Jikook Oneshots 2

Encounter

Jimin drove his Mustang down the road. It was vintage—a 1965 convertible, baby blue. Because of the color, it stood out, even in the pitch black of night. This road was barely traveled—it was old, and all but deserted. But led to a beach alongside a river.

Jimin loved listening to the river. The river was soothing, warm, inviting. It was there when he needed it, when no one else was there for him. The river was just outside of the town Jimin grew up in—the town he still lives in to this day.

Families would come here during the Summer, to have picnics, play games, bask in the sun. Jimin didn't have a family to go to the river with in the Summer. Instead, he escaped to it all year round.

From the time he could ride a bike, he'd come here frequently. It was the only place in the world that brought him peace.

He inhaled, parking alongside the beach, right where the grass met the rocky bank. Everything felt good, everything felt right. He unbuckled his seatbelt but remained in the car, eyes closed, ears open.

The river, the owls, the rustling of the leaves. Nothing was better than this. The wind brushed through his hair tenderly, a motherly feeling almost—at least it was to Jimin. 

The wind was the mother figure he never had.

Finally he decided to get out of the car. He opened the delicate metal door, the one he had to shut carefully as to not damage. Cars back then were much more fragile—really only for the people that would promise to treat them with as much care as possible. The car belonged to Jimin's father, who passed away when he had just turned fifteen, whom he inherited it from.

He slowly walked to the trunk. There was no need to rush, he had time to relax. He put the key into the trunk, turning it. Once unlocked, he opened it. It creaked as it went up.

He smiled as he looked inside.

"How was the ride?" His voice was smooth, smirking.

The man in his trunk, who's mouth was covered and hands were bound, wriggled and groaned. His eyes were wide, terrified. He refused to look at Jimin, despite the smaller looking right at him.

"Alright, let's get you out of here," Jimin, despite his petite build, was extremely strong. No one really knew that about him.

He used it to his advantage.

Jimin picked up the man, carrying him bridal style. He walked down the rocky beach, harshly dropping him down onto the bank, and pressing on his shoulder so he was forced to kneel. He pulled out a knife, holding it to his neck. His elbow dug into the bigger man's shoulder as he used the hand to rip the duct tape off his face.

"What's your name, Pretty Boy?" Jimin spoke into his ear, with a voice that would send shivers down anyone's spine.

Said male was crying, absolutely and utterly terrified.

Jimin just barely pressed the knife into his skin, not enough to cut, but close. "I asked you a question," His tone became darker. "You don't want me to slit your throat, do you?"

"I-it's Ivan," He managed to get out. "P-please don't hurt me!"

"We had fun tonight Ivan, huh?" Jimin ignored. "Flirting, drinking, kissing. That stuff we did in the bathroom of the bar? Pretty hot, if I do say so myself. But oh Ivan, I just can't help myself. I love sex as much as the next guy, Ivan, trust me. But this? This gives me so much more pleasure than sex ever could."

"N-no," Ivan was sobbing. "Please! I-"

Jimin slit his throat, submerging his head in the water. "Thank you for tonight, Ivan. Thank you for making my night as enjoyable as it possibly could be."