part 3 /14 - meeting you was what i wanted | 너를 만난 건 내 바램이었어

[past_the_moon]

Title: meeting you was what i wanted | 너를 만난 건 내 바램이었어
AO3 warnings: none
Characters: jungkook x reader (cis female)

Tags for this chapter: sex on her desk!, references to absent (derogatory) parents

Summary: The TXT kids are cute but not when you're trying to reconnect with JK, newly returned from LA. JK is still annoyingly charming, especially when he brings you a thermos of tea and tells you he missed you.

CHAPTER TWO

There's some excitement when JK's band returns — apparently that means they are going to start their "comeback" in all seriousness, and everyone is going to need to buckle down. Imo tells you, snorting, that the company is so proud that they've diversified from being entirely reliant on BTS for their income, but that the billions of dollars they will rake in from a new BTS album and tour shouldn't be discounted.

"Any executive you talk to will downplay it," she had warned you, as though you've ever talked to a Hybe executive, "but don't take them seriously. This is going to be the most important thing everyone at the company does for the next two years."

You had nodded, because what else were you supposed to do? But you are a librarian; they aren't going to need you for much.

"Noo-naaaaa!" JK sings out as he blows into the library. "I missed you while I was in — Soobin ah!"

"Sunbae," says Soobin, bowing, but JK sweeps him into a hug. He's a nice kid; comes in a few times a week. Mostly, it seems, for the quiet; he doesn't really look at the books, just sits in the chairs and looks out over Seoul, sometimes scrolls on his phone. You know he's an idol because one, there's no way he's not, and two, you'd looked him up on Naver just the same way you'd looked up JK and his band. You really need a lookbook of the talent, but... you don't actually meet too many of them so maybe no one had prioritized that.

He's at your desk today, though, because he wants to know if you can get print magazine subscriptions. Very retro, but of course you can. Actually, you're surprised the library doesn't already have at least a few.

When they step back from each other, JK looks over at you. "Noona..." he says, and makes a face.

"Go on, I'll be here all day," you tell him, making yourself smile. Sometimes you forget to do that, even when you're smiling internally.

"I'll bring you back a tea," he promises, and you wonder if he actually remembers the kind of teas you drink. Had he noticed, weeks ago, that you almost always had the same thing when he came by?

He noticed your drinks but not that you had not come even once during your trysts?

Despite yourself, you find that incredibly, annoyingly charming, and immediately have to text Eunwoo while JK sweeps Soobin away.

JK doesn't come back until the end of the workday, when you're packing up to go home. He's clutching a brightly colored thermos in one hand. He shoves it at you, face red, then pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt.

"For me?" you ask unnecessarily, taking it. You examine the thermos; it has some kind of anime picture on it... with volleyball. You search your mind for anime you've seen on Netflix: "Haikyu?"

He peeks out at you from inside his hood. "You watch it?"

"I've seen some," you allow.

"I got that for you. In LA. I — I missed you." Back into the hood.

God, he's so sweet.

"I missed you too," you tell him, making your voice soft, feeling honest.

"You did?" He perks up a little, although he keeps the hood up. But he starts rocking side to side, which you've noticed he only does around you when he's relaxed. Tense JK stays still.

"Yeah, of course I did," you say, although it isn't really an of course sort of situation, since before he went to LA, all you did was fuck every day before he ran off to his scheduled agenda.

He beams at you, showing you all his teeth, making his nose even rounder. "I got them to put your tea in it," he tells you, gesturing. "I hope it's right."

"I'm sure it is." You open the thermos and take a careful sip. It's hot, but not quite hot enough to burn you. It's a chai latte but there are tea bags floating in it — so a London Fog but made with chai teabags. There must be a name for that.

You wonder why he picked chai instead of Earl Grey.

"It's perfect," you tell him.

"It's a spicy tea," he replies, still swaying and beaming. "I know you like spicy."

How does he know that?

"I do," you allow. "Thank you very much."

He flushes again. "You don't have to be so polite with me, noona." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Do you?"

"Oh —" You're only a little startled. Eunwoo and her friends have commented on this too. You tell him what you told them: "I never learned banmal. I only ever talked to my parents and Imo in Korean, so I only know jondaetmal, except for what I've heard in dramas and what people say to me."

He scrunches his nose at you. "Really? How did you grow up without banmal?"

"I didn't grow up —" you start, but then the door swings open and someone yells for JK.

"Hyung!" he complains. It's someone you haven't met yet, but you recognize from Jungkook's band's videos (of which you have watched a few at this point; they're fine...?). "I'm busy!"

"You're late for the meeting," the newcomer says. His blonde hair is floppy, and he's not wearing makeup. Neither is Jungkook, you realize belatedly. "Let's go, you can get a book later."

"Oh, I'm —"

"Go ahead, I'll see you tomorrow," you tell him. "Thanks again for the tea."

He looks from you to his hyung and back again. Then back to his hyung again, who sighs noisily and backs out of the room. Once the door shuts, Jungkook leans in and kisses you very gently. Closed-mouth, just like the first time. You put your hand on his face and kiss him back, flick your tongue out to lick his lips.

He sighs sweetly into your mouth, then breaks the kiss and backs away.

"Enjoy the tea," he says. He opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, then closes it, then says, all in a burst, "Nice to see you again, I missed you, bye," and runs out.

My work crush is too cute, you text Eunwoo on your way home. It's such a problem.

She laughs at you, and invites you to drink; you change directions and head toward her favorite bar. Maybe she'll start seriously teaching you some banmal so JK doesn't think you're being polite with him on purpose to keep him at a distance. You've noticed some words are completely different, but some words just have different endings. You'll pick up on it quickly once the rules are explained to you, you're pretty sure.

Eunwoo's shriek of, "This is the first time he's ever asked you about yourself!?" is embarrassing. You still haven't told her the whole story, because you don't think anyone would understand, no matter how sexually lax they are... maybe next time. This time, you change the subject to her new crush, a drag king, and drink.

++

He does come back the next day. He has another thermos filled with more tea; this thermos has a motorcycle on it, and he presents it to you shyly and tells you it looks like the motorcycle he's getting. Then he fucks you on your desk again, hard and fast and much more what you had come to expect from your interactions. He kisses you this time. A lot. With tongue, which you really like. He tastes good, like garlic and gochujang. He's in the clothes you've come to associate with his workouts, and smells like salt and garlic, and only a bit like sweat.

You almost get there just from being fucked, but not quite — also what you've come to expect! You'd follow him to the door to kiss him one last time, but you're dripping with his come... also what you've come to expect... et cetera... When he leaves quickly and easily you realize you'd never thrown the deadbolt. Anyone could have come in.

Next time. You'll be more careful next time. You're not embarrassed or ashamed, but one, you don't want people walking in on you fucking, since that would be weird for all of you and you don't like people watching you fuck unless you've all consented; and two, you don't want coworkers thinking you're the kind of person who fucks the talent and can't behave appropriately at work.

You are the kind of person who fucks the talent and doesn't behave appropriately at work. Obviously. You just don't want them to know that.

++

You amass quite a collection of anime and motorcycle themed objects, mostly thermoses, but a couple of stuffies on keychains too. When JK stops into your office (with yet another thermos with an anime character on it) and sees one of the thermoses on your desk — why not use them to bring your morning coffee? — he beams.

"You really like them?" he asks you. You've said that you do, and you thank him every time and admire each thermos. They're all high quality, they keep the tea hot, they're easy to wash, and the tea he brings you is always excellent.

"Of course I do." You frown at him. "Do people often tell you that they like your gifts when they don't?"

He scrunches his nose at you — his favorite expression to make when he's not smiling — and says, "Sometimes."

"Because you're famous, I guess," you say sympathetically and his cheeks flush a little. "My parents have the same problem."

"Your parents?" He raises his eyebrows. "Are they... like..."

You scrunch your own nose. "They're influencers."

"I didn't know old people could be influencers," he says, and then his eyes go wide. "I mean, not that your parents are old, just —"

You laugh. "They're old," you confirm. "They were influencers before that was really a thing. They used to write travel guides. Then when YouTube mainstreamed, they were early adopters. Instagram, TikTok, they love that shit."

"They talk about traveling? Should I watch? I travel a lot." He leans on your desk. "I like to know the good places to go."

"Ehhh..." You tilt your hand back and forth. "They're okay I guess. They've started covering more and more luxury destinations, so it's not like they're making videos about where you should go for the best street food in Macau. More like what five star resort gives you the best deal. Some of their older stuff is better, but it's so out of date, I'm not sure most of the places they covered even exist anymore."

You shrug.

"They wanted me to stick around with them and do my own episodes with, you know, a more youthful bent," you add, "but I didn't want to. And when they insisted, I did an episode about sex clubs in Berlin. Suddenly it was okay that I wanted to be a librarian."

Not okay enough to stay in one place for you to go to school, but they paid for online classes. No degree, just… just classes.

You grin at him to indicate it's okay to find the sex club thing hilarious — you certainly do — but his eyes are wide again.

"Sex clubs?" he asks. "Is that what you're into?"

You shrug again. "I'm sure you know what it's like to be in a place for a short period of time, not long enough to really get to know anyone, but still want sex. Right?" You hold out your hands, palms up. "That was actually my first time at a real sex club, instead of just private parties, because I thought it would be funny to give my parents something to be a little scandalized about, but I really liked it. No pretenses. Just... you know, hey, wanna fuck? Do you like it rough? All that."

Now he looks... well, you don't know exactly, but he's still there talking to you so maybe you haven't scared him away. You hadn't even realized you could until he had looked a little scandalized at the mention of sex clubs. But you've heard his songs. Champagne confetti and fucking seven days a week — if he hasn't been to at least one sex club, you'd be shocked.

On the other hand, a rich and beautiful idol probably has pussy on tap. Or dick. Or both. Or would just have an escort come to the hotel.

"Do you want..." he asks after a few moments of silence. "Should I — uh — I can —"

He flushes bright red, his cheeks and nose, right to the tips of his ears and down his throat. He covers one ear with a hand.

"If you wanted," he finishes, without having said anything. You assume what he's asking is: Do you like it rough?

This is your chance. Your opportunity to say that if he wants to slap your ass and call you a slut that's fine, but your only real request for change in your sex life (because you definitely have a sex life together now) is to come.

Instead, you say, slowly, carefully, "I like what we do. I wouldn't be against other things, but I'm not... unsatisfied."

He nods, and looks like he might be making a note of what you're saying, or socking it away to think about later.

"I like other stuff besides what we do," you add, "so if there was something you wanted to try or do, I'm probably up for it."

He keeps nodding.

"Just think about it and let me know. If it's easier than talking about it, you could, uh... I would give you my KKT ID or something. Phone number. I don't know if you..." You tilt your head. "Do that?"

"You don't have my number?" is what he asks.

"No? You never gave it to me." You cross your arms over your chest. Is he going to rewrite history or something now? Tell you that of course he gave you his number, you must have lost it? Your parents did that a lot. Of course we left you money, you must have lost it. Of course we made sure you had the hotel address, you must have thrown out the paper accidentally. It's how you became such a fucking anal retentive organized person.

Part of it, anyway. Some things are hard-wired.

He looks surprised, though. "Is that why you didn't text me when I was in LA?"

Okay.

You rub your hand over your face. "Yes, JK, that's why I didn't text you while you were in LA."

"Fuck," he mutters, and then his phone is in your face, his KKT QR code pulled up. "I want yours too. Is that okay? Did I mess this up? Are you mad?"

"Huh?" You automatically pull out your phone, and scan his ID, then display yours for him. "I'm not mad. I thought you just wanted to fuck while you were around."

Ah, shit, his face is crumpling and you haven't even said discussed anything. You haven't even really said anything.

"You don't have to text me if you don't want," he says. "Um, bye."

"Bye?" you say as he dashes out of the room. The fuck?

You sit and think about this. You drink your tea. Today is like... some kind of blueberry latte. You sip it thoughtfully. If you don't text him yourself, will you ever see him again? He's so sensitive. He's so sweet. But if he felt like you were rejecting him in that moment, if he felt like you were saying, I thought you only wanted to fuck in the office and that was fine with me and I don't want you to bother me when I'm not here, that's...

People always seem to hear things that are never said. It's always a fucking guessing game. He sways from side to side and you rock back and forth — maybe that means you're fundamentally incompatible.

Maybe not, though. You like him. He needs to be able to have a fucking conversation with you, and eventually you are going to want him to make you come — it's not like you're complicated, you in fact have very straightforward and easy anatomy; he just needs to put in the tiniest bit of effort. And you don't really know him, not at all. But you'd like to. There's no reason to not want to. He is sweet and sensitive, two things that you've never really looked for before, but you're not against it. You're not against his pretty smile and round eyes and curvy nose.

The decision makes itself.

You put down your tea and pick up your phone. The door opens — you hold up a finger in the universal sign for please wait, and whomever it is doesn't say anything.

After a moment of thought, you type into a KKT chatroom with JK: Did you bring me a blueberry latte because I said the other day I'm trying to drink less caffeine in the afternoons?

A second, a moment, a minute, two minutes. The person at the door clears their throat. You hold up your finger again.

Yeah, he writes back. Is that okay?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!

That's really thoughtful, JK. Thank you. Let me know if I can ever bring anything to... ? Dance practice? That's a thing you do, right?

It is, he sends. Then a string of indecipherable emoticons. Is that... a bunny flipping a table? You can't tell. You don't know if you are too old or too young to figure this out.

Then a picture of him in a white t-shirt wet with sweat, his hair flopping into his eyes, also wet, making a peace sign at the camera. He's surrounded by people who are also sweaty and taking a break from something (dance practice, obviously), and you can see his back in the mirror behind him. You can also see the person taking the picture, the tall skinny one who wears big pants and bright colors.

There's no way this is from today. Does he realize you can see his nipples through the white t-shirt?

I'm definitely coming to a dance practice if you get all sweaty like that, you write back. Then you look up.

"Oh," you say, "hello again. You never brought back the Questlove autobiography."

Min Yoongi looks at you coolly, mouth pressed shut. What's his problem?

Plus you're annoyed by his outfit. If you wore head to toe Adidas with chain necklaces and big rings the way he is, you'd look like the girlfriend of a Russian gangster (or like the Russian gangster himself, depending on how you style your hair and if you're wearing makeup); he looks effortlessly badass. Like, you know, a world-famous rapper idol.

"If you bring it back to me, I will give you this." You go behind your desk and pull out The Wu-Tang Manual. You'd run into it at a giant reseller shop one weekend, and grabbed it. JK's band is famously influenced by rap and hip hop from America (according to Naver and YouTube), and your parents and their friends all love the Wu-Tang Clan.

"I don't read things in English," he says stonily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's in Korean." You want to smirk in triumph when he looks surprised. His face relaxes for a moment — then hardens again. "Seriously, I found it a few weeks ago at a charity shop. I thought one of you might be interested."

"One of us."

"JK's band," you clarify and ignore the way he mouths JK's band to himself. What else are they? "I read on Naver you're influenced by rap and hip hop."

"You read on Naver."

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" you ask impatiently. "Here, take it, but bring me back Questlove. You can —"

You cut yourself off. You were about to say, You can just give it to JK if you want, but you aren't sure, actually, that JK has told any of his bandmates that he's been casually fucking the librarian every afternoon he's in the building.

You sigh and start again. "You can give it to Kim Namjoon. Tell him I'm still waiting for him to come pick up his music theory book that I special ordered months ago. None of you read your emails, I guess."

"Hm," he says, and looks down at his phone for a few moments. The silence stretches out and you ignore it. You can look at your own phone; you have a text from Eunwoo about plans for tonight. When he looks up at you again, his mouth is quirked in a small smile. It transforms his face; suddenly he doesn't look angry at you, but chill. Maybe his boyfriend — or girlfriend, or intimate partner, whatever — texted or something.

When you'd gotten that text back from Jungkook about how he had remembered such a throwaway thing you'd said you must have had a similarly goofy kind of smile on your face.

"No, we don't," he admits. "You can give me Joon's book and I'll bring it to him. And I'll bring back Questlove, I promise."

"Thank you. I like to have all my books in their right places." You nod, and hand over both The Wu-Tang Manual — translated into Korean! What a lucky find — and Kim Namjoon's music theory book. You had ordered it the same day he'd asked for it, and it had come a few weeks later. You'd emailed him to let him know — no response. You'd emailed him again once you knew they were back in town (because JK had come to fuck you) — no response again.

Min Yoongi nods at you. "Thanks. See ya."

"Wait, what did you come in for?" You gesture to the books in his hands. "Did you need something?"

"Oh — no. I just — was checking," he says mysteriously, and then lets himself out.

It is a very calm rest of the afternoon, just you at your desk and, after a while, Soobin in the biggest chair. JK didn't fuck you so you don't even have to clean come out of yourself or fret about whether your black skirt is stained.

The blueberry latte is delicious.

++

Having JK's contact doesn't actually change much because just like his hyungs he doesn't answer his messages. He must have been actually looking at his phone when your first messages got to him the other day because you haven't gotten a reply since then.

Messages you've sent in the past few days:

Will I see you today?

If you come today, don't bring tea — Choi Byungho ssi is here and bought it for me.

I hope this is from you, otherwise I'm sincerely creeped out.
img.jpg

If it is of interest to you, I am wearing a piece of clothing you might enjoy.

Home sick today. Are you okay? Did I get you sick or did you get me sick?

I think this pair is my favorite.
img.jpg

Back in the office today. I saw your hyung in the elevator. If it's okay will you tell him he looked beautiful?

The beautiful hyung in the elevator has blonde hair and thick lips and is so painfully gorgeous you actually can't breathe for a moment when he smiles at you. You don't recognize him as Park Jimin until Min Yoongi introduces you and it all clicks into place.

"She's the librarian," Min Yoongi says with weird emphasis.

"That's right," you say cheerfully. "Come see me if you ever need a book."

The elevator stops at your floor and you step off, saying goodbye politely, even though you now know how to do it casually. You even get the word for "goodbye, I'm the one who is leaving" correct; Eunwoo had laughed so hard every time you'd gotten it wrong that you'd made a special effort to learn the difference.

Min Yoongi leans out and holds the door open with his arm.

"Hey," he says, and you stop moving. You're supposed to be solicitous of the talent, even when they're abrupt with you.

"Yes?" you say, when he doesn't continue. You decide to go with teasing: "Would you like to apologize for not bringing back Questlove?"

"I think we both know I'm never gonna do that," he says, and Park Jimin hits his arm.

"Hyung, you took a book from the library and didn't return it? What kind of citizen are you!"

You can't tell if the indignation is feigned or if Park Jimin really thinks it's important to return library books. Maybe a little of each.

"Hush," says Min Yoongi as the elevator starts to beep, annoyed that it's being prevented from doing its work. "I'm wondering if Jungkook's book is here yet." Jungkook's book? "Because he's in Japan. And can't come to the library. He asked me to tell you."

Jungkook can't come to the library. Why didn't he just text you himself? Hm.

"He asked you to tell me or he forgot and you're helping him out?" you ask, hand to hip.

He makes a funny little smile at you and suddenly looks younger and carefree. "I think he's embarrassed that he forgot," he says without answering your question. "He's worse than me with email. He sees it and registers it and then forgets about it. You know?"

Yeah, you know, your parents are like that. Only with emails from you, though.

"Hyung!" says Jimin, and tugs on his arm. "The beeping."

"Bye, noona," says Yoongi casually, and steps back into the elevator.

You scowl as the door closes. When you turn toward the library you see Allison from IT leaning against the wall.

"We all make that face when we have to deal with Min Genius," she tells you, not suppressing her laughter. "He sure is something, right?"

"I guess geniuses can talk to us plebs however they want," you reply drily.

She laughs and holds up her tablet. "I'm here about your ticket, am I too early?"

You shake your head and unlock the library, and Allison swipes her card too. She's the one who taught you that you don't have to actually shut the door — as long as everyone coming in swipes their card, no one gets in trouble with the surveillance state.

After she fixes your problem — you need a different kind of read/write access so you can batch delete from your database — she leans on your desk and makes a funny face at you.

You wish, not for the first time, that you could read feelings on the faces and in eyes of people the way everyone else seems to be able to.

"What's up, unnie?" You open your desk dresser and pull out a Tupperware container that you bust out when you want to seem warm and welcoming, and offer her an old fashioned hard candy. She picks grape flavor.

"Chae Sunyoung ssi is your aunt, right?" She makes a loud sucking noise and you both giggle.

"Yeah, my mom's older sister." Where is this going?

"And she's dating Choi Byungho ssi?"

"Yes," you reply cautiously.

"I was in a meeting where they discussed that security noticed some of the cameras in here are a bit off and not recording the places they are supposed to," she says slowly, grape candy tucked into her cheek. "IT is going to move them and double check the feeds. I thought you might want to tell Choi Byungho ssi, just so that he's aware the cameras have been moved."

Ohhhh. Oh. "Ohhh," you say aloud.

She blushes but just a little, and giggles. "Yeah. My predecessor helped them move the cameras while she was training me. But they don't know I know. But you can probably be casual about it, right?"

"Yeah, of course." You pause. You're glad this isn't about something worse, plus now if Jungkook ever comes back from Japan, you two won't have a terrible accident. "Is there any place in the building that isn't part of the panopticon? I'm just... You know. Curious."

"Uh huh," she says skeptically, but then she sighs. "It can be a lot. There's a camera focused right on my desk, which is why I always volunteer to do the tickets that get me out of the office."

"Yeah, it's a little weird. Like being in an American airport or in London." You offer her the candy again. She takes a green candy and a butterscotch, and tucks them into her pocket.

"You can't get into most of the places that don't have cameras — all the talent studios have cameras outside but not inside, and Kim Namjoon made it so no camera can see inside a studio even from across the hall or something. He's actually kind of scary when he puts his foot down, honestly." She shivers.

You don't think she's lying or anything but it's hard to believe that big dorky guy with the nice smile can be scary.

"There are also a few dance practice rooms, because we've had problems with people leaking practice videos they taped off the surveillance."

"That's somehow even creepier than the surveillance itself," you observe, and she nods.

"So also executive offices, any room with a toilet or shower, like the gym locker rooms... any permanent office with a door that closes, like your aunt and boss's..." She shrugs. "The weirdest place is the basement."

"There's a basement?" Once you say it out loud, you feel foolish. Of course there's a basement. One of the elevators has a B button with an actual key lock next to it.

"No one can get in there, just a few execs, and facilities. There are some cameras in hallways, but none in any of the rooms. I've been there once on a ticket," she confides, "and it was creepy, but there's a lot of rooms that are just empty, or full of memorabilia that's not in the museum, stuff like that. I don't blame them for keeping it locked, I think if it wasn't a lot of us would be down there just to hang out and take breaks." She pauses and cocks her head. "And then they'd probably put in cameras, which would ruin it anyway."

You nod and make a sympathetic noise. As she leaves, she makes you promise to have a cup of coffee some afternoon, but you know she doesn't mean it because she makes you promise every time but the one time you had actually made plans, she had cancelled. It's just a nice thing to say at the end of a conversation.

That's it for you and Jungkook, then. He doesn't answer texts and he's never introduced you to a hyung — you think Min Yoongi might suspect something, unless he thought Jungkook really needed him to pass on a message about a book... Maybe he did, since there's no other reason for JK to always be in the library except if he's reading books. You don't see each other outside of the company building, and when your boss is in town, you can't use his office or private bathroom.

It had been nice while it lasted. Back to the sex clubs for you.

Chapter One | Master Post | Chapter Three