But Why Jimin

Namjoon was a pretty decent roommate. You had connected with him on Facebook while searching for somebody to move into your spare room in your apartment when your last roommate moved out unexpectedly. He was quick to take you up on the offer.

He kept things tidy, relatively quiet. He read a lot and liked to sing in the shower. Your schedules seem to be quite the opposite: while you were at work, he was home. And while you were home, he was out or hidden away in his room. Your interactions were always pleasant. He was a genuinely nice guy who even left you meals in the fridge if he had any food left over from his dinner. You didn’t know much about him: who his friends were, where or what he did for work, or even what his last name was but he paid rent on time and didn’t bring drama. That’s all you could ask for.

You sat in your shared living room watching tv, lounging and relaxing after work when Namjoon came out of his room with a frustrated look on his face. His fingers were furiously typing against his phone screen.

“Hey.” You greeted him. “Didn’t realize you were home.”

“Uh, yeah.” He said without looking up, still focused on whoever he was texting.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, never having seen him in any mood other than a pleasant one. He took a second to glance up at you, a fake and tight smile on his face.

“Yeah. All good.”

“Okay.” You shrug. “You just seem a little stressed out or something.”

“It’s just a work thing.” He said, brushing it off but this peaked your interest never hearing him mention anything about his work. Or much of anything really.

“Oh? Anything I can do to help?” You offered causing Namjoon to snicker a bit, a laugh that made you feel a bit insecure for some reason. Almost as if he was laughing at some sort of an inside joke. “What’s so funny?”

“I uh- I don’t think this is something you could help me with.” He said, plopping down on the couch beside you in a huff. This was the first time you had had a conversation this long, let alone sat so close together. It excited you a bit.

“Come on, I’m good at my job. I’m a supervisor. I manage a whole team. I’m sure I can help you out with whatever is going on.” You pushed. “What kind of work are you in?”

“Well,” he hesitated, “Im a content creator.. I guess you could say.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Maybe I’ve seen some of your work.” You said excitedly while taking your phone out. “What platforms are you on?”

“I definitely don’t think you’ve seen my content or I think we would have crossed that bridge by now.” He chuckled, a hint of a darker tone behind his words that you caught onto quickly.

“What? Am I crossing the line or something?” You ask, panicking a bit. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t gotten to know you so I guess I got a bit excited.”

“Well, although that’s very cute, I don’t know if this is something I’m ready to share with you.”

“Do you make cringey videos or something?” You chuckle but Namjoon didn’t laugh along with you.

“No.” He said, sighing deeply. “Definitely not cringey.”

“Okay, you kinda have to tell me now. I’m way too curious.” You pester, not allowing him to shy away from the topic. He groaned, running both his hands through his hair dramatically before finally giving you an inch.

“Do you promise not to judge me?”

“I promise.” You say, crossing your heart like a school-girl. “Cross my heart.”

“Oh god-okay.” Namjoon rolled his eyes at your cliche but continued. “I make content for Only Fans.”

“Wait, isn’t that.. the porn site?” You ask with a bit more emphasis on the word porn than Namjoon appreciated.

“You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“I’m not I’m just.. I guess I can’t really picture you doing.. that.” You said, your voice still full of judgment. Namjoon was admittedly very, very, attractive. But in more of a ‘hot teachers assistant’ way. He was tall, studious, and came off very private. You couldn’t imagine him filming himself and posting it for others to watch.

“You mean you don’t think I can fuck?” He said, snickering a bit.

“No! I mean, yes. Not that I’ve imagined you having sex. I haven’t. But I just didn’t take you as somebody who would, you know, record yourself doing that for money.” You said, a bit of panic in your voice. “There’s nothing wrong with that! Nothing wrong at all. I mean, you always pay rent on time so I don’t care.”

“Well, that’s kinda the problem.” He grumbled. “I was supposed to shoot a new video I promised my subscribers with this new amateur actress and she cancelled. My other creator friends are all unavailable so, I might be fucked out of rent this month.”

“Oh-uh.. I can see how that would be frustrating.” You say, not knowing the best way to comfort him in this scenario while also worrying about the other half of your apartments rent money in the back of your mind. “Can’t you just.. do something else?”

“My subscribers are waiting on a new video with a partner. If I post a solo video I’ll have to refund a whole bunch of subscriptions and I’ll be fucked. No pun intended.” He groaned.

“You really have enough subscribers to pay your rent every single month?” You say in complete shock, glazing over his entire issue.

“Yes.” He sighed. “For now.”

“Holy shit.” You mumble. “Well, do you have a backup plan?”

“No. Not unless you want to take one for the team and be in the video with me.” He said, laughing a bit.

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m joking. Plus, you’re a virgin right?”

“That’s fucking rude.” You scoff.

Namjoon’s eyes scanned you up and down, sizing you up. You suddenly felt a bit self conscious and covered yourself by crossing your arms.

“You know, maybe that’s not such a bad idea after all.” He lifted his finger to his lips like he was pondering a deep thought. “Yeah, that could totally work.”

“I’m lost. What are you going on about?”

“You should be in the video with me. If you want to, that is.” He said so casually you thought he was joking. You started to laugh, a small snort slipping out. When his face remained serious, your laughter cut off quickly.

“Wait- you’re not joking?”

“No. I have to pay rent somehow and you’re very pretty. I get tested for STD’s weekly and I’m clean.” He said very confidently. “Plus, I would do all the work. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have to worry about anything? Of course I would. I’d be on camera!” You balked. “There’s like a million things I would have to worry about.”

“My content very much surrounds the pleasure of my viewer and the person I make content with if I do a video with somebody.” He put it simply. “I don’t expect you to do anything too performative. We can talk about what you like and dislike but, really, all you have to do is allow me to give you multiple orgasms for my own pleasure and yours.”

“Oh please.” You scoff, not believing a second of it. “I’ve seen porn before. It’s 90% blowjob followed by 3 pumps and a fake orgasm.”

“That’s porn made in a studio for men by men. I make porn for everyone but, mainly women. The majority of my subscribers are either women or people who identify as queer.” He explained. “Plus, I get off by getting people off.”

Although the idea was insane, his words admittedly made butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

“I don’t know.” You said, still not fully believing what he was saying. “I also don’t know how I feel about being recorded. What if people recognize me?”

“I can blur your face if you like.” He shrugged, unbothered. “I’m able to work with you to make you as comfortable as possible. We don’t even have to have sex if you don’t want you. You can just lay back and let me take make you cum a few times with my hands. My mouth. Maybe a toy if you have one..”

He trailed off, allowing you to envision the experience. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as well as between your thighs, although it made you feel a bit embarrassed. Your eyes glanced down to his hand. His fingers were long and almost delicate that suggested hidden skills and an expert touch. As your eyes traveled farther, you noticed he was hard. His bulge pressing up into his jeans in a size that was impossible to ignore.

“Oh.” You slipped without thinking, your eyes snapping away quickly. You had to fight hard not to look back down.

“Sorry.” He apologized, a smirk on his lips. “Like I said, I get off to getting others off. Even thinking about getting you off is enough to turn me on.”

You unintentionally pressed your thighs together which Namjoon noticed, satisfied. He knew he was having some sort of effect on you. Good or bad, he didn’t quite know.

“What are you thinking? Is this too much all at once?” He asked, his voice soothing.

“I still don’t know Namjoon.” You mumble. “I’m just.. nervous. About a lot. I’m not sure what to think about all this still.”

“I understand.” He nodded and stood up from his spot on the couch. “How about you sleep on it? Let me know tomorrow.”

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. He walked over to his bedroom door. But, before going inside he told you one more thing.

“Runch Randa.” He said, not elaborating.

“What?” You asked him, completely confused.

“My Only Fans name. Runch Randa.” Namjoon repeated. “In case you need to do some research.”

Namjoon slipped into his room without another word, leaving you with a peculiar decision to make by morning.

———————————————

You were still tossing and turning at midnight. Namjoon’s words repeating themselves over and over again in your mind. Should you or shouldn’t you? You thought to yourself. It would be easy to say no and help him cover rent this month. Secretly look for a backup roommate just in case this happens again. But truthfully, the thought about saying no disappointed you a bit. Not because you wanted to be on camera and wanted to sell sex with your roommate. But because Namjoon made sex with him sound so intriguing. And he must be good at it, right? If he was good enough to make money off of selling his sex it must be?

You wanted to call a friend and talk to them. Ask them what you should do but, you couldn’t. You didn’t want them to judge your roommate or you if you went through with it. Or worse, watch the video if you did. So instead, you opened the web browser on your phone and search his username. ‘Runch Randa.’

“Such an unsexy name for a sexy man.” You mumbled to yourself, and then clicked on his profile. He had a decent amount of subscribers. Not a crazy amount but, for his subscription cost, definitely enough where he could support himself with some change left over. His account was subscription protected but, thankfully, his account offered a 24 hour subscriber trial. All you had do to was create an account.

Once signed up, you scrolled through his long list of videos that he had sorted by categories. You first started in his “Solo” playlist. The thumbnail of the first video made your jaw practically hit the floor. It was Namjoon sat on a chair, only his torso shown, with his fist at the base of his thick cock.

You slapped your phone down on your chest and took a deep breath, completely freaked out by the fact that you had just seen your roommates dick. But, more importantly, that it looked like that. After taking a deep breath, you lifted your phone again and found enough bravery to press the play button.

The video was simple, one of the first he ever posted based on the date. Over a year ago. You watched with cheeks burning as his hand slowly stroked himself up and down, his wrist twisting each time he got to his head. Your eyes followed every movement, the time passing as if you were entranced. Suddenly, without warning, a soft moan left your phone speakers. You closed the video quickly, your heart racing along with a new pulse between your thighs. A new excitement bubbling. Before opening your phone again, you made sure to grab your headphones to enjoy Namjoon’s noises with more privacy.

You scrolled through more of his Solo playlist and found he had gotten more adventurous, using masturbator toys and even touching himself from behind as he grew more confident in front of the camera. You noticed about 6 months into his career he started to show his face, and enjoyed watching how his jaw would go slack whenever he would do something to himself that felt really good and how he would curse and clench his jaw when he came really hard. Before long, you had to come to terms with the fact you were wet from watching him.

You moved on and saw another category: “Partners” and was pleasantly surprised to find not just women, but very attractive men featured in the videos as well. There were few, seemingly new to his career. He must have only just started collaborating with other sex workers recently. You clicked on one with a pretty man with long blonde hair that was pulled into a ponytail. He was shorter than Namjoon and had a tattoo on his ribcage but also one down his spine that was very nicely on display when Namjoon bent him over.

His needy whimpers made your entire body feel hot. Too hot. You quickly clicked out and went to another video. You found one of Namjoon with a female creator. She was beautiful, of course. And Namjoon had pulled her over his face, making her sit right on top of him. You watched in awe as she quivered and twitched above him, whimpering as devoured her from down below. Even muffled by her thighs, you could still hear the audio of his lips sucking on her click and tongue licking up her arousal. His hands planted firmly on her thighs so she would not squirm away. Her moans were so pornographic it almost made you jealous. Almost. Overall, you were just incredibly turned on.

The pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore now, your panties now soaked from watching your roommate eat this girl alive. As you watch her cum on his tongue, convulsing above him as he held her steady until she came down from her high, you decided you couldn’t fight it any longer. Opening the drawer in your bedside table, you pulled out your vibrator and pushed it under your panties.

You went back to a video you had scrolled by previously, a solo video. You pressed play and watched as Namjoon stroked himself, one hand firmly at his base while the other focused on stroking his swollen cockhead. He was leaking precum, his deep voice dribbling out nonsense. You clicked the first speed on your vibrator, a small gasp slipping through your lips as the sensation hit your engorged clit.

“Fuck baby, you look so pretty playing with yourself for me.” He said, his voice deeper than normal. Your heart raced as if he could actually see you but, this only made it that much more exciting. You found yourself settling down in your bed further, spreading your legs into a wider butterfly position. The fabric of your panties tightening against you as you spread your legs that pushed your toy even harder into you.

“Are you making yourself feel good for me? Such a good girl.” His honey voice cooed in your headphones. Without realizing, a small whimper slipped out of your lips. You tried your best to control yourself, biting down on your bottom lip as you continued to watch. You started to move your vibrator in circular motions against yourself, matching the pace that Namjoon was using to stroke himself. It didn’t take long for the heat of an approaching climax to start to build.

“Are you going to cum for me? Hmm?” He grunted, the speed of his fist picking up speed, his wrist twisting and milking him harder. “Going to be a good girl and cum for me?”

You found yourself nodding pathetically as if he could see you. Your hips bucking up into your toy, pressing up into it hard, wanting more. You clicked the power one more time, upping the speed. You were right there, on the brink.

“Fuck- that’s it baby. Cum with me.” Namjoon grunted. And you watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his hips twitched as he pumped himself empty into his hand. The sight on the screen making you go over the edge, cumming hard against your toy. A small moan escaping your throat before you could stop yourself.

When your orgasm subsided, you pulled off your completely ruined panties, the apex of your thighs still pulsing with the aftershocks of your climax. You knew for certain now you were definitely interested in sleeping with Namjoon. That was fact. But being on camera? That was a component you weren’t sure about yet. Namjoon said he could blur your face which took care of that but, the worry still was in the back of your head. There were so many angles, so many things others could notice about you that you didn’t want them to. What if you sounded weird? Your stomach bunched up in a weird way? Did you have a strange looking vagina or weird shaped nipples? Did Namjoon even want to sleep with you? Or was he just desperate to make content?

“Ugh..” you groaned, throwing your arms above your face, sleepiness catching up to you. You decided to make up your mind in the morning.

————————————————

You were eating a piece of toast when Namjoon emerged from his room.

“Morning.” He greeted you, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Morning.” You felt your cheeks get warm instantly. “There’s coffee in the coffee maker if you want some.”

“Thanks.” He said and walked over to pour himself a cup. Black, no sugar or milk. “So, did you enjoy your research last night?”

You cough, choking on your bite of food which made Namjoon laugh.

“I get a notification every time somebody subscribes. Even if it’s with the free trial. Maybe using your first name in your username isn’t the best idea in this scenario.” He explained with a cocky grin.

“Oh, I see.” You said sheepishly, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Did you like what you watched?” He persisted, taking another sip of his drink.

“I uh, didn’t watch anything. I just scrolled really.” You lied very unconvincingly.

“You know, these walls are very thin.” He explained, using his finger to tap against the eggshell white paint of the kitchen. “Any little sound, or buzzing noise, can be heard very well. So let’s try answering that question again.”

“God- please spare me.” You grown, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I’m being mean. I just like to tease.” He chuckled. “But, I take it you enjoyed what you saw?”

You adverted your eyes completely and couldn’t bear to look at him however, the familiar pulse between your thighs returned at the memory and also his forward words. He was still patiently waiting for an answer and you knew he wouldn’t drop this topic without one.

“Yes.” You mumbled shyly.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Namjoon reassured you. “That just means I’m doing my job well. I take it as the highest compliment. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

You smiled softly and gave him a shy nod, finally meeting his eyes. You finished your toast and he finished his coffee in silence before he finally spoke again.

“Have you given any more thought to helping me out today?” He asked the million dollar question. Well, more like the $1500 question.

“Yes, I have.”

“Have you decided? Or are you still unsure?” Namjoon persisted, still remaining composed and polite. He leaned against the kitchen counter. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his shirt hugged his pecks as he leaned back against the granite, making your mouth go a bit dry.

“I uh- I’m still a bit unsure of some things.” You said with a weak voice since he had stolen your breath just simply by existing. He nodded and thought for a moment before continuing.

“Well, tell me what you’re sure of and then we can go from there.”

“Oh. Well.. you’re very attractive.” You admitted which made him smile a genuine smile. His dimple showing deep in his cheek. “Very, very attractive. It seemed like you know what you’re doing and are good what you do. And I’d like to sleep with you.”

“Okay.” He said, his head cocking to the side with his eyebrow raised. “It sounds like that’s all we really need. So, I guess I’m a bit confused on what’s holding us back here.”

“I just- what if people don’t like how I look? What if after all of this you still have to refund people anyway because you slept with somebody who looks like me? I mean, do you event want to sleep with me? If you didn’t have to make this video would you have ever pursued me? Because you’ve never tried.”

“I got hard just thinking about getting you off.” He said simply. “I got off last night listening to you get off. Just knowing you were watching my videos drove me crazy. Of course I want to fuck you.”

“You got off to me?” You ask him with surprise.

“Yes. And the only reason why I haven’t tried sleeping with you before is because you’re my roommate and in the past that.. complicated things. I didn’t want drama. But I can’t deny that I’ve thought about it. Many times.”

“So, you do think I’m attractive?”

“Yes. Very much so. And so will my subscribers but, that’s not the point. I just want to make you feel good and I know I can. If you are so gracious to let me.” Namjoon pushed himself off the counter and walked over to you. He took his hand and grabbed your chin gently, lifting your face up to look at him. Your lips trembled and your heart raced. “I want to make you cum. Over and over. You won’t see the camera and I’ll make sure of that. It will just be us.”

“C-can you blur my face?” You whispered, your voice shaking.

“Yes. Anything you need to make you feel comfortable.”

“Then.. okay. I’ll be in the video.” You tell him, agreeing to his proposition.

“Good girl.” He smirked and then pulled away from you. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

You finally took a breath, realizing you had been holding it for some time. Your head was spinning slightly but you had to focus as you had more questions to answer.

“I need to know what you’re comfortable with. What you like.”

“Hmm? Oh- I’m sure anything is fine.”

“No. I need direct answers.” He said very seriously. “This is sex but this is also my work. I need to be professional and make sure you’re not uncomfortable. Are you okay with kissing on the lips?”

“People have been not okay with that?” You ask him in shock, wondering how you could enjoy sex without doing such a thing.

“Different people have different boundaries. Especially if the person who creates this sort of content has a significant other outside of this line of work.” He explained. “So, I take that as a yes?”

“Yes. I’m okay with kissing.” You told him with butterflies in your stomach.

“Okay. Can I touch your breasts? Do you like nipple okay?” He asks it so casually you had to repeat the question to yourself in your head a few times before answering.

“Yeah.” You mumble. “I do.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips, thinking. Mapping out the video in his head. “Am I allowed to finger you? Go down on you, if you’re comfortable enough?”

“Yes.” You gulped. Your mouth felt dry again, as if he had stolen every drop of moisture from your body and sent it pooling down between your thighs.

“What about toys? Can I use one on you?” You could see him getting hard in his pajama pants at the thought. It made you press your thighs together just at the sight of his bulge, especially knowing now just what he was hiding under the fabric.

“I think you’re going to kill me but, yes.” You told him which made him laugh darkly.

“I’m going to push your limits for sure.” He admitted. “But that’s all the fun. I want you to feel pure bliss. I’ve already made you cum once.”

“That doesn’t count.” You argued, your cheeks burning.

“Oh yes, it does. And I’m going to make sure there’s plenty more where that came from.” He said, grabbing his cock in his hand through his pants. “Can I fuck you?”

“Yes. I really want you to do that.”

“Noted.” He almost laughed at your expression of pure lust, feeling flattered. “What about anal? Can I eat your ass?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t know- I’ve never really..” you started to feel a bit nervous and unsure. Maybe even a bit scared which he picked up on instantly.

“Don’t worry. We won’t do anything like that today. Is there anything else I should know before I go set up and shower?” He asked you and you thought long and hard but shook your head no.

“Okay. Give me two hours and knock on my door. I’d say wear something cute but, it will come off regardless.” He smirked. “See you soon baby. I’m looking forward to it.”

————————————————

The hours flew by as you rushed to prepare for your on-camera “debut”. You made sure to scrub your whole body, shave it nice and bare, and did your makeup to perfection. You knew exactly what you would wear: a matching sheer black lace panty and bra set that left little to the imagination. You tossed an oversized shirt over yourself to conceal your undergarments that fit you almost like a dress, not wanting to come off too strong and show up at Namjoon’s door half naked.

Your heart pounded as you made your way to his room. You were both anxious and terrified to experience what waited for you on the other side of his door. You took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the doorframe. Moments later, it opened and Namjoon was there to greet you. His frame feeling even taller than normal, towering over you.

“Hi beautiful.” He said warmly. “Are you ready?”

He was shirtless, wearing nothing but loosely fitted grey sweatpants that hung off his waist. A silver chain around his neck. He looked divine.

You smiled shyly and nodded. He smiled back and lifted his hand to caress your cheek, trying to calm you.

“We can stop at any time. Okay?”

“I know.” You told him.

“I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make you feel amazing.” He told you, reaching for your hand and leading you into his room. You stepped in slowly and glanced around, trying your best to not be obvious as you searched for the video camera. You thought you would see a tripod, a camcorder, something technical. Instead all you saw was a plush king size bed, a bookcase on the wall overfilled with books that seemed to be one title away from collapsing, and a window filled with plants that had leaves cascading to the floor. His room was inviting and cozy. Comfortable.

“Not what you expected?” He asked, catching your eyes wandering.

“Did you not set up yet?” You asked him.

“I told you, you won’t see the cameras. But they’re here. They’re recording. I’ll show you where after. Right now, it’s just me and you.” Namjoon reassured you and pulled you close to him. He lifted your chin up, leaving your lips inches from his. You could smell his minty breath against your face, coaxing you in.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” He whispered against your lips.

“Yes.” You told him. “I want you.”

“Good.”

Namjoon pressed his lips against yours softly, allowing the kiss to become deeper as you melted against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist, allowing his hands to slide down over the curve of your back and over your ass. He smirked into the kiss when he found you opted to not wear shorts under your oversized shirt, and was instead wearing a pair of panties when his hands cupped your cheeks. When you felt his large hands squeeze your behind you couldn’t help but whimper into the kiss you were sharing.

You wrapped your arms around Namjoon’s neck and he lifted you up off the ground and wrapping your legs around his waist to carry you to his bed. He sat down on the edge with you on his lap straddling him. You both made out for a few minutes, getting familiar with each other until Namjoon started to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off of you.” He asked you, nipping at your bottom lip. You nodded shyly and raised your arms for him to take it off and enjoyed the look on his face when he saw you clad in your lacy black set.

“Jesus Christ you were hiding that this whole time?”

Namjoon kissed down your neck slowly, placing open mouth kisses on your throat and collar bone until he reached the top of your bra. Using his hands, he gripped the top of each cup and pulled them down, allowing each of your breasts to spill out in front of him.

“Shit.” He sucked in a breath at the sight before him, relishing in it. “So fucking beautiful.”

He grabbed one breast in his hand, using two of his fingers to pinch at your hardened nipple. He tweaked and twisted it, the sensation shooting down between your thighs instantly. While he continued to toy with that nipple, he wrapped his plump lips around the other. He sucked on it gently while keeping his eyes on you, enjoying how your eyes fluttered each time the tip of his tongue flicked across the tip of your hardened bud.

You started to grind down against him. You could feel how hard he was against you, somehow growing harder and harder than he already was. His cock pressing up just right against you, his head pressing up into your clit. The friction felt amazing and soon you had soaked through your own panties, leaving a wet mark on his sweats. But you didn’t care. It felt too good.

“Mmm.” You moaned, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your hips starting to pick up speed as you chased the growing burn between your thighs.

“Does it feel good baby?” Namjoon said, pulling his lips off your now puffy nipple. You nod frantically while your hips still rock against him. “Such a good girl for me.”

He placed his lips back on your nipple and continued his sensual torture. While he did so, down below, Namjoon made sure to buck his hips up to meet your movements which made the friction so much more precise and intense. After a few more minutes of this, you felt a familiar intensity building between your thighs. Your hips started to twitch and your movements became more desperate, breathing more shallow and rapid.

“Joon-“ you were going to warn him but he placed his lips next to your ear and shushed you quietly.

“Be careful pretty.” He whispered almost too quietly. “Don’t use my name. They don’t know my real identity.”

“S-sorry.” You mumbled and he pressed a warm kiss to the base of your jaw to silently accept your apology.

“Are you going to cum grinding on my cock baby?” He purred in your ear in a tone that made your head spin.

“Please.” You begged, your hips moving faster. Your pelvis pushing against his bulge even harder. “Please, can I?”

“I’m here to please you baby.” He told you, his fingers pulling a bit harder on your nipple. “Now be a good girl and cum for me.”

After a few more swings of your hips, you had your first orgasm. Namjoon held you tight against him while your body twitched and you shyly whined into his shoulder as you creamed in your panties. It was not earth shattering by any means, having been over clothing and not by Namjoon’s own hand but, felt so fucking good regardless.

“You make such cute noises.” He told you, nuzzling into your neck as you came down from your high. “I need to hear more. Lay down for me.”

He stood up, taking you with him and gently laid you down on the duvet with your legs still dangling off the edge. Namjoon placed his hands gently on your thighs and dragged them slowly upwards until his fingers reached the waistband of your panties. His eyes looked up and found yours, waiting for you to give him permission. With a small nod of your head, he wrapped his fingers around the fabric and slowly dragged the black lace downward. You lifted yourself upwards to help him shimmy them off. As you did, you could feel the cold air hit your wet core that was covered in the remnants of your orgasm.

Once the fabric was off your body, Namjoon dropped it into a heap on the floor next to your shirt. You felt a bit shy and clamped your legs shut tight. You peered up at him through your lashes waiting for him to make his next move.

“Can I see?” He asked you with his hands placed on your knees again, his voice low.

You slowly parted your thighs for him and he watched as you opened up like a flower. Your folds glistening in your arousal, clit plump and still tingling. He thought he could cum just from looking at you.

“My god. Fuck.” He said, suddenly dropping to his knees to get a better look. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed which made you yelp a bit in surprise. He chuckled and placed a heavy kiss to your inner thigh and continued, getting closer and closer to your heat. You started to squirm as the anticipation was building. Not knowing if the next time his lips met your skin he would place them where you desperately wanted him most. But he was teasing now, nipping at your skin of your opposite thigh and you were getting impatient. Your hand reaching down for his hair and giving it a weak tug.

“So impatient.” He chuckled darkly. “Am I taking too long, baby?”

“You’re driving me insane.” You whine pathetically.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I do really want a taste of you.” He smirked. “You want me to eat your pussy pretty girl?”

“Fuck- please!” You groaned in frustration again.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Namjoon put his hands behind your knees and pushed your thighs back and apart towards your chest, leaving your pussy completely open and exposed to him. He dipped his head down and licked a heavy strip from the opening of your cunt to your clit, savoring every drop of your juices. His lips stopping to encircle your clit and suck on the swollen nub, his tongue massaging the tip slowly as he did so. Your back arched off the bed the second his tongue touched you with curses falling from your lips.

Namjoon took his time with you. His lips and tongue worked against your cunt slowly but with expertise, almost as if he was making out with it. The pleasure was almost excruciating and you desperately needed more. You grabbed onto the back of his head and laced your hands into his hair and pulled him forward into your pussy, burring him deeper. He hummed out a chuckle, the vibrations feeling immaculate, and you tried grinding against his face.

“Am I not satisfying you baby?” He pulled away to ask you, his lips and chin glistening in your slick with a mischievous smirk on his face. He was doing this on purpose.

“You are. You’re so fucking good. I just need more of you.” You beg him. “Please give me more.”

“Do you want..” he started to say while slowly bringing a finger up to tease your entrance to circle your dripping hole. “..to feel my fingers?”

You answered him only with a moan, unable to form actual words. He smirked and pressed two fingers against your entrance to gently push inside. You gasped as you felt the length of his long digits twist up inside of you, curving against the contours of your body perfectly. He watched and obsessed over the view of your pussy swallowing each inch of his fingers and how you clenched around them so beautifully each time he dragged them out slowly and pushed them back in with delicious force. His dick throbbed in his pants, leaking into his sweats.

When he felt you start to tighten more around him, he bent back down and reattached his tongue to your clit once again to lap at the sensitive bundle as he worked your cunt from below. The double pleasure made your eyes roll back into your head and jaw fall open in a silent cry with only a broken gasp managing to escape your throat. You felt your second orgasm approaching and approaching fast.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You chanted mindlessly, completely lost in the pleasure. Within seconds your walls clamped down around Namjoon’s fingers as you came dramatically around them and on his tongue, your legs dropping down around his neck like a vice grip and held him to your pussy where he graciously licked your cunt until you finished cumming.

When your legs finally relaxed and let go, he pulled away gasping for air. His face was plastered with a triumphant, wet, grin as he looked down at you completely collapsed into jelly on the bed.

“I hope you’re not tired yet baby. I still want to play with you.” He said and walked over to grab something from his nightstand. In his hand was dildo. Shiny and new. “I bought this just for you.”

He pressed the tip in-between your folds and dragged it up, rubbing the tip of the toy against your clit. You sucked in a breath bucked your hips the second it touched your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Still sensitive baby?” He asked you then tapped the toy a few times against your pussy which made your hips buck and you whimper.

“Yes but it f-feels so f-fucking good.” You say as your voice trembled.

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed at you while rubbing the toy between your folds as you squirmed against it. “If you want to take my cock you gotta show me how good you can take this one. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes, I can take it.” You practically begged. He smiled and leaned down onto the bed to hover over you to give you a deep kiss.

“I knew you would.”

Namjoon pressed the tip of the toy to your entrance and eased it inside of you one inch at a time. It slid into you easily and made your eyelids flutter as the girth filled you. Your walls clamped down around the silicone and started to pulsate due to the overstimulation and for a moment you swore you could have came just from having it pushed inside.

“You look so fucking sexy right now.” He whispered in your ear. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

He started to slowly pull the toy out of your cunt and, just as the tip almost made its way completely out of you, plunged the entire length of the toy back inside. The noise you made in response was nothing short of pornographic. He did it again, and again, picking up speed each time until he was ruthlessly fucking you with the toy while you could do nothing but relish in the building hot pleasure.

“You’re making quite the mess.” He teased, but his wrist did not slow as he relished in the sounds of your cries and the sounds he was pulling from your cunt. His eyes fixating down between your thighs where the colorful silicone slipped in and out of your swollen and sensitive folds that seem to be opening up more and more like a flower. He shifted on the bed once more and, without missing a beat, brought his free hand down between your thighs and started to use his thumb to rub heavy circles against your clit while still fucking you on his toy. The sensation was intense.

“Shit!” You screamed. “It’s so much.”

“But look how pretty your pussy looks being played with? It loves it. It wants to cum again.” He cooed. “Give me another.”

He switched from rubbing your clit with his thumb to his pointer and middle finger, rubbing it back and forth at a quick pace. The speed, mixed with the toy rubbing against your g-spot, had your third climax on the brink but this time it was different. It had only happened once, a long time ago while you were by yourself, and you didn’t think it would ever happen again. And you were afraid right now would be the time.

“W-wait, it’s too much-“ you tried warning him. “I think, I think I might-“

“Come on baby.” He said through gritted teeth, his fingers and wrist still working against you. “Don’t hold back. Fucking cum for me.”

You orgasmed again, this time your climax gushing out of your cunt and onto the duvet.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon said in shock. “Did you just squirt for me?”

“I tried to warn you.” You gasped, completely breathless. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck- don’t be sorry. Just do it again.” He growled placed his fingers back against your clit once again, rubbing them back and forth quickly against the red and swollen nub. You screamed and came again instantly, squirting again all over him. “Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

You laid down, body convulsing in orgasm aftershocks while Namjoon stood up to drop his sweats. His rock-hard cock released from the waistband, his cockhead dripping in pre-cum from all the anticipation. He took his hand and collected the arousal and used it to pump his length a few times as he watched you lay before him in your glistening mess until you had collected yourself.

Watching him jerk off his big length brought you back to watching him for the first time on screen. It reminded you how bad you wanted him instantly, making up your mind in that exact moment that you needed him no matter what. Needed his cock. It made your mouth water.

“Can I suck your cock, baby?” You ask him, licking your lips. “Please.”

“No need baby. This is all about your pleasure.” He told you sweetly.

“I know. That’s why I want to.” You purred at him, twisting around on the bed and getting on your knees to crawl over to him. Your sudden forwardness exciting him, intriguing him. “Sucking your cock is for my pleasure.”

“Then I can’t say no to that, can I?” He said, placing his hand against your cheek and slowly lowering your face down to his cock.

You gripped the base of his shaft with one hand and stroked him at a slow pace, twisting your wrist as you worked him up and down. You put your lips on him, placing his head into your lips softly. You sucked on the tip gently as your wrist worked his shaft. Periodically, dipping your head down to take the entirety of his length into your throat until you felt him hit the back of it.

“Jesus-fuck.” Namjoon cursed under his breath as he took in the sight of you. He couldn’t believe how filthy you were, impressed with your skill. “You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat.”

You enjoyed working his length, savoring him and the grunts and groans he let out as you did so. Your pussy began to throb for him again between your thighs as you continued which you let him know by moaning as you sucked him, making vibrations run up his dick. You were working him so well, too well, and he had to stop you. He gently pulled you up and off of him, planting a hot kiss onto your messy lips before letting you go again.

“You did such a good job for me. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” He asked you. “Do you want me to fuck you now, baby?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Namjoon pulled you forward and spread your thighs, settling between them. He lined himself up with your entrance and teased his head against your hole, running circles around it before pressing forward into you. You gasped feeling his girth spread you open and your back arched off the bed as you received him, your legs circling around his hips.

Namjoon leaned over you and placed his forehead against yours, wanting to be close. You felt his cock deep inside of you and he could feel your walls pulsing around his hard length. When he finally started to move, he used deep and slow strokes, ones that had his pelvis grinding hard against your clit each time he rolled his hips. The technique and feeling was beyond anything you had ever experienced with any other partner you had slept with. It was fucking heavenly.

“Holy shit.. Joon..” you moaned, forgetting the rule about not being able to say his name. He didn’t panic quite yet, knowing he could manage a few edits here as long as it wasn’t that noticeable.

“Do you like my cock baby?” He whispered into your ear, only for you to hear and not the camera this time. Truly enjoying fucking you.

“Fuck yes.” You practically cried as he continued to roll his hips deeply into you. “Your cock is so fucking perfect.”

Between his deep strokes and the friction of his pelvis against your clit, it wasn’t long before you started to cum again. Your walls clamping down around his cock and almost taking him with you before he was ready to.

“You didn’t squirt for me? That just won’t do.” He tsked and walked over to his side drawer to pull out his secret weapon: a magic wand vibrator. You almost ran out of the room when you saw it.

“Please- I don’t know if I can.” You told him weakly, holding up your hands in defense.

“Of course you can baby.” He said, pressing the bulbous end of the wand into your puffy clit. “I know you can.”

He pressed the on button and brought the toy to life. The lowest setting was already so powerful and had your body practically levitating off the bed. Namjoon pressed down on your pelvis to keep you on the mattress and slipped his cock back into your cunt, making you scream out in ecstasy. He wasted no time fucking into you. It wasn’t slow or romantic. This was pure fucking and his goal was to make you completely break this time. Reach pure bliss.

“Fuck! Joon! Oh my god! Joon, please!” You begged for something you weren’t even sure you were ready for. “Please Joon give it to me!”

He pressed a button on the wand one more time and made the speed go one level higher. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hips lifted off the bed completely as you felt the pleasure take over you, Namjoon never ceasing his thrusts. You felt your cheeks start to burn and lips quiver. Your vision began to blur.

“Joon, I’m gonna cum-“ you gasped in broken breaths.

“Cum.” He ordered you, pressing the wand into your clit as hard as he could and hitting the speed button one last time to take you to the third and most intense speed.

You came dramatically, gushing all over Namjoon’s cock and abdomen. Namjoon continued to fuck you, enjoying the view of you spraying your orgasm all over each time he pulled out of you and pushed back in. This continued until he finally came himself, filling you up and collapsing on top of you.

You both laid wrapped in each others arms with chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Namjoon stroked your hair, brushing it carefully from your face and placing a careful kiss against your temple.

“Are you okay? Do you need water?” He asked you gently.

“I will in a little. Right now I just need to lay here.” You told him, feeling much too exhausted to even sit up in that moment.

“Thank god because I’m tired too.” He laughed which you couldn’t help but join in as well. “Did you enjoy that?”

“It was.. beyond.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re really good at what you do.”

“So you don’t regret it?” He asked you with a tone of hopefulness.

“Namjoon you just made me cum like, what, five times?”

“Six.” He corrected you.

“Six. So, no. I wouldn’t say I regret anything.” You giggle. “Did you enjoy it, at least?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes I did. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a session that much before.” He admitted to you with a smile on his face.

“Good. Speaking of which. Where are the cameras?” You asked him, looking around the room.

“Ah so-“ he said, raising his hand to point just before you at the bookcase that stood in front of his bed. “In between those two books on the middle shelf is one of my cameras. Tiny right? And then-“

You followed his finger over to the window where he kept all his plants and saw, tucked away between lush green, another camera.

“And then one more.” He said, pointing above you both to find a small camera secured to one of the blades of his ceiling fans that almost camouflaged into the color of the wooden blade.

“Wow, you really got all the angles didn’t you?” You told him, giggling.

“Yes. I have my editing cut out for me.” He chuckled. “I just hope me muting you screaming my name doesn’t make the footage too unwatchable or else.. we may have to reshoot.”

“Oh-shit. I’m so sorry.” You felt terrible, and a bit embarrassed. “I got so lost in it.”

“I’m only kidding. I’m just looking for some sort of excuse to sleep with you again.”

“Namjoon-“ you started to tell him, voice serious. “-if you think you can fuck me like that and I’m not going to come back for more, you’ve lost your mind. I’ll be in any video you want me to be in if you fuck me like that each time.”

Namjoon threw his head back in laugher and pulled you to his chest tightly.

“I definitely think we could make some good money making videos together yes but, I’d also like to fuck you not on camera. If you’re interested, that is.” He told you, his voice soft for words so suggestive. “Maybe we could even grab dinner sometime.”

“I’d love to.” You felt as if your heart could burst.

“Great.” He smiled widely and helped you sit up, your head still spinning a bit. “I’m going to order us some food and I need to edit this footage so I don’t miss my deadline. Do you want to help me?”

“Help you? I’m no help with editing?”

“Maybe not.” He shrugged but a hint of a smirk reached his lips. “But I might need help with my breaks since, you know, I’m going to get all worked up re-watching us fuck again.”

“Now that.. that I can help with.”

———————————————————

The Beginning

The sky split open the night they came. You didn’t see it at first, no one did.

You brushed your teeth that night. Standing in your tiny bathroom beneath flickering fluorescent lights, humming faintly to music you can’t remember anymore. A song that cut out mid chorus when everything else did.

You paused, frowned, the mirror vibrated faintly, a shiver running across your reflection. Confused, you flicked the light switch. Nothing.

Reach for your phone. Dead.

Outside, the city dimmed as though someone had thrown a heavy blanket over the world. Buildings blinked out, window by window. Cars stalled silently in the streets.

Then came the sirens. Low and unearthly, vibrating deep in your chest rather than ringing in your ears.

You pressed your palms to the vanity, trying to pinpoint the source.

No alarms.

No helicopters.

No dogs barking or people yelling in the distance.

Just… stillness.

Until the sky broke.

You saw it from your window, face pale in the glass as blackness carved itself across the heavens like a wound tearing through flesh.

It didn’t glow or rage, it hummed.

And through that terrible void came beams of sterile white light.

You watched—paralyzed—as they swept through the streets, swallowing people whole. No fire, no blood, they simply ceased.

Your neighbor clutching her husband on the balcony. The delivery boy halfway up the stairs. A child pedaling frantically on his bicycle.

Gone.

Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. By the time your legs remembered how to function, chaos had bloomed outside.

Screams.

Desperate, useless prayers. People running without knowing where safety even existed.

It didn’t matter.

Your chest crushed inward as panic overtook you. You grabbed your phone, screaming into dead silence, dialing numbers that wouldn’t connect.

Your father’s voicemail.

Your sister’s disconnected line.

The beams moved without emotion, erasing everything they touched as easily as wiping chalk from a board. You don’t remember deciding to run. You don’t remember leaving your apartment. You only remember the maintenance tunnels.

You shoved yourself beneath concrete and metal, nails splitting and bleeding as you slammed the hatch shut above you.

And there you stayed.

For minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Time broke.

The silence that followed was not peaceful.

It was dead.

::::::::::::

When you woke, it was worse. Not because you survived. Not even because the world was gone.

But because you weren’t there anymore.

Your eyes opened to sterility. Smooth, seamless walls of faintly glowing white, like pearl carved from bone. No corners or seams. Just endless smoothness in every direction, as though the room itself were grown rather than built.

There were no windows.

No doors.

Only a faint humming, familiar and yet not. Not the gentle whir of an AC or the buzz of old light bulbs. This was deeper, vibrating at a frequency that scraped against the base of your skull. It sounded like something alive.

You sat up too fast, your breath catching painfully in your throat.

The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, molding to your shape like memory foam, but it didn’t feel right. It smelled faintly of something sweet and sterile, like a flower that had never known dirt.

You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, your head spinning.

“Hello?” you rasped. No answer, just the never ending hum.

You tried again.

“HELLO?”

Your voice echoed strangely, rebounding without substance, as though the room itself were swallowing the sound.

A prickling sensation raced down your spine as you scrambled to your feet. Your legs were weak and shaky, like you hadn’t used them in days. You stumbled toward the nearest wall and pressed your palms flat against it.

It was warm.

Not cold like metal. Not smooth like glass.

Warm, as though the structure around you was some kind of living skin.

You recoiled instinctively.

“What the fuck,” you whispered.

Your chest heaved as you tried to remember.

Where were you?

Where was your family?

Had you died?

The last thing you remembered was hiding. Listening to the world end. And then— nothing. Your stomach twisted violently. Panic set in like lead poisoning, slow but lethal. You began slamming your fists against the wall.

“LET ME OUT!”

“WHERE AM I?!”

Nothing. No doors appeared, no voices responded. But the hum grew louder, though, it didn’t feel or sound angry. Not mechanical.

It sounded oddly interested.

You froze, pressing your back against the bed as a low chime resonated throughout the space. The wall directly across from you rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone, and opened.

A doorway formed from nothing, and something stepped through.

At first, you thought he was wrong. Everything about him felt off in ways your mind couldn’t fully process.

Tall—towering—with limbs too graceful and too fluid to be comforting.

Skin pale and luminous, glowing softly from within, threaded with faint iridescence that shifted as he moved. Hair dark and weightless, littered with braids adorned with glimmering otherworldly metals, drifting as though underwater. Framing features too symmetrical, too perfect.

And his eyes.

They were unsettling, solid black at first glance.

But as he drew closer, they shifted—illuminated galaxies of silver, violet, and deep cosmic blues, swirling softly in patterns that hurt to stare at for too long.

You stumbled backward, your legs colliding with the bed as your pulse thundered.

He did not flinch, but instead stepped closer.

Graceful. Effortless.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Every primitive instinct screamed at you to run, but your body betrayed you. He tilted his head as he regarded you.

Not cruelly, not kindly. Curiously.

His voice slid across your mind rather than your ears.

“You are… fragile.”

You flinched, shaking your head as if a bug was caught in your hair. The words felt invasive, sliding into your consciousness without permission.

He stepped closer.

“I am Jeongguk.”

The name thrums with alien cadence, yet tastes almost familiar in your mind. His glowing eyes flicker faintly, as if pleased by your terror.

“You reside aboard Virexum,” he continues calmly. “This vessel collects and preserves what remains after eradication.”

“Eradication?” you whisper, voice hollow.

“Earth was terminated.”

A pause, as if considering how much you can process. “Your species had reached decay. Pollution. War. Rot. The Kaereth do not preserve weakness. We cleanse.”

The words hit harder than any weapon. You shake your head violently, sobbing openly now.

Your father, your sister. They’re…gone?

“No. No, you can’t— you didn’t—”

“It was mercy.”

His voice softens slightly, but not kindly. “Existence without evolution is entropy. The Kaereth do not allow suffering. We end it.”

You can’t breathe.

You drop to your knees, pressing your palms to your face as the horror swells and breaks inside you.

But he does not.

Tears flooded your vision, hot and blinding as your sobs shattered the sterile silence, ugly and helpless.

He watches you the way one might watch a dying star—quietly admiring, deeply fascinated.

When you finally stilled, he crouched before you, his claws retracting as he reached out. You recoiled instinctively, but he only touched your hair, brushing it back from your damp face with a tenderness that felt foreign.

“I did not erase you,” he murmurs.

You flinch, but his hand cradles your face delicately, tipping it up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You glowed,” he says, softer now. Almost enthralled.

“Amidst destruction, you clung to life. You burned brighter than the dying world around you. You will not suffer,” he said quietly. “You are mine now. You will be kept.”

Kept.

The word echoed as he stood again, gesturing to the room around you. “This is yours. Safe. Nourishing. You will adjust.”

You choked on disbelief.

“Why me?”

He paused.

And for the first time since he arrived, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened. His lips parted just slightly, almost pious.

“Because,” he murmured, as though speaking to himself, “you glowed brightest before death.”

With that, he turned and left, the wall sealing behind him in silence.

Leaving you alone with the hum, and the terrible, hollow truth that you were the last of your kind. And you were his now.

Whatever that meant.

Whatever that would become.

::::::::::::

You don’t remember sleeping, but when your eyes open again, raw and heavy from hours of silent sobbing, the room is dimmer. The walls, once glowing faintly like a moonlit sea, have softened to a deep, low shimmer, as though mimicking the concept of nighttime.

You’re still here.

Still locked in this dreamless nightmare of seamless walls and soundless air.

Still wearing the thin, pale shift you woke up in, neither warm nor cold, but irritating in its neutrality.

Still alone.

Except… you aren’t.

You feel him before you see him. The hum of the room changes. Deepens, sharpens as though the ship itself reacts to his presence.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, throat dry from hours of ragged breathing.

When the wall ripples open again, it’s almost gentle. Less like a command, and more like the way curtains are drawn back to allow moonlight in.

And there he stands.

Jeongguk.

Alien. Impossibly elegant.

Unfathomably tall, framed in the soft glow as though carved from the bones of dying stars.

You freeze when his eyes meet yours, not because they’re cruel. But because they are intent.

Hungry.

Unblinking.

“You are awake.”

His voice slides across your mind again, as smooth as silk and as cold as space.

You swallow tightly, sitting rigid on the edge of the bed. Your legs are weak, but you fight to keep your spine straight.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely, the word tasting hollow in your mouth. “Please just tell me what you want from me.”

He pauses.

“I have told you,” he says, moving forward, soundless as shadow. “You are mine. You will be kept. That is what I want.”

His words make your stomach twist violently. You push up from the bed, backing away until your shoulder blades press into the wall behind you.

“You can’t just— keep me!”

Your voice cracks, teetering between hysteria and disbelief.

“I’m not some… some thing you can collect!”

He stops mid step, considering.

His expression doesn’t change and yet, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny press down on you.

“Incorrect,” he says softly, as though correcting a child. “You are precious. Not a ‘thing’. Not to me.”

You open your mouth to argue, to scream, but your breath catches as something changes.

The bioluminescent lines across his body shift subtly. They pulse gently.

You don’t know why, but the sight makes your heart stutter.

Is that emotion?

Before you can question it, he raises one hand.

A low chime echoes through the room, and from the far wall, a smooth panel unfolds. It reveals a strange, device that emits fragrant steam.

Your stomach clenches painfully as your senses recognize what it is before your mind does.

Food.

Or, at least, something meant to replicate it. Soft, pale orbs float in an iridescent broth, giving off a smell not unlike fresh bread and honey.

It should be comforting.

But in this place, nothing feels comforting.

“You have not consumed nourishment in sixteen of your planet’s hours,” Jeongguk says calmly, gesturing toward the offering.

“Your body weakens. This is inefficient.”

You hesitate, eyeing the bowl warily.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie.

His head tilts, faintly reptilian in the gesture, and for the first time, a flicker of something sharper edges into his tone.

“You will eat.”

The words are not barked.

Not threatening.

But absolute.

You stare back at him, shaking slightly.

And when you make no move to comply, he steps forward and takes the bowl himself, walking closer until he is far too near. He crouches, folding gracefully in front of you like a predator settling in for the kill.

But instead of violence, he offers you the bowl directly.

Holding it out, waiting patiently.

“Eat,” he murmurs.

His eyes glow faintly as they fix on your face.

“For me.”

Your lips part helplessly. Something in the way he says it. Quiet, almost intimately, sends your skin crawling and burning at once.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

And yet…

Your body obeys. Your fingers tremble as you accept the bowl, lifting one of the pale orbs to your lips.

It tastes… nothing like food.

But it dissolves softly on your tongue, leaving behind warmth that creeps slowly down your throat.

Not unpleasant, not pleasurable. Just… filling.

Sustaining.

You eat in silence, aware of his unwavering gaze as you do. When the bowl empties, he takes it back carefully, setting it aside.

“Better,” he says quietly.

You can’t meet his eyes.

The tears come again without permission, sliding hot and heavy down your face. You curl in on yourself, trying to muffle the broken sounds that escape your throat.

And then… a touch.

Featherlight at first, fingers ghosting against your temple, sliding into your hair.

You tense, but he does not press.

“You fear me.” His words are not questioning. “Good. It is natural. You are fragile.”

Your breath hitches painfully.

His hand slips lower, knuckles grazing your cheek with maddening delicacy.

“But fear will fade,” he continues softly. “In time, you will see. I am not cruel. I am constant. You will not be harmed. You will be… cherished.”

You turn your head away sharply and his fingers slip free, but you feel the weight of his focus intensify.

“You misunderstand your position,” he murmurs. “Earth is gone. You are alone in a universe that has no place for you. No one will come for you. No one can.”

You clench your fists tightly in your lap, the truth cutting deeper than his touch ever could.

“Why me?” you ask, voice breaking. “Why not let me die with the rest?”

He leans in slightly, his presence invading your every sense.

“Because when others knelt and wept… you raged,” he whispers. “You burned. You clung to life with ferocity. That is rare.”

His eyes soften, if such a thing is possible for something so alien.

“I collect what should not exist.” A faint smile, too serene, too knowing. “You are an anomaly. You are mine.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip, forcing back another sob.

“This isn’t cherishing,” you whisper bitterly.

“This is prison.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he rises slowly, towering over you once more. His hands fold neatly behind his back. The perfect image of composed, regal authority.

“No,” he agrees softly. “This is preservation.”

He steps back toward the door, but his voice reaches you again as it ripples open to accept him.

“Rest. I will return when you are calmer.”

A pause.

“And eventually… you will thank me.”

Then he is gone.

And you’re eft in the silence once more—but not alone.

Not really.

Because his scent still lingers. His voice still hums faintly in your mind. And worse, you realize part of you is already listening for his return.

::::::::::::

You don’t see him again for three cycles. You don’t know how you know this. There’s no sun here, no night and day, no ticking clock on sterile walls—but your body remembers.

It remembers the ache of hunger.

The slow unraveling of sanity when left in isolation. The bone deep dread that blooms in the absence of any other voice but your own.

For seventy two hours, maybe more, maybe less, you are alone.

The ship hums softly at all hours, the walls glowing faintly like a slumbering beast. Your room, if you can even call it that, remains locked.

No doors.

No windows.

Just blank, seamless walls and a bed that conforms to your every restless shift.

Food appears twice, delivered silently through a hidden panel in the wall, but you ignore it. You sit curled on the bed, stomach clenching painfully, but you refuse to give in.

Not again, not after last time.

He’d fed you like a child.

Watched you with something sickly tender in his eyes while you cried and ate and fell apart in front of him.

No.

You will not make this easy for him. Your anger is all you have left. The only shield between you and the quiet, desperate terror that creeps in when you allow yourself to feel anything else.

So you don’t eat.

You don’t sleep.

You don’t talk to the empty room, no matter how loud the silence becomes.

You wait.

Because you know he’ll come back, of course he will.

Men like him, things like him, always come back.

And when he does, you are ready.

—

He appears on the fourth cycle.

Not like before, there’s no grand entrance. No rippling doors or ominous hums.

You wake to find him already there, standing at the foot of the bed like a phantom who has always belonged in your nightmares. He watches you in silence, arms folded behind his back, eyes glowing softly in the low light.

You glare at him, lips cracked from dehydration.

He says nothing.

“Fuck you.”

Your voice scrapes like gravel against your raw throat, but it feels good to say.

Good to bite, even if your teeth barely graze.

His head tilts slightly, that same alien gesture that makes your stomach turn.

“You are weakening,” he observes softly, almost clinically. “Your refusal to consume nourishment endangers your cellular structure. This is illogical.”

You laugh, sharp and brittle.

“Good. Let me die, then.”

For the first time, his expression shifts, not dramatically, but his brows knit slightly, his mouth drawing in the faintest sliver.

He doesn’t like that.

“Negative,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I will not allow termination.”

You push yourself up on shaking arms, baring your teeth in something that feels more animal than human.

“I don’t belong to you. You can’t keep me like this. Feeding me, locking me in this—this cage! I’ll starve before I let you win.”

His eyes narrow faintly, glowing brighter. “You misunderstand,” he murmurs, his voice lowering dangerously.

“This is not a contest,” he moves closer, slow, deliberate steps that make your pulse spike and your limbs tremble. “This is inevitability.”

You scramble off the bed, stumbling backward until your spine hits the wall. His presence consumes the room, filling every atom of available space, as though the ship itself responds to his shifting mood.

He stands before you now, towering and still.

“You may resist,” he allows softly. “You may cry, scream, refuse… for a time.”

His hand rises, not threatening, but steady as his fingers gently, maddeningly, brush your jaw. The touch sends a bolt of revulsion and something more complicated spiraling through you.

“But you will acclimate.”

His voice vibrates softly in your bones, dangerous in its certainty.

You slap his hand away, the sound cracking through the air like gunfire.

For a moment, nothing happens.

He simply stares at you, the tips of his fingers still poised where they had been, motionless, as though stunned.

And then…he withdraws, silently. Without anger or words. Simply steps back, gaze unreadable, and turns for the door.

Panic flashes hot and instant through your chest. “No—” you gasp, confused by your own terror at his sudden departure.

He stops just before the wall seals behind him. For the first time, his voice emerges aloud, not through your mind, but spoken.

Low.

Flat.

Cold.

“You have chosen isolation.”

Then he’s gone, and so is everything else.

The hum of the ship fades, the lights dim to near darkness. The temperature drops, not enough to freeze, but enough to chill your skin, to make your breath puff faintly in the air.

The bed retracts into the wall.

The food panel vanishes.

You are left standing in nothing.

Cold.

Alone.

—

For hours—maybe days—you are abandoned to the hollow, oppressive silence.

Your tears dry.

Your voice fades from hoarseness to nothing. Your legs give out, and you curl on the hard floor, clutching yourself tightly as sleep eludes you in the endless dark.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when the wall finally ripples open again, soft, warm light spilling through and his tall, silent figure appears in the doorway once more, you sob.

Relief.

Humiliation.

Rage.

You don’t understand which emotion is which anymore.

He crosses the threshold slowly, eyes glowing faintly in gentle shades of blue and pink. Soft, careful, like a predator soothing prey after the kill.

Without speaking, he kneels before you, gathering your shaking body into his arms. You don’t fight him this time.

You can’t.

You’re too cold.

Too broken.

His hand strokes your hair as he murmurs something low in his language, soft syllables that sound like lullabies from a galaxy you will never see.

“I will not harm you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your temple. “Do not make me hurt you through absence again; I ache.”

Your fingers clutch his robe weakly, sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but it’s empty.

Weak.

He hums softly.

“I know.”

He pulls you closer, cradling you as though you are delicate and rare, because to him, you are.

“And yet you need me.”

You can’t argue.

Not right now.

Not when his warmth is the only thing that feels real in this endless void of stars and silence.

::::::::::::

You don’t sleep, even when your body begs you to.

Sleep would mean trusting the silence, surrendering.

So you lay awake on the strange, pliant surface that the ship has provided. Not quite a bed, but softer than the floor that left your bones aching and cold during your punishment.

You are still recovering from that.

The ache of isolation.

The terror of being truly, utterly alone.

But more than that… you are recovering from the humiliation.

Because when he returned, when he found you curled and trembling, teeth chattering and face raw from tears, you clung to him.

You didn’t mean to.

Your body simply reacted, desperate and starved for anything warm and familiar.

Your fingers twisted into the dark folds of his robes, your face pressed into the cool planes of his chest, and you wept like a creature broken open.

And Jeongguk did nothing but hold you.

No words.

No threats.

No cruel satisfaction.

Just stillness.

Just presence.

His hands stroked your back, slow and repetitive, the way you imagine one might soothe a terrified animal.

His head bent low, his breath ghosting against your temple as he whispered words in a language your mind couldn’t translate, soft and melodic, making you feel drunk with the weight of them.

Even now, hours later, his scent still lingers on your skin.

Warm and metallic.

Alien and oddly sweet.

Like lightning woven into silk.

You hate that you find comfort in it now. You hate yourself more than you hate him, but the truth is suffocating in its simplicity.

You needed him.

And he knew it.

—

The door ripples again, seamlessly and without warning. You stiffen instinctively, heart leaping to your throat.

But when Jeongguk steps through, he does not bring the same oppressive energy he had before.

There is no towering, silent menace, or sharp glint of irritation or frustration in his starlit eyes.

Instead…he looks calm, serene, even.

His robes have changed. Still dark, but lighter now. Softer. He wears no armor, or sharp adornments. His hair hangs loose, gleaming faintly in the ship’s low bioluminescence.

He looks… domestic.

If such a word could ever apply to him.

The ship itself seems to respond, the walls brightening subtly, soft, ambient pulses that make the air feel warmer somehow.

More intimate.

Less clinical.

It unnerves you more than his previous coldness.

“Good,” he says quietly, his voice sliding into your consciousness with practiced ease. “You remain.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you again, relaxing minutely at the familiar cadence of his presence.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” you mutter bitterly.

Jeongguk tilts his head slightly, considering.

“No,” he agrees softly. “But you remained nonetheless.”

The phrasing makes something twist painfully low in your stomach. Before you can respond, he approaches, slow, careful steps as though approaching something fragile.

Which, in his eyes, you suppose you are.

He lowers himself gracefully beside you on the bed like surface, close enough that you feel the subtle hum of his energy brushing against your skin.

“I have observed,” he begins, tone thoughtful. “Prolonged isolation causes distress beyond simple physical discomfort in your species.”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around your knees protectively.

“Yeah. That’s called being human.”

He hums softly, as though filing the information away like a precious resource.

“I have no desire to harm you, little star,” he murmurs, and his hand lifts, pausing in the air between you, as if seeking silent permission.

You don’t give it.

But you don’t pull away when his fingers brush lightly across your hair, tucking it back from your face.

His touch is careful.

Maddening.

“I desire only your peace.”

You choke on a bitter laugh.

“Peace? You abducted me, destroyed my planet, locked me in this ship and act like that’s kindness.”

His expression softens, strangely fond despite your venom.

“You misunderstand,” he says gently.

“I did not destroy your planet. I spared you from its fate.”

His fingers trail down, brushing against the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, and you shiver despite yourself.

“You were meant to end,” he continues softly, voice almost hypnotic. “But you burned. You raged. You survived.”

His thumb strokes softly against your lower lip, a touch so tender you forget, briefly, how much you despise him.

“You are rare,” he murmurs. “And rare things are not discarded. They are treasured.”

The words settle in your chest like poison wrapped in silk. You should recoil, should slap his hand away, curse him until your throat gives out.

But instead…you close your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to feel the soft press of his palm against your cheek, anchoring you in this strange, terrible reality.

He takes your silence as permission.

Of course he does.

“Good,” he breathes, satisfaction humming softly in his voice. “You are learning.”

You force your eyes open, glaring weakly at him.

“Learning what?”

His lips curl faintly, not quite a smile, but something disturbingly close.

“To accept.”

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when he shifts closer, pressing his body flush to yours, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders, you don’t pull away.

You are cold.

You are tired.

You are alone.

And he is warm.

He is steady.

He is here.

You rest your head against his shoulder before you can think better of it, disgust warring with relief in your chest.

Jungkook says nothing, but the ship hums softly around you, glowing faintly in shades of rose and gold. Contentment radiating from every surface.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve curled against him until his mouth brushes the crown of your head.

“You will see soon,” he murmurs, words sinking deep into your bones. “I am not your enemy. I am your only constant.”

You fall asleep before you can argue. And for the first time since Earth fell, you sleep through the cycle without waking to scream.

::::::::::::

You wake to warmth.

Not the clinical, neutral temperature of the ship. That engineered comfort that feels more like a lack of discomfort than real heat but true warmth.

Soft.

Heavy.

Alive.

For a moment, your mind refuses to grasp why.

You are tucked beneath something impossibly smooth and weighty , fabric like liquid silk draped over your body, cocooning you in decadent softness.

And behind you, against the curve of your spine, something solid.

Firm.

Breathing.

A heartbeat thrums, steady and deep, so close it vibrates through your back and into your bones.

Not the ship.

Him.

Jeongguk.

You go rigid before you can think. Your hands clench the sheets, alien and faintly iridescent m, as you strain to control your breathing.

You are being held, no, you are being kept.

His arm is heavy across your waist, claws retracted but still unsettling, his fingers resting just beneath your ribcage with terrifying intimacy. His face is pressed lightly to the crown of your head, long hair brushing against your temple like ghost silk.

For several agonizing seconds, you debate your options.

Pull away.

Wake him.

Escape—if that’s even possible anymore.

But as your heart hammers and your stomach twists, you realize something worse.

You don’t want to move.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever, you are not cold, you are not alone, or terrified of what silence might bring.

You are simply… held.

And that, somehow, feels more dangerous than anything he’s done so far.

He stirs before you can make a decision.

The shift is subtle, the faint tightening of his grip, the softening of his breath, the way the ship’s hum lifts faintly, mirroring the change in atmosphere.

Then his voice slides into your mind, quieter than usual.

Thicker.

“You are awake.”

You flinch slightly, but he does not move away. Instead, he exhales slowly, the sound almost… content.

“You slept well,” he murmurs aloud this time, his voice low and textured, as though speaking in words costs him more effort than using your mind.

“You did not cry.”

Shame burns through you instantly. You twist beneath his arm, trying to put space between your bodies, but his hold tightens slightly.

“No,” he says softly, head dipping lower so that his breath brushes the shell of your ear. “Stay.”

Your heart races painfully.

“Why?” you whisper, hating the smallness in your voice.

His answer is simple.

“Because you do not truly wish to leave.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t say it cruelly.

He doesn’t taunt or mock.

He speaks it as though it is a fact he has long since accepted and is merely waiting for you to do the same.

Before you can respond, he shifts, drawing back just enough to allow you to turn and face him. The sight steals the words from your throat.

Up close, he is devastating.

More than alien.

More than beautiful.

His features are carved from something you do not have words for, too elegant to be called soft, too precise to be human. His silver violet eyes glow faintly in the dimness, framed by dark lashes that cast delicate shadows across high cheekbones.

But it is the way he looks at you that truly leaves you breathless.

Not with desire.

Not with hunger.

With… possession. As though you are the first and only star in his universe.

You turn your face away, pulse hammering.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He does not obey.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m—”

You falter, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Yours,” you finish bitterly.

His hand moves, fingers brushing your jaw, guiding you gently to meet his gaze again.

“You are mine,” he murmurs softly, as though stating something as mundane as the time of day. “You remain only because I desire it. You live because I allow it. You breathe because I have given you this sanctuary.”

The words are cruel in logic, yet his voice is gentle.

You tremble beneath the weight of them, but he only continues, thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone.

“But you do not need to fear that.” He leans closer, voice dropping lower, coaxing you like one would soothe a frightened animal.

“You do not need to fight so hard. You are cared for. Sheltered. Treasured.”

You want to scream. Want to tell him how wrong he is, how suffocating this is.

But your body remembers the days alone in the dark.

The cold.

The ache.

The crushing silence that left you frantic and desperate for any presence at all. And your body, traitorous and desperate, does not want to return to that.

So instead, you say nothing.

You simply let him hold you.

Let his touch stroke soothing patterns against your spine.

Let your eyes slip closed, not because you want him, but because for now… he feels safe.

—

The days that follow blur together.

Jeongguk becomes a near constant presence, no longer leaving for long stretches. He is always near. Quietly watching, quietly touching, quietly existing in every corner of your small world.

Meals are no longer delivered in silence.

Now, he brings them himself, sitting beside you as you eat, observing your reactions with soft fascination, as though memorizing every flicker of expression.

He asks questions, though never demands answers.

“Why do you frown when eating this?”

“Does this flavor please you more?”

“Do you enjoy these colors?”

It’s strange. Stranger still when you find yourself answering.

Not out of obligation or out of fear. But because the emptiness left by silence is worse.

You talk quietly, giving short answers at first, but over time, they grow longer. You explain foods you miss. You describe music, books, seasons. You speak of snow and rain and laughter, and though he listens with alien detachment, he seems oddly enchanted by your words.

“You will show me,” he says one cycle, after you describe autumn leaves falling in lazy spirals.

You blink at him in confusion.

“Earth is gone.”

His head tilts.

“Virexum can make what you desire.”

You do not know whether to be horrified or grateful. But when the next cycle arrives, your room transforms.The walls ripple and shift until soft amber light filters through projected trees.

Illusions of wind rustle leaves that glow faintly gold and crimson.

You laugh, startled and disbelieving.

And Jeongguk…

He smiles.

Not wide.

Not human.

But soft, and faintly victorious.

As though every small inch you offer him, every smile, every word, every sigh, is another chain wound tightly around your wrists.

—

It happens one night as you sit side by side on the bed, eating quietly. Your hands brush when reaching for the same dish and you both freeze.

The contact is brief.

Innocent.

But it lingers. His fingers slide softly over yours, slow and intentional as though mapping the shape of them.

You don’t pull away, pulse racing, your cheeks flush, but still, you let it happen.

Something shifts in his gaze.

It’s not hunger, not cruelty…longing.

The moment stretches and the ship grows impossibly quiet, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath. You’re the one who breaks it, pulling your hand away with a nervous laugh that sounds too loud in the stillness.

Jeongguk says nothing.

But his eyes follow you all the same, glowing softly in the dim amber light.

Watching.

Always watching.

—

That night, as you lay down and let him pull you close, his arms wrapping securely around your body as though sealing you in, you don’t resist.

You let him tuck your head beneath his chin, your hands curl lightly against his chest.

And when he whispers against your hair, voice low and factual, “you are becoming mine.”

You don’t argue.

Because deep down, beneath the remnants of your rage and sorrow, beneath the tangled mess of shame and longing—

You know he is right.

Allow you to leave painfully, yet with all the grace a man starved from another district could allow. Gracefully. Right. 

You knew you fought your hardest until the end. Really, you do.

You hope your parents will be proud of you when you arrive home in those little metal boxes filled with ash. Hope they know how hard you fought to come back to them– to be with them once again. Hopefully your big sister will remember all the ways you tried to fight flowers in her hair when you were meant to be working. Hope your mom and dad remember the way you made sure to dye all your white clothes bright with colours of nature. 

Maybe if you were more of a singer you’d comfort yourself with a tune, but you don’t know many songs. Your brother was always more creative. He made sure you knew it. You– you were just a girl of the buds. Nothing more, nothing less. Only glad to be the last child your family had of reaping age. At least they wouldn’t incur anymore loss, would they? 

They’ve already watched you go mad. Nothing can be worse than watching their own daughter do what she needs to survive. Only a pity it had to be the last drawing before she was safe, too. 

No, the fate before you is one that had been told too many times before. You were never a victor, you knew that. You were meant to be another pitying girl swept away by the slaughter. And that’s okay. You’re okay. 

So, the question remains. How did that knife end up in his neck?  

Did you do it? You don’t remember doing it. You don’t remember the movement your arm had to have made, or the way it must’ve felt to sink the knife in. You don’t remember much of anything to be honest but oh– oh, he’s fallen off of you. You can move. You can move!! 

The shock remains present within you, though. You barely haggard a quick shuffle back, a hand clutching the skin where your heart lies. Your eyes are jittering, frantic. Looking. Trying to see, to make sense of what is happening around you. 

Is anyone else coming? Wait– no, that wouldn’t make sense. No, it wouldn’t. You’re the last two alive. Alive? Are you? Wait, hold on. What is happening. What is happening. What is happening. You were going to die– he was going to kill you. But you moved, or maybe, you guess, he let up? But did you, did you really just stab him? Did you just–

There’s blood on your hand. 

Bang.

That's the sound. That’s the sound! 

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive. 

You won. 

Trumpets are playing, maybe the capitol anthem. You can’t seem to hear it, not really at least. 

No, all you hear is your lungs finally filling with air for the first time in a long time. For the first time since your name was called at the reaping. For the first time since you turned 12.

The next thing you hear is the breeze. Maybe the whole arena is taking a breath since these games started, too. 

You look around, try to take in your surroundings. Feel the way the world inhales and exhales along with you. Make yourself finally feel one again after the days that all seem to morph together.

Huh. 

Strange shapes crest over the horizon, the ground underneath your scraped limbs feels foreign. The scents that travel are a mystery and the skyline is nothing you’ve ever seen before. You don’t recognise anything. Almost as if you haven’t been here the last 6 days. As if nothing is real. 

But it is. You know it is. The pain shooting through every inch of your being tells you as much– tells you everything of the stories you can’t seem to remember. Right along with the loudspeakers, the voice of Octavia Flickerman reigning supreme. 

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the winner of the One-Hundred Eleventh Hunger Games! (Y/n) (L/n) of District 11!” 

You won!! Oh!!! You won!!!! 

Jimin practically squeals, jumps from his seat as he watches the screen. His arms flying into the air, brain spinning as adrenaline from the entire event courses through him. Finally settles into a gentle lull as he knows for certain that you’re alive. 

He knew you would!! Of course he did! He would never want you to think otherwise, no. He knew from the second he saw your face projected into his apartment on reaping day that you would. Was sure of it when he sat front and centre at the parade, waving to you and only you. 

Knew for certain (as if he wasn’t before, duh!) during the interviews when he first heard you speak. The cadence of your voice as you spoke into the microphone– your quipped yet nervous replies as the latest Flickerman worked you into a more relaxed state. 

Your shy smiles, the flattery of your dress. Just!! Everything!!

Oh– how enchanting you were!! He knew the rest of the capitol thought so, too. He made sure of it. He knew to make you the star because of course you would be coming back alive.

He knew you would win. 

You would be a fool not to with all the gifts he sent you, silly!! They may have cost anyone else a small fortune, but it was nothing for him, so you shouldn’t worry! He’d be sure to remind you of that the next time you meet. He knows you’re kind. He knows you’d feel some sort of guilt.

Oh!! But that doesn’t matter! He much rather thinks about how cute you were on your first day in the arena. How confused and bewildered you looked when his gifts started floating down from the sky. You ran from the center right away, of course you would, because you’re just so smart! But that meant you had nothing. 

He didn’t want you to have nothing!!

Blah blah blah, your mentor wanted to wait a bit. Save any money pooled your way. But with Jimin funding everything, why did that even matter? 

Soon, you were caked in more weapons than you knew what to do with. It was just too. Fucking. Cute. 

You should only be covered in things from him from now on. He was sure of it when you stood there in the arena, trying to figure out how to tote around a spear, bow, sword, knife, club, and a pack full of food, and he’s even more sure of it now. You used his knife to win the games. 

His gift he watched you take care of, cherish over the last 6 days. 

It’s almost like he was right in there with you! Supporting you, helping you! He couldn’t even sleep the last days, knowing you were in there, scared. 

My, he understands now why the skies saved you for him. You two truly are a match made for everyone to bear witness to you. 

And now!! Now that you won he knows your fates were set out for in the stars. 

He’s just so proud!! So– so proud of you!! 

Soon!! Soon he can be with you! He promises, okay? 

He knows Namjoon and Taehyung– the former more than the latter, will make him wait a bit before he actually can have you. There are duties you have to attend to, after all! Responsibilities! And he knows you wouldn’t want to neglect those. You’re very accountable like that, he knows it. 

But that’s okay! He can be patient. He’s waited his whole life for you– 23 years to be exact! He can wait a little more. Wait for the right moment. 

He knows you’ll be hurting from having to wait, too. It’s been so long since you last spoke! You really should have kept up better with your letters, you know!! You’re lucky he even remembered your name!!

He’ll have to scold you for that later– his cheeks puffed out in that way he just knows you’ll find adorable~

Ah!! But he’ll get to see you at the capitol parties!! Won’t that be fun? He’s sure of it! You two will get to dance and fall in love all over again. Taehyung will swoon and wonder when it’ll be his chance at love while Namjoon– well, Namjoon will probably be doting after his latest project or networking with politicians. But he’ll definitely want to hear all about everything from Jimin later!

Oh, he knows you’ll just look so sweet then. 

Uhg. But now he just has to wait. 

Disgusting it is, being without you for even a second longer. 

Disgusting it is, that the eyes of the rest of the world get to bear witness to your beauty, as well. 

Fucking peasants. 

Namjoon should just let him have you. This whole thing is just ridiculous. Why should he have to wait when you’re soulmates? Why should you be kept from him? All of it is moronic and Namjoon wouldn’t understand the meaning of such love if it slapped him across the face.

Annoying. 

Whatever. 

…

Oh!! He can rewatch your pre-games interviews again!! Or your reaping– ooo.. He does love watching your reaping.

Or maybe!! Maybe the chariot ride when you wave at him– because he’s sure for a moment then you two locked eyes. And he knows you felt the spark then, too. 

Or maybe he should rewatch his favourite scenes from the last 6 days, no matter how fresh in his mind they are. Watch as you become the perfect victor.

Or maybe he should go to the salon again! Get his pink hair fluffed up to perfection! Maybe the shops to get more new clothes for you! Oh, you probably wouldn’t know the renaissance is back in fashion, would you? Hmm, do you know what the renaissance is? What do they teach you in district schools? 

Well!! It doesn’t matter! He can ask you soon, and he’s willing to teach you anything, regardless!!

Hmm hmm hmm…

Oh! Oh! Oh! Or maybe he should go around and clean his home again– make sure the apartment is just perfect for you! He knows you’ll love it already, but you know, it never hurts to do a little extra for the one you love! 

Oh! He’s so excited to have you home! So, so excited! He just can’t wait! He can’t!

Solid memories, you realise, are hard to come by these days. There are things you think you know, of course. But nothing you can really wire down. Firm up into reality that isn’t mistied by some hazy expanse in the distance. 

You remember the capitol– there were parties in your honor, an exit interview. You think you can see yourself rewatching a few clips of the games but… to be honest, it all feels as if you’re looking back in third person. The ghost of yourself watching a shell without a face. Maybe reacting, maybe sitting there in silence. You’re not really sure. 

Though, you know all of it happened regardless of what your brain may distance from you. You know it did. But again, memories are… tricky. To say the least. 

The next solid one you have after your games, you’re still at the capitol. Still at the world filled with glimmer and gleam. You remember sitting in the shower, water pounding against your skin as the world all to suddenly feels whole again. For the first time in weeks it feels as if you’re wearing your own skin, seeing things through your own eyes. 

You remember your eyes casting down upon your hands. Droplets congregate on your palms as you have your first conscious thought since the night those games ended. Since the world became a mist no one would be able to see through. 

You’re going home. 

The realization is awe-inspiring. Stuttering, really. You know, then, that soon– in just a few days– you’ll be returning to District 11. You’ll be with your flowers and your bees. You’ll be able to walk through the tall grasses that fill your heart. Be able to see the sunset against the horizon and pretend as if you’re a bird dancing among those clouds. 

You’ll be able to see your family again. To feel their hugs and listen to their stories. You’ll be their daughter again. Not a box of ash on the mantle, not a tale to avoid especially on the most harrowing nights. You’ll be free from the games. Your family will be free from the games. 

You’ll see him.

You’ll see Yoongi.

He gave you a book on the old language of flowers— one of the last few standing after the history of before was erased from the public's eye. The original meaning of petals bound in worn leather, pages dried with colours of pressed flowers in their wake. In their entire glory for only you and him to see. To have together. Antiquities of a time you’ve never known, would never know save for the stories that were hushed in whispers of your attic walls between your voices alone. 

The new language of flowers was something you didn’t like as much, not after learning the true words they spoke. Highly published novels depicting a different tale then the ones they murmured to you out in the fields. A language that was a lot more angry, spiteful. Filled with resentment of a darker time that bled into even the most beautiful, innocent things. 

The book he gave you now held more meaning than ever before. While you don’t know much, you know that for certain. 

You’ll have that book in your hands again soon. Him in your grasp again— soon. 

Tears are in your eyes faster than you can blink them away. Sobs of a simple babe leaving your mouth for no one in the capitol to see. Just for yourself. Just for you, in your shower. Pathetic hands moving to try and wipe them away, yet there really is no hope. Tears will continue to flow, just as the sun will rise. 

You needed this more than you could ever know. More than anyone would ever know. 

Because then the thought is in your head again– about what you had to do to live. To survive. And for some strange reason, when you pull your hands away from your eyes, they look like they’re covered in red again. That boy in the arenas’ red. Your allies’ red. Strangers you didn’t know in the slightest’ red. The pasts’ red. 

Tears continue to fall, but for a different reason now. 

You’re out of your body again, and you think you might just stay there for a while. Until all of it just stops. 

Fuck whatever the hell Namjoon says, actually. Jimin doesn’t give a shit anymore. Jimin doesn’t care about waiting for the “right time” or when you’re more “susceptible” (as if you even need to be!). You need to come home now. You have to. 

He can’t just– he can’t just watch you destroy yourself like this in isolation! Especially when you have a warm, loving home to come home to. When he can support you. 

Fuck that. He can’t watch this any longer. 

This is all his fault, for going out earlier that day. Arriving home later than normal– missing your dinner together entirely. Oh, you’re probably so lonely without knowing he’s watching through the security cameras. Oh-so lonely. 

That’s why you’re crying in the bathroom, that’s why you’re hurting inside. Because you’re so alone. Because you have no one when you need him. 

You haven’t cried this entire time! There’s no other explanation as to why you’d be breaking down now! On the one day he didn’t have time to spend watching the cameras every waking second! 

He always wakes up with you, falls asleep with you. Eats with you, showers with you. Does everything with you! Fuck! How could he be so stupid! How could he be so neglectful! He’s an awful boyfriend! Awful! Awful! Awful! 

He can’t just watch you like this anymore. He doesn’t care if you’re more distressed, distraught– whatever. He’ll deal with that then. But you’re crying and it hurts him just as harshly as it does you. 

He doesn’t even realise the tears that well in his own eyes. The stinging pain of his nails digging into his palm.

Fuck Namjoon. This is his fault! It is! He’s the one that kept you from him! He’s the one that’s been insisting on your isolation until the “right time”-- whatever the hell that is! 

This is all his fault! 

You’re so scared. So lonely. So heartbroken.

He’s going to save you. To help you. To bring you home. 

Namjoon and Taehyung– they’ll understand, right..? He’s sure they will. They would do the same thing for their soulmates. He knows they would. Taehyung would do it in a second for his fletchling that got away! He could never be mad at Jimin! Never ever! 

And Namjoon, Jimin knows that he was just doing what he thought was best– trying to help. But Jimin knows best when it comes to you. 

He knows it's time for you to come home, even if it is a little more difficult. He can take it, he knows he can. 

Jimin sniffles, wiping the underside of his nose as he mops up his lousy expression. Reminding himself that all of this is okay– at least it will be soon. When you’re with him. When you’re in his arms. Safe from the rest of the world. 

Safe because of him.

The scent of sweet linen fills your nostrils to the very brim. Gentle fabrics twist in your palms, head leavered to the side, shoving your face even deeper into the too-soft sheets. 

It smells almost like home. Like the fresh flowers you’d pick every morning to put on the table– the lilac, sweet pea, and babies breath mixture you made most often for the neighbours. 

Something… Something is off. Something… artificial. But you choose to ignore that fact for the simple instance of staying sane. For the ability to lull your mind into a simpler place– a simpler time. A place before the games. A place so wonderful you don’t even allow yourself to dream of it anymore. Home. 

Maybe that was your first mistake, thinking you might return to that place for even a moment. 

Maybe it was a lot of things. It could have been imagining you just missed the entire train ride home– that you didn’t fall asleep in your stupid capitol apartment last night. Maybe it was thinking your mom’s bed could even afford such soft cottons to warm the lonely nights. Maybe it was letting your guard down for even a second, missing the footsteps that travel through the door. 

Maybe it was missing a whole slew of other signs. 

You’re too tired to know. Too tired to care. 

Well, that is until a sing-song pitch feels like it breaks the sound barrier. Feels like it shatters your disillusioned peaceful world into a disarray of shards you can’t glue back together. Sends you tumbling from the bed, startling you. Making you remember exactly how you felt in those games all over again.

“Petal~ Are you awake yet, my love? Oh my–” He seems just as shaken as you as he watches you bolt from the bed. Startling back a few steps as you roll to the floor assuming a crouched, almost predatory position. Your hair messy, lips puffy from sleep. Eyes wide, almost unnerving as you try to take him in. 

“Ah~” He resumes his original state, the one he had before you spooked him. One more relaxed– more carefree than you would ever be able to hold. A tray of food in his grip, filled to the brim with foods that used to be your favourites. 

Food has tasted dull for awhile now. 

“My, I must’ve scared you. I’m sorry, little petal.” He hums quietly, ignoring your flighty state instead focusing his path to the end of the bed– a bed you don’t recognise in the slightest. You’re not in any home that you’ve ever known. “I know, it must be pretty startling, hmm? I wanted to wake up in bed with you, but I didn’t think that would be the best idea.” 

He lends a giggle to himself, though you can’t understand the humour in his words. Not when you’re reeling. Eyes darting around, taking in the scenery around you. The grandiose bedroom piled high with the most comfort the capitol can offer. A large bed in the center of the room– the bed you were just in. A large window taking space of the entire wall, giving view of the city down below.

How did you get here? What is going on? Who the actual fuck is this guy? How does he know you?

Well, the last question is easy enough to answer. How does anyone know you? The games of course. Your new victor status lends the title of celebrity. 

You miss the days you were no one now more than ever. You need to get out. 

Your eyes dart between his figure, now perched on the end of the bed next to the tray of food and the door. Could you make it past him? Beat him in a race? Sure, he looks taller than you. But from your position on the floor– practically in a runners start already, you’re sure you could beat anyone in the capitol who’s never had to work a day in their life. 

What would you do after you make it out that door? You’re not sure. But you need to put more distance between yourself and this– this psychopath.

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you, love.” His voice is light, airy. Your mother would say he sounds like a songbird, however, you know that isn’t true. Only the capitol-created mutts would observe you as he is now. Close, pointnet. “The doorway has a sensor. I go through it, I’m fine. You— bzzt!!” 

He grabs his collar, shaking a little to give off the appearance of being electrocuted, giving a light laugh at the end to show humour. What part of this is meant to be fucking funny?! You– you!! He kidnapped you!! What part of that is fucking funny!! 

You feel heat in your face, air exhaling a notch faster than before as anger rises higher in your being. Who the fuck does he think he is?! You would be a fool not to go for it anyway. An idiot to just trust this man's words without a second thought. 

“Not enough to kill you but–” You bolt for the doorway, running as fast and as hard as you can. Though, it doesn’t last long. The man did not lie, and you are frozen in place the second an inch of your frame has made it through the passage. A current shooting through your being, freezing you in place. Causing you to crumple to the floor without even a second's notice. 

The pain is burning, though not as strong as you expected such a force to be. You don’t understand capitol technology, and you don’t want to. You don’t want to know how it could hurt so bad yet not hurt at all at the same time. How it could completely immobilise you yet feel as though it didn’t do any real damage. 

A simple shock to your system, as he presumed this whole thing would be. 

He tuts out a soft sigh as he watches you fall, standing from his place on the bed and allowing his legs to carry him to your form. “I told you petal, I wouldn’t recommend trying. It’s okay though– I expected this.” 

He hums, easily scooping your body into his arms. And as much as you want to run, to push him away, to strangle him– you can’t move a muscle. Limp in his arms, useless to him moving you into bed, tucking you back under the sheets. All save for your face, and maybe your voice. Though, you haven’t tried to use that yet. 

“Oh– don’t look at me like that!” He giggles, placing your body upright in bed. Back against the headboard, blankets pulled to your hips. You think you hate the smell of them now more than anything else. “You’ll be able to move again soon, I promise. 10-15 minutes max? I’m not sure the details– Joon set it up for me. I didn’t want to!”

He looks at you seriously now, almost a complete change in his demeanour. His hands moving to clench your unmoving ones, his eyes staring straight into your own still set in a glare. “I knew you would love me right away, petal. I promise. I didn’t think you would run. But Joon said it would be better to be safe than sorry, you know? And I didn’t want you to get hurt with all the shock this change would be! You understand, right?”

You don’t know what the fuck a Joon is or the bullshit the man in front of you is spewing. You don’t even know why he’s spitting it!! You don’t even know him!! You’ve never seen him before in your life!!  A thousand words well up in your throat at once, yet you’re not sure which ones want to leave first. Hatred, as well as that puppy-dog look you already have come to despise forces your hand. You want him off of you– away from you. To give you a moment to think and to figure out all of his nonsense!! 

“Fuck you.” Is all you can manage between your teeth, though you want to will so much more. Want to let loose every stupid, horrible thing you’ve thought since you first arrived in the capitol. The words you wanted to say during all of your interviews– the words that wouldn’t gain you sponsors or support. 

Maybe you should have said them back then, maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position now. 

Oh, you hate that he only smiles at your words. Moves, instead, to grab the tray of food abandoned at the edge of the bed. “They’ll be plenty of time for that later, petal.” 

You know it’s meant to be a tease– the way he says it puts no real meaning behind his words. But their simple utterance leaves you wanting to spasm. To will your body to move– to make him not threaten you like that again. To yell, to scream, to throw fists his way. To throw him out that giant window. The one that taunts you of your freedom.

“No! No–! There won’t be!” You almost shout, attempting to force your body to move. To twist any part of it. To gain back any level of control. Slap that giggle that spills from his lips. “Who the– Who the fuck are you?!” 

Your voice is practically a growl, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact he's– he’s jovial? His shoulders shake with amusement while his eyes crest with joy. And you, you hate every second of it.

“Ah~ There’s the petal I know!” He hums, cutting away at the pancakes below. Plucking a few pieces onto a fork, bringing it closer to your lips, “Though, if I’m being honest, I’m a little hurt you don’t remember me, my love! We’ve had so much fun together!!” 

His expression softens now, almost appearing wounded. Like you had stabbed him somewhere you couldn’t even begin to explain. It only enrages you further, to be honest. Though, nothing to do about that now. You’ve already boiled over. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I don’t know you!! We’ve never–” He takes that moment to shove the fluffy bread between your lips, knowing otherwise he would not have the chance. He takes his other hand, placing it on your lower jaw before you have the chance to spit it out. You hate how he seems to know your actions before you know them yourself. You hate everything about him. 

“You need to eat.” His tone is harsh again. It switches so easily– everything about him does, honestly. It confuses you, but there isn’t much time to spend on that thought at the moment, is there? Not with a psycho in the room. Not with everything happening. 

You still don’t follow his direction. Instead just hold it between your lips, not chewing. It gives you some sense of control you otherwise lacked in every other way. Gives you an ounce of strength. 

“Chew. Or else you’ll be on a liquid diet. Neither of us want that.” The way he looks at you now sends a chill down your spine. Eyes half lidded, almost in a glare. Jaw set harshly in place, puffy lips pulled in slightly.

You feel like you’re in the arena again. 

Maybe you never left.

“Eat. And I’ll answer your questions.” Begrudgingly, you oblige. Though it doesn’t come without some force, humiliation burns through as you actually listen to what he tells you. As you follow his command. 

You want to die, maybe. 

Or that could just be the shame that runs through your veins. 

You’ve never been a strong person, you don’t think. And the thought feels even more apparent now. Your ally in the games– she would’ve never done what he said. You know that. She was strong. She always listened to her own conscience above all else. She would’ve never given in over a threat and a promise, while you, at least on the inside, feel as if that’s all it ever takes. 

A threat and a promise. 

You hate it. Even more so when his personality does a complete 180 once again. When he starts praising you. When he hops up next to you on the bed and nestles you into his side. Especially when he plants a kiss on the top of your head, telling you how good you are. How he just knew you wanted to please him and that there's no reason to pretend. 

“See, baby? I just knew you could do it. I knew our little rough patch wouldn’t last long, would it? See, you’re already so good for me. Just the perfect little thing like I knew you would be, yeah? Wow~” His lips against your head feel like the first soft thing you’ve felt in the last month. You hate it. “What a perfect little Victor for me baby, you know that? C’mon! Let's eat up lots! I hate how much weight you’ve been losing since you got here from the districts. It’s so sad.” 

You want to sob, actually. Burning humiliation feels unbridled in your core. You hate that you can’t push him away. That you can’t get away. Why does such a simple action of chewing food feel like so much more? Why does everything feel like so much more?

You want to go home. You want to be among your flowers and your best friend. 

The fork is in front of your mouth again. 

This time, you take it without a fight. Already knowing it will be going in your mouth, regardless. Especially in this new, feeble position. His arm around your shoulder, your legs soon tugged onto his lap the same. 

“Who are you.” You ask again, hatred in your tone. Though he ignores it completely, instead favouring to focus on the way you took his offering without much physical fight. He could tell the mental one was burdensome, though there will be time to deal with that later. 

He smiles at you, though you choose to focus on a spot through the window in the far distance. Hoping against all hope it is the glimmer of the sun rather than a hologram pasted on the glass.

“Jimin. My name is Jimin. Remember it this time, okay petal?” He says softly, as though it was just for you to hear. 

You wish it wasn’t. 

You wish it was at some sort of public hanging for the world to hear for kidnapping the Capitol’s much favoured victor. You wish he was being hung while you were in the arms of your best friend instead, far away from the entire mess. Far away from everything.

Why hasn’t your mind locked you away again? Made you incapacitated– a drop among the flowing river? Why did it have to make you so aware, now, when it was all you had ever hoped for before? Why couldn’t it lock away these memories like it did for those in the games?

The answer is obvious. 

You’re still in them. Maybe not physically, but mentally, now more than ever, you’re in those games. Except now, the only enemy is one and if you make it out, there would be no trumpets signalling your victory.

There is no victory in these games, is there?

“Hmm, you’ve had a hard morning, haven’t you?” He’s still being soft. Still slowly feeding you bites of food you want nothing to do with while his other hand gently traces circles on your ankle. At least you’re still wearing the clothes you fell asleep in. You have that to be thankful for. “I’m sorry for scaring you so badly, I hoped the scents would calm you down but I guess I was wrong.” 

You finally spare a glance his way, noticing his lips in a pout. He has nothing to be sad for, you know it to be true. So why is he acting like the burden of the world is on his shoulders? You have not a clue, nor a care. Though you keep yourself quiet all the same, knowing any words you say might set him off– especially the unkind ones you think.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.” He smiles again, eyes cresting into half circles. His lips finding your hair once again, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. It makes you want to gag– want to cry in the way it mimics your mothers. But there's nothing you can do. Absolutely nothing for at least another 3 minutes. But where will you go– what will you do once that time does pass? You need to be smart about this. 

You can’t run. You can’t leave this room without being paralyzed. You could grab a fork, you could stab–

Your eyes automatically trail down to your hands, as if they expect the red to still be there. As if you didn’t scrub it away countless times, a new red in its place. Raw and irritated, painful. 

…

What will you do when the time passes?

The urge to scratch at your hands once again is insurmountable. An itch pulling behind your eyes as a meager way to force away the visions of that career in your face. Of his expression as blood dribbled from the side of his lips, eyes becoming hollow against the sandy ground.

You force your eyelids closed. Pressing them together. Willing away the picture of at least 12 other tributes– the slaughters you witnessed first hand. The colour draining from their skin from where you hid. The emptiness where there once held life. 

You watched them smiling in training. You ate with a few. They were real people with real lives and now they are dead and you’re alive. 

You want it to go away. You want it all to go away. 

…

You’re not sure what you can do once the time passes. The wails in your ears at the mere thought of stabbing him are evidence of that enough. 

You need more time to think. 

“Why?” The question hangs heavy in their air, almost so quietly you’re not sure it left your own lips. You don’t remember it leaving them, surely. Nevertheless, willing them to move– but the question found its way out on its own. 

You don’t know if you want an answer, but you can’t force it back in. 

“Why?” Jimin, your captor, hums. His thumb tapping gently against your ankle bone in a way that you assume is meant to soothe. He takes a moment– thinking, contemplating, before a smile so bright it could be the sun itself takes over his expression. One filled with care, with such soft admiration you’ve only ever seen on one person before. 

“Because I love you, of course. You love me too. You promised.”

The days– no, weeks, that follow are, disappointingly, similar to your first. An almost-routine forming between you and Jimin. Horrible, unnerving Jimin. Wake up every morning all-too aware, force yourself from his too-tight grip he’s managed to pull you into while you slept. Check the exits to see if they’re still locked or shocked. Eat breakfast with Jimin, deal with his mood-swings and tantrums. 

Eventually he leaves for work– not before he clings to you again, whining about how he doesn’t want to go. You lash out, yell at him to stop touching you– you hate when he touches you– after which he either cries or gets mad. Whimpers about how he doesn’t understand why you’re being so mean. Why you hate him. 

A little kid being refused their favourite toy, maybe. The same way your little brother might’ve done the same. 

He’s got some sort of twisted reality, that's all you know. Has convinced himself you’ve loved each other for years, that you two are meant to be some sort of fairytale. That it’s fate you were drawn that day– something about letters. You have no clue how he’s come to that conclusion, nor find yourself wanting to delve into it. All you do know is that it’s tiring, too tiring. 

To be honest, when he cries like that in the mornings, it almost makes you feel bad. Almost, because you’re not stupid. You know what’s real. You know that before he took you, you had never seen him in your life. You made no promises like he swears, you never showed him any sort of inclination otherwise.

On the other hand, it's clear he’s sick in the head. Clear that something in the capitol deluded him into believing whatever… this is. Maybe he’s never known what actual love is– you doubt the capitol knows anything about that. Maybe it was his friends you’ve been forced to hear about, maybe it’s just, everything else. 

Either way, you wouldn’t know. He doesn’t talk much about himself– nor his family. He doesn’t talk about visiting them or introducing them to you the same way he does his best friends.Two people you’ve never met yet already hate. An already-assumed air to the presidency and the head gamemaker– Taehyung, Namjoon. 

You really did get lucky with your captor, huh? Well, you knew he had to be in high places for the wealth he assumes. The wealth he practically forced on you in the arena. 

Oh, the realization he had been the one to dump food and weapons on you was a sobering one indeed. 

You often wonder where it comes from. What he had to do to become so rich when back home, all your family had to their name was a small two bedroom cottage in the far-reaches of town. When your father would become so skinny during the winter months that you found yourself sleeping next to his bed, afraid he might not wake up in the morning. 

It had been worse when your parents were little, or so you were told. The capitol used to be worse– more vicious. Something about an almost uprising. An agreement made when a mockingjay flew. You’re not sure, it sounded like some sort of strange symbolism when your teacher spoke the words. And back then, when you were young, you didn’t care about the symbolism of birds. Flowers were much more your heart. 

What did the capitol kids learn in school? Did they have it? Or were they already assumed geniuses. A silver spoon born into the mouths of the wealthy, their paths laid out by birthright alone. Never having to worry, never having to struggle. Jimin is most definitely the same, regardless. 

Spite is an emotion often had, along with too many others. 

You have too much time to think here. Too much time to reflect on your inability to act. Why you’re cursed with visions whenever you so much as have a passing thought about killing Jimin to get away. 

Though, maybe it’s a blessing, in a way. What would you do if you did manage such a feat? Run with his friends tailing behind you? Find some way out of the capitol? Risk the lives of everyone you love by somehow returning home with nothing to your name? How would you even leave the apartment? Sure, he normally turns the bedroom shocks off during the day so you can roam, but you know the same device stands at the front door. 

The windows are too tall to leap from, no fire escapes in sight. You would be stupid to not assume he already planned for you to try and kill him. Maybe if he dies the entire apartment explodes. Maybe he’s got some sort of medical implant that could patch all wounds instantly. You have no clue what kind of technology the capitol holds, much less one of its most important citizens. 

What you can assume? He dies, you die with him.

You’re not sure if you could kill him anyway. 

So there you are left, planning. Forced to listen to him. His day, his life. His friends. You. The people he deems actually important to his life, you presume. 

Then there are his plans– what he wants to do with you that day, dates he hopes to take you on after you finally accept him. Proposals. Marriage. All things that twist your stomach– make it ache. 

Of course, he asks questions, too. Makes it appear as though he actually wants to get to know you better. What a joke. This whole thing feels like one. Like some type of dream you won't be able to escape no matter how hard you thrash under the covers. 

Most of the time, you find it easier not to answer. If you say nothing, he can’t use it against you. Can’t turn it into a tantrum from a wrong answer or stare at you with those warm-brown eyes while you open your soul. Can’t take a mile when you only bare him an inch. 

You never can tell what he is thinking. 

What you do know? He looks so pathetic when he cries during those times you decide to let hate fill your heart. When the band inside finally snaps and you just can’t take anymore of this. The demon clawing out from your abdomen, spewing vile from your lips before you can even think of what you’re truly saying. 

Oh, how clings to your legs, looks up at you with tears streaming down his face. His perfectly styled pink hair a wreck, his puffy cheeks flushed red. Veins in his neck straining. Begging, pleading for you to just love him. For you to come to him like he does you, to crave him like he does you. For you to just say you didn’t mean it. To please, please just not hate him. He just can’t take it. You’re soulmates. You’re meant to be. You can’t hate him, you can’t.

Maybe sometimes you feel a small ounce of sympathy when he gets like that, knowing that you caused it. Humanity thriving within you when, at this point, in most it would be squandered away. 

You feel too much lately, to be honest. 

Though, that little bit of pity, small and waning, is wiped away all the same when he forces you to sit in bed with him at night. Most nights he’s able to hold you due to the same zap you receive every time you try to run out that door– still believing it would be stupid to not try. Others, it's because you’re simply too tired to fight him. Because it’s easier not to.  

Either way, the result of your compliance forced or not is the same. Your frame tucked into his side, legs across his lap. His arm pulling you close, tucking the top of your head into his neck. All the while he plays reruns of your games, your interviews, your reaping. 

He smiles watching them, eyes casting a fond glow on the projection of your nightmare. The things you wish you didn’t have to do. 

You hate that you can see the fondness in his expression, especially. Makes his words seem even more true, that he wholeheartedly believes them. Whenever you appear on screen, his expression lights. His lips quirking whenever he urges you to watch– that his favourite part is coming. 

He seems to have a lot of favourite parts. 

At least it fills in a lot of gaps in your memory– maybe that’s one good that comes of it. Or maybe it’s another negative. Something that should be forgotten for your own sanity. That’s what your brain thought at least but now… You’re not really sure anymore, to be honest. It’s hard to keep things straight when you’re stuck in this apartment. When everything else your head is doing to protect you is oh-so-tiring. 

You remember him showing you your reaping a month after arriving at his apartment– one of the projections you seem to have forgotten completely. A day entirely forgotten returned to you all-too quick. A shot straight to the heart. 

You were standing there in line, waiting to have your face and fingerprints scanned for attendance. Hair a little wild, dress bustling in the wind. You watched as you walked forward, as they took you into the system. Corralled you into the area reserved for the oldest age group. 

You feel like you look so young then, or at least felt a million years younger than you do now. So happy, so carefree. Waiting for the whole drawing to just be over so you could be free of it. Finally free of it. Of everything. 

Fuck, your final reaping, too. How pathetic.

“You looked so pretty for me then, petal. That’s when I recognised your name.” Jimin whispered to you, nuzzling his face in your hair. Yet you paid little mind– eyes glued to the screen as the scenes shifted, bringing you directly to the drawing.

Hearing your name called, your face displayed on the screen was entirely mind-altering, to say the least. The girl on the screen is no longer you– maybe a body double, maybe a secret twin. It doesn’t matter which, because that girl, no. She doesn’t feel like you in the slightest. You don’t remember any of it happening at all. 

Back then, you remember how your legs stumbled as they carried you. How they shook with terror. The world was ending, you were sure of it. You knew it was. But the girl on screen is confident. She’s bold. She bares an expression of neutrality– posture held high, chin up against the winds with a red carnation tucked behind her ear. 

He tucked that flower behind your ear that morning, you know that for sure. It was tradition that he would. Petals tucked in your tresses, the promise of researching their meaning when you two departed. 

Maybe you should have done so before the reaping that day– maybe that was another mistake. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter now. Now you’re tucked in the arm of a deluded capitol boy who bought you from the president, being forced to watch the screen as it changes to something you were never meant to witness. 

The camera cuts to a scene in the crowd. A group of 6 standing together, holding each other. Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-Law, Brother, Sister-in-Law-to-be all joined together to watch their last family members very last reaping. 

Your heart shatters as you hear the syllables of your name called once again. 

The shock, the horror. The terror. The tears. The realization that you were going into the games. You watched from your seat in the capitol as your mother crumpled in on herself– as your brother fell right alongside her. Trying to hold her, trying to console her while your father just stood in utter shock. Frozen in place from his daughter being taken from him. 

He always did say your family was too lucky, to prepare for the worst. When you were young, it was a joke. But on that day it wasn’t, no. It was every nightmare a reality. 

Your family’s realization they would never see you run amongst the fields again. Hope already mist in the wind. That’s what it was.

Then, then the weight of ten-thousand bodies feels as though it has fallen onto your shoulders.

The camera cut to him. Your best friend. Your Yoongi. The man who tucked the flower in your hair, who made you promise to come back to him. The man who said he would do anything for you facing the one thing he couldn’t do anything against.

You don’t even know how the cameramen knew to film him in that moment, but you wish they didn’t. You wish against all else that you would’ve never had to see his face like that. 

This is the worst thing you could have seen. That Jimin is making you see. Worse than making you rewatch your games with that sickening smile on his face. Worse than making you relive the other lives you had to take in that arena with the weapons Jimin provided through sponsorship. Worse than finding out he had been privy to all the cameras in your capitol apartment.

No, seeing Yoongi again was worse than anything else. Especially knowing you would never see him again. 

At least during the games you knew you had a chance. Now, it feels like you have none. 

He’s gone.

You can’t stop the tears, from forcing your gaze away from the screen and hiding your face in Jimin’s neck. From breaking down against him– your captor, yet at the same time your only source of comfort. 

Maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe that was the point of all of this. You don’t know anything other than the pounding of your head and the burn of your lungs as it tries to pull in air. The static that runs through the wires of your brain as it shuts down, succumbing to the pain. The hurt of just– everything.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay~” He tries to calm you, yet it does nothing. Your wails only grow louder. Nails scratching, grabbing for anything in their reach. Finding home in his loose linen shirt. 

If you were any more sane, maybe you would know he was panicked in that moment too. Scrambling with what to do, how to console you. Eyes darting as he manages your form, tries to discern what to do or say. “That’s enough for today, I think…” 

He turns off the tv, you know that. You thank the skies for it. You don’t think you could listen to your supposedly private goodbyes with your family and Yoongi at that moment. You think that might just break you entirely.  

The actions that follow are foreign. Too consumed in your grief, you’re not sure how you wound up on his lap. How your body found itself clinging to him entirely. You’re sure of the sound of his voice, though. The way it gently shushes your cries with a smooth hum. Trying to comfort, to soothe while he strokes the top of your head with one hand. The other rubbing circles into your hip as you cry. 

The terrible part? You let him.

You let him mumble into your hair. You let him be your support when he was the very thing keeping you away from them. The very being holding you hostage when you should be in the victory village with them. When you should be with Yoongi. 

It’s too bad, but you really can’t help it. Honestly. Everything inside of you that you’ve been holding onto for so very long is flushing from your system all at once. Waves of emotion from the reaping, the games, the kidnapping have overflowed, and without something solid, you might have drowned. May have been washed away in a haze of memories you’re unable to come back from.

Can you really be blamed for letting the fire of hatred be quelled for only a night when a tsunami is about to pull you under? 

“It’s okay petal, let it out. You needed all of this, hmm? I’m so sorry for upsetting you, baby. I had no clue it would, I swear. I’ll never do something like that again, okay? I don’t want you to hate me, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your heart was still all the way back there, okay?” 

During the entire time you’ve been in the capitol, not a sole has offered you a single ounce of comfort. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to just let him. To let him comfort you. To let him take care of you. No matter how humiliating or awful it will feel tomorrow, you’re too tired to care. 

You’re so tired of fighting. Why do you have to keep fighting? Why you? 

“Worked so hard on being so strong. I’m proud of you. I’ve got you now, petal.” He whispered into your hair so softly. As if he could break you, as if he ever even conserved doing such a thing. 

Maybe he could feel it then– the way you had given up. Even if it was just for the hour. Maybe he knew to use it to his advantage. That’s what you would have done in the arena. Or maybe he did actually care. Did actually want to be there. Wasn’t planning on using your vulnerability for his own gain.

You would never really know, would you? 

You’re just so tired. And the way he gently pulls your face from his neck, tucks your face into his palm sure makes it feel like he cares. You don’t know. You don’t want to care. You just want to be free from thinking for a little while. 

Maybe that’s why you don’t look away when his eyes search to find your own. To make a connection– to try and convey that he can be solid for you, despite how he acts most of the time. Maybe it’s the tears that fall onto his cheeks, fooling you into believing his pain is your own. Your head feels so screwy anyway– unable or unwilling to function any longer than it has to. 

Maybe that's why you don’t pull away when he glances towards your lips. When his tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink pair. When he leans closer, his lips pressing against your own in a way that is utterly consuming, yet so soft at the same time. Dual worlds colliding together. The very definition of who Jimin seems to be. 

The kiss is a short, gentle thing. Something meant to soothe, to help you relax more than anything else. One that you neither respond to, nor push away from. But the fact it happens remains. The fact you didn’t hate it remains a thing to ponder on another day. 

His thumbs move up to gently swipe at your cheeks, collecting the last of your tears on his fingertips. Your head choosing to ignore the way he pops the digits in his mouth, tasting the salty tang. 

You're too tired– too confused right now, to care anyway. 

“Let's go to bed now, okay? You must be tired, baby.” He lifts you, placing you on your side of his massive bed. Tucking your frame in, moving your hair to the side before placing a gentle kiss on your temple. 

That night, he doesn’t force you to cuddle him. He doesn’t touch you at all, something you’re grateful for. But it’s clear something– maybe everything has changed. The repercussions, unclear. 

Yet the next morning, when you’re shocked awake by a gentle kiss to the lips and the floppy, too-happy face of Jimin in the morning, the memories of the night prior return. Then and there, for the first time, you’re sure you’ve made a mistake. 

⋆𐙚 part ii -> coming soon to a theatre near you <33 and as always, feel free to ask hunger games!jimin anything you want along with all my other guys!! MWAH!! ily and i hope you enjoyed <33

“The one and only.” His voice was low and smug, his tone more than enough to prove that he already knew you like your surprise. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he swept the content the presidential desk in the floor with his free hand and lifted you onto its outer edge, placing himself in the space between your open legs as if brought there by a gravitational pull. You draped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss as sweet as apple pie, or funnel cake, or other true symbols of American culture that were formed through a broad, grassroot endearment rather than a bunch of gross old men deciding they’d look cool on a flag three-hundred years ago.

Reminded of gross old men, you pulled away with another sharp gasp. “But, ‘toru, what if he catches us?”

You had no problem with getting your back blown out by your loving boyfriend in one of the most sacred rooms in the United States, but if that lead-paint poisoned geezer happened to walk in (if he even could walk on his own, anymore), it’d totally ruin the mood. Satoru only laughed. “Don’t worry, baby,” And then, flashing you a quick wink, “I made sure to clear the place out for us.”

“Satoru, you didn’t!”

“Guess some fascists just can’t handle their blunt force damage,” he said, shrugging. Suddenly, your expression dropped, and Satoru noticed right away. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Well, it’s not that the racist, senile felon didn’t deserve to have his skull caved in by a bisexual transgender man – since, y’know, we’re both bisexual and transgender.” Satoru nodded, affirming the fact that you two were similarly transgender and also bisexual, which you were. “It’s just – now that misogynistic white supremacist who jerks off to Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale every night before fucking his couch is going to be president, and that that kind of sucks too.”

“James David Vance?”  Satoru asked, refusing to use his initially and therefore highlighting how stupidly pretentious his name was. “You think too little of me, sweetheart.”

Possibly for the third time, you gasped. “Is he…?”

“Mhm. Took care of him right before I came home, got him right as he was coming out of his filler appointment. Beat him to death with a copy of his own book and everything, after leaving it a one-star review on Goodreads, of course.” Again, he shrugged, but smile gave away his self-satisfaction. “It’s all in a day’s work for the world’s strongest and most politically active sorcerer, I guess.”

“But, if that pathetic old man and his castrated lapdog are both dead, then who’s the president?”

“Check the news, baby.”

You fished your phone out of your pocket as Satoru sucked hickeys into your neck, obviously waiting until he had your full attention to go further. Again, you gasped. You were starting to lose count of how many times that’d happened, so far. “Abortions and insulin are provided upon request and also free now?!”

“Oh, wait, are they?” You turned your screen in his direction, and Satoru hummed in approval. Everyone’s quality of life had gotten a lot better since your good friend, Nanami Kento, was placed onto the Supreme Court in the final days of Biden’s term. “Sick. Not what I was talking about, though – scroll down.”

You scrolled down, and gasped once more. Your throat was starting to hurt. “Everyone in the country’s unanimously ellected the first female president?”

“Not just any female president,” he said, smirking and tapping on a trust-worthy article from a reliable and non-partisan source. “Say her name for me, baby.”

The final gasp you gaspt was the loudest and most gasp-like of all.

♱

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.

You’d spent hours agonizing over how you’d leave the house…

“It has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.”

Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lord’s name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man you’d seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.

The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretched—a familiar occurrence—and you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?

“I’ve had…some hateful thoughts as well.”

You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadn’t even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.

Father Mayhew.

“Take your time,” he gently encouraged. “Speak when you are ready.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how you’d cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently now—to be different, now.

“Although I have abandoned my former life and…occupation…” you thought you heard him shift. “...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.”

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“...will never be accepted.”

You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during mass—the judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didn’t know how to place you. 

Every sunday it was the same. You’d wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. You’d fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. You’d fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking like…well…a whore.

You struggled to swallow.

“I see the way they look at me,” you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. “I can’t hear what they whisper, but I know it’s about me.”

You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.

“It’s…discouraging.”

You didn’t want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasn’t necessary to ‘find God’...right? You didn’t think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing you’d ever done.

…but then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.

He’d been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. You’d had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. You’d appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadn’t treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadn’t treated you like you didn’t belong.

You were willing to bet that he hadn’t even known about you then.

Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did now…even though you’d never told him.

“Humans are flawed,” his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. “We all fall short—even the most devout of us—and we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgment…pride…lust…”

You intently listened. After all, he’d never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about God’s love trumping all.

“I have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all God’s children striving to lead a life in his image…”

His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.

“He wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty I’m sure you know…” that actually made you hold back a chuckle. “...but God’s love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.”

At that, you did smile.

You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Mary’s, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didn’t know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.

You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.

It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long she’d been gone and how down on your luck you’d been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real gold—probably the only real piece of jewelry you ever owned—but you just couldn’t do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years you’d lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing woman…it felt right sitting just below your collarbone.

Even if many would not agree.

You were no stranger to several men in this town—and the ones who often passed through on their truck routes—but that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place you’d never stepped foot into in your life. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel…strange to be in the same building as some of the men you’d serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.

It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.

Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. You’d never once confessed that you used to be a prostitute—although the kids called it sex work these days—but you weren’t stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling who’d let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew though…

…because he looked at you different.

It wasn’t a bad different—thank God for that—but just…different, and while it wasn’t necessarily bad, you still didn’t think you liked it. Confession—being anonymous—never allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering you’d only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didn’t know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didn’t know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.

You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t your friend—far from it in fact—but he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure you’re settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because he’s wondering if you’ll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that he’s never recognized your voice all this time.

That is why he watches you, you told yourself.

No other reason. 

“You always come to pray at least three times a week…”

The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as you’d just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadn’t even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that he’d said something to you. 

“Yes,” you finally said, moving away from the altar. “It helps with…um…really everything.”

He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsome—if anyone had seen enough men to know it was you—but he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation. 

He slowly nodded at your response, and you didn’t miss the way he studied you—dark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice you’d made today.

“You know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,” he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.

You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.

“I’m still new. I’m sure it just seems that way because you aren’t used to seeing me.”

He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.

“No,” he murmured—so low you almost didn't hear him. “I think you are perhaps my most…devout congregant.”

He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldn’t be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didn’t quite view priests—view him—as human. As normal…

His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.

“It’s admirable,” he whispered. “More of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good person…you weren’t who you used to be…that you were worthy of something more, you didn’t know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.

“Thank you, Father,” you quietly replied to him. “That means a lot to me.”

You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on you—always watching—and you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.

No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.

An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldn’t swallow down the disappointment. You hadn’t missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing you’d do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.

You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.

No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friends—while supportive of the direction your life had taken—didn’t quite understand it and so you didn’t see them as often, and as for anyone else… Well, there wasn’t anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didn’t do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.

Your shock at Father Mayhew’s presence was all over your face.

“Father,” you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.

He looked just as you were used to seeing him—clerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.

“I…I’m so sorry. Um…come in,” you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.

He didn’t respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldn’t name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t appropriate? Although you were positive you’d heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly weren’t on your deathbed, you didn’t see why this would be different.

Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.

“I do apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. “...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face I’d grown to look forward to, I became concerned.”

You couldn’t stop your smile at his words

“Oh,” you softly said. “Well, there’s no need to be concerned. It’s just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.”

You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.

“I’m glad to hear that’s all it is…”

At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.

“I had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.”

Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.

“They often fall into the temptation of judgment, after all…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. You’d only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.

“I thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,” he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. “I wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.”

You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didn’t join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.

“So devout,” he quietly said to himself. “It almost makes me ashamed…”

At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.

“Why?”

“...because I see why they flocked to your door…money in hand.”

His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldn’t stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in months—since you first stepped foot into that church—you felt…wrong.

“I see why their eyes trace every inch of you when you’re not looking…as if to relive the memory of what you felt like—tasted like.”

You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.

“What memories they must have of you…”

You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man who’d always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also might…

You hadn’t done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was still…a man?

“Father, I think you should-.”

“I don’t say any of this to offend you,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “I say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time you’re in my presence.”

You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.

“You can cover up as much as you’d like—wear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chin…” his hand on the door halted your movements. 

You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.

“...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.”

You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.

“Father, I’d like you to leave-.”

Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.

“They’re all like rabid dogs…just waiting to pounce,” he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. “Just waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.”

You blinked, and a few tears escaped.

“...but they don’t know you like I know you.”

He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.

“They don’t know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and pray…”

You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.

“They don’t know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lord’s name in vain.”

His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.

“They don’t know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,” he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. “...and that I just want to ruin you for it.”

When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.

“We are…and always will be…sinners…”

Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followed—one arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.

Every thrust of his fingers made you wetter—embarrassingly so—and when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.

When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father Mayhew’s—Charlie—clerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.

You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that you’d put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didn’t want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t enjoyed sex for the act itself in years…

…but of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.

Father Mayhew’s hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, he’d push his cock into you to the hilt, and you’d involuntarily throw your head back.

You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.

“I must admit that I was—am—jealous,” he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. “Your devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.”

You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.

“...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,” he bit out, covering your lips with his own. “You so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptance…and all the things you didn’t think you were worthy of having.”

He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.

“...and I can give that to you,” he whispered into the kiss.

The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.

When you came around him—your first orgasm in over a year—you couldn’t swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didn’t stop.

With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.

Hoseok’s eyes shifted between you and Jungkook, tensing up at your question. He seemed not only confused but upset. Your eyes didn’t miss the soju bottle next to him. The sight left you even more than perplexed . Why was Jungkook seemingly having a casual drink with the same boy he had threatened before? How had he managed to lure him into the apartment in the first place? How was he here? The worst of thoughts began to emerge in your head.

“That’s a little rude, isn’t it?” Jungkook feigned innocence, leaning in to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear like he often did in endearment. However, in this particular moment nothing about it felt sweet or endearing. “Considering you’re the one who invited him over.”

What?

Your face scrunched up in complete astonishment. You slapped his hand away and put more space between the two of you.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t invite anyone.” Your voice wentup in pitch towards the end. “What’s going on?”

You look between the both of them, they shared a swift knowing glance at each other before Jungkook locked his gaze onto you again.

What was that?

Something was so off. Not only were you terribly confused but it felt familiar almost, terribly familiar. It didn’t feel as if you had walked in on a clear betrayal. It felt as if you had walked into some sick kind of inside joke. A set up meant to leave you in the dark. It didn’t felt like you were the one that deserved an explanation.

But you noticed one thing. Jungkook’s prying eyes poorly concealed something else in them. Seething jealousy. A shudder left you as you braced for what he was going to do. You’ve messed up horribly.

You felt Hoseok’s eyes on you now too, his expression changing into a frown as he studied you.

“I told you,” Jungkook spoke, his dark eyes didn’t stray from you but he was clearly addressing the other man in the room. “She was playing you.”

You snap your head back at Hoseok in shock at the words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth. You weren’t expecting them but they helped confirm your suspicions. The puzzle pieces were still scattered but you slowly began to watch them fit together as you took in everything in front of you.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What the hell are you talking about!” You shrieked out but immediately took a deep breath, feeling yourself start to lose control of the emotions overwhelming you. A need to reel yourself back in took over, a part of you afraid of triggering another panic attack that you couldn’t handle at the moment. You flared your arms up as you neared towards Hoseok who looked more upset by the second.

“You texted me.” Hoseok stated shaking his head at you. “You sent me this location and told me to come over, that you were ‘really needed me right now’.”

You stare at him, freezing in your steps as you rapidly shake your head in denial. What was he talking about? Had Jungkook taken your phone somehow without your knowledge? But how? He hadn’t asked you to unlock your phone the other day. You hadn’t texted Hoseok since yesterday, vaguely giving him a run down of your day. In fact, you had been texting him far less these days as you were determined to still let him down gently. You figured it was working. Which is why you couldn’t believe your eyes at him being here. You would never tell him to meet you anywhere. Not with Jungkook’s inquisitive nature that you had barely escaped earlier. Let alone lead him right into a lion’s den.

“No, no.” You explained, pointing towards Jungkook. “He must’ve contacted you somehow, I never texted you! I don’t understand what the fuck is going on but I never texted you that!”

This was ridiculous. You gripped your bag and slung it off your shoulder. You began to search for your phone, eagerly needing to provide proof of this insane claim but Hoseok continued his accusation.

“You told me you broke up with him yet you led me directly to your very much still boyfriend’s place.” He continued you with a scoff. “The text came from your contact. What the hell are you doing? Why lie about something like that? Is this a sick game or some shit?”

The text came from you.

That was literally impossible. Jungkook didn’t know your passcode.

Did he?

Even if he did, you would’ve noticed he went through it. Wouldn’t you? You didn’t recall leaving your phone unattended. Or did you? The days here didn’t even feel real, you were struggling to recall much of anything right now. But most of all, you didn’t like the guilt you felt at the thought of Jungkook going through your phone. You should be angry and you were but another part of you also felt ashamed. It felt exactly like what you had felt that morning he confronted you about your phone and how you had thought you fooled him successfully for once.

The walls were closing in on you as you finally found your phone. Your fingers shook while tapping against the screen.

“She lied.” Jungkook chimed in. From the corner of your eye you could see him still observing you as he walked right over to the island. “She does this whenever we have a fight, she just wants attention.”

No.

No.

No.

You swallowed, your eyes stinging with newfound tears as you opened your texts, easily finding Hoseok’s contact that you placed under a girl’s name. Your closed your eyes tightly, letting out a silent curse. You were right there was no texts of you sending a message to meet up, your screen just showed the many texts of you casually talking and politely declining to meet up with him. But it was then you realized your mistake.

These messages didn’t rid you of any guilt. They only dug your grave further.

You had been deceptive. Not with malicious intent but you had been nonetheless. You had lied to not only Hoseok, but to Jungkook.The latter unsurprisingly filled you with much more dread. No matter which way you looked at it, this looked exactly how he intended it to look like. The story of an unfaithful lover that had been caught red handed with another man by her husband.

Jungkook fit the part with ease with the way his demeanor promised silence before the storm. The forced coolness in his tone was hiding a beast beneath it. You suppose you fit the part too by how dry your mouth had gotten. You found yourself suddenly not wanting to meet his scrutinizing gaze. You went behind his back, didn’t you? You lay in his bed every night, ate his food, enjoyed his luxurious and in return you sneak around. Did you not deserve his wrath? Perhaps you deserved much more.

Another skipped heartbeat.

What was wrong with you? The rational side of you was slipping away little by little. It knew well that this wasn’t your fault but your feelings were fighting strongly against all rationality. If it wasn’t your fault then why were you hesitating to show them your phone? If you were so innocent then why did you feel so dirty? You gripped your phone painfully tight officially panicking as you delayed to turn it over like you were so eagerly planning on doing a moment ago. How could you be so idiotic? Why didn’t you delete these texts? Why didn’t you block him all together? You’ve not only screwed yourself over but you’ve taken Hoseok down with you.

Jungkook seemed to notice your struggle, his mask slightly slipping.

“ What’s the matter, baby?” The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “Show your proof.”

He practically spit out the last word, twisted amusement taking over his gaze. You felt your lips tremble as you tried your hardest to swallow down a sob.

“Jungkook.” You pleaded with wide eyes. “Please, why are you doing this?”

His expression sharpened at that. Instead of taking pity in you, like you foolishly assumed he might, he glared daggers at you. His weakness seemed to be seeing you break and seeing you break down in tears. As sick as it was he did once tell you he hated to see you cry and you cling to that slither of hope that would appeal to his more softhearted side. But of course you should’ve known better than to trust you had Jungkook figured out in the slightest.

“Me?” He asked you incredulously, his mask fully falling now as you saw his eyes flash with a familiar type of hurt you had seen in them before. The same type of hurt when you had yelled at him that you would never love him. You took yet another cautious step back, surprised at how much the look seemed to leave you completely chilled this time. You didn’t remember feeling this breathless last time you had caused it.

“How do you have the audacity to say that to me.” He sneered at you and one stride towards you had him closing most of the space you’d been creating between you. “How about you turn over the phone screen and show me how much you’ve been lying to my face?”

Another step.

“How about you tell me exactly where you’ve been all day.”

Another skipped heartbeat.

He knew where’d you been.

“No.” You continued to shake your head and turned your frantic gaze towards the other poor man in the room.

“Hoseok, you need to listen to me. This isn’t what it looks like, he’s doing this on purpose to-"

Jungkook’s cruel laugh cut you off, he ran a hand through his dark locks in disbelief. You watched in horror as he played the betrayed boyfriend role so convincingly because he genuinely did feel like you betrayed him. You felt your chest ache at the sight. Why did it ache? Why did it hurt to see him like this? Not only had you not even sent that message to Hoseok but you didn’t owe Jungkook any sense of loyalty. You didn’t owe him anything.

But the broken look in the large doe eyes that you had spent every night looking into since you got here made you feel like you owed him the world. You saw the corner of his lip twitch as he tried to blink away his glossy stare.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.” Jungkook stated with determination. So sure of himself. He tilted his head to the side, turning to Hoseok. “Did you know what she had just finished doing just before she received your adorable first text?”

You stiffen at his implication and at the way he comes up behind you. His breath tickles your ear as his fingers come to brush your hair out of your face and wraps his other arm around your waist. You let out a small gasp. The hand on your hair slowly runs down the back of your neck and inner shoulder. The cold sensation of his rings making you involuntarily shiver.

“Or rather who she was doing.” Before you can react, he pulls you further into him and places a kiss on the top of your head. “You have no idea how pretty she looks on top of me.”

Your jaw hung at his awful crude words and you harshly pull yourself away from him, quickly putting back the previous distance in between you. Your face felt like it was on fire. You had nearly forgotten the undeniable mean streak Jungkook possessed. It had been easy to pretend it had never existed with how sweetly he had treated you all this time you’ve shared his space and his bed. How quickly had you forgotten the many sides of him, the ugly sides that came out when things didn’t go his way and when his doll had overstepped her restraints.

But it was obvious that this was more than Jungkook being cruel, he was making a point. Staking his claim.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you?” You didn’t need to even look towards Hoseok’s direction to know how incredibly uncomfortable he was. It was clear in the way he cleared his throat and went to stand up.

“There wasn’t a need for all of this, I would’ve never asked you out if I’d known you two had just been on some kind of break.”

“We never broke up, she just loves making me jealous whenever we have ….disagreements.” Jungkook replied for you with a smirk spreading on his lips that reminded you of a devious child.

You were breathing heavily now, struggling to ground yourself as you felt the awful dread start traveling through you once again. It was triggered and you couldn’t do anything to stop it now. You had mere seconds left before your mind was burdened by sheer panic.

“She was just using you, unfortunately you were the perfect bait.” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you. You watched nervously as he walked back over to the counter and leaned on it, directly facing Hoseok. You could practically hear his grin. “You need to realize how girls work, you seem a bit inexperienced .“

Your phone dropped with a loud ‘clank’ but the two men didn’t seem to even notice it. It may have looked like you simply threw it to onto the floor in rage but your hands hand not stopped shaking. You felt the hideous need to run your nails down your arms and face . It was taking great effort not to do so, you opted for running them down frantically through your hair instead. He was turning the tables completely and successfully. He was playing this off as a typical unsteady relationship where he made you look like the dramatic girlfriend who was simply acting out when there was trouble in paradise.

Hoseok let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he stood up from his seat. He seemed to be completely over it.

“Whatever, you need to tell your crazy girlfrie-"

“You need to learn to take threats more seriously. I told you to stay away from her .” You heard Jungkook cut him off with now a much less neutral tone. All casualness gone. You didn’t need to look at him to know why the air seemed heavier now, you wanted to tell Hoseok to be quiet and not poke him further but you could barely focus your spiraling mind on anything other than the feeling of your chest tightening.

“Listen, I didn’t think it was all that serious. She never actually told me she had a boyfriend. You can’t blame me for not knowing right?” There was a slight defensiveness to how Hoseok said it and you couldn’t help but feel bad. He’d been blindsided completely. When he spared a glance at you his face scrunched up in seeming concern at your worsening state of panic.

“Right.” Jungkook nodded. His grin still present but it faltered a little when he noticed Hoseok’s gaze on you.

“Hoseok, please listen to me. I-I did lie but it wasn’t because of what he’s saying. I wasn’t playing with you. At first I was trying to-” A frustrated sigh left you as you tried to figure out how to explain yourself. You couldn’t tell him the complete truth, not in front of Jungkook. His menacing blackmail still hovered over you like your own personal grey cloud.

“To let you down easily.” You cringed at your confession. It sounded much worse saying it out loud and you saw Jungkook raising both his eyebrows in mocking manner. You glared at the realization that hit you.

He knew you wouldn’t able to explain yourself. That’s why he brought Hoseok here. He wanted to see you cower and admit your mistake in front of him with no way out. Perhaps he even knew he’d trigger your anxiety by doing so. He’s managed to gather every key that unlocked your weaknesses.

Hoseok clenched his jaw, his lips set in a straight line. He looked like he couldn’t wait to sprint out the door. You knew you’d find no help in him or hope he’d see through Jungkook’s manipulation anymore. Now he was convinced you’ve dragged him into some unnecessary relationship drama.

“How considerate of you, baby.” Jungkook continued his taunting but you heard his true displeasure beneath it. He turned his attention back to Hoseok and circled the other side of the island where he sat.

The apartment was starting to feel much smaller than you recalled.

“So now that we cleared that up and there’s no room for pesky excuses . I would very much like you to stay the fuck out of my relationship. “

You flinched at the venom in his tone. The rage he’d been burying coming to the surface and poured itself all over the last sentence.

Seeing just how close Jungkook had gotten to him wasn’t helping your growing panic. He was taller than Hoseok but that wasn’t what was intimidating about him. It was his entire demeanor sending off such drastic mixed signals .There was nothing worse than not knowing how to predict an opponent in the slightest.

Jungkook placed a rough hand on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You swore your heart stopped.

“And I suggest you start by blocking my girlfriend’s number from your phone and forget she ever existed to you.” He leaned into Hoseok’s ear, his eyes tracing back to you as that mean lazy smile remained on his lips. From the outside it seemed like the typical comrade bro hug, almost friendly in manner. Two good-looking college boys sharing some type of gossip.

“I’d hate to show you what a name like mine can do to a nobody like you.” If he had meant to whisper it then he failed terribly because you had heard his threat perfectly. “Money talks a lot around here, I’m sure you know that. I could make you lose everything you’ve worked for or come very close to it. You won’t get a second warning.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Or minutes. You really couldn’t tell.

“I get it, I swear I don’t want any problems.” Hoseok replied sounding more peeved than shaken by your insane ‘boyfriend’s’ words. He probably assumed he was just another entitled rich boy who was throwing around empty threats because his ego was hurt.

He’d be half right but there was a lot more wrong with Jungkook than his spoilt attitude and those threats were not as empty as he thought.

Jungkook stared at him for a long moment, whether to take in his words or perhaps looking for an indication of a lie you weren’t sure but once he seemed satisfied he gave him a slow nod.

“Good.” He finally took a step away from him and grabbed the soju bottle next to him, shoving it into Hoseok’s chest. “Need me to call for an Uber? I heard bus fares are quite high nowadays.”

Hoseok’s face flushed but you were certain it wasn’t due to the alcohol.

“I can walk.” He grumbled as he began to walk towards the front door.

“Suit yourself.” Jungkook flashed him another smile, this time displaying his perfect teeth. It was an uncanny sight.

You hated yourself for not even managing to get a another word out, too engrossed in your own doomsday. The fleeing sensation of humiliation didn’t have room to properly settle, overridden by much more powerful emotions that never shared their home in your tortured mind. The nails were now starting to dig into your arms, you barely felt Hoseok walk past but you for sure didn’t miss l the last nasty glance he sent your way before the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room.

An immediate sob left your lips, your knees slowly gave out and you let yourself fall against the cold ceramic tiles. You lifted your head up slightly, watching the man in front of you with tears pooling your vision. He had never not been quick to comfort you during your attacks but this time he simply stood there with no intention of running to comfort you. Instead he let out a sigh, his eyes remained on the door with an odd look on his face. For a moment, it seemed like he was holding back a sob himself. His eyes shifting to the corner of the room before over to you. He bit his bottom lip harshly as he ran a hand over his face.

“Why the tears baby? You caused this.” He muffled into his own hands, turning his back to you. You watched his long legs paced back and forth between the small space of where you lay. Watching him run his fingers run over his now messy hair.

You continued to sob quietly, breaths growing more shallow. How could he say that to you? You had caused this?

“Get up. We need to get you into a cold shower if you want to feel better.” You heard him order as he struggled to contain a steady tone. He turned around, placing a hand on the marble counter and leaning his weight on it causing his muscles to flex underneath his thin t-shirt. His bottom lip was now swollen and red. Eyes puffy and distraught.

It was so unfair. All of it.

“You hacked my phone, didn’t you? Because I didn’t send that text to Hoseok and how else would you have known….where I was.” You muttered the last part mostly to yourself, the idea becoming more of a fact than a theory. You had assumed he had simply followed you but if he had gone as far as hacking your phone then he surely would’ve used it to track your location.

There was no way he had followed you either, the timing wouldn’t have made much sense and you were certain you would’ve spotted his car at some point considering how careful you had been the entire commute there.

You jump suddenly at the sound of his hand slamming down harshly on the counter.

“No shit.” Jungkook spit out and you draw back. The abrupt action caught you off guard. You had never witnessed him physically express his anger before.

“Now.get.up.” He repeated. “I can’t help you if you’re sobbing on the floor.”

“I don’t want anything from you!” You shouted back, sending him the most hateful look you could muster. He blinked, eyebrows furrowing as still he refused to look your way but you swore you saw a flash of regret on his face.

He took a deep breath and regained most of his composure. His jaw clenched.

“What did you expect? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? There will be no secrets between us. I won’t allow it.”

Well, wasn’t that just rich coming from him.

“No secrets? I-I know what you did.” You accused in between sobs, your hands planted firmly on the floor as you shifted your body weight towards your right leg that left you in an awkward sitting position. It was hard to ignore the chills running down your entire body, your mind struggled to focus on what you wanted to scream at him.

He turned his head to look down at you. His penetrating gaze meeting yours at last.

“I know that you were the one that made my professor accuse me of plagiarism.” You said after another intake of breath. “ You did it, didn’t you? You blackmailed him! Just like you did to me. Just like you do to everyone in order to get your way. I don’t know with what but you did.”

He was silent. Just quietly looking at you.

Your short breaths only quickened, the horrible feeling coming in waves, stopping then gaining more force. You felt like you were stuck in a mid fall. It felt like years passed before Jungkook slowly made his way over to you, your eyes traced over the slight twitch of his fingers and cubic steel bracelet around his wrist. He bent down to your level and you felt his fingers lifting your chin up at him. You knew he could feel you shaking because he angled your face towards him again when you tried to look off to the side, his set gaze halting your rapid eye movements.

“Seems like a little birdie has been talking.” He whispered to you, he almost sounded disappointed. “That just won’t do, baby.”

You felt the sudden urge to slap him but you went to push him away instead. He caught your arms before you could do so, pushing them towards his chest and pulling your whole body closer to him. His actions were rough and careless. An indicator of just how much you’ve pissed him off this time. You could feel your teeth chattering now, your panic attack reaching its peak as you felt your vision blur. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice all over you except you wished someone actually had just to rid you of this feeling.

“You know she’s right, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re so upset.” You went on as you squirmed in his hold.

“How easily you’ve forgotten what she’s done to you. Is it that easy to fool you, baby? Does that bitch really have such a tight hold on you still that you that you accept her words as truth without question?” He sounded a parent scolding a small foolish child over taking sweets from a stranger.

He was wrong. Your once all-consuming love for Eunji had turned into a grudge that you couldn’t shake off. She might’ve been a horrible friend but why would she lie about something like that? It seemed too specific. It seemed like she knew more than she was willing to admit and for some reason that only angered you more. She knew more yet she had given you crumbs in return. Was that the plan all along or was she making you a victim of her selfish bitterness again? Even after everything, it was hard for you to believe she hated you that much.

Because you had seen it. You had seen a fragment of sincerity in her eyes earlier. A small piece of pity, no matter how fleeing.

“Ask your little boyfriend what he was doing walking into Professor Clark’s classroom a few weeks ago.”

You swore you had heard it in her voice too. As if she had been doing you one last favor. Granting you one last bit of kindness for all those years spent together being thrown away. But the more you ponder over it, the more Jungkook’s planted seed of doubt began to grow its roots. Had you only seen what you had hoped to?

“You accuse me of lying to you over some gossip your little fake friend filled your head with? It didn’t take long for you to go running back into her arms, did it? Where is your pride?” The disgust in his voice would be hard to fake and you had to look away from the sheer sincerity in it.

“I didn’t run back to her! I wanted answers and-"

“And did you find them?” He cut you off, eyes searching your face like something in it had already granted him the answer. “No, of course you didn’t baby. You let her have the last laugh again.”

Again

“How would she know to make that connection and why would she lie about her seeing you walk into our professor’s classroom weeks ago.” You hissed back at him eagerly grasping to take control of the conversation that he had so easily overpowered in seconds.

God, you really couldn’t breathe.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re asking me why a girl that has been jealous and spiteful towards you for years would try and scheme against you for sleeping with her ex-boyfriend! ” Jungkook sneered back and you flinched at the sudden raise of volume in his voice.

“Lying comes as easily as breathing to some. Haven’t you learned that by now? You really are more naive than I thought if you have yet to realize how unkind this world is and how often people like you get trampled over.”

You let out another quivering sob, growing more and more upset by his words. You might be naive but you weren’t that naive to not realize that he wasn’t the one who should be saying this to you. Him of all people. It felt like a stab in the chest. Jungkook lets go of your arms and brings them to cradle your face in his hands instead. His thumbs wiping away your never ending tears. His action is meant to be gentle but his grip is so tight that you feel his nails digging slightly into your skin.

“I’ve only ever tried to protect you, baby. Protect you from her and from yourself.” His hot breath sent waves of shock through you, you felt his lips lightly graze your own. “How many times must I save you from her? And from everyone who has ill intentions towards you before you realize it’s only ever going to be me.”

He lifted one hand from your cheek to carress your hair, those glossy doe eyes pulling you in and tugging at the invisible strings on your limbs and heart.

“How many times must I prove my love to you?”

This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.

It felt like something much stronger. Much too different. Your love for Eunji had never felt this overwhelming. It never felt like you were being lulled to a perfect sleep, just to be suddenly plunged into a free fall. This didn’t feel anything like a secret held close to your chest, your heart skipping a beat everytime you used to see her even when you’d already seen her three times before that day. How giddy you felt at her accidental touches. How much you seemed to please her and never wanted to see her in pain. How easily it came to you to want to fix all her minor inconveniences.

No, this felt nothing like that. It wasn’t a secret. It didn’t allow itself to be. It was too loud. Too ugly. Whatever you had felt for Eunji, it felt five times more heightened with Jungkook. His presence felt like too much yet like there was never enough of it to actually violate you. It fit you in a way you were so frightened to admit. He had taken a piece of you that you never agreed on giving him. Yet it was that very foreign feeling that had you craving him in moments you shouldn’t have. In nearly all hours of a day. You were frightened at what you had been feeling these past two weeks sharing his space. Completely terrified at what he had managed to make you feel for him in such little time.

Even now, he felt so familiar yet so untouchable.

“This isn’t love.” You replied back in a broken whisper. It was mistake and you realized it quickly but it was too late to take it back. You blamed your overly emotional state for the thoughtless response.

A few beats of silence passed with only your uneven breaths filling the room. Jungkook continued to caress your hair before the corners of his lips twitched. An almost sad small appearing on them.

“Fine.” Another few beats of silence. The heavy air lingered.

You licked your dry lips as he retrieved his hand completely from you. Your eyes tracked the movement before they landed on the unreadable look on his face.

“ If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ” He stated lowly, dark eyes taking in your features again. “And it will make everything else I’ve done pale in comparison.”

His words sink in.

You hadn’t wanted that all and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so disturbed. It rattled you to the core. You jumped forward to try and salvage what was left of the ruin you may have caused yourself and others.

“Jungkook n-no. I don’t want that. I don’t think that of you.” Breathlessly you pleaded with him. Not even a minute ago you wanted to rid yourself of his touch on you and now you were bringing your own hands to his face. The roles reversing with haste.

“But you just said it, baby. You don’t think this is love.” His sharp look was not budging. “What choice do you leave me if you won’t even believe my feelings for you after everything I’ve done? I’ll have to make you see it, one way or another.”

One way or another. That could mean so many things for someone like him and you didn’t want to find out which method he’d try out first.

“I-I do believe them. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He said with a disillusioned look and clasped your wrists. “For the third time tonight.”

Your fingers run down his cheeks as you as you near your face to his again.

“I’m not! I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please don’t do anything. I’m begging you, please.” It was pathetic . You were pathetic but you suppose you had already lost your dignity a long time ago. There wasn’t much else to lose and you weren’t sure you’d ever manage to have a spine when it came to the boy in front of you.

He eyed you.

“What it is it that you’re so afraid I’ll do?” He muttered, his breath once again warm against your lips.

You frowned. It was a trick question, wasn’t it? Was he genuinely asking you?

“I just don’t want you to hurt anyone.” You stressed, your fingers trembled terribly against his cheeks.

You felt his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists in a circular motion gently. The soft action wasn’t to fully soothe you but it did distract you for split second.

“Anyone?” Jungkook asked lowly. It stumped you a bit. You tried to find some clarity in his fixed look but it didn’t display much of anything. In fact, you swore his eyes were inviting you to some sort of challenge.

So you simply nodded in response.

“Hm.” He hummed, his upper lip lifting slightly before he nodded back.

Was he agreeing with you?

You let out the smallest sigh of relief. It probably looked pained.

His hands then fully clasped your wrists and he stood up without warning. The force of it dragged you up with him due to his locked grip. He tugged you against him as he made his way down the hallway. You kept quiet, already starting to feel your body weight itself down like it usually did when your panic attack lost its strength. The numbness traveled through your every muscle. Jungkook had released your wrists and instead guided you by the shoulder with your body remaining pressed into his chest.

He opened the bedroom door and guided you towards the bathroom. The unease in your stomach had not left but it was easier to ignore with how heavy your eyelids felt. You felt him suddenly leave your side and brush past you to go turn on the shower. You caught a glimpse of yourself on the large mirror above the black vanity sink . The teary gaze and snot dripping from your nose. Your wet cheeks and swollen eyes. Your gaze accidentally caught sight of Jungkook while he slid open the shower door. His stare was hollow.

A look you don’t remember ever seeing on him before.

You looked away, unsure of what to make of it. When he approached you again, you didn’t protest as he stripped you both down. Once in the shower, you kept your back to him and fully faced the shower head that washed away any lingering nerves. You couldn’t help but zoom in on the ombré ceramic tile design in front of you as your mind drifted off again. Jungkook’s hands massaged your shoulders gently as he ran the loofa down your back. The act was intimate and normal. But your thoughts didn’t let you rest for the remainder of the night. Not even when you were both in bed, tucked under the soft warm sheets. Not even when he cuddled beside you, rubbing your back continuously and you listened his steady breathing.

The normalcy of it all didn’t break your trance because you were still thinking of the look Jungkook had given you. The daring glint in his eyes masking the seething nature. The vacant look you caught of him in the mirror.

Something wasn’t right.

—

It was ache in your shoulders that woke you.The soft gel pillow underneath your cheek felt wet and you inwardly cursed and wiped your mouth.You thought you had dropped drooling months ago. You had yet to open your eyes, wanting to stay this oblivious and at peace before a certain reality hit you. It took a few seconds for the disorientation to fade away as you slowly blinked up at the familiar white ceiling with the recessed lighting now completely shut off due to the natural sunlight illuminating the space.

You lifted your head and let out a soft groan at the stiffness in your muscles.

It was quiet.

The memories of last night came flooding back in rapidly and your stomach churned at them. You pushed them away as much as you could. If only it had been a nightmare. How much you wished it had never happened and how much you wished you hadn’t walked out the door yesterday. At this point, you weren’t sure if you cared about if what Eunji had said was true or not. If anything, it had left you even more puzzled about everything. Both of them had played you in one way or another. It seemed like they were taking turns, tugging on each of your arms in complete opposite directions.

You craned your neck and looked around the empty room. Jungkook wasn’t in bed but he usually wasn’t, he had made it a habit to cook breakfast before you woke.

Flinging your feet to the side , you climbed off the bed and made your way out the door and into the hallway. You could smell coffee and hear shuffling. When you made into the living room you came to a halt upon seeing Jungkook in the kitchen like you expected. He seemed to be chopping something on the cutting board, a tomato maybe.

“Morning, baby.” He greeted you with a warm smile when he noticed you. He was dressed in casual pajama pants with an oversized black t-shirt. His hair was messy, clearly he’d not bothered to touch it yet but it made him look more endearing.

“Morning.” You reply with a small smile of your own despite the shake in your voice. He was acting like nothing had happened and you didn’t know if you should feel immense relief at that or not. It didn’t feel natural but you could very well be making something out of nothing. As you approach him though, your eyeline shifts to the floor and instantly a realization hits you.

Your eyebrows knit together as your eyes search the ground and walk towards the same spot you were last night.

“What it is it?” Jungkook asks when you fail to find what you’re looking for. You glance up at him, his curious gaze had followed yours to the floor.

“M-My phone. I dropped it last night. Did you see it?”

“Oh that.” He returns to pouring orange juice into a glass, the eggs on the stove sizzling behind him. “ I have it.”

You blink in confusion but try to conceal it.

“Oh.” You swallow. “Can you give it to me?”

Jungkook meets your gaze and slides over the glass of orange juice to you. You thank him quietly before taking a seat on the tall stool of the island.

“And why would I do that?” Your in the midst of taking a sip of the juice when he says it so you snort a little into the glass, assuming he’s joking for a split second.

But you notice the raise of his eyebrow, eyeing your movements as he awaits your response.

Tensing, you put the glass down and frown.

“Um,” You don’t even know what to say. “Well, because I need it.”

It came out more so like a question when you had intended it to sound like a firm reply. Jungkook notices your poor attempt as well, a smirk threatening to spread his lips.

“For what? To text another library boy?” He placed both his hands on the counter, leaning foward. He wasn’t that close but you fought the urge to lean back. His eyes narrowed into slits as bit the inside of his cheek.

His words make your mouth dry despite the juice you had just taken a sip of. Apparently the disturbed thoughts that had haunted you all night might’ve had some validity.

Yet this didn’t shock you any less.

But what did you think was going to happen? You had ignored all the warnings. Jungkook’s jealous side was something you never wanted to witness again and you had feeling you were only scratching the surface.

“Jungkook, I didn’t do anything. I was only trying to let him off easily. I-I wasn’t looking for anything else. I already explained this last night . I felt bad for what you had threatened him with when we weren’t even together.” It wasn’t a lie but you knew it didn’t matter by the way his expression didn’t budge one bit. Whatever innocent crush you had felt for Hoseok was long gone. Not only due to the sheer embarrassment that had occurred that no doubt had left him with the worst impression of you but you were not willing to put him in Jungkook’s radar again. You deeply regretted ever texting him at all.

It was too late to try to explain anything to Hoseok anyway. Even if you ever got him alone again you were sure he’d run the opposite direction at just your mere sight. He probably thought you were crazy.

This was crazy.

“I’m confused.” Jungkook’s scrutinizing gaze trapped you in place. “You said you didn’t want me to hurt anyone.”

“I-what?”

“You said you didn’t want me to hurt anyone.” He repeats lowly.

“I-I don’t-”

“Good. And I won’t as long as you stay in line.” He shrugs as if he’s discussing the weather and not the confiscation of your phone.

“But I need my phone, I need to text my parents.”

“I already did. They’re fine.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile but you could see how much he was trying to control the rage that traveled through him. The tightness of his grip on the edges of his counter, the veins on his hands and arms popping out slightly.

“Those petty excuses won’t work on me. You can only blame yourself as to why I don’t trust you anymore baby.” His eyes trailed down you. “Did you really think I’d be okay with you texting other men or anyone who shows interest in you for that matter?”

You looked away from him.

“No! That’s not what it was like.” You sputtered, feeling that sense of guilt invade you once again.

You heard him scoff.

“Have I been too nice, baby? I have, haven’t I? Because I don’t know what gave the impression that you could ever run back to that bitch or flirt with others to ‘let them down easy’ and think I would sit back and watch like your little lap dog.”

You watched his controlled breathing, afraid to make the slightest move that could set him off.

Deciding not to reply , you simply watched him and hoped he’d gather himself but your silence seemed to only edge him further because he pulled a hand away from the counter and reached over to take your glass away. You saw him twirl it around in his hand, your gaze fully lifting to meet his due to the unexpected action and he glared at you as he took a sip from it.

“Did you know he had a sister? Your little library boy.” He clarifies as he swallows, setting the glass back down. “She just got married. Would be a shame if a pair of newly weds suffered an unfortunate accident…or any other type of terrible luck.”

You were completely floored by his words. A full body chill running through you. You wished you had heard him wrong but the way he studied you expectedly made it all too real.

Were you that surprised though? How could you be? It wasn’t the first time Jungkook had made these sort of malicious threats. It was the very thing he had done when he had gotten you alone for the first time. There was no limits for the wealthy and well-read.

What really struck you was how and why he would go as far to involve completely innocent people that had no connection to either of you and exactly how long he had known about this? Had he accessed your private texts recently or had known of them for a while now? If it was the latter that would mean he has deliberately let you text Hoseok up until yesterday. Why had he waited that long? Why didn’t he confront you about it immediately?

Given your frantic state last night, you hadn’t even thought about the possibility. You had thought his actions were impulsive and reckless, that he had find out about the texts when he had tracked your location. But that didn’t make sense , did it? Because then why did Jungkook already know so much about Hoseok’s family? It was unlikely for even him to acquire this type of information overnight . Your stomach sunk at the knowledge that you really had underestimated Jungkook again. Because this suddenly didn’t seem like a simple impulsive act of jealousy. It seemed much more calculating

“Leave them alone, Jungkook. Please don’t involve anyone else into this. I’m begging you.” You spoke gently despite the mounting fear of upsetting him with one wrong word.

“I didn’t involve anyone , baby. You did.” He replied just as gently. It felt demeaning but the side of you that had began to cater to him thought he might’ve had a point.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Okay I did, I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about it. You told him to block me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

He pushed himself away fully from the counter and came up beside you. He gave you back your glass of juice. He seemed much taller from this sitting angle and you watched him carefully as he played with your necklace. His necklace.

“You’ll have plenty of time to show me just how sorry you are, baby.” He mumbled to you as if he was granting you a token of consideration. Running his hands across the butterfly pendant.

“Because I’ve also withdrawn your college transfer. It really did pain me to do, I don’t like seeing you upset.” You looked up at him wide eyed and tried to process what he was saying.”But it pains me even more that you were so willing to discard me and what I felt after all I’ve done is love you.”

That rage was brewing behind his dark eyes. You realize now that it had never left, only fooled you into thinking he would bend to your will.

Discard him? What was he talking about? There was more than just insecurity behind those words. You could see the clear trigger in his entire demeanor. It was as if he was hell-bent on punishing you for something you never did.

“J-Jungkook please, I have classes I need to finish . I can’t drop out. My parents, they will-”

“Shhh, it’s temporary.” He halts your rambling with with a squeeze to your shoulder. “I can get a word in to enroll you next semester or whenever I see fit.”

That didn’t make you feel better but held back any protests.

“It’s all up to you really. It’s up you to show me when I can trust you again.” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the top of your head before brushing past you and walking back over towards the opposite side again.

“Now let’s eat, I made your favorite. I hope you like it.”

You watch him turn off the stove and you were a little surprised not anything was burnt. You let him plate the breakfast without uttering a word because all that was running through your head was how stupid you were for ever letting him take care of the transfer. You had paid a much bigger price than you thought. Jungkook was no longer satisfied enough knowing he had your body and compliance. He wanted every bit of you.

Because you suspected what had truly scared him last night.

The thought of someone else taking your mind and heart away from what he thought was already his. For what he worked so hard for. He didn’t want to share any side of you. He was frightened of what threat Hoseok and Eunji had both posed against him. He had you physically but it was breaking him inside that he didn’t have you fully yet. Mind and soul.

That was it, wasn’t it?

He wanted to frighten you and push the limits. Show a new face. A new side. Because nobody really could save you from him except himself.

He was going to show you what a mistake you made not choosing the correct mask.

—

As the weeks had gone by, you had grown more disillusioned with the hope of returning to college.

During the first week, Jungkook had not seem to be wavering on his decision no matter how much you had indirectly pleaded with him. It had been made clear that you wouldn’t get far with your methods to suck up to him in the way you had.

While he welcomed your touch and over enthusiastic displays of affection, he had only been entertaining the idea of it. It had reminded you of the time he’d seen right through your performance at the cafe but unlike then, this time he had not stopped or called you out right away.

He watched how far you’d go.

And you had gone far.

By the second week you had begin to simply cater to his every need. Waking up to cook breakfast for him instead for a change, not bothering him while he worked in his office and also cooking dinner. Then you moved on to displaying more physical attention, initiating kisses and prolonging hugs despite your racing heartbeat at the closeness. You surprisingly grew so used to it that it almost began to do on instinct. Due to spacing it out through the weeks, you had thought you’d made progress .

It was not too much all at once like your previous mistake.

Your feelings were also not entirely fabricated this time which made it more dangerous. Your attachment to Jungkook had been growing as a result of the isolation he had caused you. It had already been the case before the incident and now it only grew stronger despite your efforts to keep a level head.

But you had grown desperate when the pressuring reality hit you each night of what your parents would think of you slacking off and what it could mean to not have any future planned out. To have wasted all their efforts and money just for a stupid mistake on your part. You had not been able to even access your bank account since you had been left with no phone and you had not dared ask to burrow Jungkook’s MacBook yet in order to not draw any unnecessary attention.

You thought you could gain it all back and that you had not just tried hard enough.

However, the incident that occurred the very night you exhausted your last efforts had been a horrid and rookie mistake. It was your first and only strike up until now and the memory served as a reminder to not tread in murky waters.

~~

You waited for Jungkook’s reaction as he took the first bite. Gripping your own chopsticks tightly, you eyed the meal you had spent nearly two hours preparing, making sure you had perfected it to his liking. He nodded immediately, his doe eyes twinkling.

“It’s amazing baby.” He said in between bites, eyebrows scrunched together. “Really amazing.”

A soft sigh of relief leaves you, a smile spreading your lips.

“I was nervous, I’ve never cooked this before.” You explained, licking your lips. “I’m not much a cook though, my mom used to complain about it when I was younger.”

Jungkook hummed in response as he took another bite.

“My dad used to bake with me often though. I think I’m better at that.” The casual comment was meant to invoke the memory of the Christmas you spent with him but you aren’t sure if you succeed because his eyes drift over to center of the table.

“Are you wearing the perfume I gave you?” He asks, pulling you away from your focused script.

“Huh?” You ask then nod. “Oh y-yeah. I love it.”

He had given you a new perfume as a gift a few days ago. It was a pleasant warm rose and musk smell. The gesture came seemingly out of nowhere but the more optimistic side of you thought it maybe was due to him feeling guilty for leaving you alone here the few times he went to his father’s company for work. It would only be a couple of hours but hours felt like days when there was nothing but yourself to keep you sane.

He had not physically locked you in here. Not that you think he could anyway. But he had other ways of keeping you here, the key card he had previously let you borrow had now been revoked. He carried it with him at all times and if there was a spare one, you had not found it yet. Of course, you could physically leave and walk out but with no key, you would be forced to hang around the lobby until he came back. You were also not that dumb to try and venture off without your phone. It created too many obstacles in your head, you could get lost or something could happen to you and you wouldn’t be able to call for help. He must’ve of known that well and now that you thought it over, that was likely his main goal despite the jealousy tantrum he had tried to sell you.

Not that the jealousy had been act. You’d seen the vicious green-eyed monster take over him.

But admittedly Jungkook had already hacked your phone before. There was nothing stopping him from doing it again. Taking away your phone was a way of keeping tabs on you in another way. You felt stupid you didn’t realize it sooner though.

“I like it.” His eyes trail over you.

“Thanks. Me too.” You nod, coming to smell your wrist. “Guess you know my taste well.”

He half grins at that.

“I-I was saying that my dad used bake with me on holidays and it made me remember what my mom told me last time I talked to her.” You try to steer the conversation back.

That peaked his interest.

“What did she say?” He asked, taking a tip of his white wine.

“She said my dad had lost his job but she assured me he would find a new one soon since he’d already applied to another warehouse.”

He nods slowly urging you to continue.

“But it just makes me feel really guilty that I’m sitting here doing nothing all day while they’re working all day to….support my education. My parents are getting older.” You bit your lip, the actual guilt really hit you for a moment.

Jungkook eyes you, tapping his chopsticks against the plate.

“Do you need me to send them money?”

“No! W-What? No.” You let a breathless laugh out and shook your head. “I wouldn’t ask that. I mean I feel like it’s my fault. I f-feel like I should be doing more.”

He leans back into his seat, seemingly processing your words. Your heart is ready to jump out of your chest.

You let out a sigh and you look around the space.

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up without finacial stability and an easy way out. But this is eating me up at night. I feel responsible for my parents and I-I am disappointing them already. Even if they don’t know it yet.”

You don’t look towards him as you continue. Feeling your throat start to close up.

“I just wish you’d ..reconsider. Going to college isn’t a threat to you-to us. I already live here and I’m with you.” You explain calmly. “If you really do love me, you wouldn’t be so careless with my future. I’ve been doing everything you want me to.”

He remains silent so you decide to add to your confession.

“I-I know you don’t trust me yet and that I haven’t earned it all. But please, keeping me away from everything isn’t going to prove my trust.” Finally, you return your gaze to him and look him straight in the eye.

“You’re only making my anxiety worse.”

With a wide-eyed expression, you raised your eyebrows emphasizing your words and waited stiffly for his reply. The TV playing in the background on low volume completely drained out as you zeroed in on him.

He let out a scoff, turning his head to the side.

The little bit of confidence you had fizzled out.

“So, that’s what all this has been about.” He confirms. “You held out longer than I thought baby.”

“No, this wasn’t just about that. I do care what you think and I did enjoy cooking for you, especially your favorite food because I-I do pay attention. I just thought you’d appreciate it more if…..if.” You stumbled over your words towards the end growing frustrated at your pleas falling on deaf ears.

“Are you done?” He asked with clear impatience when he saw you didn’t continue your rambling.

The action made you halt and stop mid sentence. You weren’t sure why but the sight of his aloofness made you cower. He was making you feel so insignificant. As if everything you said was a lie. As if he were dealing with a child instead of another equal with feelings. It reminded you of how Eunji had made you feel at times and you despised it.

You despised it because of how much you cared what he thought and felt about you.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks baby.” He coaxed you with a much nicer tone when he noticed your upset reaction. “You didn’t really think you’d sway me so easily, did you?”

Maybe you did.

You slammed down your chopsticks on the table and pushed yourself out of your chair. Jungkook followed your movements as you came to stand in front of him before you kneeled down, your knees scraping against the floor.

“Jungkook please, please.” You were out of options and resorting to the most degrading one but you didn’t care. “You need to let me go back! M-My parents… I feel stuck in here! Please!”

Reaching out to tug on his hand, your fingers caught hold of his shirt and he looked slightly surprised by your actions. His eyes widened the slightest bit as he took in your frantic state and high pitched pleas.He didn’t protest when you held his right hand with both of yours.

“Please! I’ll do anything but don’t take this away. I can’t be locked in here all day! Please!”

You felt like cowering even more under his scrutinizing eyes. His expression soon morphing into one of irritation.

“Stand up baby.” He pulled his hand away from you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to get you back on your feet. But you didn’t budge.

He snapped your name.

“Seriously, stand up.” He demanded more firmly. Looking completely annoyed now by your antics.

“What do you think you’ll gain from keeping me from going back to university ?! I have a life to return to! This won’t make things better!” You were trying everything now. Picking holes in what you thought were his plans and ideas. Trying to shatter whatever delusion had made him come to this drastic conclusion.

He let out a low curse. The chair squeaked under him as he pushed it away from the table and turned his body towards you. He dipped his head down and tugged on your loose ponytail, the action made you immediately close your mouth and shut your eyes at the stinging pain.

“You know what I think baby?” He whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“I think you’ve become a manipulative little bitch.”

With that he stood up and left your kneeling figure on the floor. Your hands dropped on the chair he had been sitting. You his heavy footsteps down the hallway followed by the bedroom door shutting loudly. You ran a hand through your hair and held back tears at his insult. He had never expressed himself that way about you. It left an ugly wound on your heart and it triggered the undeniable people pleasing trait in you. A feeling you never wanted to feel again.

You’d thought you’d never feel worse than how you did when you found out about Eunji’s backstabbing nature but this was ultimately worse.

It felt so much worse.

Not him.

Not him too.

~~

It had been 2 months since then.

The rest of the days after that you had spent crying your eyes out til you physically felt you couldn’t anymore. You had held a grudge against him for his cruel words and he had taken notice. The weeks that had followed had been consistent of his various forms of apologies. He’d told you he hadn’t meant it and how sorry he was for using such a nasty insult towards you. Brought you back flowers everytime he’d return back from whatever errand he went to that day. Spent the night paying extra attention to you until you’d given in to his pleading large eyes that at times resembled that of a wounded boy’s.

His sweet whispers had convinced you to the point of even more intimate forms of affection, your body falling victim to his needy touches again . In a way you’d indulged in it as form of distraction yet again. Surprisingly yourself with the way you’d tightly grip the sheets, head buried into the mattress letting out encouraging whimpers at every harsh thrust. The nights had turned into the sweet escape you needed to make up for all the hours you’d spend alone. They had felt like a reward for making it through days with no complaints.

So you had given up for the time being and taken a different approach. You weren’t sure if you’d even call it that as it was more so your way of coping with the situation.

Was it? The days had started going by more quickly and at time you found yourself wondering what you were coping with exactly.

Your days were now mainly focused on new hobbies that were done in in the comfort of the apartment. You got into scrapbooking oddly enough. The idea had come to you once you rummaged through one of Jungkook’s drawers and found a kraft paper journal. Along with some stationary items you’d stolen from him, you had began to fill out the pages with different places you wanted to visit around the world. It had been something you remembered doing once when you were in middle school but you never got to finish due to running out pages on your tiny cheap notebook.

This time, you’d glued every magazine cut out, ribbon, glitter, different stickers and wrote out reasons to visit for each place. It had taken up your time along with the books you’d get Jungkook to bring you.

Comfort could help build a glorious cage.

You’d soon realized that the time here had simply brought back you’re already introverted nature and heightened it. It made way for you to indulge in all the more small things that you had always wanted but never had the luxury of having. Everything seemed much more appealing in a large space. You’d gotten to rearrange thing to your liking, growing more bold with the way you dealt with the kitchen or bathroom supplied as if they were your own. Integrating every one of your habits with Jungkook’s. Now you rarely thought twice before waking up and starting your routine. Your focus shifting to what you should bake that day, what you should read or write in your notebook, if you would scrapbook or finish a puzzle or simply lounge around and watch TV for the rest of the day.

The thoughts of your parents and responsibilities still lingered but in a more hidden spot of your brain, coming out in infrequent waves when your anxiety would also sneak it’s way through the edges.

Your anxiety.

It had been controlled every since Jungkook had come home with your refilled prescription last month. You had no idea when he had even found your empty bottle and took it upon himself to order the refill but you didn’t complain. It had eased you with its way it had you out cold nearly every night. No more heart palpitations or sweaty palms before drifting off to a fragile sleep. It didn’t rid you of it completely of course, you had your off days where it would trigger back.

The days had become more peaceful as well as Jungkook had started to spend more time at home too and taken less trips to the company. His absence was often the reason for those flare ups of anxiousness. He hadn’t had any outbursts since that dinner disaster and the one he’d had before become more of a distant dream floating further and further. That wasn’t to say he’d let his boundaries slip away. The mention of college was still a subject you hadn’t dared bring up again, neither was the one of your phone.

It was tedious to break the habit of reaching over the nightstand to pick up your phone or the sudden urge you still got to want to look at the time or check texts and emails. It had taken you the same effort to try and convince yourself you had no assignments due anymore and you didn’t need to set an alarm for anything. It had driven you nearly mad at the beginning, given your unpleasant breakdown but your mind had latched itself onto other stimulating activities to ease it.

You turned on the faucet and rinsed off your toothbrush before opening the medicine cabinet. Taking out your anxiety meds, your eyes linger on the pill bottle you’d always see. ‘Zyprexa 10 mg’.

You pick it up and unscrew the lid, counting the pills inside.

11.

They’re had been 11 pills ever since you’d first had found them in this cabinet. You didn’t know why you bothered to count them everyday. The number never changed. Jungkook was not taking them and had not been for a while. Despite the worry that piled inside you, you had not had the courage to confront him about it. Of course you didn’t know his reasoning or the details as to why he may not be taking it. You thought over the possibility of perhaps his doctor taking him off them but it was all just a part of the many excuses you’d made for him. You knew well why you wouldn’t mention them to him. The thought of an unpleasant reaction had chained you to an invisible wall.

“You’ve become a manipulative little bitch.”

The words would too often make their home inside mind, ruining your pleasant thoughts for the day.

You screwed the lid back on and tossed them back inside. After taking your meds, you walked back into the bedroom and saw Jungkook buttoning up his loose shirt. He tucked the ends inside his well-fitted pants, the work attire hugging his frame perfectly.

“I was thinking of making brownies today.” You tell him with a yawn, rubbing your eyes as you went over to him. “Or lemon bars, I haven’t decided.”

His nose scrunched up at the word ‘lemon’. It was so animated that it reminded you of a child.

“Definitely brownies, please.” You fought a grin before your eyes took in the scrapbook that was wide open on the bed.

“You’ve added a new place.” Jungkook comments, gesturing to the addition of ‘Zion’ and the breathtaking landscape pictures you had plastered all over the two large pages.

You felt a bit shy at how nosey he had been in knowing every detail of the book ever since you’d started it. It was endearing how he’d pay close attention to every page though and how he’d encouraged you to keep adding more. He had spent one day making you describe and explain why’d you chosen each place despite the small descriptions you’d already written on them. Most had been really superficial and non-interesting reasons, you just sounded like the typical tourist. He didn’t mind though, he had rested his head on your shoulder and listened while making sly comments.

That day he’d also promised you he’d take you to every one. You’d nearly laughed in his face but he had not broken a single smile. He had been dead serious. He claimed that at least but he seemed to know why you’d find that hard to believe given the circumstances he’d put you in.

“It won’t always be this way, baby.” He said with such certainty that you needed to believe him.“I’m only trying to teach you a lesson, show you what you haven’t yet realized.”

You didn’t really dwell on what he meant by that. It was obvious enough he’d done this to get back at you but what exactly had you not realized yet? You weren’t sure. In your perspective, his motives seem to be the same as they always did.

To keep you at his side.

“I think it’s really cool. I remember looking up pictures of it one time.”

“It looks amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever visited anywhere like that.” His gaze then returned to you as he motioned for you to get closer.

You held back a gasp when he grasped your waist and pulled you into his chest, your feet lifting off the floor for a second.

“I have a surprise for you.” He muffled into your neck, pressing his lips to your skin. “God I love this smell on you.”

It was his own perfume he had gifted you a while back and you almost called out the arrogant comment but you only let out a scoff instead.

“A surprise?” Your heart had skipped a beat but you scolded yourself to remain calm. To not get your hopes up for something too grandeur. Jungkook had made it clear you had not yet earned his full trust .The path was unclear but it was considerably still long.

And that meant you couldn’t have earned your phone back.

“Have you ever been here?” You turned when you felt the loss of contact on your neck and looked down to what he had pulled from behind him. He held two tickets in his hand, your eyed read over the famous name of the theme park.

“No.” Your eyed widened as you took the tickets in your hand. “The prices were always too out of my budget.”

The popular theme park was a known tourist attraction in this city. It was the largest in the country and you had been hoping you would get to visit it when you had first moved here for college but the money would never add up. Your funds would barely cover your food expenses at times and it left little room for much else.

It felt like you had a golden ticket in your hand, a full smile broke out on your face.

“Are we really going?” You face him, the tiniest bit of doubt seeping through your tone. The slightest bit of possibility of this being some kind of test or joke had slithered it’s way into you.

Jungkook looked almost offended by the question. His eyes boring into you as he let out a short laugh.

“Of course we are baby, that’s why I bought them.” He tells you, kissing your cheek. “You’ve been such a good girl lately, you deserve it.”

You were going out.

You would be outside again and at one of the most whimsical theme parks to exist.

“And if you keep it up,” He says into your ear, fingers tracing down the edge of your shoulder.“Things might start going back to the way they were.”

His implication was clear. If you stayed in his good graces, you’d eventually get your phone back and even your college transfer back. Your future back. The freedom back.

“Really?” Your eyes tried to search for the bluff. The teasing. Anything. But it didn’t surface. He nodded and smirked at your reaction, laying another kiss to your temple.

Had that been the lesson?

He had given these things so easily and he wanted to show you how easily he had been able to snatch it right back. If you had thought had been walking on eggshells with him before, that had been nothing compared to these past weeks, months.

That was the key to the lock wasn’t it? Had that been it all this time? If you had wanted to go back to the way things were, Jungkook had to see your mind and devotion shift completely towards him. Truly towards him. Not in the way you thought it looked like it would please him. He had made it happen gradually, organically even.

But the pressing question stood.

Did you want to go things to go back to how they were?

Yes. But not so much that it hurt you if they didn’t. Like you thought it would. Like it had hurt the first few weeks.

That in itself meant you were running out of time.

Because you shouldn’t want things to go back to the way they were.

You should want to completely get rid of Jungkook and his insanity. You should want to figure out a way to escape his blackmail and invisible cage. You should want to never turn back.

But it seemed to be too late.

Because all you had been thinking about these days were how much you studied his every move, how much you had memorized every blemish or insignificant mole on his back while you drifted off to sleep. How often he’d pout his lips unknowingly when you weren’t paying attention. How much you’d wish to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows just once and be able to look at him with as much love as he looked at you.

You’d analyzed his every move, afraid of what was next but in the process you questioned why you had also memorized his every habit. His favorite foods and snacks, how surprisingly tidy he was about his closet and clothes. How normal he seemed despite the dark secrets and intentions that boiled inside him.

Because the more you stayed in his home, the more you had started forgetting what your life was before it and why those starry brown eyes seemed far more enticing than the filthy walls of a motel or the familiar humble structure of your parent’s home.

—

From the moment you entered the park, you felt your spirits go up. You didn’t know if was purely the fact that you were finally getting fresh air or that you were actually looking forward to seeing everything inside. It was jaw dropping from the get-go. You were sure your fascination came from never really attending these types of attractions as a child or teenager but this one experience seemed to make up for all of it.

During the drive here you had mentioned to Jungkook that you wanted to take pictures of everything. It was a subtle hint towards your phone but in reality you weren’t expecting him to give in to you even for that use of it. You were right of course, he brushed it off saying you could use his instead.

You gave Jungkook’s hand a squeeze when you spotted the growing crowds as you neared the some of the restaurants and rides but he gave you an assuring smile.

“You’re fine.” He tugged you into his side, the breeze felt nice on your skin.

You repeated his words in your head as you focused your attention more towards all the tall rides and characters that wandered around the area dressed from well-known fables. A small giggle leaving your lips at some of the costumes they wore. They looked ridiculously cute.

The next hour consisted of you practically dragging him around and pointing to all the types of junk food that you wanted to try. The first victim was the Fairy themed milkshakes located in the Medieval village zone. They were a baby pink and blue infusion with edible glitter sprinkled on the top of the whipped cream.

“They look so good.” You mumbled to Jungkook as you two waited for your order in front of the small stand that was shaped like a tree bark. The decorations were impressive, the led lights layered around the plastic leaves flickered but it was hard to notice them in broad daylight.

“It looks like it tastes like a bag of sour candy.” He mused, playing with the ends of your hair.

“That would taste good.”

He smiled fondly at that, laying a soft kiss on your forehead before he heard the order being called out. His delicate touch were the ones that always sent the most shivers through your body.

He brought back the obnoxious drink and you wasted no time in taking a sip. The flavor was not as strong as you thought, it tasted almost like marshmallow but with a fruity aftertaste.

“Mmm.” You exclaimed sipping more. “Try it.”

He threw out his gum that he had been chewing and took a reluctant sip of it. You watched as he smacked his lips together, making a distasteful face.

“Oh baby,” He handed you back the shake with a shake of his head. “That’s fucking awful.”

What? It had not been that bad even if it wasn’t to someone’s liking. You wanted to roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“No it’s not!” You gaped at him, taking another sip. It tasted perfect to you. “It’s probably because of your gum.”

“Sure.” He said unconvincingly before guiding you both back towards the next destination on the theme park map.

The next victims included a corn dog, some type of corn soup and an abnormal sized cookie. All delicious to you but it had not been such a good idea to eat them all at once and then begin to go on the rides. Time was passing a lot quicker than you hoped and every stop you’d make to take a picture seemed to take longer with crowds of people waiting behind you to take the exact same one. In the exactly same pose.

The sun was setting and your legs had been started to burn now but you tried your best to ignore them. Thankfully, your anxiousness had not surfaced too much today. You thought over how it would’ve been a very different story if you hadn’t been able to take your meds again. It would’ve likely made it impossible for you to make it five minutes in here , let alone half the day.

Your eyes observed as Jungkook took a picture of one of the brightly lit canoe rides under a bridge with a boyish grin on his face despite the contrasting appearance of his dark attire and inked sleeves.

If only the people around you knew how quickly he could turn it off and on. Not even the almost grudge type style could truly ever match how cynical he could be if he chose to. It was anything but a font.

Yet you almost felt required to conceal that part of him from others. A feeling of protectiveness over how they’d perceive him or judge him.

It was silly considering the average pedestrian had more to fear of him than him of them but of course feelings never took the logical route.

“Did you come here a lot growing up?” You asked him as he snapped a last photo and handed over his phone to you. You had been the one carrying it around mostly due to him growing tired of you asking for it every second you saw something that peaked your interest.

“Twice. I loved the fast rides mostly.” He replied and you remembered how he had not stopped insisting you both get on the giant anchor ride. The sight of the swinging ship was a little off-putting to say the least but you weren’t completely against the idea. You had already been on a couple of the smaller rides in the park, like the spinning seashell ride that had you almost tasting the donut you’d ate before getting on.

You stared down at his phone screen, his home screen lit up and unsurprisingly his background was now a picture of you two standing at the very entrance of the theme park with the jumbo size sign behind you.

It was weird to look at because of how natural you both looked in it. His hand wrapped around your shoulder, a grin on his face and you had placed a hand on his chest.You tried to find an indication that this looked like anything other than a normal and even corny couple picture but you didn’t find one.

Could it be that you failed to find one because that’s what it felt like when it was taken? And it was it still felt like right now.

“With your whole family?”

“Mhm.” He nodded nonchalantly as you both walked past down the sidewalk that had all the restaurants and bakery shops.“ It was mostly my mom and I though, my dad used to complain pretty early on and just let us wander the park while he sat and waited on the benches.”

“Oh.” You mumble, frowning a bit.“Did that annoy you?”

He glanced at you, seeming to think back on it.

“Not really. I don’t think I cared that much back then or noticed.” Despite the dismissive words, you couldn’t help but detect a bit of snark in his tone.

“Still, he’s your dad.” You remind him as he held the shop door open for you and you gave him a small smile before stepping inside. His hand on your back despite you guiding which direction to walk over to first.

“He is.” You hear him reply behind you.“Why the sudden curiousity about my dad baby? Do you need my entire family therapy notes?”

You grew nervous at his inquisitive tone. You had not meant to pry into his father in particular, that’s just where the conversation had fallen naturally. For the first time your intentions didn’t have much of an ulterior motive in hopes of catching him in a lie or uncovering another skeleton in his closet. It was becoming a habit to just ask him about much of anything in a way you’d ask a friend.

“I was just wondering, my parents could never take me to these kinds of things.”

You felt him look at you from the corner of your eye when you went to stand beside him to look over a pile of baseball caps and beanies on a display shelf.

“Truth is there isn’t much to say about him, good or bad. I saw him as more of a burden to me at one point more than anything.” He mutters as he lifts up a headband with mouse ears on each end and tried to put it on you before you swat his hand away.

You don’t know what to say to his passing comment. There was an urge to ask him a follow-up question to it but you decide against it.

“Look at these.” You pointed in awe at the sight of vintage themed keychains instead. The souvenir shop you were in had an European architectural style. You went to pick up a pair of tiny tea cups that had a floral pattern wrapped around the porcelain glass. “It’s all so pretty.”

The previous scenic gardens zone you had just been at had probably been your favorite place out of the whole park.Jungkook’s camera roll now full with photos of all the different colored tulips that surrounded the trail. It was one of the most popular attractions for good reason. Jungkook had followed you like a lost child when you kept speed walking towards the countless sets of floral faces.

“Pschyology,” Jungkook says as he picks up the same tea cups in your hand, inspecting them. “What made you pick it as a major?”

You give him a questioning look at the drastic subject change, tensing up a bit at thought of discussing college again considering how downhill it had gone last time you had brought it up.

“Um.” You swallow. “I’m not so sure, I felt drawn to it and it seemed like a subject I could do well in. I don’t know if that’s still true though.”

It turns out knowing your psyche and patterns so well doesn’t always save you. You felt more disconnected with it by the day.

“Is that still what you want to do?” He puts down the teacups, his fingers brushing over a set of tiny wine glasses.

“Yes. I think so.” You try not to sound too eager. It felt like such a fragile gift he could easily shatter between his fingers.

He nods.

“You don’t have to feel like you need to do it just to please your parents baby. If you have other interests , I could always open up a way for you to do them.” You aren’t sure how true that is considering he had already snatched your future away so easily until he saw fit to give it back. Who was to say he wouldn’t do the same to anything else you wanted to do? But he sounded so genuine that you wanted to believe him.

You stay silent.

“Why did you decide to study so far away from home?” His eyes study your face.

The question catches you off guard. You brought your gaze down to the items in your hands. If you lied, he would know. You were sure of it. But if you told the truth, you feared the reaction would be not much different.

He seems to understand the meaning behind your silence. A look of realization crossing his face before his gaze hardened.

“Oh.” He says dryly. “Of course.”

You felt embarrassed by it all over again. You’d already tortured yourself enough for your dumb decision when it had come to Eunji.

“At least I have one thing to thank her for then.” He grasps your chin, a small smile playing on his lips before he gives you a firm kiss. His hand wraps around your neck as he pushes you further into him.

You feel yourself melting away, your lips parting slightly allowing his tongue to slip inside. Despite the intensity, the kiss feels playful with the feeling of his other hand pinching your sides and making you yelp.

“J-Jungkook!” You hiss in a low whisper, pulling away. You glance around to make sure nobody is watching you. It always seemed mortifying to you for strangers to witness those intimate displays.

He laughed in response, walking past you to seemingly go look at something else. You felt a little breathless and your face was for sure looking flushed.

A vibration in your hand made you look down.

Jungkook’s phone had received a notification. You snuck a glance at him to make sure he wasn’t looking your direction before unlocking it. If he had a passcode, he had removed it for today so you could easily navigate his photo gallery.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about going through it but it had been impossible to with Jungkook glued to your side the entire time. Even on your bathroom breaks, he had not been careless enough to let you go in with it. Silently reaching out his hand to remove it from your grip before you’d slip inside.

However, the notification was not what you were expecting. It was a reminder for his mother’s birthday. Tomorrow.

He’d set a reminder? You fought a smile at that. It seemed thoughtful given how he expressed their less than ideal relationship nowadays.

You tapped on his calendar, mindlessly scrolling down and you didn’t even pretend to be shocked your birthday was on there as well but your eyes caught another date that caught your attention more. It was titled ‘FS’.

11-11-20

You frowned at it.

FS.

Staring at the date, you tried to figure out why it would be significant to him. It clearly wasn’t some type of appointment or meeting considering the difference in the way he had wrote those down. Had it been an anniversary? You thought back to when you had met him.He would be the type to write that day as your anniversary date. But this was a year too early. You hadn’t met him at the cafe until much later.

Your fingers froze the second you pieced it together.

FS.

First sighting.

“Baby?” Nearly dropping the phone at the sound of him behind you, you quickly exited the calendar app and turned to him just in time he closed in on you.

“You got a reminder for your mom’s birthday.” You tell gently and hand him over the phone, a crease forming in your eyebrow. “It’s tomorrow?”

He takes it and types something out.

“Yeah, she kept asking me if we would come to her birthday dinner tomorrow.” He tells you and you can’t detect any specific emotion from his tone.

“My dad isn’t going to make it to it again.” He looks like he’s about to roll his eyes.

His mother wanted you to come too?

“We should go.” You offer, looking back towards his phone. “I-I mean if you want to? She probably feels lonely.”

He looks up to meet your gaze.

“You want to go?”

Would he find that weird? You didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to mind last time she had come unexpectedly to the apartment.

“She was really nice to me.” You say recalling the memory that seemed far away now.

The corner of his mouth lifts up. Like it did whenever he found something you did cute or amusing.

“Sucking up to your mother in law already, baby?” He teased and pulled you in. It wasn’t that. Was it? You suppose you didn’t mind bonding with her a bit more. The idea didn’t sound terrible. The image of her or anyone sitting alone having dinner on their birthday made your heart shatter.

Would Jungkook have really let her spend her birthday completely alone?

“Let’s go, we still have one more ride to go on.” He tells you and your face drops.

“No, please.” You complain as he tugged you forward but then looked back at the tiny pair of teacups you had put back down.

“Heights aren’t really my thing, I’m gonna throw up all I ate.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” He gives you a cynical grin, picking up the teacup set. “Let’s pay for this first though.”

“I don’t need that.” You protest going to grab it from him but he pulls it up higher so you are unable to reach it.

“You didn’t put it down the entire time we were in here.”

You groan as he practically drags you towards the register.

—-

The restaurant was dimly lit. It was a bit far out of into the city, located in a more calm and pleasant atmosphere that was popular for its scenic views. You felt out of place the moment you stepped in. Evidently you didn’t look out of place though. Your appearance was funded by your boyfriend, your mid-length black dress probably cost more than your entire tuition. You would’ve confirmed it if Jungkook hadn’t ripped of the tag before gifting it to you a few days ago. You stared down at the Christian Louboutin red bottoms on your feet, you’d half expected them to sense your tax bracket and make you fall head first the second you put them on.

You switched the gift bag you were carrying to your less dominant hand when you went to greet Jungkook’s mother with a swift side hug. She looked lovely, you caught a quick whiff of her perfume before you pulled away. The scent was slightly familiar. She seemed ecstatic at your arrival, well you assumed her joy was mainly aimed towards her son but you didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it too. It felt like ages since you had interacted with anyone besides Jungkook.

Not that you necessarily minded it, you weren’t exactly equipped at social interactions with strangers as proven before. But in a way his mother didn’t feel like too much of a stranger like last time you saw her. There was an air of warmth that surrounded her that at times mirrored Jungkook’s.

“Happy birthday.” You say to her , digging your nails into your palm in an effort to calm your nerves. The undeniable awkwardness you carried was hard to mask.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” She said. Her hair was styled into a slick bun just like yours and you smiled at the coincidence. She looked more elegant this time around, her heavier makeup enhanced her most prominent features.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

Jungkook had been walking a few steps behind you and you saw his mother’s face lit up instantly when she spotted him over your shoulder . You turned your neck, watching a tense smile spread his lips as he hesitated to hug her. It was the most uncomfortable you had never seen him. As a matter of fact, it was probably the only time you had ever seen him like that.

He gave in at last, giving her a brief hug that seemed to surprise even her. Her eyes widened a bit at his short-lived contact and you wondered how long it has been since Jungkook had properly hugged his mother. Months? Years?

It seems like you weren’t the only one out of place.

You took a seat, placing his mother’s gift beside you on the floor. Your nerves kicked in at the sight of the crowded space and far too prestigious set of silverware in front of you. Jungkoook soon followed beside you, a much more relaxed look on his face now that he put some distance with his mother. The smell of his cologne hit you and it did wonders to calm your overactive senses.

It was funny to think his scent once did the exact opposite.

“You must be sad your husband couldn’t make it, I’m sorry I wish I could’ve met him too.” You commented in an attempt to break any of the awkward silence that could follow after that greeting.

It was a small fib , you weren’t sure you wanted to meet Jungkook’s father at all with the way both him and his mother had spoken about him. He seemed rather cold by their descriptions but then again, if his mother was anything like Jungkook, you weren’t sure she was the most reliable narrator.

You pushed the awfully rude thought away, not knowing where it came from. His mother had not been unkind to you and she didn’t seem to carry any of Jungkook’s negative traits at all.

“Ah, don’t be. My husband rarely attends birthday dinners. His business trips are something I’ve grown used to.” She responds as she looks down at the menu but sneaks a quick glance at you.

“You look even prettier than I remembered by the way, my son sure knows how to pick them.”

Your cheeks warm at her compliment.

“It hasn’t been that long since you saw me.” You hold back a laugh. It was probably the help of the makeup you had piled on to cover all the blemishes on your skin that had you appearing more vibrant.

“I’m getting old now. A few weeks feel like a decade.” She sighs and you can’t help but let out a laugh this time. Jungkook is silent , looking engrossed in the menu.

“You’re not old at all. You look great.” You reassured her and decide to finally start paying attention to the menu as well. However, seeing the prices made you nearly cringe.

You sneaked a glance back at his mother and then towards Jungkook. You chewed on your bottom lip as an unpleasant thought occured to you. It didn’t seem like his mother suspected you weren’t from the same background as Jungkook but what if she did? If she knew you couldn’t afford any of this, not even what you were wearing from head to toe, would she assume something different from you?

Thinking back to your previous interaction with her at his apartment, his mother didn’t really seem like the type. She had not questioned your family or background at all. She only seemed interested in you and what you meant for her son. You buried the thought away despite the feeling of embarrassment at the idea of her somehow knowing he had basically began to financially support your entire life. Among other things.

“I’ll just get whatever you get.” You muttered to Jungkook, eyeing his menu.

He frowns.

“Are you sure? You should get whatever you feel like eating baby.” His words comfort you but just by glancing at the options, you realize you don’t even know what half of it means. They don’t provide much descriptions either.

Jungkook observed you and you tried to ignore the way you could feel him already grasping your issue. Him knowing you that well shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it did.

“That one,” He gestured to the oddly named item on the left corner. “It’s a pasta. Tagliatelle with truffle sauce. It’s really good, fits your taste I think.”

“You got that from me liking the spaghetti you made the other night?”

He gives you a teasing grin and nods. “Think of it as white spaghetti.”

Swallowing you put the menu down and tap your finger against it.

“I hope your mom likes the gift.” You really had no idea what to get her so naturally you relied completely on Jungkook to choose. It was a high end handbag he had picked out, assuring you that it would be to her liking. Maybe some flowers would’ve seemed more genuine on your part but you had forgotten to ask Jungkook to stop by for them on your way here.

“She will, don’t worry.” He pecked your lips before you could scold him. The PDA would never feel comfortable to you no matter how used you were to his touch by now. Much less with his mother as the main audience this time.

“My son has always been really affectionate. Straight out the womb, he was such a cuddly child.” His mother watched you fondly, her hands now clasped in front of her. “You two seem to match so well .”

“Yes, you mentioned he was clingy.” You blurt out before you realized what you said. It sounded a bit rude.

“I mean, as a child.” You clarify and watch Jungkook raised both his eyebrows as he took a sip of his water. He seemed unbothered by the comment thankfully.

“Yes, he was.” His mother chuckled at you.

At least they have a sense of humor. Must run in the family.

“What I mean is, I’m glad that side of him is back. I hadn’t seen it in a long time.” She explains with a more glum tone.

“And who’s fault is that?” You hear Jungkook remark.

His mother’s expression visibly falls. Her smile remained but she lowered her gaze, avoiding his eyes.

“Jungkook.” You whisper to him with an imploring look.

Instantly you feel a sense of not only embarrassment for her but deep empathy. She seemed so happy just moments ago. It was her birthday and that made it all much worse. While you knew Jungkook was far from fully reconciling with his mother, you had assumed he was on the right path at least. His mother himself had hinted at it. You had expected him to not make snide remarks at the very least.

Thankfully the waiter comes to take the orders before any of you can utter another word. You bite your nails nervously and look towards Jungkook for help in pronouncing the pasta meal. He struggles with it too but plays it off better than you would’ve. The pinch between his eyebrows was amusing and he gives your shoulder a squeeze when he notices your inability to keep a straight face.

Once the waiter leaves, you don’t know what to say to make things better. You don’t know his mother well enough to offer any sort of distraction but you wanted to lighten the mood at all costs. You never did well this sort of pressuring atmosphere, you feared you’d start to feel claustrophobic soon if something didn’t distract you too.

“Lots of children tend to be clingy I think.” You look between her and Jungkook. He gives you a thoughtful look, resting his head on the palm of his hand “But it usually fades out one way or another.”

It was a weak attempt.

“Yes, I guess that’s true.” His mother replied softly seeming to appreciate it nonetheless.

“Did you always want to be a lawyer?” Changing the subject might be for the best.

She goes on go explain that she didn’t at first and thought she’d end up becoming an interior designer due to her fascination with art when she was younger. But she ultimately decided to go to law school because her parents thought she’d strive there and have a more successful career overall. They had been right of course, she had been a top student. She claims it was hard and one of the worst experiences in her life was attending those first days of law school along with the bar exam despite her success.

You listen to her intently, nodding along to her ramblings that at moments remind you of your own. Her mannerisms continue to remind you of her son though, the resemblance still as uncanny as ever.

The food eventually arrives and that’s when you look over at Jungkook. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in what his mother is saying and you assume it’s because he must’ve already heard it countless of times before.

“What about you? I heard you’re a psychology student.” His mother questions, cutting into her steak.

You pause, your eyes slowly trailing towards Jungkook who has sharpened his gaze. But his glare is directed at his mother first before it lands on you.

A warning sits behind his eyes.

“Y-Yeah. I’m just sorta taking a short break right now.”

Take the shake of your voice. You wanted to smack yourself for having such thin skin and the complete opposite of a poker face.

“Really? Oh that’s good. I hope you find a nice career in psychology. You seem like a very smart girl.” You smile at her words.

I thought I was until I met your son. The words sat on the tip of your tongue.

“She is.” Jungkook confirms with a nod, stabbing the fork harshly into the piece of meat on his place. He raised an eyebrow at his mother. “She doesn’t need a career to prove that.”

His mother smiles, oblivious to what those words really mean for you. She swallowed her bite and looks between the two of you.

“She doesn’t but I’m sure that’s what she wants if she’s in college.”

“Mm” Jungkook muses, holding up the piece of steak on his fork as if to inspect it. “Sure, she can get a degree but I expect to take care of my wife so there’s not a need for her to stress over it.”

Wife.

A cough leaves you upon hearing that. You tried to chew down the pasta you were sure had just gotten stuck in your throat. Blinking away the tears forming, you reach over to take a sip of water.

“Oh?” His mother eyes your actions, a bit perplexed. “I suspected you two were already serious but I didn’t know marriage was already on the table. I’m glad.”

You clear your throat and wipe away your watery eyes.

“I-I,”You gape at Jungkook but he ignores you , still looking towards his mother. “Sorry I wasn’t expecting him to say that either.”

“Eventually we will. Maybe sooner rather than later.” He shrugs, bringing the fork to his mouth and chewing down the steak. “ That’s the goal isn’t it? What’s so shocking about it?”

Staring down at your plate, you swore you feel the room spin for a split second.

“No! It’s not shocking at all. I always knew you’d want to marry once you found the right person.” His mother beams, sounding much more pleased by the idea the more she talked. All her previous bewilderment gone.

“I think I’d need to mention that to my parents first.” You express and send Jungkook a puzzled look.

Your parents.

The thought of them receiving the news of you in such a serious relationship that talks of marriage were already in the air made you squirm. You had barely even admitted to having crushes back when you lived with them, let alone someone close to a fiancé. A stupidly foolish part of you at one point had fantasied about that person you’d bring home to them would be Eunji.

Eunji.

You blocked her image out entirely, aggressively burying it away.

“I think it’s time for you to let me meet them then.” He throws back in a sickeningly sweet stone that silenced you with ease.

The last thing you wanted was Jungkook within any close distance of your parents. Not with everything he had against you. He might be the only man who’s ever had your heart ache terribly like this but he was could also become the man from your worst nightmares at one wrong move . To have him face to face with the people he’d swore he’d show your darkest secrets to if you didn’t comply was something you weren’t sure you could handle yet. The very thought of it made a wave of nausea hit you. It would be such a vulnerable position.

Even though it felt like years rather than months since that video had been taped, you knew that in itself meant you had distanced yourself from it so much that a part of you felt like it never existed. That Jungkook had never done that.

That your entire relationship with him wasn’t built on lies and deceit.

The reality was too hard to face because your heart was insisting you’d give in entirely to it’s desires.

Your true desires.

And you felt like you already had.

“You haven’t met her parents?” His mother gathers your attention again. Her question lingered in the air for a few seconds before you took it in.

“Uh, no. Not yet. They don’t live close by.” You hope the excuse sounds convincing enough with your overly wide smile.

“Ah.” She nods understandably. “I hope they can meet him soon. I’d also like to meet the parents of such a lovely girl.”

“Yes, hopefully.” Twirling your fork around your plate you realize you’re not that hungry anymore.

“I didn’t see my parents much when I was in law school either and after I met my husband-”

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”Jungkook announced and his mother paused mid sentence, giving him a small nod. You felt him lay a kiss on your cheek before he stood from his seat.

You watched as he walked away and disappeared into a corner.

“He gets bored easily at times.” His mother said sheepishly following your gaze.

For a second you’re tempted to ask her more about Jungkook now that the topic of conversation had shifted back to him momentarily. However, it seemed rude to try and pry about more than what you had already asked her when you had first met her. She seemed to have already over shared everything about him to you and you didn’t know if there was much else to ask. Not anything significant at least. Still you were greedy for every of untold story about him, for any of those insignificant details. Surprisingly your nosiness didn’t come from a place of pure fear this time. Your unease was accompanied with genuine concern and curiosity.

But you decided against it.It was her birthday after all. You shouldn’t risk tip toeing over a topic that could send her back to an unpleasant time period.

“I apologize for bringing you to such a crowded restaurant.” His mother says as she looks around.

The heavy murmurs and piano playing in the background fading as you focused on her.

“I know it’s not the best place for anxiety prone people. I used to hate it here too before I got used to it and fell in love with the food.” She adds with a soft laugh.

“Oh no it’s fine, really. I’ve been able to manage my anxiety a little better these days. It’s beautiful here.” You assure her and take a bite out of your food, not wanting it go to waste.

“That’s good to hear. Therapy?”

“N-No, I haven’t gone to therapy in a while. It did help me a lot though. I’m sure you know. Jungkook mentioned you also used to attend therapy regularly.” You bring your hand to your cover your mouth as you finish the bite.

You made a point to leave out the unnerving details of that story, not wanting to reveal how her son was first made aware of you. It was in fact a weird circumstance regardless if she was aware of his tendencies.

Her bright expression faltered. She stared at you for a long moment and blinked.

“Yeah.” She said after seconds of silence."Yeah, they for sure do help.”

She tilted her head to the side and focused back on her food. You notice the tiniest scrunch of her eyebrows before she sets her lips into a straight line.

That was strange.

You watch her carefully, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to decipher her reaction.

Jungkook returns a few minutes later and you plaster a smile on your face, attempting to push away the growing suspicion that settled in the pit of your stomach. The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, not anything of substance is said and Jungkook is mostly quiet. It was odd in a way to see him so closed off when it was usually you that was the silent one around people. You suppose it was due his mother’s presence being not nearly as intimidating as most people’s. Ironic considering her choice of career.

“We got you a gift.” You state the obvious once all of you had cleared your plates and a small round cake sat at the center of the table.

It had a dark chocolate spatula ribbon design on the bordes with a golden specked butterfly as the cake topper. The long wax candles placed in the middle already blown out. Your eyes had unconsciously been locked on the certain golden speckled figurine for reasons you could not begin to explain. It made you too aware of what his mother had said about the necklace.

“Jungkook picked it out so please blame him if you hate it.” You lightly joked.

“You really didn’t have to but thank you so much.” She took the gift bag from your hand, giving you a soft rub on the back when you leaned over to give her another quick hug.

You settled back into your seat and watched anxiously as she opened up the bag, shuffling through the tissue paper.

She took out the teal colored handbag and you clasped your hands together, tucking them into your chest. At first, the look in her face was unreadable as she further studied the purse. She looked in deep thought for a mere second before a smile broke out, her eyes widening.

“I-this is beautiful.” She expressed and looked over at Jungkook, you tuned to glance at him and noticed him simply watching her.

“I used to have one just like this.” You raise an eyebrow. Had Jungkook gifted her a purse she already owned? You wanted to call him out but his his mother continued.

“I lost it a long time ago. Thank you.” She told you before her gaze met her son’s again briefly. “I didn’t think you’d still remembered the exact purse.”

Looking down at the hand-bag, your eyes scanned her face before they traveled over to Jungkook’s piercing gaze. It was unflinching. He had avoided eye contact with his mother for most of the dinner but he now he seemed to be unable to look away. You couldn’t describe the way he was looking at her. His jaw was clenched but his eyes held something more.

And you swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch so quickly that you convinced yourself it was your mind making you see things.

That same suspicion from earlier settled back into your stomach.

—-

It was stuck.

You pulled harder, letting out a huff as the bed frame legs loudly scraped against the floor tiles. Finally it moved and you slipped your head in between the small gap between it and the wall. Your hand felt for the piece of paper until you gripped the edges of it and carefully tried to scratch off the tape to not rip it apart.

Once you had it, you pushed the headboard back in place. Making sure it didn’t look slanted or out of place. Your eyes read over what you had written.

11-11-20

You were sure you would remember it without the need to write it down but you really didn’t want to put all your faith on the short term memory you possessed at the most important times. It had been the right decision because the numbers had already begun to fade when you got home that day with from the theme park. The hiding spot seemed extreme but you really knew better than to risk anything less cautious. Even more so with something that could very well be insignificant.

Jungkook didn’t tolerate secrets.

You knew that well now. Even if it was a one way street. It always would with him and you were starting to understand that, accept it even. But you didn’t know why your gut was telling you to not forget these numbers. This date. The first time Jungkook saw you in that waiting room.

But this date could be more significant in other ways.

It was a long shot. A really long shot.

And you didn’t even know why you were attempting it. You almost felt disappointment in yourself for even going behind his back again. Had you not learned your lesson? But this was innocent, wasn’t it? You were only trying to access the internet to check your bank account and emails from job offers you had applied to.

But the lie settled uncomfortably in you.

You could’ve simply asked Jungkook for his permission to use his monitor or MacBook. You were positive he wouldn’t refuse.

As long as he hovered over your shoulder while you did and you wouldn’t be able to snoop like you really wanted to.

Your thoughts threw back the harsh truth. Jungkook’s computer was the only thing you hadn’t managed to snoop through in this entire apartment. Which meant that was the closet where all his skeletons must’ve resided in. Most at least. What you were looking for exactly you didn’t know. The more you circled around the reasoning you came to conclusion that it was more so you were seeking to make sure he hadn’t done something.

Something you were terrified he’d gone through with since the second he’d made the disturbing threat.

Walking down the long corridor, you felt your heartbeat in your ears with every step. You halted in front of his office door and let your fingers close over the doorknob to pull the door open. The office didn’t look any different from how you had last seen it. You hadn’t stepped foot back inside since your last failed attempt at unlocking his computer. There was a great chance this would be your second and last failed attempt.

Stepping inside, you let the heel of your foot shut the door behind you. As you neared his desk, your eyes fell on a couple of folders and papers laid out. You pushed his chair away from his desk and took a seat on it. A paranoid thought popped into your head and you whipped your head around to check every ceiling corner of the room.

Why were you doing this? You shouldn’t be doing this.

Your hands felt sweaty clasping the mouse, the movement lighting up the screen. You gulped as you typed in the numbers from the wrinkled paper in your hand. The little loading icon that followed made your stomach churn.

You held in a gasp when the screen suddenly displayed a word document and multiple other tabs popped up.

You were in.

An unknown sensation went over you as you tried not to sit on the fact that he’d really had made that his passcode. It made your heartbeat faster than it already was.

Somehow it made you feel more guilty for doing this. You fought the urge to get up and sprint out, forgetting you had even thought of this but you stayed glued to the seat.

It took you a second to process before you read over what he had been doing before he logged off. But it was just a bunch of work documents he’d been typing out. They had his father’s company’s name on them. He had so many files too, you weren’t sure you’d be able to go through them all. You glanced over at the time on the corner of the screen, you still had plenty of time before he was supposed to be back from his errand. He had gone to drop off his car to get it detailed.

Despite that , you kept wanting to look over your shoulder at any sudden sound. You were stiff as a board as you clicked off his word document and clicked on an unnamed file. You scrolled and scrolled, your eyes trying to find something that stood out but nothing did. They all seemed work related, some even dating back to what seemed to be his college days. You moved over to his emails, squinting to read over the ones with long paragraphs. It was simply him giving detail responses to a colleague it seemed and instructions on another one. All similar subjects to his documents. Scrolling down further, you eventually came across dates that were too far back but you paused as you saw a female name on one.

A wiser woman would’ve not clicked it but your curiosity was one of your many flaws. Your eyes narrowed at the flirty message. It had also been work related and it was dated far back about more than a year ago. It seemed to be a female colleague of his and the flirtatious nature of her message had seemingly been one sided due to Jungkook’s dry response. You felt satisfied reading his lack of enthusiasm towards her, it had made you unclench your tight grip on your mouse.

Why had that made you jealous?

You let out an impatient sigh as you clicked off his emails.

What were you even thinking? He didn’t do anything.

He had been bluffing. Hoseok was fine. His family was fine. It had only been a warning and nothing more. But that gut feeling wouldn’t go away, that awful doubt rearing it’s ugly bead.

How could you be sure? You bit your nail nervously as you stared at the screen. You shakily opened the browser and went to Instagram. Logging into your account, you quickly typed in his name and easily found his profile. You weren’t sure if he had ever followed you, you hadn’t opened your instagram in a while even back when you had your phone and you couldn’t remember if you had received a notification from him. It did surprise you that he had not blocked you entirely though.

You looked through his page. It was filled with the typical selfies and artistic photos but that wasn’t what you were looking for. Your eyes landed on his profile icon, the pink and orange lining around it. Holding your breath you clicked on his story . The first slide was a picture of a sunset he had taken somewhere. He was sitting down with a paper cup in his hand.

The next slide made your heart sink.

It was a black screen with two prayer emojis on the center and your eyes quickly read over the caption underneath it.

‘update: my sister’s condition is now more stable but please continue to keep her in your thoughts & prayers. thank you for all your support, our family needs it right now.’

You let out a gasp, your face twisting in complete shock at what you were reading. This couldn’t be real. You looked over at how long ago he had posted it.

9 hours ago.

You didn’t move.

How long had his sister been in the hospital? What type of accident had she been in?

A tear slipped down your cheek as you thought about Jungkook’s words that day. What he had promised. Had he really done it? No.

No it couldn’t be right? Your breaths became more shallow as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

But why? Why would he do this after you begged him not to? To an innocent person? How could he have done this.

Had it really been him? You thought over the possibility of it being a pure coincidence. A tragic one but one that didn’t involve Jungkook at all. But even you weren’t that foolish to believe in his non-existent nobility.

He had done it. He had gone through with it.

A shuddering breath left you.

Indescribable terror shook you. Any sort of benefit of the doubt you had given Jungkook was now gone. Vanished completely. Your chains didn’t feel so invisible now with the knowledge that Jungkook had kept every promise.

“If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ”

Had he meant for you to find out?

Had he meant to hide it from you?

You really hated how you weren’t sure.

A door slammed shut.

You nearly fell off the chair by how much your body jolted.

Jungkook was back early.