You and Noah exist on opposite ends of a religious spectrum, yet you have a specific type of trauma in common.
Noah, a delinquent who grew up in poverty and has seen firsthand the ugly underbelly of society, carries an immense anger at the pain and suffering caused by God and the church, both to him and to world around him.
You, a pastor's daughter who has been sheltered from all things secular and sinful, carry a jaw-clenching anxiety over the thought of winding up in Hell should you ever stray from the path of righteousness.
When you get roped in to overseeing community service for two young men who were caught vandalizing the campus worship center, you come face-to-face with Noah and his steadfast anger. And for the first time, you find yourself questioning whether you actually believe everything you've been taught, and what happens when you stop letting the fear of going to Hell control your every decision.
You were the assistant choreographer for BTS tasked with taking over for the lead while on tour. You'd sacrificed everything for this job, and you didn't want to risk it, but the temptation has proved to be too sweet.
Now you have to juggle the social, physical, and emotional consequences of your affairs. Jealousy between the members, social isolation, and potential feelings? No, that last one was not something you'd allow. You already had enough on your plate. You had to squash that down. But feelings demand to be felt. And you cannot run away forever.
________
OR
________
How I dumped all my trauma into a single fanfic.
Rating: Explicit
Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt 7.1 | Pt. 7.2 | Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | Pt. 12 | Pt. 13 | Pt. 14 | Pt. 15 | Pt. 16 | Epilogue
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You were the assistant choreographer for BTS tasked with taking over for the lead while on tour. You’d sacrificed everything for this job, and you didn’t want to risk it, but the temptation has proved to be too sweet.
Now you have to juggle the social, physical, and emotional consequences of your affairs. Jealousy between the members, social isolation, and potential feelings? No, that last one was not something you’d allow. You already had enough on your plate. You had to squash that down. But feelings demand to be felt. And you cannot run away forever.
Masterlist
A/N: I know Yoongi didn't serve the standard military service, but for the sake of the plot, pretend he did.
___________
The dark tinted windows of the black SUV obscured your vision. Wrought iron gates guarded the front entrance. Pollen and petals littered the black leather seats from the bouquet of sunflowers in your hands. Nervously, you wiped them onto the floor and adjusted the hem of your dress.
Outside, a commotion sounded as the gates parted. You sucked in a breath. He was here.
It had been almost a year since you’d last seen him. He’d been afforded leave on and off but he was usually busy during that time with the company or visiting family. You’d kept in touch with letters and phone calls, but seeing him in the flesh was a luxury you hadn’t been able to afford.
The commotion continued for a good twenty minutes, and you knew it would take a while for him to get past the mandatory greetings and press photo ops and finally make his way to the car, but each minute dragged on and had you drumming your manicured nails against the leather seat.
Watching him approach, you swallowed the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue and crouched behind the second row of seats to avoid being seen, holding the bouquet in front of your face for extra assurance.
When he finally clambered into the vehicle, he didn’t say anything. You peeked out from behind the bouquet to find him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a smile.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” he said, taking the bouquet from your hands as the car engine purred to life.
His hair was shorter, but not as short as the buzz cut he’d had last year when you had met up with him during a short leave break.
On the ride to his apartment, the two of you chatted about what you’d been up to in the last year. You told him of the new building you’d moved your studio into when classes got too big for the old one and the choreographers you’d hired to help you out. He discussed the various struggles he’d faced during his time in the military and soon it felt like old times. You kept a respectful distance between you during the car ride, broken only when he grabbed your hand during the walk from the elevator to his apartment.
There it was—the warmth you’d missed. His long fingers wrapped around your hand and squeezed it tightly to let you know he’d missed this as much as you had.
As soon as the two of you were inside, he flashed you his signature gummy smile and you couldn’t help but return it.
“So,” he began, leaning against the door, and you knew exactly what he was thinking.
“So,” you parroted, fidgeting with the tie on your dress.
A knowing smile played on the corner of his lips before he surged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Hi,” he muttered against your mouth.
“Mmm—missed you,” you said, draping your arms over his shoulders as he walked the two of you back towards his bedroom. That’s all you could get out before his tongue slipped into your mouth.
“I like this,” he said, running a finger under the garter strap that held up a set of thigh-high stockings.
“Oh!” you exclaimed, elastic snapping against skin.
It was quick, all sweat and tongues and teeth. After his time in the military, Yoongi was not interested in going slow or savoring anything—there would be time for that later.
After, Yoongi lay with his head on your chest as you lightly caressed the scar on his shoulder and he filled you in on his upcoming busy schedule now that the rest of the group had completed their service.
“Who’d they get to help with choreography?” you asked.
“Dunno,” he said shrugging. “I never paid much attention to that stuff. Except for once.” He nipped your skin to drive his point home. “Why? You thinking of coming back?”
“Ha!” you said. “I wouldn’t have the time, even if I hadn’t disgraced myself.”
“You know everyone would love it if you returned. Even just as a guest choreographer.”
“Fat chance.”
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about it. You deeply missed the friendships you had made with the members, as well as with the rest of the crew, but a bigger part of you felt that it was time to move on from that. Let the past be the past.
“They all miss you, you know,” he said, tentatively tracing a finger along one of your ribs.
“You’ve talked about me?” you asked. He nodded into your breast.
Propping himself up on his elbow, he fixed you with an inquisitive look. “Have you kept in contact with anyone?”
“Not much,” you shrugged. “Hobi and I text sometimes. Every once in a while, Jimin and I send each other viral dance challenges. Aside from that, it’s just the occasional birthday or holiday text. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “I just think it would be fun to get everyone back together sometime.” He flopped on his back and you rolled to face him, dragging the thin white bedsheet with you. Yoongi chewed on his lip for a beat before giving you a knowing look. “Have you talked to him at all?”
You inhaled a measured breath. “Not since he came to the studio,” you said, making eye contact with his shoulder scar.
“He asks about you sometimes,” he said. “I never know how much to tell him.”
“You can tell him whatever you want,” you said, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m keeping anything from him.” You continued tracing the tiny 7 tattoo on his shoulder until he grasped your hand in his, bringing your fingertips up to his mouth and delivering soft kisses to each one.
“I know it’s uncomfortable,” he began.
“It’s not,” you cut in, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “I just…I don’t know. It was six years ago. I just want to move on, you know?”
“You don’t think it would be easier to move on if you got closure?”
“Can we talk about something else?” you asked, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling fan.. He sighed, and you didn’t blame him. Even you were growing annoyed with your inability to face your demons.
“Would you at least be open to reconnecting with the group one day?” he asked. “I know it would be good for you.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing the only way to shut him up would be to agree. “Fine. One day.”
“Good,” he said, thumbing over your hip. “When did you get this tattoo?”
______
“Do you remember the last time we ate here?” asked Yoongi.
“I try not to think about it,” you laughed, stepping to the side as he opened the door to let you through. It was one of the few restaurants in the city with a private entrance for people who could be easily recognized by the public. The last time you’d been inside, the group had just finished preparing for a comeback. You’d gotten drunk and had tried to sleep with Jimin.
It was another lifetime ago.
Yoongi led you by the hand down the dark hallway and into a private back room. When you entered, you stopped in your tracks, slowly registered the sight in front of you, and immediately turned to leave. Nobody had seen you yet. You could still bail.
“Nope,” Yoongi said, catching you in his arms and turning you back towards the room.
“Yoongi I can’t,” you whispered. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Yes you can,” he soothed, nudging you forward. “It’s been long enough.”
Shakily, you stumbled forward as Yoongi directed you towards two chairs at the end of the table. At the same time, your dinner companions noticed your presence and looked up from their menus to greet you.
Cognitively, you understood that they were speaking. You registered the warmth in their greeting as well as the surprise, but you had no idea what was actually being said as your ability to understand language had suddenly been ripped from you.
The only person who didn’t seem at all surprised still looked at his menu as you were directed by Yoongi’s strong hands to sit in the seat at his right side.
The backs of your legs hit the wood of the chair with a thud, and all of your focus went to steadying your breath while the left side of your body burned with his proximity, skin embedded with the memory of his touch.
With great effort, you forced yourself to look up at the faces smiling at you. Seeing your old friends made it easier to coax your nervous system out of fight-or-flight mode. You greeted them with practiced poise, locking eyes with each member, as well as some of the crew members and managers you recognized who had also joined.
When the greetings had finished, you locked eyes with Yoongi, who offered a reassuring smile and mouthed ‘good job’ from his seat directly across from you. He held up his menu and started reading it over, which you took as a signal to do the same. It offered a welcome and much-needed distraction so you could collect your thoughts.
Junkgook sat stoic and still beside you, eyes burning a hole through the menu in front of him. He looked good, from what you could tell. Mostly the same since the last time you’d seen him, but you only took in what you could see from your periphery.
Pulling out your phone you texted Yoongi.
You: Did he know I was coming????
Yoongi: Yes. Be nice.
Gnawing on the inside of your cheek you put your phone away and scanned the menu again.
“Hey.”
The word came out soft—so soft it was almost lost in the ambient noise of the table, but your senses were still so attuned to him, even after all these years, that you picked it up instantly.
“Hey,” you echoed, not looking up from the menu.
He said nothing else for the time being, but almost imperceptibly, his posture shifted ever so slightly your way.
Sometime around when the server was in the middle of taking orders, the muscles in your shoulders relaxed and you settled into a comfortable familiarity with the members of the table. A slice of your focus remained on Jungkook, but the rest of your brain was able to carry on conversation with the members as they regaled stories of their military service and projects they were excited to work on now that they were all out.
Someone ordered a round of drinks. Everyone clinked glasses. Yours touched Jungkook’s, and you chanced a look at him. He did the same, and you locked eyes for only as long as was polite before breaking away to look at the tablecloth. You knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you talked, and when you did, there was an inescapable conversation to be had. It barreled toward you like a freight train.
It hit after two more rounds, as the table shared a dessert. Subtly, Jungkook turned to you, and almost under his breath, whispered “how have you been?”
Your stomach stretched taught, as if it had been connected to a rope that winded itself up into your esophagus. You swallowed the feeling back down and whispered back, “I’m okay. You?”
He fidgeted with the straw in his drink, not looking up from the plate in front of him. “I’m good. Was hoping I’d see you here.”
“Yeah?” you asked, a bit too eagerly. You bit the inside of your cheek.
He nodded. “I’ve been meaning to reach out.”
A shaky breath left your lips. You knew this was necessary, but the nerves inside you still held your body in a vise. “Yeah,” you agreed. “I was wondering if you would.”
He sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I tried a while ago. I think you have my number blocked.” It was awkward, how he said it. Not accusatory in the least, but with the carefulness of someone who must begrudgingly approach an elephant in the room.
“Oh,” you said, face flushing with more than just the alcohol you’d consumed. “I didn’t realize. I can fix that.”
You rushed to pull out your phone, but Jungkook swiftly placed a palm on your arm. “You—,” he started, but a jolt of electricity ran through the part of skin his palm touched and he immediately removed it. “Sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to do that right now.”
Your eyes lingered on the part of your arm he’d touched before they flicked up to meet his finally and the rest of the room faded into the background. “I guess I’m a little jumpy,” you said.
The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a lazy half-grin and your heart twisted, which was the last thing you wanted it to do.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You think it’d be okay if I texted you? Maybe we could meet up for coffee or something?”
“Sure,” you said, agreeing out of compulsion more than any cognitive desire to have that conversation.
“Cool.”
He turned back to his drink, taking a sip, and that was the end of the conversation.
_________
On the way out of the restaurant, as you climbed into the back of a cab with Yoongi, he grabbed your hand. There was warmth to his touch too, but it was a gentle, familiar warmth instead of the burning sensation that accompanied Jungkook’s.
“How was it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He wants to meet up.”
Yoongi brought your conjoined hands to his lips before delivering a soft kiss. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s hard to say,” you admitted. “I’d love to feel better about the whole situation. I know that talking it out is pretty much the only way to do that, but…,”
“You’re scared of what will happen?” he asked.
You slumped against the car seat, bringing his hand to rest on your thigh. “Aren’t you? What if it affects what happens with us? I don’t want to lose this.” You gave his hand a squeeze for emphasis.
Yoongi chuckled. “I’m more afraid of what will happen if you keep holding yourself back. Besides, you’re acting as if you won’t have free will to make your own choices. If you don’t want to lose this, take whatever steps you need so we can keep it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and I are solid. Nothing’s going to get in the way of that. We love each other. At least in our own weird little way. And yeah, maybe we’re not together in the most traditional sense, but we’ll always have this—whatever you want to call it—this bond. Even if it’s not the only romantic relationship in your life.”
You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb, eyes meeting his in a moment of vulnerability.
“And if he wants to be with me?” you asked.
“He might. Do you want to be with him?”
“Not if he makes me choose between you two.”
Yoongi chuckled again, rubbing his palm up and down your leg. “I don’t think he’ll do that. He tried once, remember? He saw how that played out.”
“What if he and I try to make it work, and then down the road he decides he doesn’t want to share?”
The car lurched to a stop at a red light. Yoongi locked eyes with you briefly before pulling you closer to him. He tucked your hair behind your ear, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and pulled you in for a lingering kiss.
“If that happens, you will have a difficult decision to make. But I also trust your ability to make the right choice for yourself, and at the end of the day, what I really want is for you to live a happy, fulfilling life. If I can be part of it, in whatever capacity, that would make it even better.”
You and Yoongi ended up in his bed together again that night. He whispered praises into your skin and you left your mark on him anywhere you could get away with.
You didn’t know what you and Yoongi were to each other. Or, well, you did know, but it wasn’t something that could be easily put into words. It was just something to be felt and experienced. There was love there, of course. And passion. And desire. But there were no restrictions. There was nothing between you that hinted at a defined future. Neither of you were exclusive, but neither of you were looking for anything beyond what the two of you shared.
Which is why, when Jungkook texted you the next morning and asked if you could meet up, you agreed.
___________________
Steeling yourself, you reached up, closing your fist and hovering your hand just over the cold metal of the door. One second passed. Then two. Then three. Your skin prickled with the cool blast from the air conditioning—or perhaps it was anticipation.
You exhaled, dropping your fist and thudding your forehead softly against the door. You’d been working up the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door and then panicking and bailing repeatedly for the last ten minutes.
A staticky crackle sounded to your left and you jumped.
“Are you going to stand there forever or are you going to actually knock?”
It was then that you noticed the camera and speaker next to his door.
“Shit, sorry!” you said, backing away from the door. It swung open, revealing Jungkook, shirtless in grey sweatpants, because of course that’s what he was wearing. Why wouldn’t he be shirtless in grey sweatpants?
He stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, fixing your eyes on a corner of his apartment to keep them from drifting over to his chest.
Too long of that, however, and he cleared his throat. You turned to face him and he had his arms crossed over his chest. The memory of the two of you in this very position flashed in your mind, a repeat of that fateful night in Chicago.
“You have some nerve showing up here,” he said.
You grimaced, hanging your head.
“I know.”
“I waited for an hour.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have texted.”
“I know,” you repeated. “I panicked.”
He huffed and shook his head, leaning against the back of the door. “Why are you here?”
You chewed on the inside of your lip. That was a question you’d been asking yourself. Jungkook had reached out last week asking you to meet up for coffee. You’d agreed on a time and a place, which wasn’t easy to do considering how cautious Jungkook had to be whenever he ventured out of his apartment. And then you never showed. He’d called and texted several times that day, asking what had happened, and you had no answer for him.
Just like you had no answer for him now. At least, not one you could easily put into words.
“I felt bad,” you said. It was a pathetic excuse. One which Jungkook picked up on.
“You felt bad,” he repeated.
You tried to look at him, but found his naked torso too intimidating to make eye contact with. “Can you put on a shirt please?”
“No,” he said incredulously. “You came into my house unannounced after standing me up. I’ll wear what I want.”
You sighed in frustration. Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy for you, and why should he?
“Look, I’m not proud of how I acted, okay? I’m sure you can understand what it’s like to have a weak moment.” At that, you looked at him, and a bit of the hardness of his jaw finally slackened, so you took it as your sign to continue. “I knew this was going to be a difficult conversation and I was afraid of what would happen, so I ghosted. But it hasn’t been sitting right with me, and I agree that we probably should talk about it if either of us ever hope to move on and find closure or at least not have any animosity or whatever. So I came here hoping to…,” you began to trail off, “…do that. I guess.”
His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek. After all these years, you liked knowing that he still did that whenever he was feeling impatient.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “It wasn’t cool of me. I don’t want to do that again.”
Something in the air shifted—a subtle change in the energy wavelengths coming from Jungkook’s end and you realized he was deciding to forgive you, even if he was still upset about it. Your heartbeat slowed.
“Do you want to sit?” he asked, nodding over to the sectional sofa taking up the living room portion of the open-concept apartment.
“Thanks.”
He led you over to the sofa, plopping down on one side while you slowly lowered yourself onto a seat at the opposite end. Jungkook kicked his feet up on the ottoman, savoring having the upper hand in the conversation for once.
As hard as it was to admit, you liked him better this way. You didn’t want him tip-toeing around you the way you were currently with him. There was a familiar sort of comfort in the dynamic that humbled you in a way that was necessary.
“So you wanted to talk?” you began.
He nodded. “Seems like a good move, don’t you think?” He flung an arm over the back of the chair. Your eyes followed the movement before you had to avert them.
“Yeah,” you said, but failed to follow it up with anything. It would have been nice if your brain would cooperate, but Jungkook’s aura took up all the air in the room, so you settled for wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans.
“Okay, I’ll start,” he said after a while. “Congrats on the award.”
“Thanks,” you breathed, relaxing into the conversation finally now that he’d broken the ice. The city had formally recognized your philanthropic efforts at an award ceremony three months ago. All the local charitable organizations had been invited to attend the event, including yours, and the mayor himself had awarded you with recognition for the work that you’ve been doing with sexual assault survivors. The class had grown from twelve to over sixty participants, and you’d used the grant money you’d received to hire an assistant choreographer of your own to lead a second class.
“Same to you. The album’s done really well.”
“You listened to it?” he asked, and you nodded.
“Did you…was it,” you began, knowing the question that was on your tongue but having trouble launching it from your mouth.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, trying to play nonchalant. “I mean, I changed some things, but you’re in there.”
You nodded slowly, digesting the information that you had suspected to be true for some time now. Having it confirmed was something else. “How much was me?” you asked.
He shrugged. “You know which ones are you.”
You nodded, because you did know.
“I hope that doesn’t make it weird,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to like, convince you to come back to me or anything. My therapist suggested I channel my feelings into my work and use it as inspiration, and I didn’t have much to lose at that point, so I figured I may as well.”
“That was pretty vulnerable of you,” you said, picking at a stray thread on the back of his couch. His eyes flicked to your fingers.
“I think looking back on it, I could have been more…measured with my vulnerability.”
The corner of your mouth twitched upwards on its own. You’d thought the same thing when you first heard it. “I think the fans liked it.”
He chuckled, bashful. “Live and learn.”
You nodded again, allowing the conversation to lull into a semi-comfortable silence.
“Drink?” he asked. “I have ice water, tea. Something stronger if you’re craving it at,” he checked his watch, “eleven thirty in the morning.”
“Ice water would be great.”
You watched him move casually through this space, noticing all the ways in which he was the same and all the ways he was entirely different. He was less tense, for sure. His shoulders sat casually at the base of his neck, whereas before they had always been tightly ratcheted to each other.
Handing you the glass, you allowed your fingertips to graze his and he purposefully held eye contact with you, both sharing the mutual understanding that this touch was very much on purpose and a test.
You broke the gaze first, flushing and dropping your eyes to the glass as you brought it to your lips and sipped.
“Thank you,” you said, swallowing thickly.
“Sure.”
Another silence fell between the two of you—this one more awkward than the last. You brought your eyes up to meet his and found him staring at you perplexedly, head tilted to the side.
“Hm?”
“Nothing, I’m just,” he began, searching for words. “I’m just processing you being here, I guess. I’ve imagined this moment going a hundred different ways and now that it’s here, it feels surreal.”
You knew what he meant. You’d done the same thing and were feeling the same way about being there.
“How do you think it’s going?” you asked.
He cracked a smile. “It’s…not as scary as I worried it could be. Definitely not comfortable, but it feels right. Natural.”
“Is there anything you wanted to talk about specifically?” you asked.
“A lot,” he confessed, “but they’re all hard to talk about.”
You huffed a laugh. “Same here. Shall we rip the band-aid off, then?”
He nodded. “Why did you hook up with me that first day?”
You had to stop yourself from snorting into your glass, not because it was funny, but because he really had gotten straight to the point.
“Well,” you began, eyes scanning the ceiling as if you’d find the answer written up there, “for one, you’re very attractive, Jungkook. I think you know this. Plus, it had been a while since I’d felt the weight of a man on me. I was feeling lonely for a long time. I built my entire identity around work and didn’t have much of a life outside of it. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Did you have feelings for me?”
“At first, no,” you said, taking a sip and then swallowing hard. “Eventually, yes.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. They shouldn’t have, because he had to have known. “When?”
“Chicago.”
He took a sip of water as well, seeming like something had clicked for him.
“Why did you hook up with me?” you fired back.
“I had a crush on you since you first started at the company. I respected you though. You were always so professional, so I’d written it off as just something I’d have to get over. But then that night at the studio happened, and I guess I allowed myself to entertain that crush.”
“I see.”
“Why did you sleep with Jimin? Right after?”
That was a harder one to answer. Sucking on your tongue, you searched your brain for the most accurate answer. “Sleeping with you opened a sort of floodgate for me. I felt very out-of-control. Part of me was ashamed that I’d crossed a professional boundary and I entered into a sort of shame spiral.
“I thought it was manageable when it was just us, but then you started acting possessive and jealous, and I didn’t know how to handle that. It didn’t feel safe to be with you, but there was a hunger you’d sort of awoken in me, and if it couldn’t be met by you, I was going to find someone else to do it.”
You had never put the emotions into words before. It was as if by saying it, you were finally processing everything that had happened.
“Where did that hunger come from?” he asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
The tip of his tongue poked out to moisten his lips as he regarded you for a minute. “Do you think we’d have started dating if I hadn’t acted so jealous?”
A bitter half-laugh escaped from your lungs. “I have no idea. Yes? Maybe? But then again, relationships are kind of impossible in your line of work.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you in a relationship with Yoongi?”
That was not something you expected him to ask. “It’s…complicated.”
He blinked a few times. “Go on.”
Grimacing, you tried to push past your discomfort. “We’re not like…together in the traditional way.”
“Do you fuck?” He asked, and a nervous laugh burst out of you.
“Yeah, but it’s also about like, being good for each other. We decided not to put any labels on it.”
“So you love him?” he asked.
You nodded. “I love him.”
He pursed his lips, considering you for a moment.
“Back when we were on the tour, I asked you if anything was going on between you and Yoongi. You said there was nothing.”
“At the time, we were just friends.” Your neck grew warm under his scrutiny. You were approaching the real meat of the conversation. “But in in all honesty, there was some flirting going on. And I had tried to hook up with him, but he turned me down.”
He nodded again, chewing on the information, seeing how tough it was to swallow. “Okay. So when I came to your room that time and told you how I felt…you turned me away. But you just said you developed feelings for me after Chicago.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t know how to make sense of that.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah. So…I wasn’t lying when I said I had feelings for you. Turning you down was actually one of the hardest things I’d had to do at that point..”
“So then why Yoongi instead of me?”
That really was the million-dollar question. Where would you have ended up if you’d chosen to let Jungkook stay that night six years ago? Would you have ended up with Yoongi regardless? Would you be with Jungkook now? It seemed like everything changed that night.
You swallowed, biting your lip while you worked out how to put your thoughts into words. “I…,” you began, but struggled to find what you wanted to say. “I guess it’s like…Yoongi understood in a way nobody else did. I really needed that. And at the time, I needed to connect with someone who just…got it. We didn’t have to work to understand each other. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone when I needed it most.”
Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes rested somewhere on the wall to your left, unfocused.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked.
“I’m replaying the night I came to your room. Wondering if there was something I could have done to make you feel the way Yoongi did.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” you said, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee. You knew touching him was toeing the line, but you wanted to convey your sincerity. “It wasn’t what Yoongi did. It was who he was. The things he’d gone through.”
Jungkook’s eyes fell on the spot where your hand lay. You could tell despite your reassurance, he was hurt by the situation. As were you.
“So you and Yoongi are…together now?”
“Like exclusively? No,” you said.
He nodded, and you felt his energy shift. Perhaps he was hoping for a different answer.
“Are you in an open relationship then?” he asked.
“I guess?” you answered. “I mean. Theoretically. We haven’t defined it as a relationship, and I haven’t been with anyone else.” You could feel yourself offering up too much information and decided to leave it at that.
That last tidbit did seem to pique his interest though. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it for a beat. You had a feeling you knew where the conversation was heading.
“Would you be with anyone else?” he asked. Ballsy of him to come right out and say it. The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, and his gaze landed on it. You knew he knew you knew what he was really asking.
“Possibly,” you said slowly, holding eye contact. You didn’t want him to get too excited, but you also couldn’t help the anticipation bubbling up inside of you. “Depending on the circumstances.”
Too late. He dug his upper teeth into the skin at the edge of his lip, pupils dilated. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. You also knew he was determined to get this right. You’d just issued him the ultimate challenge, and Jungkook was nothing if not competitive.
“Not so fast,” you said. “We need to talk about Japan.”
He broke eye contact, letting his gaze fall somewhere on the edge of the ottoman in front of you. He picked at a stray thread on his clothes. Inhaling deeply and letting it out in a puff of air, he nodded.
“Where should we start?”
“A couple things I want to get off my chest first,” you started. He nodded again.
“First, I was telling the truth that time you caught me walking out of Tae’s room.”
“I know,” he cut in. “Taehyung told me everything.”
“Okay good,” you said. “And when I told you nothing was going on with Yoongi, again, that was true at the time.”
He held up a palm to stop you. “The guys and I all cleared up these misunderstandings a long time ago. I acted like a dick at the time, but you don’t need to explain anything. I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
“Okay,” you said, stopping short. You’d had a bit of a monologue prepared and now that it was unnecessary, you weren’t sure where to go.
Luckily, Jungkook had you covered.
“So we kind of talked about this already, and I have an idea about what the answer is but can you just clarify why you turned me away when I came to your room? I’m not bitter about it or anything,” he said. “Just confused. I thought you liked me.”
“I did,” you insisted.
“Did?” he asked, again bold.
“Pending.”
He nodded.
“It was just the timing of everything. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with you when I had so much baggage to sort through. I wouldn’t have been a good partner to you. And to be honest, I’m not sure you would have been the best partner to me at the time.”
“You think we would have started a relationship?” he asked.
“Don’t you?” you asked. “I mean, even if we didn’t officially date, I would have wanted to, and would have spent the whole rest of the tour chasing one instead of focusing on my job.”
You could feel yourself getting emotional again. That was what you were afraid of. Taking a deep breath, you worked to stay grounded. After all this time, he still had this effect on you.
“Okay,” he said, and you got the sense he was trying to calm you down. “Okay.” He sucked on his bottom lip for a few beats before continuing. “Okay, so here’s I guess what I didn’t understand: why were you able to spend the night with Yoongi shortly after? Why could you have a relationship with him and not me?”
You felt his question in the center of your ribcage. You knew your answer, but it wouldn’t be easy for you to say or him to hear.
“Yoongi earned it,” you said, eyeing him carefully to see his reaction. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw the tiniest grimace on his face. Whatever it was, he recovered quickly.
“In a way that I wasn’t?” he asked.
You pursed your lips, considering your words. “I don’t know. I think you were good for me in a weird way. In Chicago, you were good for me. And even when you refused to kiss me, I think it was good for me. I think I needed to be rejected by you in order to get my head out of my ass. But then you didn’t stay away, and I think that wasn’t good for me. I think you needed to stay away in order for me to learn the lesson I needed to learn.”
“Which was?” he asked.
“That I had to stop taking people for granted and treating them like shit. I was really entitled to you,” you confessed. “I didn’t treat you well at all, and I don’t think I respected you the way I should have.”
He swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing up and down and he blinked a few times.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing it’s just…I always thought it was just me who treated you shitty, but I think there’s a part of me that really needed to hear that.”
Steeling yourself, you took his hand in yours and looked straight into his eyes, which had grown ever so slightly glassy. “Jungkook, I was not kind to you. I wasn’t a good person back then, and I should have been better. It wasn’t just you.”
Something cracked within his composure and suddenly, you were swallowed up by his presence. It took a second to register he was hugging you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” you said, hugging him back. “I’m sorry too.” You inhaled the smell of him, both familiar and a little new, savoring the feel of his arms around you, but this time, it didn’t pull you under the way it had back then. This time, you were able to keep you head above the water.
He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to be good for you,” he promised. “If you let me back into your life, I promise this time I won’t fuck it up.”
You smiled, taking his hands from your face and bringing them to rest in your lap. He got the message and pulled back to look at you. “I believe you,” you said. “But I still need to make sure I can be good for you, too.”
“How would you do that?” he asked.
You sucked in a breath, “I think it’s by asking you to be patient,” you said.
He fell back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”
You chuckled, scooting closer to him and he used the hand that was still holding yours to pull you into his lap. You let him. “You’ve always had trouble with that, haven’t you?” you asked, teasing.
He opened one eye to look at you. “I have been very patient, thank you.”
You laughed, leaning in to press your body against his. “I suppose you have.”
Grinning, he wrapped an arm around you and you savored his touch. He was warm, and smelled like a heady mixture of his own musk, the cologne he always wore, and what you suspected was a new shampoo. Slowly, you began to register a growing firmness underneath you.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. You thought about it for a moment, but you already knew your answer. You had also been patient. You nodded.
Kissing Jungkook was unlike kissing anyone else. It was like diving into the ocean—raw, powerful, easy to be overpowered if you didn’t know how to swim. Luckily, you did. You kissed him back passionately, licking into his mouth and fighting against the current until you finally found a rhythm. His hand traced from your neck down your back, eventually coming to rest on your ass, and you waited for the nerves to come, but they never did. It felt right. A thought did, however, pop into your head and you broke the kiss, panting.
“You know I’m still loyal to Yoongi, right?” you breathed. His hand squeezed the soft flesh of your ass.
“Yeah,” he said between heavy breaths. Beads of sweat collected where your fingers met his chest. “Obviously.”
“And like, we’ll have to talk about what this means at some point,” you said, digging your nails into his skin. His chest rose and fell with the breath coming through his open mouth.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Whenever you want. Kiss me again.”
You wasted no time, diving back in as he fisted your shirt in his hand.
“Mmmph. Bedroom?” he muttered into your mouth.
“Yeah,” you said, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you into the air and walked the two of you across the span of his apartment, kicking open the door of his bedroom and tossing you unceremoniously on to the bed.
“These are coming off,” he said, grabbing the waistband of your pants and ripping them down your body. His eyes were blown wide with lust, but you could tell he was still in control. If you asked him to wait, he would.
Patting the bed, you gestured for him to join you, and when he did, you eagerly straddled his hips, rocking into him and reveling in the sensation you’d dreamt about for years.
“Kiss my neck,” you said, and he did, not even bothering to hide the bruises he deliberately sucked into your skin. He rubbed you over your panties, no doubt feeling how soaked they were.
“Can I?” he asked and you nodded, closing your eyes and arching into him as he slipped his digits under the fabric and rubbed between your folds. You whimpered into his touch. “I missed that sound.”
It wasn’t long before the two of you were completely naked, bodies pressed up against each other as you teased the tip of his cock, hovering over him just enough so he could feel how warm and wet you were, but not enough for him to sheath himself in you.
“Please?” he begged.
You bit your lip, rocking your hips over him without letting him slip inside just yet.
“Please?” he whined, neediness reaching a crescendo. Still, you said nothing and continued rocking into him.
“What do I have to do?”
“Love me,” you whispered.
“I do,” he panted. “I never stopped.”
“Love me even more,” you said.
“I will!” he promised. “I’ll love you more than you’ve ever been loved.”
“Really?” you asked, grinning down at him, expecting him to make up some bullshit in order to get laid. He surprised you by looking directly into your eyes.
“Really,” he said, and the sincerity on his face was so intense you broke eye contact and dropped your gaze to his chest. He stopped moving and he took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I mean it.”
Almost without your permission, your body submitted to him. He finally pushed into you and your head dropped back in rapture. Rolling onto your back, your body moved on his own accord, matching his movements until you moved as one. A sound bath of his voice surrounded you—breathy little noises mixed with whines and gasps that increased in volume as his movements increased in effort.
“Jungkook,” you whined, “baby slow down, I don’t want to come too soon.”
“What if I promise to make it up to you?” he panted, voice strained with his thrusts.
Rather than answer, you offered up a high-pitched moan, filling the room with sound and he sped up, his movements becoming sloppy.
“Where should I come?” he grunted.
“Inside,” you breathed. “You can come inside.”
“Fuck yeah.” His hands found purchase on your hips and he used the leverage to speed up.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you panted, “fuck I’m gonna—,” but the rest of your words were swallowed by a moan as you came, hard, everywhere.
Jungkook looked down to see his chest glistening with your juices. “Shit, I forgot you did that sometimes.”
You threw an arm over your face in embarrassment, but he didn’t let you hide. Instead, he pulled out briefly before hoisting you up and spinning you around so you were on your hands and knees. When he resumed his movements, it was at a punishing pace. You were on the verge of overstimulation, but held out for him. You wanted him to get his fill.
“Almost there,” he said between gritted teeth. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts and then spilled himself into you with a shuddering groan.
You collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto your side so you could face him and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before closing his eyes to catch his breath.
When he opened them again, he smiled lazily.
“Hi,” you whispered, suddenly shy.
“Hi,” he chuckled.
“I don’t know what this means,” you said, gesturing to your bodies, legs still entangled in each other’s.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he replied. “We can just take it day by day.”
He pulled you into him, kissing you lazily until you were both spent enough that ended up falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun.
There was still more to discuss with Jungkook. You hadn’t even begun to talk about what happened in Japan during that tour, but you sensed that when you did finally breach the topic, you would come to an understanding and would be able to move forward without it hanging over you like a dark cloud. For the first time, it felt like Jungkook was good for you.
___________
The next morning, you unlocked the door to Yoongi’s apartment, where you were staying for the next week, and when you found Yoongi cheerfully frying eggs in the kitchen, you greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.
“How’d it go?” he asked, putting down his chopsticks and wrapping an arm around you to pull you in for a real kiss.
“Good,” you said, with a smile. You brushed off a piece of lint that clung to his shoulder and nuzzled into him.
“Someone got laid,” he said, chuckling to himself.
You pulled back to look at him. “Is that okay?” you asked.
“Preferred,” he replied. “You’ve been mopey for years. It was driving me nuts.” He picked up his chopsticks with his free hand and resumed scrambling the eggs, but he didn’t let go of you.
“Did you know this whole time?” You asked.
“What? That you never stopped loving Jungkook?” he said, “Pretty much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You kept insisting that you were fine. I knew you needed some time to work through some things, but then you started procrastinating. It was me who forced you to see him at dinner the other day, in case you forgot.”
You moved so you were hugging him from behind while he tried not to burn the eggs.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you said.
“I have a few ideas for how you can thank me.” He grabbed one of your hands and moved it down over the front of his boxers. You complied, rubbing over him and kissing the back of his neck.
“You sure you won’t get jealous?” you asked.
He turned the burner off, spinning around to face you. The look in his eyes was serious. “I’m a big boy. I know how to handle jealousy, even if it does come up, which is hasn’t yet. Falling in love with you means falling in love with all of you, even the part that loves someone other than me,” he said.
Unexpectedly, a lump rose in your throat and tears pricked your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” you choked out.
Yoongi walked you backwards until you hit the kitchen island, then he lifted you so you were sitting on it. “Believe it or not, you’re worth it. I’m sorry that you spent most of your life not being treated the way you deserved, but it’s time you understood what it really means to be loved.” He punctuated his thought with a kiss and you wrapped your arms around him to deepen it.
“I want to be good to you, too,” you said.
“You already are. You’ve never once asked me to be anything other than myself. You’re thoughtful, honest, and hot as hell. And you let me put it in raw,” he said. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Oh shit, that reminds me,” you said. “I didn’t ask him to wear a condom.”
Yoongi screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well I guess it was time to get tested anyway. I’ll ask Jungkook to test himself as well when I see him later. We have a group meeting with Bang today to go over the next steps for the comeback.”
“I should do that,” you said. “I think our relationships should remain separate, at least for now.”
He rubbed his thumbs along your hips. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“This is going to be weird, isn’t it?”
“A little. Until we get used to it.”
“It’s going to be complicated, too.”
He nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” you asked and he rolled his eyes.
“I’ve already said yes,” he said, annoyed, and then softened. “You’re happier than I’ve seen you in over six years. That’s worth dealing with whatever logistical issues come up.”
You responded by kissing him deeply, savoring the feeling of being loved so wholly and offering up just as much love to him in return.
“Oh, and one more thing, before I forget,” Yoongi said, pulling away.
“What is it?”
“Hoseok wants to know if you’ll help with the choreography for our comeback.”
GOOD GOD WAS THIS THE BEST READ I'VE DONE FOR THIS YEAR.
I love how the character was self-aware but also not at the same time. I love how there was always a moment of reflection in every decision she makes, granted that the decisions could've been better at times. I love Jungkook BUT GODDAMN I LOVE YOONGI SO MUCH HE'S THE FUCKING BEST EVER!!!!
Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader
Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Smut, angst, religious themes, religious guilt
Masterlist
Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!
No beta. Sorry mom, sorry god.
Buy me a coffee
Author's Note:
This is a short chapter, mostly setting the stage for the next one. Sorry it's been forever. My daughter is finally old enough to play independently for short bursts at a time, so I've been trying to get back into writing. The next chapter is laid out already. I just need to type it up and fine-tune it. Love you guys! Thanks for your patience!
________________
“How do you not see it as murder though? It’s immoral.”
You stared at Isaac unblinking, wondering if this conversation was going to be worth the effort or if it was only going to further anger you.
It had been three weeks since you’d left campus and the comfort of Noah’s arms. As unfortunate as it was, your only real escape from your parents had been Isaac. Worship band practice had ended and the two of you were holed up in the kitchenette behind the main sanctuary while you waited for your father to be done with work.
“I think,” you began, “that you are making the mistake of believing you have a superior sense of morality.”
His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “How so?”
“Well, I mean it’s really easy, right?” you asked. “To feel like your side is the moral side and everyone else’s morals don’t measure up. It feels good. Strokes the ego. It doesn’t make you challenge your thought process or step outside of your emotional comfort zone.”
“I resent what you’re implying, but go on,” he said flatly.
“Okay, consider what position someone would have to be in to have the same moral compass as you, and still want to have an abortion. For aborting the fetus to still be the kinder choice than going through with birthing it.”
Isaac’s mouth hung open, face blank as he processed what you said. Finally, he took a breath. “That’s really difficult for me to picture.”
“Right,” you said, “because you’ve never faced that kind of hardship, and you’ll never have to make that decision. It’s a heartbreaking decision, and the church has chosen to demonize women who are already going through the worst times of their lives.”
Something you had said finally started to break through his defenses. It was evident in his sunken posture and stern expression.
“But don’t you think that if someone chose to have the baby, God would provide?” he asked.
“Maybe,” you said. “But I would never force someone to make that choice, and I don’t believe God would, either. He gave us free will for a reason, and I think he loves us enough to forgive us should we not have the courage to go through with bringing a life into this world.”
Isaac sighed and remained silent for a while, staring at his shoes while he contemplated everything you were saying. So far, this was the most productive conversation you’d had with him. It was clear he was making a concerted effort to listen.
“I never did end up donating the proceeds to Life Alliance,” he said. His voice hovered just above a whisper, as if he were confessing it to himself instead of you.
“You…what?”
He nodded. “I should have included you in that decision.”
You blinked, surprised by this confession. For all intents and purposes, you’d written Isaac off as someone so brainwashed by the church that he was incapable of independent thought, especially if it went against the church.
“Thank you,” you said, then paused, fighting with yourself over whether to ask your next question. “Do you understand why I was against it?”
He licked a dry spot on the corner of his lip and sniffed, nose wrinkling. “It’s still sort of hard for me to grasp, but I think I’m starting to get your side of things. Even if I end up not agreeing, I think these are still important conversations to have. We’re meant to question things, right?”
You exhaled deeply, surprised by how much relief you felt hearing those words. Hearing that someone was willing to entertain your stance made you feel a lot less alone.
“Trouble is, we’ve got a problem in our congregation where nobody seems to want to talk about this stuff.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, then tilted his head in thought. “What if we could do something about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like a small group study? Once break is over and we go back to school. We could lead a discussion group about stuff like this. Do you think your father would go for it?”
You perked up. “No harm in asking, I suppose.” For the first time in a while, you felt energetic. All last month, you’ve been feeling down because of all the problems within the church community that seemed impossible to fix. Now you potentially had a plan for how to start addressing them. “Yeah, let’s put something together.”
Life, unfortunately, had other plans.
__________
It was two days before you were set to go back to school and all you could think about was getting back to Noah. Missing him hurt though, so you tried to distract yourself by putting together a proposal for a small group session you could lead with Isaac.
Your parents had invited Isaac over for dinner at your request. Your father had actually smiled at the idea, seeming to think you’d finally started coming to your senses. You and Isaac had been working diligently typing up your proposal and your father was two-thirds of the way through reading it when he paused and peered at Isaac over his glasses.
“I think leading a small group would be a great next step for you, son,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” said Isaac politely giving you an encouraging thumbs-up under the table.
“We’d like to start leading sessions once the new semester starts,” you chimed in. “I know it’s short notice, but I think it could be a really great thing for the youth outreach program.”
“Well, I’m happy to see your desire to be more involved in the congregation, I must say,” he replied and you smiled. “Isaac, would you excuse us just for a moment?”
Your face fell.
The air thickened unpleasantly. Wordlessly, Isaac nodded and excused himself from the table, offering you a confused look on his way out and you shrugged in response.
“Dad?” you asked.
Your father’s shoulders dropped as he sighed in frustration. “I’ve been meaning to discuss this with you. I should have brought it up earlier, but I haven’t had a chance.”
“Brought what up?” you asked.
He shared a look with your mother that you couldn’t decipher, which your mother took as her cue to chime in.
“Sweetheart,” she began, worrying at her lip. “We’re not sure if college is the best place for you anymore.”
_______________
Noah stared at the half-full pot as coffee slowly dripped into it. Rubbing at the crusts in his eyes, he sighed through his nostrils and demanded more patience from himself.
“Coffee ready?” Tiffany asked, yawning as she rounded the corner from the hallway into the kitchen.
Noah side-eyed her, noting the oversized band tee she wore that did absolutely nothing to cover her curves.
“Indecent,” he scoffed. She smirked and flipped her hair back across her shoulder. “You know you’re the reason I need caffeine in the first place.”
Leaning against the counter, Tiffany batted her eyes at Noah. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
He rolled his eyes. The walls in the house weren’t particularly thick, but he’d still never been kept up quite as obnoxiously as he had been last night.
“What who means?” asked Ruffilo, following in Tiffany’s footsteps and wearing nothing but boxers. He caught sight of the blonde, getting distracted for a moment and leaning in to kiss her.
Noah scoffed once more. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you guys. But really? That loud? At three in the morning?”
Reaching above Tiffany to fetch a mug from the cupboard, Ruffilo huffed a laugh. “You can’t tell me shit, Noah. Do you know how many times you’ve kept me up? At least once a week for the last three years. Consider it payback.”
Noah sighed, rolling his eyes. He supposed he had to be happy for them, especially since he hadn’t exactly been the best friend to either of them. “Well, while you two were busy doing whatever,” he said and the two of them shared a knowing look, “I was working on some new music, and I think I’ve got something. It’s a little bit different than what we’ve done in the past, but I think you’ll like it.”
________
“Fuck you man, this is amazing,” said Ruffilo as he leaned over Noah’s laptop to get a better look at the tracks that had been laid.
“I’m still working on the bridge, but I really like how it’s coming together so far,” said Noah, proud grin on his face. It was the first time in what felt like forever that a song had come together so quickly.
“And the lyrics,” Ruffilo continued. “I can definitely tell you were inspired.”
“Yeah,” Noah said, this time with a little less enthusiasm. He’d poured more of himself into these lyrics than he’d ever done before, but it was evident they were inspired by the pain he was feeling being ripped away from you. His voice rang out through the small room, rudimentary recording equipment distorting it, but the lyrics were still clear.
I can wait for you at the bottom
I can stay away if you want me to
I could wait for years if I gotta
Heaven knows I ain’t getting over you.
“Noah,” said Ruffilo, looking at him with sincerity, “this is the one. We should send it out.”
For years, the band had been talking about sending some of their music to various recording studios to see if they could get picked up. They’ve compiled a list of different studios whose values and sound matched what the band wanted to promote, and they’d been waiting to come up with a song that would work as a single. But Noah had suffered horrible writer’s block in the last year or so and hadn’t been able to come up with anything worthwhile.
“You think?” he said.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s get Folio and Jolly here to lay down their tracks. I think we’ve got something.”
______
The bitter January wind whipped at whatever bits of skin it could reach. Stopping to catch your breath, you wrapped your coat tighter around you, adjusted your scarf to better cover your face, and continued onwards, unsure of your destination.
You’d been walking for 15 minutes when the rattle of a truck engine slowing to a crawl broke through the sound of the wind. Isaac’s rusty green Chevrolet sputtered to a stop beside you.
“Need a lift?”
“Are you going to take me back to my parents’?” you asked.
He shook his head. You shrugged and trudged your way over the snow piled onto the curb and made your way around to the passenger’s side.
“Please don’t try to reason with me,” you said, sniffing back the cold from your nose and warming your hands on the vents.
“Wasn’t gonna. Your dad was out of line.”
You glanced over and caught the sincerity on his face. “Thanks.” Slumping agains the seat, you relaxed into the warm of the truck’s cabin.
That was a nightmare.
You knew your dad was angry with you, but pulling you out of school? That was a new level of petty. You knew why he was doing it—so that he could keep you under his thumb. He didn’t like how independent you’d become and didn’t trust you to make your own decisions. He also wanted to keep you away from Noah. He’d even said so when you protested.
“I don’t like the ideas that boy has been putting in your head,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” you said. “These are my thoughts.”
“You never acted like this when you were living at home. It’s only been since you were at school. Since you started hanging out with that punk. I never should have asked you to oversee community service. I thought you were stronger in your faith than that.”
“I AM strong in my faith. I just don’t believe the same things you do!,” you shouted back.
“Bruce,” your mother’s quiet voice drifted across the table, “maybe we should consider this before we take any action. I’m sure we could come to a compromise.”
“I am not having my daughter running around like some tramp,” your father’s voice boomed out.
“You do not have any room to talk!” your mother shouted, standing up. You’d never seen her so angry before.
“What’s going on?” you asked.
“Nothing,” your father replied.
“Like Hell it is,” your mother spat. “Bruce I cannot sit here and listen to your hypocrisy. You stomp around getting angry with everyone else’s sin while you pretend to be perfect. I’m not playing along anymore.”
“What aren’t you playing along with?” you asked.
“Ellen, don’t you dare,” said your father.
“Sweetheart, your father had an affair with a volunteer on our missions trip. That’s why we came home early. And now instead of getting himself right with God, he’s trying to control everyone else. Bruce, I am going to my women’s group. Pull her out of school if you want, but good luck controlling her. She might be even more stubborn than you.”
With that your mom walked out. Not knowing what to do or how to handle the information that had been dumped on you, you grabbed your coat and stalked off into the night.
“Where to?” Isaac asked.
“Anywhere but here.”
___________
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Taglist:
The taglist will only allow me to tag 50 people in a post, so I apologize if there's anyone I can't get to. I'll try to tag the rest in the comments.
You were the assistant choreographer for BTS tasked with taking over for the lead while on tour. You’d sacrificed everything for this job, and you didn’t want to risk it, but the temptation has proved to be too sweet.
Now you have to juggle the social, physical, and emotional consequences of your affairs. Jealousy between the members, social isolation, and potential feelings? No, that last one was not something you’d allow. You already had enough on your plate. You had to squash that down. But feelings demand to be felt. And you cannot run away forever.
Masterlist
A/N: I know Yoongi didn't serve the standard military service, but for the sake of the plot, pretend he did.
___________
The dark tinted windows of the black SUV obscured your vision. Wrought iron gates guarded the front entrance. Pollen and petals littered the black leather seats from the bouquet of sunflowers in your hands. Nervously, you wiped them onto the floor and adjusted the hem of your dress.
Outside, a commotion sounded as the gates parted. You sucked in a breath. He was here.
It had been almost a year since you’d last seen him. He’d been afforded leave on and off but he was usually busy during that time with the company or visiting family. You’d kept in touch with letters and phone calls, but seeing him in the flesh was a luxury you hadn’t been able to afford.
The commotion continued for a good twenty minutes, and you knew it would take a while for him to get past the mandatory greetings and press photo ops and finally make his way to the car, but each minute dragged on and had you drumming your manicured nails against the leather seat.
Watching him approach, you swallowed the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue and crouched behind the second row of seats to avoid being seen, holding the bouquet in front of your face for extra assurance.
When he finally clambered into the vehicle, he didn’t say anything. You peeked out from behind the bouquet to find him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a smile.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” he said, taking the bouquet from your hands as the car engine purred to life.
His hair was shorter, but not as short as the buzz cut he’d had last year when you had met up with him during a short leave break.
On the ride to his apartment, the two of you chatted about what you’d been up to in the last year. You told him of the new building you’d moved your studio into when classes got too big for the old one and the choreographers you’d hired to help you out. He discussed the various struggles he’d faced during his time in the military and soon it felt like old times. You kept a respectful distance between you during the car ride, broken only when he grabbed your hand during the walk from the elevator to his apartment.
There it was—the warmth you’d missed. His long fingers wrapped around your hand and squeezed it tightly to let you know he’d missed this as much as you had.
As soon as the two of you were inside, he flashed you his signature gummy smile and you couldn’t help but return it.
“So,” he began, leaning against the door, and you knew exactly what he was thinking.
“So,” you parroted, fidgeting with the tie on your dress.
A knowing smile played on the corner of his lips before he surged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Hi,” he muttered against your mouth.
“Mmm—missed you,” you said, draping your arms over his shoulders as he walked the two of you back towards his bedroom. That’s all you could get out before his tongue slipped into your mouth.
“I like this,” he said, running a finger under the garter strap that held up a set of thigh-high stockings.
“Oh!” you exclaimed, elastic snapping against skin.
It was quick, all sweat and tongues and teeth. After his time in the military, Yoongi was not interested in going slow or savoring anything—there would be time for that later.
After, Yoongi lay with his head on your chest as you lightly caressed the scar on his shoulder and he filled you in on his upcoming busy schedule now that the rest of the group had completed their service.
“Who’d they get to help with choreography?” you asked.
“Dunno,” he said shrugging. “I never paid much attention to that stuff. Except for once.” He nipped your skin to drive his point home. “Why? You thinking of coming back?”
“Ha!” you said. “I wouldn’t have the time, even if I hadn’t disgraced myself.”
“You know everyone would love it if you returned. Even just as a guest choreographer.”
“Fat chance.”
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about it. You deeply missed the friendships you had made with the members, as well as with the rest of the crew, but a bigger part of you felt that it was time to move on from that. Let the past be the past.
“They all miss you, you know,” he said, tentatively tracing a finger along one of your ribs.
“You’ve talked about me?” you asked. He nodded into your breast.
Propping himself up on his elbow, he fixed you with an inquisitive look. “Have you kept in contact with anyone?”
“Not much,” you shrugged. “Hobi and I text sometimes. Every once in a while, Jimin and I send each other viral dance challenges. Aside from that, it’s just the occasional birthday or holiday text. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “I just think it would be fun to get everyone back together sometime.” He flopped on his back and you rolled to face him, dragging the thin white bedsheet with you. Yoongi chewed on his lip for a beat before giving you a knowing look. “Have you talked to him at all?”
You inhaled a measured breath. “Not since he came to the studio,” you said, making eye contact with his shoulder scar.
“He asks about you sometimes,” he said. “I never know how much to tell him.”
“You can tell him whatever you want,” you said, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m keeping anything from him.” You continued tracing the tiny 7 tattoo on his shoulder until he grasped your hand in his, bringing your fingertips up to his mouth and delivering soft kisses to each one.
“I know it’s uncomfortable,” he began.
“It’s not,” you cut in, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “I just…I don’t know. It was six years ago. I just want to move on, you know?”
“You don’t think it would be easier to move on if you got closure?”
“Can we talk about something else?” you asked, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling fan.. He sighed, and you didn’t blame him. Even you were growing annoyed with your inability to face your demons.
“Would you at least be open to reconnecting with the group one day?” he asked. “I know it would be good for you.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing the only way to shut him up would be to agree. “Fine. One day.”
“Good,” he said, thumbing over your hip. “When did you get this tattoo?”
______
“Do you remember the last time we ate here?” asked Yoongi.
“I try not to think about it,” you laughed, stepping to the side as he opened the door to let you through. It was one of the few restaurants in the city with a private entrance for people who could be easily recognized by the public. The last time you’d been inside, the group had just finished preparing for a comeback. You’d gotten drunk and had tried to sleep with Jimin.
It was another lifetime ago.
Yoongi led you by the hand down the dark hallway and into a private back room. When you entered, you stopped in your tracks, slowly registered the sight in front of you, and immediately turned to leave. Nobody had seen you yet. You could still bail.
“Nope,” Yoongi said, catching you in his arms and turning you back towards the room.
“Yoongi I can’t,” you whispered. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Yes you can,” he soothed, nudging you forward. “It’s been long enough.”
Shakily, you stumbled forward as Yoongi directed you towards two chairs at the end of the table. At the same time, your dinner companions noticed your presence and looked up from their menus to greet you.
Cognitively, you understood that they were speaking. You registered the warmth in their greeting as well as the surprise, but you had no idea what was actually being said as your ability to understand language had suddenly been ripped from you.
The only person who didn’t seem at all surprised still looked at his menu as you were directed by Yoongi’s strong hands to sit in the seat at his right side.
The backs of your legs hit the wood of the chair with a thud, and all of your focus went to steadying your breath while the left side of your body burned with his proximity, skin embedded with the memory of his touch.
With great effort, you forced yourself to look up at the faces smiling at you. Seeing your old friends made it easier to coax your nervous system out of fight-or-flight mode. You greeted them with practiced poise, locking eyes with each member, as well as some of the crew members and managers you recognized who had also joined.
When the greetings had finished, you locked eyes with Yoongi, who offered a reassuring smile and mouthed ‘good job’ from his seat directly across from you. He held up his menu and started reading it over, which you took as a signal to do the same. It offered a welcome and much-needed distraction so you could collect your thoughts.
Junkgook sat stoic and still beside you, eyes burning a hole through the menu in front of him. He looked good, from what you could tell. Mostly the same since the last time you’d seen him, but you only took in what you could see from your periphery.
Pulling out your phone you texted Yoongi.
You: Did he know I was coming????
Yoongi: Yes. Be nice.
Gnawing on the inside of your cheek you put your phone away and scanned the menu again.
“Hey.”
The word came out soft—so soft it was almost lost in the ambient noise of the table, but your senses were still so attuned to him, even after all these years, that you picked it up instantly.
“Hey,” you echoed, not looking up from the menu.
He said nothing else for the time being, but almost imperceptibly, his posture shifted ever so slightly your way.
Sometime around when the server was in the middle of taking orders, the muscles in your shoulders relaxed and you settled into a comfortable familiarity with the members of the table. A slice of your focus remained on Jungkook, but the rest of your brain was able to carry on conversation with the members as they regaled stories of their military service and projects they were excited to work on now that they were all out.
Someone ordered a round of drinks. Everyone clinked glasses. Yours touched Jungkook’s, and you chanced a look at him. He did the same, and you locked eyes for only as long as was polite before breaking away to look at the tablecloth. You knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you talked, and when you did, there was an inescapable conversation to be had. It barreled toward you like a freight train.
It hit after two more rounds, as the table shared a dessert. Subtly, Jungkook turned to you, and almost under his breath, whispered “how have you been?”
Your stomach stretched taught, as if it had been connected to a rope that winded itself up into your esophagus. You swallowed the feeling back down and whispered back, “I’m okay. You?”
He fidgeted with the straw in his drink, not looking up from the plate in front of him. “I’m good. Was hoping I’d see you here.”
“Yeah?” you asked, a bit too eagerly. You bit the inside of your cheek.
He nodded. “I’ve been meaning to reach out.”
A shaky breath left your lips. You knew this was necessary, but the nerves inside you still held your body in a vise. “Yeah,” you agreed. “I was wondering if you would.”
He sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I tried a while ago. I think you have my number blocked.” It was awkward, how he said it. Not accusatory in the least, but with the carefulness of someone who must begrudgingly approach an elephant in the room.
“Oh,” you said, face flushing with more than just the alcohol you’d consumed. “I didn’t realize. I can fix that.”
You rushed to pull out your phone, but Jungkook swiftly placed a palm on your arm. “You—,” he started, but a jolt of electricity ran through the part of skin his palm touched and he immediately removed it. “Sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to do that right now.”
Your eyes lingered on the part of your arm he’d touched before they flicked up to meet his finally and the rest of the room faded into the background. “I guess I’m a little jumpy,” you said.
The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a lazy half-grin and your heart twisted, which was the last thing you wanted it to do.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You think it’d be okay if I texted you? Maybe we could meet up for coffee or something?”
“Sure,” you said, agreeing out of compulsion more than any cognitive desire to have that conversation.
“Cool.”
He turned back to his drink, taking a sip, and that was the end of the conversation.
_________
On the way out of the restaurant, as you climbed into the back of a cab with Yoongi, he grabbed your hand. There was warmth to his touch too, but it was a gentle, familiar warmth instead of the burning sensation that accompanied Jungkook’s.
“How was it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He wants to meet up.”
Yoongi brought your conjoined hands to his lips before delivering a soft kiss. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s hard to say,” you admitted. “I’d love to feel better about the whole situation. I know that talking it out is pretty much the only way to do that, but…,”
“You’re scared of what will happen?” he asked.
You slumped against the car seat, bringing his hand to rest on your thigh. “Aren’t you? What if it affects what happens with us? I don’t want to lose this.” You gave his hand a squeeze for emphasis.
Yoongi chuckled. “I’m more afraid of what will happen if you keep holding yourself back. Besides, you’re acting as if you won’t have free will to make your own choices. If you don’t want to lose this, take whatever steps you need so we can keep it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and I are solid. Nothing’s going to get in the way of that. We love each other. At least in our own weird little way. And yeah, maybe we’re not together in the most traditional sense, but we’ll always have this—whatever you want to call it—this bond. Even if it’s not the only romantic relationship in your life.”
You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb, eyes meeting his in a moment of vulnerability.
“And if he wants to be with me?” you asked.
“He might. Do you want to be with him?”
“Not if he makes me choose between you two.”
Yoongi chuckled again, rubbing his palm up and down your leg. “I don’t think he’ll do that. He tried once, remember? He saw how that played out.”
“What if he and I try to make it work, and then down the road he decides he doesn’t want to share?”
The car lurched to a stop at a red light. Yoongi locked eyes with you briefly before pulling you closer to him. He tucked your hair behind your ear, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and pulled you in for a lingering kiss.
“If that happens, you will have a difficult decision to make. But I also trust your ability to make the right choice for yourself, and at the end of the day, what I really want is for you to live a happy, fulfilling life. If I can be part of it, in whatever capacity, that would make it even better.”
You and Yoongi ended up in his bed together again that night. He whispered praises into your skin and you left your mark on him anywhere you could get away with.
You didn’t know what you and Yoongi were to each other. Or, well, you did know, but it wasn’t something that could be easily put into words. It was just something to be felt and experienced. There was love there, of course. And passion. And desire. But there were no restrictions. There was nothing between you that hinted at a defined future. Neither of you were exclusive, but neither of you were looking for anything beyond what the two of you shared.
Which is why, when Jungkook texted you the next morning and asked if you could meet up, you agreed.
___________________
Steeling yourself, you reached up, closing your fist and hovering your hand just over the cold metal of the door. One second passed. Then two. Then three. Your skin prickled with the cool blast from the air conditioning—or perhaps it was anticipation.
You exhaled, dropping your fist and thudding your forehead softly against the door. You’d been working up the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door and then panicking and bailing repeatedly for the last ten minutes.
A staticky crackle sounded to your left and you jumped.
“Are you going to stand there forever or are you going to actually knock?”
It was then that you noticed the camera and speaker next to his door.
“Shit, sorry!” you said, backing away from the door. It swung open, revealing Jungkook, shirtless in grey sweatpants, because of course that’s what he was wearing. Why wouldn’t he be shirtless in grey sweatpants?
He stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, fixing your eyes on a corner of his apartment to keep them from drifting over to his chest.
Too long of that, however, and he cleared his throat. You turned to face him and he had his arms crossed over his chest. The memory of the two of you in this very position flashed in your mind, a repeat of that fateful night in Chicago.
“You have some nerve showing up here,” he said.
You grimaced, hanging your head.
“I know.”
“I waited for an hour.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have texted.”
“I know,” you repeated. “I panicked.”
He huffed and shook his head, leaning against the back of the door. “Why are you here?”
You chewed on the inside of your lip. That was a question you’d been asking yourself. Jungkook had reached out last week asking you to meet up for coffee. You’d agreed on a time and a place, which wasn’t easy to do considering how cautious Jungkook had to be whenever he ventured out of his apartment. And then you never showed. He’d called and texted several times that day, asking what had happened, and you had no answer for him.
Just like you had no answer for him now. At least, not one you could easily put into words.
“I felt bad,” you said. It was a pathetic excuse. One which Jungkook picked up on.
“You felt bad,” he repeated.
You tried to look at him, but found his naked torso too intimidating to make eye contact with. “Can you put on a shirt please?”
“No,” he said incredulously. “You came into my house unannounced after standing me up. I’ll wear what I want.”
You sighed in frustration. Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy for you, and why should he?
“Look, I’m not proud of how I acted, okay? I’m sure you can understand what it’s like to have a weak moment.” At that, you looked at him, and a bit of the hardness of his jaw finally slackened, so you took it as your sign to continue. “I knew this was going to be a difficult conversation and I was afraid of what would happen, so I ghosted. But it hasn’t been sitting right with me, and I agree that we probably should talk about it if either of us ever hope to move on and find closure or at least not have any animosity or whatever. So I came here hoping to…,” you began to trail off, “…do that. I guess.”
His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek. After all these years, you liked knowing that he still did that whenever he was feeling impatient.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “It wasn’t cool of me. I don’t want to do that again.”
Something in the air shifted—a subtle change in the energy wavelengths coming from Jungkook’s end and you realized he was deciding to forgive you, even if he was still upset about it. Your heartbeat slowed.
“Do you want to sit?” he asked, nodding over to the sectional sofa taking up the living room portion of the open-concept apartment.
“Thanks.”
He led you over to the sofa, plopping down on one side while you slowly lowered yourself onto a seat at the opposite end. Jungkook kicked his feet up on the ottoman, savoring having the upper hand in the conversation for once.
As hard as it was to admit, you liked him better this way. You didn’t want him tip-toeing around you the way you were currently with him. There was a familiar sort of comfort in the dynamic that humbled you in a way that was necessary.
“So you wanted to talk?” you began.
He nodded. “Seems like a good move, don’t you think?” He flung an arm over the back of the chair. Your eyes followed the movement before you had to avert them.
“Yeah,” you said, but failed to follow it up with anything. It would have been nice if your brain would cooperate, but Jungkook’s aura took up all the air in the room, so you settled for wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans.
“Okay, I’ll start,” he said after a while. “Congrats on the award.”
“Thanks,” you breathed, relaxing into the conversation finally now that he’d broken the ice. The city had formally recognized your philanthropic efforts at an award ceremony three months ago. All the local charitable organizations had been invited to attend the event, including yours, and the mayor himself had awarded you with recognition for the work that you’ve been doing with sexual assault survivors. The class had grown from twelve to over sixty participants, and you’d used the grant money you’d received to hire an assistant choreographer of your own to lead a second class.
“Same to you. The album’s done really well.”
“You listened to it?” he asked, and you nodded.
“Did you…was it,” you began, knowing the question that was on your tongue but having trouble launching it from your mouth.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, trying to play nonchalant. “I mean, I changed some things, but you’re in there.”
You nodded slowly, digesting the information that you had suspected to be true for some time now. Having it confirmed was something else. “How much was me?” you asked.
He shrugged. “You know which ones are you.”
You nodded, because you did know.
“I hope that doesn’t make it weird,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to like, convince you to come back to me or anything. My therapist suggested I channel my feelings into my work and use it as inspiration, and I didn’t have much to lose at that point, so I figured I may as well.”
“That was pretty vulnerable of you,” you said, picking at a stray thread on the back of his couch. His eyes flicked to your fingers.
“I think looking back on it, I could have been more…measured with my vulnerability.”
The corner of your mouth twitched upwards on its own. You’d thought the same thing when you first heard it. “I think the fans liked it.”
He chuckled, bashful. “Live and learn.”
You nodded again, allowing the conversation to lull into a semi-comfortable silence.
“Drink?” he asked. “I have ice water, tea. Something stronger if you’re craving it at,” he checked his watch, “eleven thirty in the morning.”
“Ice water would be great.”
You watched him move casually through this space, noticing all the ways in which he was the same and all the ways he was entirely different. He was less tense, for sure. His shoulders sat casually at the base of his neck, whereas before they had always been tightly ratcheted to each other.
Handing you the glass, you allowed your fingertips to graze his and he purposefully held eye contact with you, both sharing the mutual understanding that this touch was very much on purpose and a test.
You broke the gaze first, flushing and dropping your eyes to the glass as you brought it to your lips and sipped.
“Thank you,” you said, swallowing thickly.
“Sure.”
Another silence fell between the two of you—this one more awkward than the last. You brought your eyes up to meet his and found him staring at you perplexedly, head tilted to the side.
“Hm?”
“Nothing, I’m just,” he began, searching for words. “I’m just processing you being here, I guess. I’ve imagined this moment going a hundred different ways and now that it’s here, it feels surreal.”
You knew what he meant. You’d done the same thing and were feeling the same way about being there.
“How do you think it’s going?” you asked.
He cracked a smile. “It’s…not as scary as I worried it could be. Definitely not comfortable, but it feels right. Natural.”
“Is there anything you wanted to talk about specifically?” you asked.
“A lot,” he confessed, “but they’re all hard to talk about.”
You huffed a laugh. “Same here. Shall we rip the band-aid off, then?”
He nodded. “Why did you hook up with me that first day?”
You had to stop yourself from snorting into your glass, not because it was funny, but because he really had gotten straight to the point.
“Well,” you began, eyes scanning the ceiling as if you’d find the answer written up there, “for one, you’re very attractive, Jungkook. I think you know this. Plus, it had been a while since I’d felt the weight of a man on me. I was feeling lonely for a long time. I built my entire identity around work and didn’t have much of a life outside of it. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Did you have feelings for me?”
“At first, no,” you said, taking a sip and then swallowing hard. “Eventually, yes.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. They shouldn’t have, because he had to have known. “When?”
“Chicago.”
He took a sip of water as well, seeming like something had clicked for him.
“Why did you hook up with me?” you fired back.
“I had a crush on you since you first started at the company. I respected you though. You were always so professional, so I’d written it off as just something I’d have to get over. But then that night at the studio happened, and I guess I allowed myself to entertain that crush.”
“I see.”
“Why did you sleep with Jimin? Right after?”
That was a harder one to answer. Sucking on your tongue, you searched your brain for the most accurate answer. “Sleeping with you opened a sort of floodgate for me. I felt very out-of-control. Part of me was ashamed that I’d crossed a professional boundary and I entered into a sort of shame spiral.
“I thought it was manageable when it was just us, but then you started acting possessive and jealous, and I didn’t know how to handle that. It didn’t feel safe to be with you, but there was a hunger you’d sort of awoken in me, and if it couldn’t be met by you, I was going to find someone else to do it.”
You had never put the emotions into words before. It was as if by saying it, you were finally processing everything that had happened.
“Where did that hunger come from?” he asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
The tip of his tongue poked out to moisten his lips as he regarded you for a minute. “Do you think we’d have started dating if I hadn’t acted so jealous?”
A bitter half-laugh escaped from your lungs. “I have no idea. Yes? Maybe? But then again, relationships are kind of impossible in your line of work.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you in a relationship with Yoongi?”
That was not something you expected him to ask. “It’s…complicated.”
He blinked a few times. “Go on.”
Grimacing, you tried to push past your discomfort. “We’re not like…together in the traditional way.”
“Do you fuck?” He asked, and a nervous laugh burst out of you.
“Yeah, but it’s also about like, being good for each other. We decided not to put any labels on it.”
“So you love him?” he asked.
You nodded. “I love him.”
He pursed his lips, considering you for a moment.
“Back when we were on the tour, I asked you if anything was going on between you and Yoongi. You said there was nothing.”
“At the time, we were just friends.” Your neck grew warm under his scrutiny. You were approaching the real meat of the conversation. “But in in all honesty, there was some flirting going on. And I had tried to hook up with him, but he turned me down.”
He nodded again, chewing on the information, seeing how tough it was to swallow. “Okay. So when I came to your room that time and told you how I felt…you turned me away. But you just said you developed feelings for me after Chicago.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t know how to make sense of that.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah. So…I wasn’t lying when I said I had feelings for you. Turning you down was actually one of the hardest things I’d had to do at that point..”
“So then why Yoongi instead of me?”
That really was the million-dollar question. Where would you have ended up if you’d chosen to let Jungkook stay that night six years ago? Would you have ended up with Yoongi regardless? Would you be with Jungkook now? It seemed like everything changed that night.
You swallowed, biting your lip while you worked out how to put your thoughts into words. “I…,” you began, but struggled to find what you wanted to say. “I guess it’s like…Yoongi understood in a way nobody else did. I really needed that. And at the time, I needed to connect with someone who just…got it. We didn’t have to work to understand each other. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone when I needed it most.”
Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes rested somewhere on the wall to your left, unfocused.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked.
“I’m replaying the night I came to your room. Wondering if there was something I could have done to make you feel the way Yoongi did.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” you said, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee. You knew touching him was toeing the line, but you wanted to convey your sincerity. “It wasn’t what Yoongi did. It was who he was. The things he’d gone through.”
Jungkook’s eyes fell on the spot where your hand lay. You could tell despite your reassurance, he was hurt by the situation. As were you.
“So you and Yoongi are…together now?”
“Like exclusively? No,” you said.
He nodded, and you felt his energy shift. Perhaps he was hoping for a different answer.
“Are you in an open relationship then?” he asked.
“I guess?” you answered. “I mean. Theoretically. We haven’t defined it as a relationship, and I haven’t been with anyone else.” You could feel yourself offering up too much information and decided to leave it at that.
That last tidbit did seem to pique his interest though. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it for a beat. You had a feeling you knew where the conversation was heading.
“Would you be with anyone else?” he asked. Ballsy of him to come right out and say it. The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, and his gaze landed on it. You knew he knew you knew what he was really asking.
“Possibly,” you said slowly, holding eye contact. You didn’t want him to get too excited, but you also couldn’t help the anticipation bubbling up inside of you. “Depending on the circumstances.”
Too late. He dug his upper teeth into the skin at the edge of his lip, pupils dilated. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. You also knew he was determined to get this right. You’d just issued him the ultimate challenge, and Jungkook was nothing if not competitive.
“Not so fast,” you said. “We need to talk about Japan.”
He broke eye contact, letting his gaze fall somewhere on the edge of the ottoman in front of you. He picked at a stray thread on his clothes. Inhaling deeply and letting it out in a puff of air, he nodded.
“Where should we start?”
“A couple things I want to get off my chest first,” you started. He nodded again.
“First, I was telling the truth that time you caught me walking out of Tae’s room.”
“I know,” he cut in. “Taehyung told me everything.”
“Okay good,” you said. “And when I told you nothing was going on with Yoongi, again, that was true at the time.”
He held up a palm to stop you. “The guys and I all cleared up these misunderstandings a long time ago. I acted like a dick at the time, but you don’t need to explain anything. I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
“Okay,” you said, stopping short. You’d had a bit of a monologue prepared and now that it was unnecessary, you weren’t sure where to go.
Luckily, Jungkook had you covered.
“So we kind of talked about this already, and I have an idea about what the answer is but can you just clarify why you turned me away when I came to your room? I’m not bitter about it or anything,” he said. “Just confused. I thought you liked me.”
“I did,” you insisted.
“Did?” he asked, again bold.
“Pending.”
He nodded.
“It was just the timing of everything. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with you when I had so much baggage to sort through. I wouldn’t have been a good partner to you. And to be honest, I’m not sure you would have been the best partner to me at the time.”
“You think we would have started a relationship?” he asked.
“Don’t you?” you asked. “I mean, even if we didn’t officially date, I would have wanted to, and would have spent the whole rest of the tour chasing one instead of focusing on my job.”
You could feel yourself getting emotional again. That was what you were afraid of. Taking a deep breath, you worked to stay grounded. After all this time, he still had this effect on you.
“Okay,” he said, and you got the sense he was trying to calm you down. “Okay.” He sucked on his bottom lip for a few beats before continuing. “Okay, so here’s I guess what I didn’t understand: why were you able to spend the night with Yoongi shortly after? Why could you have a relationship with him and not me?”
You felt his question in the center of your ribcage. You knew your answer, but it wouldn’t be easy for you to say or him to hear.
“Yoongi earned it,” you said, eyeing him carefully to see his reaction. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw the tiniest grimace on his face. Whatever it was, he recovered quickly.
“In a way that I wasn’t?” he asked.
You pursed your lips, considering your words. “I don’t know. I think you were good for me in a weird way. In Chicago, you were good for me. And even when you refused to kiss me, I think it was good for me. I think I needed to be rejected by you in order to get my head out of my ass. But then you didn’t stay away, and I think that wasn’t good for me. I think you needed to stay away in order for me to learn the lesson I needed to learn.”
“Which was?” he asked.
“That I had to stop taking people for granted and treating them like shit. I was really entitled to you,” you confessed. “I didn’t treat you well at all, and I don’t think I respected you the way I should have.”
He swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing up and down and he blinked a few times.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing it’s just…I always thought it was just me who treated you shitty, but I think there’s a part of me that really needed to hear that.”
Steeling yourself, you took his hand in yours and looked straight into his eyes, which had grown ever so slightly glassy. “Jungkook, I was not kind to you. I wasn’t a good person back then, and I should have been better. It wasn’t just you.”
Something cracked within his composure and suddenly, you were swallowed up by his presence. It took a second to register he was hugging you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” you said, hugging him back. “I’m sorry too.” You inhaled the smell of him, both familiar and a little new, savoring the feel of his arms around you, but this time, it didn’t pull you under the way it had back then. This time, you were able to keep you head above the water.
He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to be good for you,” he promised. “If you let me back into your life, I promise this time I won’t fuck it up.”
You smiled, taking his hands from your face and bringing them to rest in your lap. He got the message and pulled back to look at you. “I believe you,” you said. “But I still need to make sure I can be good for you, too.”
“How would you do that?” he asked.
You sucked in a breath, “I think it’s by asking you to be patient,” you said.
He fell back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”
You chuckled, scooting closer to him and he used the hand that was still holding yours to pull you into his lap. You let him. “You’ve always had trouble with that, haven’t you?” you asked, teasing.
He opened one eye to look at you. “I have been very patient, thank you.”
You laughed, leaning in to press your body against his. “I suppose you have.”
Grinning, he wrapped an arm around you and you savored his touch. He was warm, and smelled like a heady mixture of his own musk, the cologne he always wore, and what you suspected was a new shampoo. Slowly, you began to register a growing firmness underneath you.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. You thought about it for a moment, but you already knew your answer. You had also been patient. You nodded.
Kissing Jungkook was unlike kissing anyone else. It was like diving into the ocean—raw, powerful, easy to be overpowered if you didn’t know how to swim. Luckily, you did. You kissed him back passionately, licking into his mouth and fighting against the current until you finally found a rhythm. His hand traced from your neck down your back, eventually coming to rest on your ass, and you waited for the nerves to come, but they never did. It felt right. A thought did, however, pop into your head and you broke the kiss, panting.
“You know I’m still loyal to Yoongi, right?” you breathed. His hand squeezed the soft flesh of your ass.
“Yeah,” he said between heavy breaths. Beads of sweat collected where your fingers met his chest. “Obviously.”
“And like, we’ll have to talk about what this means at some point,” you said, digging your nails into his skin. His chest rose and fell with the breath coming through his open mouth.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Whenever you want. Kiss me again.”
You wasted no time, diving back in as he fisted your shirt in his hand.
“Mmmph. Bedroom?” he muttered into your mouth.
“Yeah,” you said, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you into the air and walked the two of you across the span of his apartment, kicking open the door of his bedroom and tossing you unceremoniously on to the bed.
“These are coming off,” he said, grabbing the waistband of your pants and ripping them down your body. His eyes were blown wide with lust, but you could tell he was still in control. If you asked him to wait, he would.
Patting the bed, you gestured for him to join you, and when he did, you eagerly straddled his hips, rocking into him and reveling in the sensation you’d dreamt about for years.
“Kiss my neck,” you said, and he did, not even bothering to hide the bruises he deliberately sucked into your skin. He rubbed you over your panties, no doubt feeling how soaked they were.
“Can I?” he asked and you nodded, closing your eyes and arching into him as he slipped his digits under the fabric and rubbed between your folds. You whimpered into his touch. “I missed that sound.”
It wasn’t long before the two of you were completely naked, bodies pressed up against each other as you teased the tip of his cock, hovering over him just enough so he could feel how warm and wet you were, but not enough for him to sheath himself in you.
“Please?” he begged.
You bit your lip, rocking your hips over him without letting him slip inside just yet.
“Please?” he whined, neediness reaching a crescendo. Still, you said nothing and continued rocking into him.
“What do I have to do?”
“Love me,” you whispered.
“I do,” he panted. “I never stopped.”
“Love me even more,” you said.
“I will!” he promised. “I’ll love you more than you’ve ever been loved.”
“Really?” you asked, grinning down at him, expecting him to make up some bullshit in order to get laid. He surprised you by looking directly into your eyes.
“Really,” he said, and the sincerity on his face was so intense you broke eye contact and dropped your gaze to his chest. He stopped moving and he took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I mean it.”
Almost without your permission, your body submitted to him. He finally pushed into you and your head dropped back in rapture. Rolling onto your back, your body moved on his own accord, matching his movements until you moved as one. A sound bath of his voice surrounded you—breathy little noises mixed with whines and gasps that increased in volume as his movements increased in effort.
“Jungkook,” you whined, “baby slow down, I don’t want to come too soon.”
“What if I promise to make it up to you?” he panted, voice strained with his thrusts.
Rather than answer, you offered up a high-pitched moan, filling the room with sound and he sped up, his movements becoming sloppy.
“Where should I come?” he grunted.
“Inside,” you breathed. “You can come inside.”
“Fuck yeah.” His hands found purchase on your hips and he used the leverage to speed up.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you panted, “fuck I’m gonna—,” but the rest of your words were swallowed by a moan as you came, hard, everywhere.
Jungkook looked down to see his chest glistening with your juices. “Shit, I forgot you did that sometimes.”
You threw an arm over your face in embarrassment, but he didn’t let you hide. Instead, he pulled out briefly before hoisting you up and spinning you around so you were on your hands and knees. When he resumed his movements, it was at a punishing pace. You were on the verge of overstimulation, but held out for him. You wanted him to get his fill.
“Almost there,” he said between gritted teeth. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts and then spilled himself into you with a shuddering groan.
You collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto your side so you could face him and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before closing his eyes to catch his breath.
When he opened them again, he smiled lazily.
“Hi,” you whispered, suddenly shy.
“Hi,” he chuckled.
“I don’t know what this means,” you said, gesturing to your bodies, legs still entangled in each other’s.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he replied. “We can just take it day by day.”
He pulled you into him, kissing you lazily until you were both spent enough that ended up falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun.
There was still more to discuss with Jungkook. You hadn’t even begun to talk about what happened in Japan during that tour, but you sensed that when you did finally breach the topic, you would come to an understanding and would be able to move forward without it hanging over you like a dark cloud. For the first time, it felt like Jungkook was good for you.
___________
The next morning, you unlocked the door to Yoongi’s apartment, where you were staying for the next week, and when you found Yoongi cheerfully frying eggs in the kitchen, you greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.
“How’d it go?” he asked, putting down his chopsticks and wrapping an arm around you to pull you in for a real kiss.
“Good,” you said, with a smile. You brushed off a piece of lint that clung to his shoulder and nuzzled into him.
“Someone got laid,” he said, chuckling to himself.
You pulled back to look at him. “Is that okay?” you asked.
“Preferred,” he replied. “You’ve been mopey for years. It was driving me nuts.” He picked up his chopsticks with his free hand and resumed scrambling the eggs, but he didn’t let go of you.
“Did you know this whole time?” You asked.
“What? That you never stopped loving Jungkook?” he said, “Pretty much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You kept insisting that you were fine. I knew you needed some time to work through some things, but then you started procrastinating. It was me who forced you to see him at dinner the other day, in case you forgot.”
You moved so you were hugging him from behind while he tried not to burn the eggs.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you said.
“I have a few ideas for how you can thank me.” He grabbed one of your hands and moved it down over the front of his boxers. You complied, rubbing over him and kissing the back of his neck.
“You sure you won’t get jealous?” you asked.
He turned the burner off, spinning around to face you. The look in his eyes was serious. “I’m a big boy. I know how to handle jealousy, even if it does come up, which is hasn’t yet. Falling in love with you means falling in love with all of you, even the part that loves someone other than me,” he said.
Unexpectedly, a lump rose in your throat and tears pricked your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” you choked out.
Yoongi walked you backwards until you hit the kitchen island, then he lifted you so you were sitting on it. “Believe it or not, you’re worth it. I’m sorry that you spent most of your life not being treated the way you deserved, but it’s time you understood what it really means to be loved.” He punctuated his thought with a kiss and you wrapped your arms around him to deepen it.
“I want to be good to you, too,” you said.
“You already are. You’ve never once asked me to be anything other than myself. You’re thoughtful, honest, and hot as hell. And you let me put it in raw,” he said. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Oh shit, that reminds me,” you said. “I didn’t ask him to wear a condom.”
Yoongi screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well I guess it was time to get tested anyway. I’ll ask Jungkook to test himself as well when I see him later. We have a group meeting with Bang today to go over the next steps for the comeback.”
“I should do that,” you said. “I think our relationships should remain separate, at least for now.”
He rubbed his thumbs along your hips. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“This is going to be weird, isn’t it?”
“A little. Until we get used to it.”
“It’s going to be complicated, too.”
He nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” you asked and he rolled his eyes.
“I’ve already said yes,” he said, annoyed, and then softened. “You’re happier than I’ve seen you in over six years. That’s worth dealing with whatever logistical issues come up.”
You responded by kissing him deeply, savoring the feeling of being loved so wholly and offering up just as much love to him in return.
“Oh, and one more thing, before I forget,” Yoongi said, pulling away.
“What is it?”
“Hoseok wants to know if you’ll help with the choreography for our comeback.”
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US based but it’s similar reasons in other countries. and of course many companies have international locations. idk if that’s why it’s happening with sour patch kids but this is a thing
My nephew is very allergic to eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, and sesame. Last year my sister discovered all hot dogs and hamburger buns now contain sesame. Not "may contain", but listed in the ingredients. This year basically every brand of sliced bread also now contains sesame, making it very difficult to find bread items he can eat.
They're just adding it to their products, so they can just list it as an ingredient and not bother with worrying about cross contamination. And they aren't even bothering with telling anyone. Capitalism is going to kill us all.
"Which brings us back to Kellogg’s. Back in 2016, the company found a way around the added burden and expense of complying with the FSMA: they simply began adding trace amounts of peanut flour to their cracker products. Doing so allowed them to list peanuts as an ingredient of the product, freeing them from having to prevent cross-contact.
At the time, Kellogg’s notified Food Allergy Research and Education (FARE) about the impending change and left it to them to warn the allergic community. In this case, Pearson’s didn’t even bother as near as we can tell."
Reasons for hope: Lots of amazing people did a ton of work to make this fantastic, fully interactive resource available - because no matter how bleak things seem, there are millions, and millions of people doing everything they can to protect both the world and their own communities.
You can use this to view and subscribe to updates, project statuses, and for at least some of them even whole dossiers. This is an amazing resource, I highly recommend checking it out
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im reading your bio thingie and it's says "they/them (it/it's if you're cool)" or smth like that and I'm curious, does that mean that you prefer it/it's pronouns, but are fine with they/them pronouns from people that like don't fully understand it/it's pronouns or something like that?
id say i primarily prefer they/them but am dabbling in the it/its space. its like a limited edition test run for only the coolest followers (you have to self select as 'cool')
when I was in high school I had a literature teacher who had a policy of unlimited extra credit. All you had to do was read a book by a notable author (his discretion) and have a little chat with him after school to prove that you read it. No limits, no need for variety (one month I decided I really loved Kurt Vonnegut and just read everything of his I could get my hands on).
Yes, I was tearing through books constantly, and talking to this teacher at least weekly. Because even though I always loved reading as a kid, literature was always a very weak subject for me in terms of a teaching-to-standardized-test school setting (I just do awful on "what color were the curtains" type multiple choice questions. Those details don't stick in my memory THEY JUST DON'T). But that didn't matter for this class. I could just read my way out of any bad test score. I have always had fond memories of how I "fudged" my way through that class and "abused' the extra credit policy.
I was thinking about it again today, and only just now realized that he absolutely tricked me into being well-read, while my teenage self thought I was totally getting away with something. THAT MOTHERFUCKER. I hope he's doing well.
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Does he put the glitter on his pubes for when he does his acrobatics? I bet he’d still get kicked out but they’d at least hesitate a little before doing it.
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