✨𝑴𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒑 :- 𝑽𝑴𝑰𝑵
𝑺𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑:- 𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌✨

Jimin  had been told his entire life that he had the voice for radio.

There were kind, professional remarks from his professors at college when he had studied film and media stating that it was unique and would draw the audience in, and that he should consider radio or even try to dabble in voice acting.

And then there was the horny, borderline inappropriate comments from his friends that went something like, "you could seriously make people come by just the sound of your sexy voice."

That particular comment was from Jeon Jungkook, his much younger friend who was in a smaller friend group that encouraged Park Jimin  to take a break from his 9-5 during the week and try to make people come by just the sound of his voice on Saturday nights doing radio.

It's been about three weeks and Jimin finds that his new work at a local radio station is turning out to be more of a hobby than a part-time job. Jungkook's college friend had another friend who had a friend who knew the owner of a late night jazz station downtown, and so the connection was surprisingly easy to find (it's all about the connections!) They needed someone every Saturday night temporarily and he figured, why not?

When he was younger and fresh out of college himself, Jimin  had already gone through the whole existential crisis of what to do with his life. He had grandiose plans of moving to LA to be a bigshot Star  and live this glamorous life in the American film industry, but that was seriously just a phase. Now Jimin works a desk job right here in Seoul and he's not upset about it, not at all. He loves his home and he definitely prefers his comfortable lifestyle.

It's just that the radio gig is becoming something really close to what he had been looking for when he was right out of college, and he's really been looking forward to every weekend. It's become something that has started getting him through the normalized work week.

So this weekend  Jimin  shows up as he has been and tonight will be his fourth show. He takes care of the studio and is respectful with the space. He knows this is just temporary but he can't help but treat it like he's been here for much longer, like this desk is his own, that this microphone is one that he picked out specifically, and silly things like that. The funniest part was that Jimin  had to learn everything he could about jazz so he could actually do the show.

He's always loved music so that definitely wasn't an issue, and there is something so sensual and private about these nights alone in the studio. The other floors had their own late night hosts and shows of various different flavors and whatnot, but Jimin's jazz segment feels more intimate. He likes to turn the lights down and pretend it was just him in the entire building, speaking into the microphone like he was speaking to just one person. And maybe there really was only one person out there listening to him introduce the songs at 12:30am.

Since Jimin doesn't work there full time or anything, he doesn't like to make a mess and didn't bring any food to snack on. Tonight he finds himself starving after the segment is over and oddly enough he has a very particular craving.

He ruffles his blonde hair as he leaves, throws on his black bomber jacket and shoulders his work bag. When he steps out onto the streets of the city it's just past 3:00am. Convenient stores are open, of course, he could grab a cup of ramen and eat on the go, or even get some fast food but he doesn't believe it will sedate this craving he has.

That's when he notices the diner across the street.

He's not down this way too often and he didn't even know such a place existed in his city. And now as he's suddenly looking at the very specific design of some Americanized diner in the heart of Seoul, Jimin's craving is quickly manifesting into...

"Pancakes," Jimin  says to the cook behind the counter. He hasn't even sat down yet and is just hugging his bag against his side and is deadpan with his request. The way he states this so firmly makes it seem like it's the only word in the dictionary that Jimin  even knows.

"Pancakes?" The cook appears as though he had just stepped out from the back to refill his drink at the fountain machine. Jimin  doesn't bother to look around for a waiter or anything, just keeps his eyes focused on the cook.

"Yes, pancakes."

"Alright," The cook motions with just his head towards an empty booth, "go sit."

Jimin  shuffles to the booth as instructed. When he slips into it, the sticky material makes a funny noise. He pulls out his phone and checks his notifications, ignores Jungkook's endless messages in their group chat about how he and Hoseok, Jimin's roommate and close friend, had fucked to all of  Jimin's jazz requests tonight, and he makes a point to yell at them later about how weird that is. Huh.. Arghh

It's not long before a plate is dropped in front of him by the cook himself, along with a bottle of syrup, a dish with butter and a cup of water. "Enjoy your pancakes."

Jimin  thinks it's weird that the cook is bringing him out his food but also he doesn't care. At the delicious smell and whiff of the aroma of the fluffy delight, he hears his belly physically grumble in anticipation of these pancakes. He knows he makes an actual sound and even does a little happy wiggle in the booth as he cuts them up, dribbles an abnormal amount of syrup all over them, and starts to dive in.

Mindless. He's absolutely mindless as he inhales these pancakes like it's the last fucking thing he'll ever goddamn consume. Wow. He makes another sound, like a cat getting a snack for the first time ever, completely immersed in these fluffy, perfect, absolutely delicious pancakes. He's never tasted anything so heavenly in his life!!!

Jimin  clears the plate in probably four minutes-four minutes of guzzling down these fluffy cakes of happiness into his mouth, finding that it's fulfilling every sweet craving that he's ever had in his whole twenty-seven  years of existence. He'll probably never need to eat anything else again! He can live off of these pancakes until he's old and gray and shriveled in his grave. He wants to be buried alive with these pancakes.

Four minutes and the entire plate of pancakes is gone.

There's nothing left but the sticky sweet remnants of the over-abundant amount of syrup that Jimim had poured onto his pancakes. He's staring down at the plate, and though his logical brain says, "don't lick the plate," his sweet tooth brain says, "yes lick the plate!"

Fuck it.

Jimin picks up the plate and starts to do just that, kitten licking the syrup off of the porcelain like a literal feline.

It's so good. He makes those happy sounds again at himself at how yummy the syrup is, how sticky it is against his tongue and it's tingling every part of his mouth in elation. Yet it's only when he's made it halfway through what's left on the plate that he finally-after not paying attention to literally anyone else except the cook in that diner since he had gotten there  so he looks up.

Sitting in the booth facing him is one of the
waiters at the diner.

Jimin freezes. His tongue is still out and it's pressed against the top of the plate as he keeps eye-contact with the waiter who is just watching him. He has his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his hand, with long fingers strumming against his cheek. A brilliant, handsome-annoyingly handsome-amused grin is pressed against his features.

Jimin  gulps, slowly removes the plate from his tongue and sets it on the table. "How long have you been sitting there?" he asks out loud to him, feeling his cheeks flush with immediate embarrassment.

"Since you started making out with the cakes."

Jimin narrows his eyes, "Don't you have, like, customers to serve or something?"

The man's smile only grows. "It's 3:30am, I'm looking at him."

Jimin moves just his eyes around the small diner, noticing in that moment, of course, that it is completely empty except for him. Even the cook is nowhere to be found anymore.

The waiter is still looking at him as if he's finding the entire interaction to be cute and amusing. Jimin  internally shrinks, remembering vividly how he had just scarfed down these pancakes in less than four minutes and licked the fucking plate clean, and now this really, really, really good looking waiter is sizing him up like he wants to eat him.

It's time to go!

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a few crumpled up bills to drop on the table, then slides out of the sticky booth that makes crinkling sounds, gathers his bag onto his shoulder, and now he has to bravely walk past the handsome waiter and out the door without embarrassing himself further. No problem.

"Are you really gonna leave? You're literally my only customer."

His voice is deep, deep like Yoongi's and it makes him want to cry. God, he's so good looking and for what??

"You didn't even serve me," Jimin lamely argues.

"Okay, well I mean in my defense I was taking a piss when you strolled in so I didn't see you right away." The waiter slips from the booth he was sitting in and now he's standing between Jimin  and his only way out. Jimin has to look up at him. God, no. Why does he have to be tall and handsome? "I was gone for like two seconds and when I got back you had already ordered and inhaled those pancakes like a drug."

Jimin  scratches the back of his neck, and feels his cheeks getting red at the waiter being close to him now. He looks anywhere but at him-the ceiling, the specials on the menu, a single piece of cherry pie that's sitting in a glass container on the counter-and eventually he lands on the waiter's name tag and he blurts out, "Taehyung."

He doesn't even know why he says his name out loud. God, he probably looks and sounds so stupid. What is wrong with him?

Taehyung looks down at the nametag, then back at Jimin . "Yup, that's me. And you are?"

Jimin feels bloated. It's like a whole stack of pancakes are just sitting inside of his belly, like he didn't even chew them. The mistake is about to haunt him. He presses his hand against his stomach in continuous embarrassment. "Jimin. Park Jimin ...I um," he motions across the street with a blind wave of his hand, "do the jazz show every weekend now. Over there. Somewhere."

Taehyung gives this dramatic nod, scratches his chin like he's suddenly observing Jimin  more closely. "Oh, gotcha. Yeah, I can totally hear it."

"Hear what?" Jimin manages to look at him now, though at what cost?

"I can hear why you would do a jazz show. You got this voice. It's special." Taehyung smiles again, and it's the most charming smile he has ever fucking seen. "It's sort of sexy."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it's the type that can probably make you come by just listening to it, right?"

Oh my god??? Did he just say that out loud??

Taehyung barks out a massive laugh and Jimin wants to crawl into the sewers and die. "I have to go!"

He maneuvers around Taehyung's broad frame clutching his bag against his side, and he hears Taehyung calling after him in total amusement, "I'll be sure to give you my full review next weekend, Jimin!"

Jimin skitters away, flagging down a taxi as soon as possible to take it back to his apartment. Even when he takes a cold shower that morning it doesn't erase the hotness of his cheeks, and he is convinced that they will be a permanent shade of red for the rest of his life now.

He can never eat pancakes again.

He will never eat pancakes again.

He will never, ever, ever, eat pancakes at that diner again.

Never.

To be continued....