were cleared from the dinner table. You were fine with that. Let the baby pout. After what he’d said to you, accusing you of only caring about numbers, you hoped you didn’t see his stupid face again for as long as possible.

Yoongi glanced up at his husband, idly flipping a puzzle piece over in his long fingers. “Remember that snowstorm two years ago? Snowed for almost 48 hours straight. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen.” You must’ve looked frightened at the prospect of the snow continuing for another day, because he hastily added, “But I’m sure that won’t be the case today. That was a freak storm, a fluke.”

“You mean, a fluke like an unexpected blizzard?” you squeaked.

Yoongi’s mouth set in a firm line. “This is why I usually don’t talk to our guests.”

Hobi rubbed his husband’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, dear.”

“If the concert’s cancelled, is it really the end of the world?” Jimin mused. “The album will drop no matter what. Our fans know it’s coming.”

You bit your lip, remembering Sejin’s words. “There’s a lot more riding on this than you know, Park,” you muttered under your breath, turning away from the others in the room to stare forlornly out the window.

As you watched the swirling eddies of snow drift past the window, something gnawed at you.

You’d always known Beyond the Sound was a greedy corporation, bent on dominating the charts and keeping the cash flowing in. You weren’t naive. Or at least, you hadn’t thought you were. But how had you missed the way your company was treating its clients? You truly thought they were being taken care of while Beyond the Sound rode their success all the way to the bank.

All the conversations you’d had in the past 24 hours left you unsettled, and had you wondering if you even wanted your promotion anymore. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking of it as already yours. Maybe if the concert got cancelled, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, as Jimin had said… even if you lost your job?

Damn, the schnapps must’ve been kicking in, if you were contemplating unemployment without batting an eye.

With a sigh, you wandered away from the window. It was funny how quickly you’d tired of that unending whiteness outside.

Hobi patted the space on the couch next to him and you took a seat.

“So now what?” you asked. “We just… sit here and keep waiting?”

“Yep.” Hobi ran his fingers through Yoongi’s hair as he leaned against his legs. You averted your gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart panged at the soft sight. It had been so long since someone had stroked your hair like that. “We hunker down and wait for it to pass. Eventually, we’ll have to dig ourselves out, and figure out the plow situation. But until the snow stops, there’s nothing for us to do, but eat, drink, and be merry!” He grinned, his sunny personality not dimmed in the slightest by the stressful situation unfolding around him.

What it must be like to be an optimist. Couldn’t be you.

“We’ll be fine, noona,” Jimin concurred, smiling reassuringly. “As long as the - “

The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. Total, complete blackness, almost smothering you. Your heart leapt into your throat.

“ - power doesn’t go out.”

Yoongi’s voice piped up. “You just had to say something about the power, didn’t you?”

**********

An hour later, the electricity was still out. Candles placed around the sitting room provided weak illumination, shadows flickering as everyone settled in around the fireplace.

Well, everyone minus Jin, who remained in his room. Maybe he was sleeping through the blackout. Maybe he was still being a jerk. Those things weren’t mutually exclusive.

You’d finally shed your bathrobe, replacing it with the down comforter from your bed. Everyone else was similarly bundled in their bedding as you waited to find out what was going on outside.

A hand-cranked radio brought you bad news - the power was out for more than half the state, with no estimates of when it would return. Your hosts had some minor good news, in that they had a gas-powered generator, but it could only run for 12 hours max before it would need refilling. And that would be difficult to do if it kept snowing.

“We should reserve the generator to power the fridge and to keep the water from the well running,” Yoongi explained. “For now, I think it’s best we all hang out downstairs, where the fireplaces can help us stay warm.”

“What about Jin-hyung?” a pile of blankets on the floor asked. A purple-haired head poked out. “Should someone go get him?”

Everyone looked at you.

“Why me?” you bristled. “You all heard that asshole earlier. Fuck, I think the surrounding states heard him announce he doesn’t want to be anywhere near me!”

“Maybe this is a good chance to apologize,” Taehyung intoned, leveling a look in your direction. You shot back a glare, and he suddenly seemed to find the dancing flames in the fireplace very interesting.

Jimin wouldn’t meet your eye, and Jungkook dove back into his blankets. With a frustrated sigh, you arranged your comforter around yourself like a cape, and angrily stalked upstairs.

**********

Armed with a flashlight, courtesy of Hobi, you exhaled loudly before knocking on Jin’s door.

“Jin? Are you awake?”

Silence. He was probably sleeping after all. Well, you tried, so maybe everyone could get off your back.

A muffled voice called out as you turned to leave. “What do you want?”

Just the sound of his voice made your teeth clench. “Everyone’s downstairs waiting for the power to come back. It’s warmer down there, with the fireplaces. You should come down too.”

No response.

“Jin, did you hear me? You shouldn’t stay upstairs right now.” You frowned. “Don’t freeze your ass off because you’re a stubborn - “

The door flew open, and your rant died on your lips as you were met by a very rumpled Jin, who’d clearly just woken up. His normally polished facade was missing. Instead, he looked very soft, eyes blinking sleepily, mouth yawning gently. He still wore his pajama pants, but he’d removed his top.

Your eyes swept over his broad chest and the curve of his biceps as he leaned his arm on the doorframe. He was more well-built than you’d ever imagined, a slight ripple of abs greeting you as you jerked your gaze away before it drifted too far south.

Not that you’d ever imagined him shirtless. Of course not.

Well, maybe when you’d first met, before he’d opened his mouth.

Suddenly incredibly conscious of where you were looking, you stared at his hair. Such majestic fluff, the shiny strands bouncing as he dragged a hand over his face, peering at you questioningly. You longed to run your fingers through it. It probably felt like silk.

Okay, no more schnapps for you.

“Stubborn what?”

You shook your head. “Nevermind. Look, just come down, okay? There’s no estimate on when the power will return, so we’re keeping warm by the fire.”

The gaze that swept over you was cold, appraising. “Nah. I’m fine here.”

Jin tried to close the door, but you stuck your foot in, blocking it. He kept pushing, and you shoved against the door, stumbling through the gap into his room.

“Hey! I’m trying to keep you from dying of hypothermia, you prick!” you snapped, yanking your blanket through the door as it swung shut. You set the flashlight on the floor, aiming it upward so that the room was dimly lit by the beam.

He just huffed out a noisy breath, flopping onto his bed. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not that cold.”

“Not yet, but it will be, the longer we go without the heating on.”

“Oh, now you’re an expert on how exposure works? Great. Let me just settle in for this lecture,” he grumbled, burying his face into his pillow.

You were cursed. That was the only explanation for why you were stuck with this giant manbaby, in an unexpected blizzard, during the most important week of your career.

And you were over it.

Tossing your blanket cape to the floor, you stalked across the room and jumped onto his bed, jostling him violently.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelped, rolling onto his back. You drew yourself up onto your knees, straddling his calves as you glared down at him.

“Clearly, you and I are never going to see eye-to-eye on how we work. That’s fine. We don’t have to be friends. I just need you to stop being a baby and come downstairs because I’m pretty sure I’m not getting that promotion if I return to work without you because you froze to death!”

Jin sat up quickly, knocking you off balance as his face suddenly came within inches of yours. “Yah, that promotion is mine, first of all! And secondly, I’m not going to freeze!”

“Why can’t you just do what I’m asking you to?” you snarled, poking him in the chest.

“Why can’t you just realize that maybe your way isn’t the only way!” he retorted, grabbing your hand.

“You drive me insane!”

His eyes flashed as he tugged on your hand, pulling you closer. “The feeling’s mutual, Princess!”

Before you could shout once again about that irritating nickname, his lips smashed against yours.

Despite the quickly chilling room around you, you were burning up, flames licking at your skin as Jin ran his hands down your back, holding you flush against him as your mouths fought for dominance. Biting, tongues colliding, grunting and sighing into one another.

Fuck, he was an incredible kisser. His plump lips felt like heaven as they tangoed viciously with yours. Why the fuck were you always fighting, when you could be doing this instead?

“I bet you’ve been dreaming about this, Princess,” he murmured, mouth gliding down your neck.

Oh, right, because he was a complete asshat.

“Hardly.” Your teeth found his earlobe and you nibbled sharply, making him gasp. “I’m only doing this so you’ll shut the fuck up for a moment and listen to me.”

He laughed, lips vibrating against your throat, and then it was your turn to gasp as he threw you onto your back, covering your body with his own.

The solid warmth of him did nothing to cool you down as he kissed you urgently. Hands roamed everywhere. Your fingers combed through his messy hair, and you belatedly noted that the strands were in fact as smooth as satin.

Jin’s lips trailed down your chest, over your shirt, and stopped at your waist. “I don’t suppose you’d want to take this off,” he said, jerking on the hem of your top, “considering we might turn into icicles at any second.”

Scowling, you shoved him away. “Shut the fuck up and undress me.” Less talking, more action. You didn’t want to think anymore.

You just wanted to feel.

Jin complied, ridding you of your pajamas in seconds. He let out an appreciative hum when he noticed that you wore nothing underneath, hands immediately flying to your breasts, caressing them. Urging you to lie back down, his mouth closed in until he captured a nipple between his teeth.

For several heavenly minutes, no words were spoken. The only sounds in the room were the wet noises of his mouth as he suckled at your tits, lavishing both with attention, and the sighs of satisfaction that spilled from your lips.

Eventually, you broke the spell. “Jin.”

“Mmm?” he hummed around your nipple. Dark eyes gazed at you, and you clenched at the heat you recognized in them.

It was the same blaze that burned in you.

“As nice as this is, can we move things along?” Your pussy ached terribly, dying for his touch.

He snorted, pulling off your tit with a pop. “You really can’t stop and enjoy yourself for very long, can you? Always down to business.”

You would’ve argued, but as he spoke, his hand sank between your legs, finding and stroking your clit. So instead, all that came out was, “Hnnnnnghhh,” as you bucked against him.

“Maybe I need to help you, huh? Show you how to relax.” He licked a line between your breasts, down your navel, towards where his slender fingers were now sliding through your folds. “Ah, so wet. Good. You’re gonna need to be soaking for me.”

“What does that - ohhhhh.”

One long finger slipped inside, crooking, dragging against your inner wall. Your eyes slipped shut in bliss.

Only to reopen in surprise as his mouth closed around your clit.

If you’d thought his lips felt amazing against your mouth, the sensation of him kissing that tiny bud was out of this world. His finger continued to slide inside you as he licked at your slit.

“More,” you demanded breathily, hands digging into the soft sheets of his bed. He was moving too slowly for your liking - wasn’t he burning up, too?

“Patience, Princess. I have to get you ready,” he insisted, slipping a second finger inside. You tossed your head back at the intrusion.

“What the… oh… the fuck do you mean, get me ready? I’m not a fucking virgin, dumbass.”

In response, Jin removed his hand, making you whimper at the loss. He jumped off of the bed and untied the drawstring on his pajama bottoms, letting them drop to the floor.

Holy fucking shit.

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasped, staring at the biggest cock you’d ever seen. Outside of porn, at least. No wonder he was always so confident, so sure of himself. It was easy to know you could always stand on your own two feet when you a third fucking leg to back you up.

He merely grinned, lazily stroking himself as he watched your reaction. “Like I said. I have to get you ready.”

That was going inside you? Fuck. “Well, then get back here and fucking get to work!”

“As you wish, Princess.” He climbed back onto the bed, once again settling between your legs.

“Jin, enough with the damn nicknaooohhhhh.” Your snipe turned into a moan as his fingers scissored you open. A third finger joined the fray and you were lost in rapture for a moment. Even though the stretch felt unusual, the way Jin pumped his hand made your toes curl.

His other hand splayed on your stomach, holding you in place no matter how much you squirmed. He lowered his head to nibble on your thighs, making you squeak, before his tongue plunged into your core.

“I could do this all night,” he professed, grinning mischievously. His chin was slick with your wetness. The sight was incredibly obscene and incredibly arousing. “Just lie here, tasting you, making you come undone on my fingers. Would you like that?”

“Nnnnnoooo,” you groaned, knowing that the way your body reacted to his touches told a different story.

He laughed, eyes crinkling with delight, fingers never ceasing. “I don’t believe you. As a matter of fact, I think I should do just that. Make you cum again and again. Show you how to enjoy yourself.” He licked his lips. “I know I’m enjoying you, that’s for damn sure.”

Part of you wanted to lie there and make him fulfill his threatened promises. But you could see his massive dick as it slapped against his stomach, and all you wanted was to go for a ride.

“Jin.” Somehow you managed to bite back a moan long enough to speak. “Either get me off right now or fuck me.”

“Again with the orders!” He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Fine. Have it your way, Princess.”

This time, when he pulled his hand away, you didn’t whimper. You full-on wailed.

His shoulders shook with laughter as he rummaged through his suitcase, searching for a condom. “I’m just doing what you told me! See, I’m listening! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

What you wanted was to kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

He knelt on the bed, making eye contact as he rolled the condom down his impressive length. You shuddered with anticipation, and a little apprehension. Sure, you weren’t a virgin, but none of the men you’d ever been with had been anywhere near as big as Jin.

As if he read your mind, Jin rubbed your thigh soothingly. “We’ll go slow, okay?”

You nodded.

Hovering over you, propped up on one elbow while lining himself up with the other hand, Jin dipped his head to kiss your neck. You tipped your head back, exposing more of your throat, and he took advantage of the slight distraction to slide in.

“Ohhhh.” He didn’t plunge all the way, just enough for you to feel a stretch. He wasn’t just long, he was also girthy, and the combination was intense.

“Okay?” he asked, lips tracing your ear.

“Okay.”

He kept slowly sliding in, checking in with you, until he finally bottomed out. The feeling was unbelievable.

“Still doing all right?”

“I think I can feel you in the back of my throat.”

“And yet somehow, you keep talking.”

“Hey! I - “

He silenced you with a kiss. But it was different than before. Unhurried. As if he had all the time in the world and he intended to use every second.

And then he began to move.

You felt every inch of every stroke with your entire body, nerves alight with overwhelming pleasure. He slowly fucked you, hooking one arm under your thigh and bending it back until your knee pressed into your chest, opening you up even more to him.

He hit you so deep, you saw stars. Literal bursts of light with every thrust. Your nails scraped down his back as you clung to him, nearly out of your mind as you drowned in him. Nuzzling his face in your neck, he murmured how amazing you felt, how fucking tight you were, that you were doing so well, praising you as you writhed beneath him.

“Jin, fuck,” you cried out, fingers digging into his shoulders.

At first, you thought he was huffing for breath, but you quickly realized he was laughing.

“What do you think I’m doing, Princess?”

“Are you seriously cracking stupid jokes right now? Making yourself laugh?!” you grunted as his hips stopped moving while he cackled. “I thought you said it’s only fun for you if others cum first? I’m not fucking cumming yet!”

“Ah, you’re right, you’re not. I guess I should do something about that.”

“No, forget it, I’ll do it myself.” Frustrated, you pushed him away. He retreated to a sitting position, back against the headboard, and you crawled into his lap.

“You wanna ride this big cock?” he cooed.

“Shut the fuck up, Jin.” Obviously, yes, that is what you wanted to do.

“Whatever you want, Princess.” He smirked wickedly, tousled hair falling into his glimmering eyes.

That. Fucking. Name.

Positioning yourself above his large cock, you stared him dead in the eye as you impaled yourself, punctuating your words with every bounce of your hips.

“I fucking told you to stop!” bounce “Calling!” bounce “Me!” bounce “PRINCESS!”

You rode him like a woman possessed, hellbent on chasing your end. He hissed as your hips rolled, and tightened his arms around you.

“What should I call you, then? Hmm?” His lips brushed against your collarbone as he traced his way back to your breasts, tongue swirling circles in your skin as you arched into his hot mouth. “My queen? Sweetheart? Baby?”

A whine escaped your lips, high and needy, at that last word. You clapped a hand over your mouth, as if you could shove it back in, but it was too late. He’d heard.

“Oh, you like that? You want me to call you baby?” He suddenly lurched forward, and you found yourself on your back again. You mewled, and his tongue ran along your neck as he pumped away.

“Okay, baby, you got it.” Over and over, he buried himself deep inside you. His hands knotted in your hair, cradling your head. He kissed you breathless, tongue diving into your mouth and tangling with your own.

He felt so good, but you didn’t want to make love, you wanted him to fuck you and make you cum so hard you forgot your own name, so once again you shoved him away, and then swiftly flipped over, rising onto your hands and knees.

“Enough sweet talk,” you spat, glancing over your shoulder. “Are you going to make me cum or what?” You wiggled your ass.

Jin growled - audibly growled - and wrapped his large hands around your hips as he sank inside you again. You groaned at the change in angle, feeling his dick kiss your cervix, and began to pant as he pounded into you.

“Is this what my baby wants? Just a good, rough fuck?” Teeth sank into your shoulder, and you muffled a scream by pressing your face into a pillow. “Huh?”

You nodded, only to jump in shock as a hand swiftly smacked your ass. “Ah!”

“Use your words, baby,” he commanded. “I know you’re not shy. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck, yes, give it to me hard,” you moaned.

He grunted, palm slapping your ass again, and you rolled your face to the side, swearing as the tempo of his rutting increased.

“Ah! Ah! Fuck!”

“You look so fucking good, all bent over for me.” Another smack landed on your cheek. “Always knew you would take this cock so well.”

“Stop talking!” you sneered, rubbing your clit furiously. “Just get me off!”

His fingers pinched your nipples and you yelped. “Still giving orders? Do I need to fuck you harder? Hold on, baby.”

There was no way he could possibly pound you any more furiously. And yet. He had you practically bouncing off the bed as he began to grunt harshly. Beyond words, all you could do was choke out strangled sobs as his hips slammed into you mercilessly.

“Is that what you need?”

“Ah! Yes!”

His strong hands flattened against your stomach, pulling you so your back was flush against his chest. He stilled for a moment, and you fought to catch your breath. You were a fucking mess, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you reclined against him, wanting more more more.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” his husky voice rumbled in your ear. “I wanna feel this sweet cunt to cum all over me. Are you ready?”

All you could do was moan.

“All right. Help me out.” He slid two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.”

You swirled your tongue over his long digits, keening as he slowly pulled his dick out and plunged back in again, thrusting into you so deeply, your eyes rolled back into your head. He hissed as your teeth grazed the rough skin of his fingers.

His other hand slid towards your throat.

“Want me to?” he whispered into your ear.

You nodded, then remembered how to speak. “Please!”

“If it’s too much, tap three times. Show me,” he rasped.

You tapped his arm once, twice, then a third time. Then you whined as his soaking fingers found your clit, rubbing the sensitive bead frantically.

Jin began to squeeze the sides of your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you dizzy. His grip held you in place as he continued to snap his hips into you, all the while never stopping the way he strummed your clit.

Your head began to spin, from the lack of oxygen combined with the intense pleasure radiating from your core, where Jin’s thick cock and stroking fingers were too much, it was all too much, and you couldn’t take it, you couldn’t -

“Let go,” he ordered you, and his hand fell away from your neck.

You inhaled, blood rushing, eyes closing, legs collapsing as you shattered into a million pieces in Jin’s arms.

White-hot pulses of sheer ecstasy rolled through you as you climaxed with a loud cry. Jin held you up with one arm as he felt your walls tighten around him, and then he was cumming, face buried in your hair as he cursed a filthy string of obscenities.

Jin released his grip on your stomach, and you dropped onto the bed, exhausted, smothering your face into the pillow. He laid on his back next to you, his arm over his eyes as his chest heaved.

“You okay, baby?” A hand reached out, gently stroking your back as you tried to steady your breathing.

Oh fuck, he wasn’t going to want to cuddle now, was he? Your mind began to clear as your high abated, and the reality of what you’d just done hit you hard.

“I hope that was good for you, Jin, because it’s never happening again.” Throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, you tried to slip out, but a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and you found yourself locked in his embrace instead.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where are you running off to, baby?”

You wriggled, trying to break free. How was he so strong? “I’m not running, we’re just done. And stop calling me baby. You don’t have to keep saying that, the moment’s passed.”

Jin spoke, voice a little more subdued than usual. “Right, the moment’s over. Back to business, then?”

He let go, and you rolled away. In no time, you were dressed, wrapping your comforter around yourself again. You grabbed the flashlight, and as the beam shifted, you caught sight of Jin’s face. Something you couldn’t identify shifted across it.

You blinked, and it was gone. The smooth facade was back in place as he looked at you.

“I’ll be down later. The cool air feels good right now.”

It did, but you still wanted to leave.

“Okay. We’ll save you a spot by the fire.”

A vague hum answered you as the door swung shut.

**********

You awake feeling stiff the next morning, curled in a little ball. Stretching, you extended your legs over the edge of your bed, kicking your feet.

“Ouch!”

Oh shit, right, you didn’t sleep in your bed last night.

From your makeshift bed on the couch in the sitting room, you glanced down at where Jimin was sitting, rubbing his head.

“Sorry, Park,” you apologized. Wincing slightly, you sat up. You were very sore, but there was no way to stretch that out.

Jungkook was sprawled on the other couch, with Taehyung splayed on the floor below. Both were snoring lightly. You assumed Yoongi and Hobi were in their bedroom, since it had a fireplace of its own.

And there was Jin, curled up on the floor behind the couch.

You watched him sleep, contemplating. What if you hadn’t run away last night? Would it really have been so bad to wake up in those arms?

“Good morning,” Hobi called out as he entered the room. You put a finger to your mouth, pointing to the men still sleeping. He ducked his head slightly, and beckoned for you to follow him, pantomiming drinking to let you know there was coffee.

Wrapping yourself in your comforter like a human burrito, you wandered into the dining room, Jimin trailing close behind. There were already cinnamon rolls on the table, steaming hot, and mugs waiting for coffee.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but the electricity came back during the night,” Yoongi said, carrying a pot of coffee out of the kitchen.

That explained why you felt so warm in your blanket. The heat was on.

“And in other good news…” Hobi pointed at the window.

“It stopped snowing!” you cheered. You grabbed your mug to peek out the window. The snow was piled so high. There was probably no point in even bothering to ask about a plow coming, but you felt compelled to anyway. “We’re still not going anywhere today, are we?”

Hobi shook his head. “I’m sorry. I hate to say it, but I think you’re going to be stuck here a while longer.”

“So the concert is probably off,” Jimin said, pouring some sugar into his coffee.

You nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“The concert’s off?” Jungkook asked as he stumbled into the room, yawning.

“Yeah. Concert’s off, power’s on, snow’s stopped. Have some coffee,” Jimin replied.

Before long, Taehyung wandered in, hair impressively fluffy from his slumber, and then Jin, once again clad in his full pajama set, taking the seat next to you. Word about the concert rippled around the table as Yoongi set out another ridiculous breakfast.

You tore into a second cinnamon roll, again lamenting that eventually you’d have to leave this place and Yoongi’s amazing meals behind, and were about to ask Hobi how he and Yoongi met when Jin cleared his throat.

“Hey.” He bent towards you, voice hushed. “Can we talk about last night?”

You stared at him, horrified. He wanted to talk about what you’d done, here? At the breakfast table? In front of everyone and your cinnamon roll?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you whispered, sipping your coffee.

“Really?” Jin shot you a look. “You have no comment about what we did? Not even the way I choked you until you came on my big dick?”

Coffee shot into your nose as you inhaled sharply at his words. Hobi reached over and patted you on the back, trying to help you clear your lungs. You glared at Jin as you recovered.

“Watch what you say!” you hissed. “This isn’t the place or time!” You also wanted to ask if he was incapable of referring to his own dick without commenting on the size, but really didn’t want to be overheard.

“So where and when, then?”

“Nowhere and never!” Tossing your napkin on the table, you abruptly stood. “I’m going to go shower,” you announced to the table, and quickly strode away before Jin could respond, dragging your blanket behind you like a fuzzy tail.

**********

Minutes after you’d retreated to the safety of your room, you lay on your bed, wrapped once again in your comforter. You knew you should shower, but you didn’t want to move. What you wanted, actually, was to become one with the bed. Just transform into a non-sentient pile of fluff and live out the rest of your days without having to think at all.

A knock came at the door. Jin called out your name. “Come on. Let me in.”

“Go away!” you shouted, fuming. “Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want to talk!”

“Fine. Then we won’t talk. Just open up.”

What the fuck did that mean? You opened the door to find him reclining against the doorframe on the other side.

Why was he always leaning over you? Staring down at you with those big brown eyes, those long lashes, that pretty pink mouth.

Fuck.

Yanking him by the collar of his shirt, you pulled him inside your room, slamming the door shut. He reacted lightning fast, spinning you around and pinning you against the door.

You glowered up at him, angry that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Angry at yourself for not wanting him to. Daring him silently to make the first move, because you’d be damned if you would.

He did.

Lips. On your mouth, your cheek, your ear. Like he was marking territory, claiming every inch of skin available. Sliding the neck of your pajama top over so he could kiss your collarbone, your shoulder.

“You don’t want to talk?” he huffed in the crook of your neck. “Fine. I can be quiet.” He lifted his head, lust blazing in his eyes. “But can you?”

His hand suddenly cupped between your legs, grinding his palm against your core. You keened at the friction. “Fuuuuck, Jin!”

“Shhhh,” he murmured, dropping to his knees. “No talking.”

He tugged your pajama bottoms to the ground. His hands roamed over your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart, goosebumps spreading over your skin at his touch.

“Jin,” you moaned, letting him move you as he wished. “I haven’t even showered since… since…”

“Since what?” he inquired, looking up at you. “Since we fucked? Do you want to talk about it?”

No, you didn’t want to. You shook your head.

“All right, then we’re not talking, period. So try to keep it quiet from now on.”

Your first instinct was to snap back, inform him that he of all people was in no position to tell you what to do.

Except, he was actually in the perfect position, kneeling below, gazing up at you with a dark look full of wicked promise.

Fuck, you’d do anything he wanted if he kept looking at you like that.

“Can you do that for me, baby?” One finger slid through your slick folds, grazing your clit. You whimpered, then immediately covered your mouth with your hand. “That’s better. Keep that hand there. Now, no more words,” Jin husked, and then suddenly his mouth was on your cunt.

The sounds his tongue made as he lapped at your wet heat were sinful, especially coupled with the tiny moans that escaped his hot mouth as he worked you over. You bit into your palm, trying your damnedest not to say a word.

But all you wanted to do was sing his praises as he worshipped you with his tongue.

You threaded your fingers through his glossy hair, tugging slightly, and he responded by groaning into your slit. The vibrations sent chills through you, and you repeated the action, pleased at how he moaned again.

One of his large hands wrapped around your ankle and pulled your leg up, letting it rest on his shoulder. You teetered slightly, a small gasp spilling out, but you managed to keep from yelping his name in surprise. His hands slid around to grab your ass, kneading the flesh as he made sure you were secured against him.

You released your palm, rubbing it with your other hand, trying to soothe the teeth marks you’d left in your own skin. His tongue danced over your clit, making your hips buck into his face.

You were doing just fine until he slipped two fingers inside and began to stroke.

“Jinnnnn,” you whined, hips jerking again.

He drew away, mouth and fingers abandoning you, and you looked down at him in horror.

“That sounded like a word,” he tutted, shaking his head. “I thought I told you not to speak?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms, as your leg dropped from his shoulder.

“I - I’m sorry,” you stammered, pussy absolutely throbbing. He wasn’t just going to leave you like this, was he? A half naked mess, literally quivering with need?

Did he want you to beg? You bristled at the thought... but fuck, you wanted to cum on his face more than anything. Who needs dignity when you have a man with a tongue like that?

He sighed. “Maybe I need to keep that mouth busy, huh?”

You nodded vigorously. Whatever it took to get those lips back on you.

He chuckled. “Okay, baby, let me help.” Standing, he slipped his hands down your thighs and lifted you into the air. You wrapped your legs around his waist, again fighting the urge to shout. He pressed you into the door, and covered your mouth with his own.

You felt delirious, humming into his kiss, bucking your hips against his hard cock as it rubbed against your core. How did he feel this good? This was Seokjin Motherfucking Kim! The most annoying man on the face of the planet!

He spun, carrying you to the bed, and set you gently on the edge. Then he stripped off his clothes, slowly, top first, then his pants, giving you an eyeful of his taut muscles and that giant cock again. Fuck, your mouth was practically watering as he stepped up to the bed, and…

...wait…

“Uh, you don’t expect me to fit that whole thing in my mouth, do you?” you yelped, wide-eyed.

“Yah, come on!” Jin stopped his seductive approach and put his hands on his hips. “I’m trying to set a mood here!” He sulkily pulled his pajama pants back on, then flopped onto the bed, sighing dramatically.

Just like that, the moment was over.

“Well, sorry I ruined it,” you muttered, curling your legs under you. “It’s probably for the best, anyway. We don’t need to make any more mistakes.” A tiny feather lay on the bed, having escaped from the comforter, and you fiddled with it as you spoke.

“Is that what last night was to you? A mistake?”

You met his gaze. Fuck, did he have to look at you so earnestly? Where was that cocky expression of his that you loathed so much when you needed it?

“It was… a release. I think we just needed a good hate fuck to get it out of our systems so we can move on and finish the job.” You spun the feather in your hand, snorting. “If there’s even a job left for us at this point.”

“A hate fuck. I see.” Jin muttered softly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. I may or may not answer, but you can definitely ask.”

He frowned. “When did you start hating me?”

You tilted your head. “Jin, I - “

“Is it because I call you Princess?”

Snorting, you made a face. “No, but that certainly doesn’t help.”

“Then it must be Nevamind. Right?”

Just hearing the name made you grit your teeth. You could deny it, but why bother? The truth wouldn’t be any more revealing than all the things you’d done last night. “Yeah, I was pissed when you got that job. But I’m over it now,” you lied.

“Do you want to know what really happened?”

“I know what happened. You charmed your way into the job.”

“Nevamind choose you.”

Your head snapped up. “What? Then why… how…?”

“Sejin came to see me after their meeting. He said Nevamind had picked you. But he also made some rather specific comments about how exactly he wanted your partnership to happen.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Comments like…”

“Like the exact positions he wanted you to, uh, work in. The jobs he wanted you to give. Do you understand what - “

“Yes, Jin, he wanted to fuck me, I get it!”

“Sejin said he was overruling the guy’s decision and assigning him to me. That’s why I got the job. Because there was no danger of him hitting on me.”

You leaned back against the headboard, contemplating his words. Obviously you’d always known that the job should have been yours, so finding out that it actually had been yours, for a whole five minutes, wasn’t as much of a shock as it could’ve been. But your anger flared at having been treated like you couldn’t handle the situation yourself.

Jin fluffed up your pile of pillows, lying on his side as he watched you digest everything.

“Was Sejin worried that Nevamind would attack me? Or did he think that I would sleep with a client?”

Jin laughed, a tired sound devoid of any joy. Or honking. “Neither. He was afraid of a lawsuit.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. He thought that if either scenario went down, one or both of you would end up suing the company, and he wanted to avoid that completely. He wasn’t worried about you - he just didn’t want you to get litigious.” He bitterly spat out the last sentence, as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth. “He said that me being Nevamind’s manager was less of a “statistical risk” to Beyond the Sound than you.”

What. The. Fuck.

You’d given your everything to Beyond the Sound in the last year, sacrificing your time, energy, and even personal relationships, all to make yourself the ideal employee and show your devotion to the company. Meanwhile, Sejin considered you a “statistical risk”? Holy shit, you were literally just a number to them.

Just like Euphoria.

Jin went on. “When Sejin told me all this, I realized nothing we do really matters to the company as long as we don’t hurt their bottom line. There was no reason to do anything other than bide my time, make some money, and build up my contacts, so that one day I can walk out of there and start my own management firm.”

“You want to open your own firm?” That was surprising. He’d never struck you as the type to have such big dreams.

“Yeah. Someday.” He pursed his lips, looking angry. “I should’ve done more. Should’ve told Sejin to shove it, that he had no right to treat his employees this way. To treat you like you were a liability instead of a person. That’s why I try so hard to make sure our clients are treated well, at least. That’s the one area where I do give a fuck.”

You believed him.

And you weren’t sure you could blame him for taking the job with Nevamind. Wouldn’t you have done the same in his shoes?

Of course you would’ve. Because you would’ve done anything to win. Even if the trophy turned out to be made of fool’s gold in the end.

Your head spun, mind reeling from everything he said. Absorbing all this info left you feeling drained. Completely defeated. You slid down the pillows, rolling onto your side to face Jin, but closed your eyes as you sighed despondently.

Gentle fingers glided lightly over your hair. You peeked through your lashes at Jin, who was watching you with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered, lowering his hand, but you quickly grabbed it.

“Please don’t stop,” you quietly pleaded.

Instead, he pulled you into his arms.

Vulnerability wasn’t really your thing. A lifetime of fighting for what you wanted taught you to keep your guard up at all times. But lying there, your head on his broad chest, feeling so safe and warm, you felt your defenses start to slip. Jin began to stroke your hair again, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed at the tenderness, begrudgingly acknowledging that it was… nice.

Really nice. You could get used to it.

“Still hate me?”

His pecs muffled the sound of your laughter. “Not as much as before.”

He snorted. “I appreciate your honesty.”

Lifting your head, you frowned. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about any of this?”

“Would you have listened?”

He had you there. “I mean, maybe not at first, but eventually. Probably. I think.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, the reason they picked me over you is because they knew Nevamind wouldn’t try to sleep with me’?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” You paused. “But also, if he didn’t want to fuck you, that was definitely his loss.”

Jin stared at you. “Are you cracking jokes? In the middle of my serious confession?”

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” you quipped, grinning as he suddenly lunged at you, capturing your mouth with his. Too soon, he drew back, and you actually whimpered, making him smirk and kiss you again. But eventually, you needed air, and parted. “Do you still hate me?”

“Never did.” He traced a finger along your cheek. “I’ve always had a thing for you.”

“Oh yeah?” You propped your chin on his chest.

“Uh-huh. What’s not to like? You’re sexy, smart, confident, and a killer manager even if you get a little too focused on your work sometimes…” he trailed off, squeaky laughter filling the room as you shot him a nasty look. “I thought you knew, honestly.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe because I’ve been flirting with you for a whole year?”

“Wait, that was flirting?!”

It was his turn to glare as you giggled. He nipped at your bottom lip in retaliation, and you yelped. More making out ensued, to your utter delight, before he rolled you onto your side with a sigh.

“I bet they’ll have our desks packed up and cleared out by the time we return to the office, since we’ll no longer be employed by the time we get there.”

Ah, fuck, right. Since the concert wasn’t happening, Sejin was likely to follow through on his threat of termination. More than likely. He’d basically told the both of you that you’d be out on your asses if the album tanked, and with all the canceled events this week, you didn’t have high hopes that it’d do well.

“Fuck, this sucks,” you swore. “We’ll be unemployed and the poor band will have another flop on their hands. Beyond the Sound will probably punish them for that with another terrible genre mash-up for the next album, like polka rap or something.” You shuddered at the thought. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have pulled it off. Even though you would’ve lost that promotion to me.”

Jin’s eyes bugged out. “How many times do I have to tell you, that promotion w- “

You cut him off with a kiss, laughing against his mouth as he wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you close again. A few minutes later, you pushed him away as he blinked in surprise.

“Why are you pushing - “

“Shhhh!” You flapped your hand, shushing him, lost in thought. “I have an idea.”

**********

“Is everything all set up?” you asked Jungkook as he dashed past you.

He halted, nodding. “Yeah, we’re almost ready.” He tugged at the collar of his sweater, an eyesore of a Christmas tree with shimmering LED lights and the words “Let’s Get Lit” embroidered across his chest.

“Fantastic. Is there anything you guys need from me?”

“Not at the moment, noona, thanks.” With a nod, he continued on his path, as Hobi exited the library.

“How’s it going in there?” you asked.

“Great! It’s coming along. Yoongi is going to bring us some snacks while we enjoy the show.” As Hobi spoke, Yoongi hustled by, carrying a tray loaded with cookies. You snagged a sugar cookie as he passed.

“Hobi, I’m really going to miss it here. The service is top notch. And these ugly sweaters are incredible! You have quite the collection,” you raved.

If you were a weaker woman, you would’ve wilted under the look Hobi shot you. “You think these atrocities are mine? Oh no no no. They all belong to Yoongi.”

Your eyes widened in glee. “Oh, that’s even better.”

Jin came bouncing down the stairs, a happy smile on his face. You couldn’t help but grin back, for a second, before you composed yourself. He stopped short at the bottom of the staircase, staring at you as your host wandered off.

“What the hell?” Jin pouted. “I’m offended, you look great in this ugly Christmas sweater. This is a scam.”

“Oh, because only you’re allowed to look great in one?” He was, indeed, pulling off the ridiculous “Resting Grinch Face” sweater he wore, despite the blindingly bright green and red colors - but he was Seokjin Motherfucking Kim, after all. It was a little snug on him, given that he was taller and broader than Yoongi, but if anything that just made him even hotter.

Neither of you had to wear the ugly sweaters you’d borrowed from your hosts, but you’d decided to do so out of solidarity for the band members. And also maybe you were kinda getting into the spirit of things. Just a little.

“No one is supposed to look good in these! That’s the whole point, they’re ugly!” He paused. “But you think I look good?”

“Fuck off, you know you’re handsome and look amazing even in the dumbest of sweaters.”

He grinned. “Okay, you’ve got me there. It’s impressive how sexy you make that hideous thing look.” He reached out and honked the fuzzy moose nose that jutted out of your sweater, which bore the words ‘Merry Christmoose!’

How were you supposed to act like a professional when Jin was making you giggle like a fool? All you wanted to do was pull him into a darkened corner and kiss him senseless.

But you had work to do. So you settled for gifting him a tiny peck on the cheek.

He held his hand to where your lips had landed. “Careful!” he gasped, sounding scandalized. “Someone might have seen that.”

You rolled your eyes. “ Okay, I’m already regretting this.”

“This what?” He followed you down the hall. “This, like you and me? Are we a thing?”

“The more you talk, the less we are,” you sang, unable to hide the laughter in your voice.

Before you crossed into the library, Jin grabbed your arm, spinning you around and into his embrace, stealing your breath away with his lips. You let yourself melt for a second, two, ten, before breaking away.

“Ahem.”

To your surprise, Yoongi was standing in the hallway, a wide grin on his face. “I just wanted to know if you’d like some peppermint schnapps in your hot cocoa again?”

So much for keeping things secret. Not that it really mattered, considering Yoongi wasn’t much of a talker. But you didn’t want to answer questions or have to put labels on whatever you and Jin were. Right now, all you wanted to do was see your idea through. Anything else could wait.

And yet it made you happy to think that maybe there could be something. Ugh, you were getting so soft, so fast. Better keep an eye on that.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Jin replied smoothly, hands still on your hips.

“Sure,” you croaked out. You didn’t normally drink while working, but fuck it. Tis the season, after all.

In the library, Taehyung sat at the piano while Jimin perched on a stool in front of the baby grand, tuning an acoustic guitar. Thankfully, Yoongi had a guitar on hand that Jimin could borrow.

Meanwhile, Jungkook played around with an electronic drum kit that he’d brought with him, fine tuning the settings. Jin and Hobi were futzing with the tripod, searching for the perfect spot to set up the camera.

Because damn it, the show must go on.

Sure, the in-person concert had to be cancelled. But that didn’t mean Euphoria couldn’t perform. All they needed were a few instruments and a camera to livestream it all.

Unfortunately, the tech crew who were supposed to stream the concert at the venue were also snowed in at their hotel, but a simple phone would do for the stripped-down concert you were imagining.

(As long as the Blitzen Inn’s internet didn’t conk out in the middle of streaming.)

This wasn’t about your job anymore. Fuck Beyond the Sound. This was about Euphoria, and letting the band show that they didn’t need weird gimmicks or wild concepts to sell albums - all they needed was the chance to shine. Just the three of them and a (mostly) acoustic set of holiday classics. The band was thrilled with your idea, and it made you happy to see them so happy.

Ugh. You were turning into a marshmallow.

The ugly Christmas sweaters had been Hobi’s suggestion, after you’d offhandedly mentioned that you hadn’t had the chance to buy them a proper holiday concert wardrobe. Jimin’s gingerbread man sweater read “I’m Baked” above the cookie’s visage, while Taehyung’s “Prosecc-ho-ho-ho” with a tipsy Santa Claus looked surprisingly chic - something you ascribed to the wearer and not the sweater itself.

The other furniture in the room had been pushed back so only the band and the fireplace would be in the shot. You stood behind the couch, watching Hobi adjust the phone being used for the recording. “Hobi, you don’t mind manning the camera for this?”

“You mean, do I mind turning the video on and clicking “record”? No, I don’t mind at all,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just happy to help! This is such a wonderful idea - a cozy little concert experience.”

“Yeah, we came up with a great plan, huh?” Jin piped up, sneaking up on your side. You felt the ghost of a hand brush down your back and fought to keep your face straight.

“What is this ‘we’? This was my idea!” you retorted, but failed to keep from smiling as you said it. Yoongi brought you both a mug of cocoa, then sank onto the couch for a front row seat.

“It’s about time,” Jin glanced at his watch. “You guys ready?”

“Let’s get it!” Jungkook chirped.

The fireplace crackled in the background as Hobi cued Jimin. The lead singer smiled at the camera, greeting the audience. “Good evening and happy holidays! Euphoria had to cancel our concert, thanks to a little snow. But we didn’t want to let all our fans down. We hope you don’t mind that it’s just the three of us tonight, and some of our favorite songs. Grab your cocoa, settle around the fireplace, and celebrate with us, as we bring you a little holiday cheer.”

He strummed his guitar, launching into a gorgeous rendition of “Winter Wonderland.” As the music swelled, Hobi and Yoongi relaxed on the couch, hand in hand. Humming along quietly, careful not to end up on the recording, you felt Jin’s hand gently wrap around your waist. Leaning against his side, feeling content, you decided to let go of your worries and enjoy the moment - the beautiful music, the cheerful atmosphere, and the gorgeous man by your side.

Jin dipped his head, mouth brushing your ear as he murmured, “You pulled it off, baby. Congrats.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you whispered, peering up at him, smirking. “I guess you deserve some credit, too. Why don’t you claim… 25%?”

“So generous,” he smiled, bending to sweep his lips against yours. “I’ll be sure to thank you when I get that promotion.”

His kiss silenced your protests as the band played on.

**********

ONE YEAR LATER

“Your eleven am appointment is here, ma’am,” your assistant’s voice filtered through the speaker as she buzzed you.

“Thank you, Seulgi. Go ahead and get them settled in the conference room and I’ll be right in.”

You stood and began gathering everything you would need for your meeting, just as Jin entered your office without knocking.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes, but how many times do I have to tell you to knock?” You frowned.

He grinned, crossing the room to tower over you. “Why, what might I see? You in a compromising situation with the boss?” His hand stroked your hip as he stepped closer. “Oh wait, that’s me.” “We’re partners. Stop trying to get me to call you my boss.”

After the success of the livestream, Euphoria’s holiday album shot straight to the top of the charts. You’d ended up having to stay an extra day in Christmas, until everything was plowed and it was safe to travel again. When you finally returned to your office, Sejin welcomed you and Jin with open arms, thrilled at how you’d helped shepherd Euphoria back to the number one spot. He’d then offered the promotion to you, stating he’d heard that the livestream had been your brilliant idea.

And you had promptly turned him down, putting in your two week notice.

Jin also quit, and together you established your own management firm, Worldwide Sound. Normally, making such a big leap would’ve taken a lot more time and effort, but you had an ace up your sleeves, signing a major band on your first day of business - Euphoria. Thanks to a savvy lawyer contact of Jin’s, the band got out of their horrific contract with Beyond the Sound and happily joined your firm as your first clients.

As much as the old you would’ve hated to admit it, you and Jin made a pretty great team. With your business expertise and his interpersonal skills, you were making a name for yourselves in the industry, all while making sure your clients knew that they were your number one priority.

Jin delicately removed all your belongings from your grasp, setting them back on your desk as he slid his arms around you. “You didn’t have any problems calling me ‘boss’ last night,” he purred as he tilted his mouth to slot against yours.

You allowed him to kiss you for exactly five seconds before you pushed him away lightly. “Okay, first of all, role playing does not count, and secondly, what happened to us not discussing our private life at work?” But there was no anger behind your words, just an unceasing fondness for your boyfriend as he gazed at you with a soft smile.

“You’re right, you’re right. Oh, but I did finalize our travel plans for Christmas, so we’re all set for this weekend.”

“Oh, good! I can’t wait to see Hobi and Yoongi again.” What better place to celebrate nearly a year of bliss with your boyfriend than at the little bed and breakfast that brought you together?

“Me too. Now come on, back to business, baby.”

You gave him a look.

“Sorry. Partner.” He held the door open for you, but you paused in the doorway to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“That’s better. But if you play your cards right and help me sign this deal,” you murmured, “tonight you can call me boss.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

The first time you saw him, he was a ghostly figure on a hospital rooftop in Seoul. The second time, he was your commanding officer amidst a war zone.

Three months had passed since that strange charged encounter on Haesung Medical Centre’s rooftop. A soldier with the face of a film star and eyes that had witnessed far too much had returned your lost pen and disrupted your meticulously ordered world. You, Dr. Y/N had tried to dismiss it as a momentary lapse, a random and attractive man. It meant nothing. You buried yourself in your work, the sterile certainty of the operating room, and convinced yourself you were immune to such things.

Then the letter arrived, an official request, a ‘prestigious opportunity’. The Haesung Medical Foundation was establishing a new trauma team in Uruk and they wanted their top cardiothoracic surgeon to lead it. It was a career-maker, they assured them.

You found yourself in Uruk, a land of ochre dust and a sky so blue it hurt your eyes. The air tasted of sand and diesel fumes. The Haesung camp consisted of beige tents and temporary structures surrounded by high fences and razor wire, a true testament to inhospitable conditions.

Your first week was a whirlwind of frustration. Outdated equipment, limited supplies and relentless heat made it a physical challenge. You managed your small team of nurses and medics with military precision, your sharp tongue and high standards earning you both fear and respect. Your mission was clear: save lives and then leave.

The plan shattered on a Tuesday.

The familiar wailing shriek of an incoming Medevac helicopter pierced the afternoon stillness. Sweat beaded on your scrubs as you dashed to the landing pad. The helicopter door slid open and your team hurried forward, a stretcher in tow.

"Multiple casualties!" a voice yelled over the roar of the rotors. "It's an ambush with roadside bomb!"

You directed the chaos, your eyes scanning the wounded soldiers as they were unloaded. A soldier with a chest wound and another with severe burns were already visible. Then they brought out the last one. He was conscious but barely his face ashen and his uniform soaked in blood. Even from a distance, you could see the dark spreading stain on his abdomen.

You moved to his side your hands instinctively reaching for his pulse. “What’s his name?” you shouted to the medic who had accompanied him.

"Captain Kim Seokjin, ma'am!" the medic yelled back. "Team leader!"

Your hands froze and your blood ran cold. Looking down past the blood and dirt you finally saw his face. It was thinner harsher framed by a military helmet instead of the Seoul sky. But it was him the man from the rooftop, the soldier whose smile you’d tried so hard to forget.

"Doctor?" a nurse asked, looking at you strangely.

You snapped back to reality, your professional instincts kicking in with a vengeance. “Let’s move! He’s bleeding internally! I need a portable ultrasound right now!” You helped wheel the stretcher into the trauma bay your mind a whirlwind of denial and terrifying professional fear.

He was conscious, his dark eyes, clouded with pain, found yours. A flicker of recognition, or maybe delirium, crossed his face. "You…" he whispered, his voice a ragged breath.

“Be quiet, Captain,” you commanded, your voice sharper than you meant. Terror gripped you but you masked it with icy calm. “Don’t talk.” You tore open his shirt revealing the ultrasound probe already poised in your hand. The screen flickered to life displaying a chaotic swirl of black and grey. Free fluid filled the space and his abdomen was a crimson sea.

“He needs surgery right now,” you declared. “However, I can’t perform this here. I need access to the main hospital base. If I attempt to operate here he’ll likely die on the table.”

“Doctor, the hospital base is an hour away and he won’t make it.” A young lieutenant’s face paled as he said this.

Gazing at Seokjin, you watched his life force ebb away. You’d seen the promise in his eyes on that rooftop, the unwavering belief that you’d honour your word. In that moment, you’d silently vowed never to see him again at your table. Fate, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humour.

“Then I won’t let him die,” you declared your voice ringing with a conviction you didn’t feel. “Get me a chest tube tray four units of O-negative blood and the strongest analgesics available. Lieutenant, you’re assisting me. Everyone else clear the room unless I call for you.”

For the next hour the world outside your tent faded away. It was just you Seokjin and the fragile thread of his life. With rudimentary tools you performed miracles. You inserted a chest tube to drain the blood collapsing his lung your hands steady despite the tremor in your soul. You pumped fluids into him pushing back against the tide of haemorrhage. You were fighting a war against his body’s betrayal armed with little more than sheer will.

He drifted in and out of consciousness occasionally murmuring incoherently. Once his weak trembling hand found yours resting on his arm. His fingers were cold. “Don’t let me go” he whispered his eyes closed.

Your heart clenched painfully. “I’m not leaving, Captain,” you said, your voice unexpectedly gentle. “I’ve got you.”

You held his hand until his breathing steadied into a restless sleep. Gazing at his peaceful, unconscious face, a powerful wave of emotion washed over you, almost bringing you to your knees. It wasn’t just a doctor’s duty; it was deeply and terrifyingly personal.

By the time the helicopter arrived to transport him to the main hospital, you’d stabilised him just enough. You refused to let him go, accompanying him in the air ambulance. You sat by his side, monitoring his vitals, your hand resting near his as a silent guardian.

He survived the surgery. The grizzled old lead surgeon at the main base, a man who’d seen it all, clapped you on the back. “Whatever you did out there, you gave him a bloody good chance.”

Every day in recovery, you visited him. You told yourself it was professional courtesy, simply monitoring your patient. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. Sitting by his bed, you watched his steady rise and fall of his chest and felt a peace you hadn’t known in years.

Three days later, he awoke. His eyes fluttered open, hazy and confused. Focusing on you, a slow smile touched his lips. “I must be dead,” he rasped. “You’re an angel.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’re not dead Captain, though you gave it your all. You have a nasty habit of getting blown up.”

“Just to get your attention,” he said his voice growing a little stronger. “Was it worth it?”

You leaned forward lowering your voice to a serious whisper. “Please don’t do that to me again.”

His smile faltered and his gaze locked onto yours. “I’ll try my best, Doctor.” He paused then offered a grateful nod. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Captain,” you said as you stood up. “Get some rest.”

Turning to leave, his voice halted you. “My name is Seokjin.”

You looked back at him. "I know."

"Then call me Seokjin," he said. "When we're not in a war zone."

“We’re practically in a war zone.” you both laughed at the perfectly chosen words.

His recovery was long but he was a soldier, strong and determined. Your visits continued, conversations shifting from medical updates to books and life in Seoul. You found yourself sharing things you hadn’t told anyone, your fears, dreams and the loneliness that sometimes crept in on quiet nights. In turn, he showed you the man behind the uniform, the brilliant strategist, the loyal friend and the man who bore the weight of his team’s lives.

The fragile thread that had connected you on that rooftop had transformed into a powerful unbreakable bond.

On his day of discharge, he found you at your clinic organising supplies. Out of his hospital gown and back in his fatigues, he stood tall and strong. The war raged outside but in that moment he seemed to belong in a world of peace.

“I’m being sent back to Seoul,” he said. “My tour is over.”

Your heart sank. “Oh, that’s… good. You’ll be safe.”

He stepped closer and held out his hand. “I have something for you.” A small carved wooden bird rested in his palm, rough and clearly handmade. “I whittled it during recovery. It’s a magpie symbolising luck and finding each other again.”

Your fingers brushed against his, taking it. The familiar jolt was still there but no longer shocking; it was comforting like coming home. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“Y/N,” he whispered, and the sound of your name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine. “When you return to Seoul I want to see you not as a patient or a doctor but simply as Seokjin and Y/N.”

You looked up into the earnest hopeful eyes of the man you’d saved, the man who had saved you from your own isolation. The logical scientific part of your brain screamed at you it was a terrible idea. He was a soldier his life was about duty and danger while yours was about healing and control. They simply couldn’t be compatible.

Your heart, the traitorous foolish organ you knew so well, wasn’t listening.

"I'd like that," you heard yourself say.

A brilliant breathtaking smile spread across his face. It was the rooftop smile but now it carried a history shared trauma and a promise of the future. “Good” he said his voice soft. “I’ll hold you to it Doctor.”

He left then, offering a final respectful nod before turning and walking away. You watched him go clutching the small wooden bird feeling as if a part of you was walking out with him.

The remaining six months of your tour in Uruk were both the longest and shortest of your life. Each day blurred into a whirlwind of trauma and triage, saving lives and losing others. You’d grown colder, more efficient, your reputation as the “Ice Queen Surgeon” firmly established. Yet at night, in the quiet of your tent, you’d hold the small wooden magpie and let yourself feel. You’d think of his laugh his steady gaze and the way his hand felt in yours. Initially, you’d write him short, professional updates but then longer, more personal ones you never sent. You told yourself you were simply documenting your patient’s recovery but you were lying. You were documenting your own.

Midway through a complex procedure on a local child with a congenital heart defect, your tour abruptly ended. Your replacement, a bright-eyed young surgeon, gazed at you with awe as you handed over the scalpel. A strange sense of loss washed over you. You were leaving this place you detested, the one that had both broken and remade you.

Returning to Seoul on a military transport, the familiar roar of the engines lulled you back to sleep. Upon landing, the city was overwhelming. The noise, the crowds and the frantic energy were a stark contrast to the simple tranquillity of Uruk. You felt like an alien a ghost in your own life.

Your apartment was exactly as you’d left it, sterile, clean and impersonal. It felt like a museum dedicated to a person you no longer were. You unpacked your bags, putting your scrubs away and placing the wooden magpie on your nightstand. It looked out of place among your sleek modern furniture a wild untamed Uruk in your controlled world.

Weeks passed. You’d taken a position at a private hospital, far removed from the dusty tents and life-or-death stakes of your previous work. You performed flawless surgeries on wealthy patients and attended glamorous galas. You were Dr. Y/N once more, celebrated and successful. Yet, beneath the surface, you were miserable.

You convinced yourself he’d forgotten. He was back in his world of duty and honour, a hero. You were just a doctor doing her job. The rooftop, the bomb and the promise were all just products of extreme circumstances, a wartime romance that belonged nowhere else.

On a rainy Tuesday, you were leaving the hospital, your heels clicking on the polished marble floor, when you spotted him. Standing by the entrance, he held an umbrella looking handsome yet out of place in civilian clothes. It was just Seokjin.

Your heart stopped and then began pounding against your ribs in a frantic desperate rhythm.

He spotted you and a slow smile spread across his face. As he walked towards you the crowd parted, seemingly for him. He stopped just in front of you close enough for you to catch the fresh scent of his rain-dampened jacket.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you managed to say.

“I promised I’d keep my word,” he said his voice soft just for you.

“I didn’t think you would,” you admitted.

“Doctor, I’m a man of my word. It’s almost a job requirement.” He paused, searching your eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. That I’d simply be a ghost from a war you’d rather forget.”

“Seokjin,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion, “you’re not a ghost. You’re the most real thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He closed the small distance between you, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed away an unnoticed tear. “Y/N,” he said his voice low and serious, “I have a proposition. Let’s put the war zones and life-or-death situations behind us for a while. How about dinner, a movie and a walk in the park? Just the boring normal things we never got to enjoy.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing and soaking up the warmth and reality of him. “What if I’m not good at being boring and normal?” you whispered.

“We’ll figure it out together,” he said. “We’ll find our own normal.”

You opened your eyes and gazed at him. He’d witnessed your highs and lows, faced death alongside you and returned for you. The logical part of your brain went silent; there was no room for logic here. Only he and this moment.

“Okay dinner,” you said.

He smiled and it was as if the sun had finally broken through the clouds. “Okay,” he echoed.

He took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours as he led you out into the rain. He held the umbrella over both of you but you didn’t mind getting wet; you were finally home.

Seokjin’s chosen restaurant was tucked away in a quiet Seoul alley. It was a small Italian place with warm lighting, checkered tablecloths and the comforting aroma of garlic and basil. This was a far cry from the stark functional mess halls of Uruk; it was normal and perfect.

Nervousness washed over you, a feeling you hadn’t known since your first solo surgery. You’d worn a simple elegant black dress but now felt ridiculously self-conscious.

Seokjin appeared utterly relaxed. His dark blue sweater accentuated his deep-set eyes and his ever-disarming smile. He reached across the table and took your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. “You look beautiful,” he said sincerely. “But you seem a bit nervous. Should I be worried you’ll diagnose me with a rare condition before the appetisers arrive?”

You laughed and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. “I was just thinking this is the first time I’ve seen you without dirt on your face or blood on your uniform. It’s quite a change.”

He grinned, “And this is my first time seeing you in a dress. I approve, very much.” Letting go of your hand, he picked up the menu. “Doctor, what’s your professional opinion on the carbonara? Is it a cardiac risk I’m willing to take?”

Dinner unfolded like a series of delightful moments, easy, playful and filled with a warm glow. You chatted about everything and nothing, sharing stories about his eccentric friends and his noisy civilian “team”. In return, you spoke of your passion for classical music and your secret fondness for terrible reality TV. He listened intently, making you feel like the only person in the world.

“You have a little sauce…” He gently brushed the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

Your breath caught in your throat. His touch was so gentle and familiar. “Thanks,” you whispered your cheeks flushing.

He didn’t pull his hand away straight away. His fingers lingered and his gaze was soft. “I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

The air crackled with a playful energy that shifted into something deeper and more charged. “Well,” you whispered, “the patient seems stable.”

A low warm laugh vibrated through you as he said, “Very stable.” Finally withdrawing his hand you felt the sharp loss of his touch.

He walked you home under the city lights, their neon streaks painting the wet streets. The comfortable silence between you was filled with unspoken words. As you reached your apartment building, you stopped and turned to face him.

“Thank you for dinner Seokjin.”

“Thank you for coming,” he said, stepping closer and his body radiating a gentle heat. “I had a terrifying thought on the way here,” he confessed.

"What?"

I’d arrive and find you’d changed your mind. You’d realise I’m just a soldier with scars and a peculiar obsession with rooftop gardens while you’re this brilliant amazing doctor who deserves someone… simpler.

You shook your head, your heart aching for him. “Seokjin, you’re not ‘just’ anything. You held my hand when he thought he was dying and then you came back. There’s nothing easier than that.”

He let out a shaky breath his eyes glistening with emotion. “Y/N…” He leaned in slowly giving you a chance to pull away but you didn’t. You met him halfway.

His lips were soft and hesitant at first, a gentle question. You answered by parting them and deepening the kiss. It wasn’t frantic or desperate like in the movies; it was slow and searching a kiss of rediscovery. The taste was of wine, hope and the promise of a future. His hand cupped your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you close as if you were precious. When you finally pulled apart you were both breathless.

“Come up with me?” you blurted out before you could think.

His eyes searched yours and what he saw there darkened his own, mirroring your own desire. He simply nodded.

Inside your apartment, the city lights cast a warm glow. You took his jacket, your fingers brushing against his arm. The air was electric with anticipation. He turned to you his gaze sweeping over your face as if memorising every detail.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Being here with you in a world that isn’t falling apart.”

“Me too,” you admitted.

He closed the distance, his hands framing your face. This kiss was different this time, confident, possessive and brimming with months of longing. His tongue swept over yours and a soft sigh escaped your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer feeling the solid reassuring strength of his body against yours.

He walked you backward towards your bedroom his lips never leaving yours until your legs hit the bed’s edge. Breathing raggedly he broke the kiss and asked “Y/N… are you sure?”

In response you reached behind you unzipped your dress and let it pool at your feet. Standing before him in your simple lace lingerie your heart pounded not with fear but with a thrilling undeniable certainty.

His eyes darkened, a raw hunger sparking a jolt of heat through you. He effortlessly lifted you and laid you down on the bed as if you were the most precious thing. Following you down he propped himself up on his elbows to gaze at you.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured his voice thick with awe. He leaned down pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone and then another to the hollow of your throat. His hands traced the curves of your waist his touch reverent. “I was so scared I’d never get to touch you like this.”

You arched into his touch, your hands fumbling with the hem of his sweater. “Then don’t waste any more time.”

He helped you pull it over his head, revealing his lean sculpted chest and abdomen. A faint silvery scar marred the skin just above his ribs. You reached out and traced its length gently. He flinched slightly.

“From the bomb,” he murmured.

You leaned in and kissed the scar softly and lingeringly. “It’s part of you,” you whispered. “It’s part of us.”

A shiver ran through him. He captured your lips in a searing kiss and his hands explored your body with a newfound urgency. He unhooked your bra with practised ease, cupping your breasts in his palms and brushing his thumbs over your already hardened nipples. You gasped and your head fell back against the pillows as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He took his time, learning your body with the patience of a soldier and the devotion of a lover. Kissing every inch of your skin he mapped your scars freckles and sensitive spots until you trembled and whimpered beneath him. Finally settling between your thighs his eyes locked on yours and the question was clear.

“Seokjin, please,” you begged your voice hoarse with need.

He entered you slowly and carefully as if you were fragile glass. The initial stretch was a sweet ache a feeling of completeness you hadn’t realised you were missing. He stilled deep inside you his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, the same words spoken in the trauma bay now carrying a completely different meaning. “I’ve got you.”

He began to move, a slow deep rhythm a dance of give and take. There was no rush no frantic urgency just a conversation without words a sharing of souls. You wrapped your legs around his waist meeting him thrust for thrust your hands clutching at his shoulders. The pressure built a tight coil in your belly winding higher and higher until it snapped. You cried out his name as your orgasm crashed over you a blinding all-consuming wave of pleasure. He followed you over the edge moments later burying his face in your neck with a guttural groan.

Later, tangled in the sheets with your head resting on his chest, you listened to the steady reassuring beat of his heart. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard, the sound of life and home.

His fingers stroked your hair gently. “So,” he murmured in your ear, his voice a sleepy rumble, “was this boring and normal enough for you?”

You smiled against his skin and whispered, “Not even a little bit. It was so much better.”

The first sensation was warmth, a deep, enveloping feeling unrelated to your blankets and entirely connected to the solid body curled around you. Then came the sound of a heartbeat a slow steady rhythm beneath your ear more soothing than any lullaby. Finally, light filtered through your blinds painting stripes of gold across the rumpled sheets.

You opened your eyes to find Seokjin still asleep. His face, relaxed and peaceful in the soft morning light, was a stark contrast to the harsh lines of the soldier. Gone were the soldier’s features; instead, you were captivated by the soft handsome man you were quickly falling for. His hair was a messy tangle of soft brown tufts and his lips were slightly parted. Watching him, a fond smile played on your lips and a profound wave of contentment washed over you, almost painful.

Carefully untangling yourself from his arms, you tried not to wake him. You grabbed his discarded button-down shirt from the floor and slipped it on. It was far too big, the sleeves falling past your hands and the hem brushing your mid-thigh. It smelled like him, clean with a faint hint of sandalwood and something uniquely Seokjin.

Stepping silently into the cool kitchen on your bare feet, you turned on the coffee maker. The familiar gurgle and hiss filled the air, a comforting domestic sound. As you waited, leaning against the counter, you replayed the night’s events in your mind. Every touch and whispered word felt like a dream.

A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist from behind pulling you back against a firm bare chest. Startled, you gasped but then relaxed as Seokjin’s chin rested on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice a low sleepy rumble. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck. “Stealing my clothes already Doctor?”

You leaned back into him, a smile spreading across your face. “They were just lying there and seemed like a waste.” Turning your head to look at him, you added, “Besides I think it looks better on me.”

A deep vibrating chuckle rumbled through him, resonating all the way down to your toes. “I’m not going to argue with that.” His hands slid down your waist to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing circles on your bare skin. “Actually, I think we should establish a new rule. From now on, you’re only allowed to wear my shirts.”

“Oh really?” you teased, turning in his arms to face him. He was gloriously rumpled with his hair sticking up at all angles and a sleepy smile on his face. “And what will you wear?”

His eyes, still heavy with sleep, roamed over you taking in the way his shirt barely covered you. “I think I can manage,” he said his voice dropping an octave. His gaze lingered on your lips before dropping lower. “You know I was having a really good dream.”

“About what?” you asked, your hands resting on his chest.

“You,” he replied simply. “In this kitchen wearing my shirt. Or, well, not for very long.” He leaned down and kissed your lips slowly and deeply, the taste of sleep and morning coffee promising. One hand cupped your neck, holding you in place while the other slid down to squeeze your buttocks, pulling you flush against him. You could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your stomach.

A soft moan escaped your lips, “Seokjin,” you breathed against his mouth. “The coffee…"

“I can wait,” he growled. Effortlessly, he lifted you and set you on the edge of the kitchen counter. Your shirt rode up, exposing you fully to his gaze. Stepping between your legs, his hands gripped your thighs. “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I woke up and found you gone.”

He kissed you again this time harder, a kiss of pure unadulterated need. His hands roamed your body relearning every curve. He pushed the shirt open his warm palms against your stomach then higher cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples and they pebbled instantly under his touch.

“You’re so responsive” he murmured his lips trailing down your neck. He took one peaked nipple into his mouth sucking gently and you cried out your hands flying to his hair holding him to you. He lavished attention on your breasts his tongue and teeth driving you to the brink of madness.

“Seokjin, please,” you begged, your hips rocking against him, desperate for friction. He pulled back, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Please what Doctor? Use your words.” You gasped, “Please… touch me.”

His grin widened. “As you wish.” He sank to his knees before you spreading your thighs wider with his hands. Looking up from under his lashes his dark eyes held a passionate desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

His mouth descended upon yours, his tongue flicking out teasingly to your clit. A sharp cry tore from your throat as you jolted. He held your hips steady with a firm grip, expertly exploring you with his tongue. Licking and sucking, he drove you higher and higher his name a constant litany on your lips. He knew exactly how to touch you reading your body’s responses, pushing you to the edge and then pulling back over and over until you were a trembling sobbing mess.

“Seokjin, please I can’t… I need…” you babbled, utterly lost in pleasure.

Finally, he felt sorry for you and sucked your clit into his mouth while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside. The simultaneous sensations were overwhelming and your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave a blinding explosive force tearing a scream from your lungs. He didn’t stop drawing out your pleasure until you were completely spent slumping against the counter boneless and trembling.

He rose, wiping his mouth with his hand, looking incredibly smug and you couldn’t muster the energy to care. He leaned down and kissed you, savouring your taste.

“Good morning,” he purred again, his voice low and satisfied.

You managed a weak laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

He picked you up again, as if you were nothing, and carried you back to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and quickly removed his boxers. Crawling over you, his body covered yours, his weight a welcome pressure.

“You know,” he murmured against your ear, “I seem to recall you mentioning how my shirt looked better on you. I’m beginning to disagree.”

You looked up at him, the man who had seen you at your most vulnerable and worshipped you for it. Your hand cupped his cheek and you whispered, “You’re right. It looks much better on your floor.”

A bright, happy laugh filled your heart as he positioned himself at your entrance his eyes locking with yours. “I love you, Y/N,” he said his voice raw with emotion.

As he entered you slowly and deeply, you felt a certainty beyond medical science. Your heart, so carefully guarded for so long, belonged to the soldier with gentle hands and a devastating smile. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

My cheeks are aching from smiling and have turned red. I hope I’ve managed to write it well; I really felt like I was developing new writing skills while writing this one-shot.

If you guys liked it or have feedback please let me know so I can use the feedback.