⁞ '✎ A reader insert story that portrays BTS members as classic love tropes in fanfiction writing.
: ̗̀➛ Namjoon as "best friends to lovers" / "college sweetheart" - COMPLETED
: ̗̀➛ Seokjin as "billionaire" / "secret identity" - COMPLETED
: ̗̀➛ Yoo...
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You stir awake by the blinding sunlight streaming through the curtains. You don't remember how you got home nor do you want to recall the events of last night's work dinner, but as you open your eyes, you're met with an unfamiliar surrounding.
You were on a strange couch, in an unfamiliar apartment that looked way too expensive for the paycheck you bring home.
Did I go home with a complete stranger?
The thought brings forth a wave of unease that crashes into your gut with full force. It rattles your nerves and abruptly forces you to sit upright. The motion twists your stomach with panic while a migraine hammers your temples in a relentless manner. You're not usually the type to drink until the point of oblivion, but when the higher ups handed you drinks, you couldn't decline it in order to remain cordial with them. The thought of alcohol makes your stomach turn again that you fear you were about to throw up whatever was left in it. The feeling immediately vanishes as you hear footsteps approach, throwing you back into panic mode.
"You're awake." A monotone voice comments as his figure comes into view.
Your eyes widen with shock before flooding with embarrassment. Mr. Min was dressed in silk pajamas, his face a usual unreadable expression.
Your ability to speak is completely lost to you, leaving you to sit there with a dumbfounded expression on your face. Mr. Min takes notice of your expression and takes the opportunity to speak first.
"I'll put your worried mind to ease." Mr. Min begins while making his way to the sleek kitchen. "You were very intoxicated last night." He says in a disapproving tone. "I can't hold you completely at fault since the other managers kept shoving drinks in your direction, but you should really know your limit in this manner."
You feel mortified and the thought of crawling under a rock doesn't sound like a horrible idea. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Min." You apologize immediately, your voice cracking at the end.
Mr. Min raises his eyes from the coffee maker and holds your stare. For a moment, you recognize sympathy in his stare which only makes you want to be swallowed up by the ground.
Your memories of last night were a bit hazy. You remember arriving at the restaurant with Mr. Min per his request. You remember the being seated with Mr. Min and a few of the other company managers, exchanging pleasantries and congratulatory sentiments about the respective projects their departments were working on. However, somewhere between professional, work appropriate conversations and eating the entrées ordered for the table did your memory lack the finer details of the evening. It was around that time the higher ups had ordered a few rounds of beer and soju for the table, continuing this manner whenever someone polished off the pitcher.
Your memory grows vague when trying to gather the details that happened afterward. You remember a slightly slurred conversation with Mr. Min but can't seem to remember what it was about. The only thing you fairly certain about was that Mr. Min had been by your side throughout the evening. The thought warms your chest.
