“Is he coming today?” you ask Namjoon, excitement not even concealed a little bit as you throw yourself on the couch. 

“Hmm?” 

“Jeongguk-ssi. Is he coming?” 

Namjoon swivels around to face you, one eyebrow raised. “I think he is, yeah. That exciting for you?”

You nod furiously, not even trying to suppress your enthusiasm. “He’s so nice,” you say, and it almost comes out less dreamy than you feel. You’ve met him once before and he is nice, and unbelievably pretty, and you never even thought you’d get a ticket to one of his concerts, let alone watch him sing into a microphone in the small recording area of Namjoon’s studio. It’s surreal. You’re starstruck by him in a way you aren’t usually by the people you meet in your line of work. It’s a little annoying—you don’t like feeling that way, but Jeongguk is… well, he’s special and he knows it, but he’s still seemingly really humble about it. You feel like a fangirl. 

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Namjoon says curiously. “You talk to famous people all the time.” 

“But he’s…” You just sigh, unable to find the word you were looking for.

Namjoon laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I wish you got all starry-eyed like that about me, though.”

It’s absurd, you think, because you feel so much differently about Namjoon. You’re not intimidated by him, you just respect him. And you know him better than you know almost anyone else, which changes things. You may not be starry-eyed for him at every opportunity anymore, but what you are is so much more than that. You love him. He has to know that. 

“Maybe you should get some tattoos like Jeongguk,” you tease. “They’d look good on you.” It comes out before you can stop yourself. For a second, you regret it, you think maybe you should have said something sincere about how much you care for him. But he knows. He definitely has to know. 

“Hmm… Maybe,” he hums, turning back to his screens. “Maybe I should get your name right on my asscheek.” 

“Forget I said anything,” you deadpan. And you hear him laugh one more time before you both slip your headphones on and get to work. 

Jeongguk comes by a couple of hours later, as gorgeous and quiet and polite as ever, and you try try try to be cool about it, but you’re barely containing your excitement. Or not containing it, maybe, judging by the way Namjoon has rolled his eyes at you a half dozen times since the singer showed up. 

When they’re done working, Jeongguk and Namjoon pull their headphones off and start chatting—Jeongguk takes the chair opposite you and Namjoon sits next to you on the sofa. You cringe when he puts his bare feet on the coffee table—it’s his, but it had to have cost more than several months of your rent. And sometimes you eat off of it. So… you know. 

You tune back into the conversation just as Namjoon says, “... an autograph?” 

And your head shoots up from where you’d been staring at his feet, your eyes wider than wide. 

It makes Jeongguk blush and his teeth burst out of his smile. “Of course, hyung. You don’t have to ask.” 

“Yes, he does,” you say enthusiastically. They both turn to you, and you feel a little on the spot, a little nervous. “I mean… It would mean a lot to me, and he knows that. So, it’s…” You trail off, not even sure what you’d planned to say. You’d mentioned in passing to Namjoon that you’d basically kill to get Jeongguk’s autograph, but he seemed to think you were just being ridiculous, that there was no reason to need it when you’d already met the singer. You weren’t sure he would even ask—you definitely didn’t think he would ask in front of you. 

But, he did, so you swallow your dignity and pull your copy of Jeongguk’s most recent album out of your bag and hand it to him with a marker. Of course you’re prepared. Of course you watch Jeongguk sign it with a beaming smile on your face. Namjoon lifts an eyebrow and you see him clench his jaw, staring at nothing in particular. It’s not a look you see him give too often, and you haven’t had it directed at you before—it’s hard to tell if it’s for you now, but there’s no one else around. Sure, he’d teased you about this, but there’s no way he’s actually bothered… you hope. It makes you feel nervous in a different way… an almost unpleasant one. 

Later, after Jeongguk is gone and your newly signed album is tucked away back safely in your bag after an embarrassingly high number of thank yous, you and Namjoon both work. The air is thick, a little tense, and you’re pretty sure it’s not only in your head. He’s always quiet when he’s working, always focused, but tonight he’s quieter than usual. Everything you say to him is met with one or two word responses and he barely makes eye contact. It’s after midnight by the time his manager peeks in to see if you’ll be leaving soon, and you nod affirmatively while Namjoon just waves him off without even turning around. 

You have to come stand next to him to get his attention. “I think I’m done for the day,” you tell him, trying to stifle a yawn as you stretch your arms overhead. 

“Fine. See you at home?” 

And what a funny question, because he definitely seems irritated, but also expects you to be at his apartment when he gets home? You don’t even live there; it’s not your home no matter how many nights you spend there each week. “You want me to stay over?” you ask, trying to get a better read on the situation. 

“Sure, why not? Someplace else you need to be?” 

Now, you’re the one raising a brow. He’s being weird. It all seems fine on the surface, maybe to someone who doesn’t know how you usually are with each other. He’s tense and short and his tone is clipped and he’s not looking at you and you sort of hate it. 

Fuck it. Might as well just ask. “Is everything okay?” 

He finally looks up at you, swiveling his chair around so he can face you, and you know the answer to your question is no before he even says anything. Mentally, you brace yourself a little for what he might say. But then he doesn’t say anything for a while, just looks at you, eyes tracing your face, down your body and back up before he lets out a long breath. He does that thing, the one where he tugs at his own neck, long fingers pushing into the flesh there like he can physically push the stress and tension out of his muscles if he tries hard enough. 

Then he’s reaching out to you, hands landing on your hips and pulling you forward between his knees. With one hand, his thumb digs into your hip bone almost too hard, and the other pushes your shirt up so he can press his lips into the skin across your ribs, the soft swell of your stomach, the tops of your hips. “Mine,” he says into your skin—you think that’s what he’s saying anyway, because you barely hear it, could almost be in your imagination, the soft sound muffled by your own body. 

You lift your hands and run your fingers through his hair, brushing it back the way he likes with the soft strokes he always says are his favorite, but this time, he pulls you down by your elbows until your foreheads are pressed together. Just like his thumb in your hip before, his grip on your arms is almost too tight, almost crossing the line into painful, but the look on his face is soft like a plea before his lips touch yours. 

“Mine,” he says again, and this time it’s unmistakable, urgent and possessive before his tongue slides into your mouth, licking like a claim more than a promise. 

While you kiss (if that’s what this even is… it feels more like a branding—hot and a little angry on your lips and tongue) you lower yourself into his lap. You both don’t really fit in his chair, but it just forces you to be pressed in close against him, thighs tight around his. 

Something strange is happening, it’s so close to being the way it always is between you, but everything is just slightly off-kilter. He’s pulling your head back by your hair to give him access to your neck, and it’s not kind; not sweet. He starts to bite along your pulse point, your throat, little nibbles harder than usual and he’s surely leaving marks as he goes. 

Underneath you, you feel him getting hard in his joggers, you hear his breath starting to come heavier and faster, you see his cheeks flush, but they’re not dimpled with the smirk he usually sports while you’re in this position. 

“Joonie,” you whisper, “what’s going on?” 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” he asks in return, his fingers traveling under your shirt, under your bra so he can pinch and twist more than softly at one of your nipples. You moan without even meaning to, because of course it feels good, of course he knows exactly how to touch you even when he’s doing all of it a little too hard. “Sounds like it feels good. Sounds like you like it, baby. Want me to mark you up?” He’s starting to ramble now, a little desperate, leaving more marks on your collarbone, your neck, as you grind down into his lap. 

“Feels good, Joon. Always feels the best with you.” 

It’s the first time all night you think you’ve said the right thing. You can almost feel him relax under you a little, but only a little. He’s still got a different kind of urgency written on his face, he’s still hard under you, and he’s still making marks on all your skin he can reach with his lips, still pinching and twisting at patches of skin under your shirt. 

“Gonna fuck you,” he whispers, moving you off his lap and following you up. It’s different because usually he asks. Usually, he lets you make the calls, lets you decide the when and the where and the pace and the pressure. That’s what’s off—this is all him without asking. You know he’d stop if you told him to, and you don’t want him to stop, but you do wonder why things are different this time. 

He pulls you across the room near the couch, the one you sat on just hours earlier, getting an autograph from his friend. It clicks for you then, what’s gotten into him, or what you think has, anyway. 

Standing there, you watch him unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs, and he’s focused, focused, focused, quiet and intense, his hands steady and a corner of his lip tucked under his teeth as he strips you. 

You don’t ask then, you wait until you’re on your knees on the couch, until you’re both naked, until he’s behind you and licking into your core with his fingers kneading at the tops of your thighs, spreading you open. 

This too, is different. 

Normally he takes his time with you, likes to tease you with his tongue, with his fingers. Likes to press kisses to your clit that don’t do anything except make you smile and wiggle around under him, likes to lick you open and then slide one or two long fingers in you and talk to you about how wet you are, how good you feel, how you taste like ripe fruit or syrup or something ridiculous. 

He likes to get you begging, likes you to want him so much he can see it in the way your muscles twitch. Likes it when you set the rules and then hand over the control to him. 

Not tonight. 

It’s all purposeful strokes with his tongue, it’s him pulling and twisting the flesh of your thighs, it’s silence and no sweet murmurings to make you melt. It’s fast and a little rough and it’s making your head spin when he licks and sucks and even bites a little right on your clit. It’s good, he’s always good, always knows how to make you come… But it’s different.

So, it’s the wrong time (or the right time) and you don’t really know why you finally say it as a response when he says, “Mine,” again before sucking your clit between his lips one last time and drawing out your first orgasm. 

“Are you jealous, Joonie?” you ask between labored breaths, “You think I want to fuck your friend?” 

Behind you, where he had been still nestled between your legs, he comes to a halt, tongue and fingers and breathing all stilled for a moment. Then a quiet, “Yeah…” The word long on his lips and the air behind it floating like a whisper across your core.

“I’m yours, though,” you say, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face over your shoulder. “All yours.” 

That earns you his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down so your weight falls on your forearms in front of him, ass up and your face pressed into the sofa so that you can’t keep trying to watch him with your neck turned back.

You’re still cum-slick and sensitive—you know he can tell by the way you let out an involuntary shiver when he drags the tip of his cock along your clit. 

“He wouldn’t be enough for you,” Namjoon says quietly, so serious. “You’re mine, baby. Gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

It’s not quite angry anymore, he’s no longer gripping too roughly or biting your skin—feels like he’s finally just about present, like he’s finally with you instead of just next to you. He’s teasing his cock at your entrance now, and you push back against him. “Yes, yours… Only for you. Please, Joon.” It’s a little needier than you meant, a little more desperate than you deserve, having already come once. But he’s a tease, and he’s so so hard, and it’s making you a little crazy that he wants you for himself like this, that you can make him go a little wild in this way. You’ve never seen him possessive like he was today. Maybe it shouldn’t turn you on, but calling you his, trying to claim you, it’s the closest thing he’s said to, “I love you.” He makes you a greedy, desperate thing, and you’ll take what you can get. You’ll take this from him if it means even close to what you want it to mean. 

Once more, he wraps some of your hair around his hand and pulls. You groan as your head tilts up and your back arches under the pressure. It’s not hard, it doesn’t hurt, but it still carries that same frantic feeling as he has since this started. “What do you need?”

“You to fuck me… Need your cock, Joonie… Please…”

And he’s always giving you what you say you need. It’s nobody’s fault but your own if you lie.

So, he thrusts into you and uses his grip on your hair to pull you onto him at the same time. It’s so fucking deep, and he feels as heavy and thick as ever inside you as you whimper in time with his thrusts. He’s been hard for what seems like an eternity, so you know it must be as much relief at this point as it is pleasure for him. 

“Want to make it last now,” he says, slowing his movements, being more prescribed, more precise with where he hits inside of you. His hand loosens around your hair, and your head falls down—you’re starting to tire now as you’re teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, about at the most you can take, because while he’s slowed, he’s still deep inside you and it’s so so much. Must be for him, too, because he’s still not talking as much as usual, just letting out short moans mixed with your name and broken, skipping record sentences all beginning or ending with “Mine.”

As he fucks you, he slides his hands under your front and pulls you up tight against him. You’re essentially sitting in his lap now, and it’s usually one of your favorite ways to fuck because it gets him so close to you. His hands on your breasts, his face buried in your neck. When you’re like this, when he’s all you can smell, all you can taste, all you can feel—it’s heaven. It’s all of your best fantasies come to life. And this still feels like a fantasy, like a dream, because it’s standing on the boundary of the familiar, because everything has fluffy, blurry edges and seems right and not right with him all at the same time. 

He turns your head to face him and cranes his own to meet you halfway. Your kiss is softer than you’ve been behaving—it’s tender and slow and you want to make a home in his mouth where it’s sweet and safe and his syrupy sappy words are supposed to come from. You tease him about being cheesy sometimes, but you like it; you like it better than today when he was upset even though it led to this. But now this finally feels almost right, this finally feels almost like you and Namjoon again. 

“Joon, I—”

And you’ve done this a million times, so he cuts you off with another kiss. He knows you’re his now (you hope this is the convincing he needed, anyway) and he knows what you need from him. He brings his fingers to your clit and strokes you there, gentle and steady like your kiss. It’s your way of talking, it’s his way of telling you everything you mean to him and everything he wants to be for you. He probably knows it’s not enough, not forever anyway, and that could be why it feels like a promise and an apology at the same time. You think maybe in spite of all the words that must be floating around his big brain, that this is all he knows how to give, so he gives it everything. 

Under his hand and while he’s buried deep inside of you, you come for the second time. It’s quiet—no noise in the fluttering of your walls around him and the way your eyes fall shut—the second time is pain and pleasure combined, and he’s told you before he sometimes wonders if it’s too much when they happen in close succession like this. 

It’s only seconds until he comes too, squeezing every muscle in and around you. It’s all-consuming—he always is. 

You lift yourself off of his lap when he’s stopped pulsing inside you, and let yourself spread out on the sofa under him, offering him a hand to do the same, half next to you and half on top of you. He’s heavy and warm and solid, and he’s the physical manifestation of the biggest love you’ve ever felt. You still don’t know what happened, why he got so worked up, not really, but before you fall asleep, you hear the quiet, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers into your hair. You don’t really know if you should have said it first.  

It’s close to sunrise when you and Namjoon make your way back to his apartment. You’d slept uncomfortably on the sofa of his studio for a couple hours, cleaned yourselves up in relative silence and then called for a car. Between you, things don’t feel quite right. He looks sheepish, you feel embarrassed. It’s not quite bad enough to be uncomfortable, but it’s close. When you tumble through his front door and kick your shoes off, he pulls you into a tight hug. You sigh in tandem and you hope it lets the weird feelings out. It’s the kind of thing you should talk about, but you don’t know how to start the conversation. So, you don’t. Namjoon doesn’t either.

It’s probably a mistake. 

It feels like a mistake when you wake up early in the afternoon and he’s not in bed with you. It feels like a mistake when you get ready for work alone, and the sound of Namjoon murmuring on the phone in his office across the apartment is the only company you have. It feels like a mistake when you ask if he wants to ride together to the museum party you’re both attending, and he says you probably shouldn’t, that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Feels like a mistake when you both deposit the rings you’d bought for your 200 days into the small dish by his door (never in public, you know you never wear them in public… and still—a big gesture reduced to something secret feels like a mistake sometimes. Feels like you’re betraying yourselves somehow). 

It feels the most like a mistake when Tae texts you to tell you he’s waiting in the car outside and Namjoon kisses your cheek in goodbye instead of your lips. 

Taehyung, to his credit, leaves you alone on the drive after he realizes something is wrong. He doesn’t bother you about what’s bothering you, instead catching you up on things you’d missed around your own apartment in the last couple weeks. Jimin’s been busy, picking up a couple of more advanced classes, but Tae says he likes the challenge, likes the students. It’s good—Jimin works hard, deserves good things. The stories are enough to distract you from your own potential problems until you get to the event. 

It’s never fun to go into things like this in a bad mood. Makes it hard to focus on your job, makes it hard to enjoy things you normally would. This should be easy, but it’s a big party. The yearly member/donor party for the museum is complete with celebrity appearances (including Namjoon) on a red carpet, a silent auction on rare prints and originals, and an expensive plated dinner you’re usually excited about eating with your boss and Taehyung by your side. This year though, it’s different. None of the prints for auction seem as special, the food doesn’t taste as good, it’s not even much fun to make fun of the stupid shit famous people wear because some designer said they should. 

You’re sulking and you know it. 

The weird thing with Namjoon turned into a sour mood for you, and it’s been made worse watching him flash his dimpled grin to models and singers and artists across the room. You hadn’t been on the receiving end of it all day (or the night before), and it’s throwing you off. Seems like a gift he can give so easily, like something you’re missing out on. 

An ugly pit that feels like resentment starts to settle in your gut where your food should be. Instead of eating or talking or having a good time, you sulk more; you push the food around on your plate, and you try not to watch him in an obvious way. 

Taehyung solidifies his status as one of your best friends when he smoothly talks around the idea of you grabbing Namjoon for an interview even though your boss suggested it. Tae is the best because you haven’t even talked about it, but he knows something isn’t right. He knows on instinct that you shouldn’t be trusted with that job tonight. The last thing you need is to have to interview Namjoon when things are already weird with you. You’d probably pull it off just fine under usual circumstances, probably be able to control your face when you think about all the times you’ve seen each other naked, all the times you’ve pressed laughing kisses to his lips and his dimples, all the times you’ve tripped and stumbled and fallen further further further for him. 

But not like this. Not with the questions you didn’t ask (and can’t right now) hanging between you, not with your brain fixated on the way he pulled your hair and bruised your neck enough that you’re wearing your least favorite turtleneck dress. 

All you want him to tell you is why, all you want to tell him is that you love him so much that why doesn’t actually matter. None of it matters and you wish he knew and you wish you’d said that. But you can’t say that in an interview, can’t tell him that all you need is for him to love you and to say it so you can safely say it back. You need him to be brave, to make you feel brave in turn. You can’t print that, though.

The problem with you not pulling him for a few questions is that someone has to. You can’t be an art magazine and not talk to him here. So, if it’s not you, it will be someone. Someone who won’t be as gentle with their questions, someone who won’t know what to ask about his collection, what he’s passionate about right now. You know you could do the job best, if only you could ask the professional questions, if only you could get him to look you in the eye. 

You’re about to change your mind, about to tell Tae you can do it when you see your boss and your asshole, book-writing colleague approach Namjoon. There’s no way it’s going to go well—you know Namjoon doesn’t like him. It had basically been the first thing you’d ever talked to him about. 

That knowledge in mind, you can’t stop yourself from getting a little closer to where they are. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not like you can or would intervene if your co-worker asks something weird. Not like Namjoon needs you to protect him. But you know your colleague. You know why Namjoon doesn’t like him. You know he treats celebrities like commodities, their private lives to be bought and sold. You know he’ll directly ask Namjoon about his personal life, and if Namjoon doesn’t answer, he’ll look for the answer elsewhere. It’s why he’s successful—there’s a never-ending parade of people willing to trade in peoples’ secrets. 

Someone’s always willing to be bought. People are always willing to consume rumors paraded as facts. 

You linger close enough to hear, but not close enough that your boss realizes you followed. Tae tugs at your arm, hisses, “What’re you doing?” in your ear so only you can hear. But he knows. So, before he even waits for a response, he adds, under his breath, “Just don’t let her see you.” He’s right, you don’t know how you’d explain to your boss that you were eavesdropping instead of doing your actual job. 

The first couple questions are the right kind: “Anything you want to bid on tonight?” And, “You’ve seen the upcoming exhibitions for the year, which are you most excited about? Why?” And then you hear the next question, “Who’s your plus one tonight?” 

Namjoon, even though you can’t quite hear him, seems to brush it off. Says something about just spending the evening among friends. It’s the right answer, the one he’s given a million times, the one that’s actually true as far as you know. Your colleague seems unimpressed, seems like he wants more. He presses into the subject as you press closer to them. “Come on, there are rumors you’ve been spotted out with someone recently.” 

That’s true, too. Namjoon’s management has a policy of ignoring them, but they’re out there. LIttle snippets on social media, people saying they’d seen him leaving restaurants with someone, seen him in the back of a car, but not alone. They’re probably true. You’ve been careful—no one’s mentioned you, no one has pictures, but you’ve also been out a lot. He’s told you he’s getting older, he’s not an idol, he doesn’t care if people know he’s dating. He’s an adult, he’ll do what he wants. You mean too much to him to stay tucked away in his apartment or his studio… He’s said all those things and you’ve gone on living your lives, and someone’s probably seen you doing it. 

Sometimes, to your colleague’s fortune, rumors are facts. 

“I don’t pay much attention to rumors,” Namjoon says in response. That’s true, too. He’s good at this, the deflection that’s also honest. He’s not often accused of being untruthful and there’s a reason for that. 

“Well, just for the record, we’d love to know who you’re dating. If there’s anyone special…” Your boss adds that one on. It’s far more direct than your colleague would normally be. She doesn’t like feeling manipulative, she’d rather just ask the straightforward question and hope to get a straightforward answer. She won’t get it, you think. 

Then Namjoon spots you watching, eyes you over the rim of his glasses as you take a drink from your champagne flute. At every other event, this is when he smiles at you, small and private, the kind of smile that makes him look his age with the deep lines of a practiced movement forming around his mouth. You smile first—it’s almost Pavlovian. You’re anticipating his move. 

But you’re wrong this time. He doesn’t smile back. He swallows and smooths his tie and looks back to your boss and gives her the straightforward answer she wanted; the one you absolutely weren’t expecting. 

“No, not dating anyone seriously. There’s no one special.”  

It feels like a mistake. All of it. 

You don’t move, not a muscle. Your champagne flute hangs in mid air, your eyes are stuck on him. Behind you, Taehyung is saying something whispered and frantic, but you don’t even really hear him, just pieces of it. “...what he has to say… Not a big deal… reading too much into it.” 

The sentences finish themselves, and part of you knows he’s right. Namjoon probably does have to say something like that, it probably isn’t a big deal, you probably are reading too much into it. And you’d believe him, believe yourself, if things hadn’t already felt wrong, if he’d just smiled back at you. All he had to do was smile back. 

“I think I should go,” you say, voice low and talking to no one in particular. 

“Okay, yeah. Let’s get you home,” Taehyung says, and he grabs your elbow, right where Namjoon had the night before but in a softer, kinder way. As he starts to walk, he guides you, and you indulge yourself, let yourself keep your eyes locked on Namjoon, the person you love, the person who might not love you. The person who was jealous when you wanted an autograph from his friend, but who won’t hold your hand on the sidewalk. The person who raps and writes and says words words words but never really talks to you. Never tells you the one thing you need to hear. The person who says so much and so little at the same time. You watch him and it’s like you’re willing him to look back, to see you. 

But he doesn’t. He fidgets and messes with his cufflinks and you know he knows you heard him, you know he saw you there, and he can’t even bring himself to give you a non-verbal denial or confirmation of what he said. 

It feels like a mistake. 

It feels like heartbreak. 

Feels like shattering into a million petal pieces and no amount of gilded glue will be able to piece you back together into something as pretty as you were before. 

Namjoon texts you that night—a string of messages that you don’t read come after you’ve cried into Jimin’s chest on your couch, after Tae has wrapped himself around you in your bed and let you tell him every secret thing you love about Kim Namjoon as you sob and mourn something you’re not sure was ever really yours. 

Namjoon calls and you don’t answer. Calls you again while Tae sweetly suggests you could just give him a chance. That it didn’t mean anything. That you know Yoongi says it all that time, too, and you’ve met his partner. That maybe you don’t have to take it so personally. 

You fall asleep with Tae’s arm around you, pulling you close, and your tears drying on your cheeks. 

You wake up to a new message from Namjoon. “Please don’t push me away, baby,” it says. 

“kai?” a concerned voice calls, soft and sweet as his senses come back to reality. blinking drowsily, he vaguely registers the worn material of his varsity jacket brushing against his cheek, dark, wavy bangs casting shadows over his eyes as his vision blearily focuses. an eye-level row of empty, wood topped desks, chairs tucked neatly under. large, open windows reveal the cloudy sky, overcast and a light gray. “kai? are you awake?” lifting his head from the crook of his arm, kai sleepily glances over, met with facing a soft, navy wool sweater vest. leaning over, hair framing your face as you gaze down, head slightly cocked at him in expectation. “oh— i’m awake,” he mumbles, “where’d everyone go?” “it’s lunch, kai,” you pout, having waited for him so patiently to wake up and losing half your break time, “did you really sleep through class?”

as much as you adored him, kai had a tendency to nap through classes, several abysmal grades marring his record. always behind on assignments, but not even the strictest teacher could resist his sheepish and cute apologies as he turned in work a month late, crumpled in the corners and clearly partially done by a certain someone. but regardless of academic prowess, his real reputation rested in the court, the star of the varsity hybe high basketball team. blessed with a large build and height, long arms easily allowing him to make basket after basket, raining two and three pointers every game. if anything, he best team player to possibly walk the earth with the unmatched positivity and sportsmanship. and yet here he was, lazily blinking away sleep as he attempted to figure out what had happened before his untimely nap. “couldn’t help it,” he yawns, long legs awkwardly stretching under the desk too short for him, “late night practice yesterday.” shaking your head in affectionate dismissal, you reach into your bag, pulling out a neatly packed lunch to share before tugging over a chair to his desk. as you hand over a pair of chopsticks, kai’s hand pauses over them, his gaze staring at the floor, freezing he lifted his head up from the desk.

and for a moment, all his other thoughts are overridden with one. pretty, plush thighs, the soft flesh squished against the seat and very poorly covered by your skirt, riding up your leg as you sat down. so, so short, the expanse of skin so enticing, supple and smooth, decorated with small blemishes. short shadowy overhang leaving little to imagination. if only a little higher… and he’d be able to see cute hem of your cute panties. something about your thighs feels so indecent but so alluring, and he can recall how perfectly they slide into his hands, almost wishing he could— “kai?” you ask, glancing down at the floor, “what is it? a bug?” “erm—nothing, um, let’s eat!” kai fumbles, shaking his head and ruffling his bangs before accepting the utensils, trying to clear his mind. a loop of flustered swears at himself for being so easily distracted; he really really really couldn’t afford to pop a boner here, no matter how much he liked the skirt… and your thighs. confused but smiling, you pop a strawberry into your lips, observing him. kai’s ears were bright red.

“did you want a drink?” you question, leaning to the side of your seat to reach your bag. and it’s almost game over— your skirt sliding to the side, exposing the backs of your thighs as you rummage in your bag in search of said drinks, cute cotton panties unintentionally flashing him. plush and soft, so sweet and delicately untouched, and before he can realize it, a sudden, loud snap jerks your head back up. it’s kai, wooden chopsticks messily broken in his hand as his face burns bright red, shifty as he immediately avoids your gaze, clumsily turning towards the window and kicking the desk leg in doing so, resulting in an uncomfortable groan of the old furniture. “are you sure you’re alright?” your warm hand places itself on his forehead, touching to make sure he wasn’t ill, a slight sheen of sweat meeting your fingers. “y-yeah, just a little—um, out of it.” he stammers, before awkwardly yanking off his varsity jacket, “oh—s-sorry about your chopsticks.” stifling a laugh, you gently pry open his hand, taking the broken pieces away before walking away to toss them in the trash. and kai doesn’t know what to do. why was he so obvious? why did he have to make such a fool of himself? and why, why, why were your thighs so pretty? thinking quickly, he shoves his jacket on your seat, hoping you’ll cover your legs without him saying it… because he can’t bring himself to ask you without looking again.

“pass!” squeaking of shoes on the court floor, sunlight streaking through the high windows and casting shadows of the overhang railing. sounds of shouts and calls, basketballs hitting the wooden floor as the team members run about, dribbling and passing fluidly. “kai!” burnt orange ball hitting his palms before roughly tossing into the basket, the swish of the net and shape whistle blowing signaling the end of the round. a sweaty palm pats kai’s back as he pushes back his wet bangs. “you’re still getting better,” yeonjun laughs, “we won’t be a match for you sometime soon.” “ya, there’s no way he can be this good,” beomgyu grumbles, flopping down on the floor with a huff, flapping his loose shirt in attempt to cool himself off, soobin joining him as he pants from fatigue. awkwardly smiling, kai lets out his signature giggle, watching as taehyun and yeonjun converse with the coach, clearing up skills to improve on.

as he sits down beside his exhausted teammates, his mind drifts back to today’s earlier events. you’d taken his jacket and covered his legs to his relief, but he really couldn’t keep the thought of your pretty skirt and legs out of his mind. like a nagging thought, it murmured at the back of his head, resulting in (only) one emergency bathroom visit where he was sure he was getting hard, but it was thankfully a false alarm. he really didn’t want to jerk off in a public bathroom… especially one with multiple stalls. … but then again, there was that time he’d had you in the locker room, but that wasn’t like jerking off alone— a sharp whistle blare calls his attention back to reality, tank top sticking uncomfortably to his back as he fumbles to come back to reality. practice first, then he could go home and think all he wanted. at least that was his plan.

“kai, your girlfriend’s here!” yeonjun shouts, voice echoing across the court. “keep it pg!” beomgyu laughs, easily catching the basketball kai throws at him as the latter races across the gym. “kai—!” you giggle as his arms tightly wrap around your body, oversized varsity jacket loose, “you’re so sweaty!” as always, kai was always more affectionate when he was fully awake and out of class. leaning into his hug, you wonder what could have brought on such a tight grip. it wasn’t as if you had spent hours away from him? “not done with practice yet,” he mumbles into your hair. he wasn’t about to admit it, but he really couldn’t bear to look at your legs, and he also felt a little bad about having such indecent thoughts about you all day. so squeezing you tighter, kai ignores the members laughs in the back at their sweet maknae. “that’s okay,” you reply, muffled slightly by his sweaty tank top, “i’ll be back later anyways.” seeming vine grip unrelenting, you pat his back, knowing he has to get back to practice. as he reluctantly letting go, you unzip the jacket, revealing your outfit from earlier. his varsity jacket had been long enough to hide your skirt, and now that it was unzipped, kai was hit with the same wave as earlier. he really liked your skirt. maybe too much. the long hem of his oversized jacket accentuating the short skirt, somehow making your legs look even more enticing. so when you lean up and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss, he can’t help it but lean into it, fingers instinctively playing with the hem of your skirt, wishing he was at home and not stuck at practice.

“k-kai?” you mumble, pulling away his lips, his large body pressed into yours. “is something wrong?” he asks, a split second before he realizes it. the tent in his shorts pressing to your tummy, your widening eyes falling to the hard sensation against your abdomen. he’d gotten hard faster than he’d ever gotten hard. “ah—! i-i’m so sorry, i d-didn’t mean to—“ kai gasps, stumbling backwards into the gym door as his cheeks flush bright red, clumsily attempting to cover his massive bulge. “it’s okay,” you giggle, watching as he bumps his head into the wooden door in his fumble, “is this why you’ve been so odd all day?” stepping towards him, you smile sweetly as you palm his bulge, “always want you too, kai.” and that’s all it takes for kai to scoop you up, hand clumsily groping your plush thigh as he shoves open the door to the nearby storage closet, dark and filled with sports supplies.

nearly tossing you on a pile of boxes, he rushes to shove the door closed, barely clicking the lock in place before he’s kneeling in front of the stack, aggressively tugging your legs towards him. “w-wait, kai—hnng!” you whine as he yanks your panties down, sighing at your pretty, wet pussy glistening in the dark, only for him. licking a stripe up your folds, tongue pushing past and tasting your sensitive cunt, panting needily, hot breath heightening the wet, sloppy sensation. one hand tightening around your thigh, squishing the pillowy skin as his nose brushes against your clit, such lewd sounds of his messy addiction filling the hazy air as kai greedily licks up your slick, driven even further by your dazed moans. his head buried between your thighs, mini skirt only slightly obscuring his pretty features as you cling to the edge of the boxes, sweet heat spreading across your skin. and all kai can think of is how he’s wanted this all day, to hear your cute whines of arousal as he pleasures you, so addicted to your taste and soft, delicate pussy. “haah—kai!” you shakily whimper, eyes squeezing shut, unable to even bear such a lewd sight as your hands finding his wavy hair, tugging him closer as the pressure builds in your abdomen. “nnngh, w-want more,” kai moans, uneven breaths as he licks your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub and coating it in saliva before sucking on your bud, burning heat flaring in your stomach at the sensation. “ah, kai—so c-close—!” you wail, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm crashes down, juices soaking his pretty lips as you tug him even closer, so addicted to his pussy drunk state. and it feels so lusciously depraved when kai licks up your cum, swallowing as he groans so prettily, so deep in heaven, buried between your plush thighs, tasting your release and scent so heavy of sex, your miniskirt brushing against his bangs.

and he’s so painfully hard, kai’s bulge so prominent he thinks he might cum in a second. your hands finding his jaw and tugging him to stand between your legs, pressing your lips to his, coated in your juices in messy kisses, hot breaths before diving back in, so wet with saliva and your essence, he’s lost in your touch. needy whimpers, forgotten shame as your legs hook around his waist, his hard length pressed to your soaked folds. your small hands reaching down for his shorts, shoving them down with little care as he tugs you closer, fingers squeezing the plush of your ass. how depraved you feel to yank down his boxers, his moans lost against your lips as your nails scratch against his thigh, precum dripping on your pretty fingers. and in a second, kai sheathes his cock in your tight cunt with a grunting pant, tip of his thick length rubbing your sweet spot. your ass scrapes against the edge of the box, kai nearly holding you up in his firm grip, shoving your back against the boxes as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, only a breath apart. “nngh— s-so tight ‘n pretty, r-really like,” kai mumbles against your lips, so lost in arousal as your wet lips lock, swallowing your cries at the stretch as he thrusts carelessly into your soft folds, so enraptured in the immense pleasure.

your cute hands finding the bulge in your tummy, pressing down to feel his veiny cock rub against your walls, added pressure nearly causing kai to lose his uneven rhythm as he moans uncontrollably into your lips, wet tongues touching, your whimpers his oxygen. “haah— so w-warm-“ kai pants, so aroused as your cute mini skirt brushes against his abdomen, your hand adding pressure to the already tight stretch, lewd whimpers filling his ears. “—k-kai, f-faster!” you wail, so close to your orgasm, burning stretch at his massive cock, veins rubbing your sensitive wall with every thrust, so tight, so big, so careless. tears pricking at your shut eyes, clinging to his body as your pussy clenched down, orgasm slamming into your body as you sob into his sweaty tank top, so wrecked and ruined from his reckless, rough thrusts. and all it takes is for kai to look down for a moment, seeing your pretty thighs split apart as your tiny cunt takes him so well, mini skirt rumpled and brushing against the base of his cock, for his cum to flood your pussy. “mmsph— t-too much!” your cute cries falling deaf to his ears as kai roughly presses his cock as deep as he can, so, so much of his hot seed filling up your tummy, milking his dick of every drop as you cling to his broad frame, weakly whimpering at such a full sensation.

“nngh—my pretty so full,” kai pants, his hand running over your tummy, soft skin between the bulge of his cock, other hand squeezing the swell of your thighs as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, breaths hot against each others lips. “k-kai, c-can’t move yet,” you mumble, feeling so weak as he lifts you back up on the boxes, swollen folds dripping cum as he pulls out with a shaky groan, cock coated in your mixed release, air so heavy with the scent of sex. resting his hands on thighs, squeezing the plush as he watches his white seed leak from your tiny pussy, on the hem of your cute skirt. and kai wants more. with a gasp, he needily tugs you off the boxes, so recklessly shoving your chest against another stack, cute ass exposed to him, skirt barely covering the sweet swell. “kai—? hnng–!” you whimper, only for his hard cock to press against your ass, his hot, sweaty chest pressed to your back, so broad and heavy as he whispers in your ear, desperation giving way to need. “wanna have more,” a barely conscious moment before his dick is pushing into your tight folds again, so intent on staining your skirt in his cum.

##############################

It’s a very risqué but very enviable piece. It displays all of your features as well as your hidden treasures beautifully. 

He has his book at his side and he’s laying on the pool chaise, inclined up at an angle. You don’t glance down to see if his swim trunks are tenting.

You squeeze out a dollop of sunscreen into your palm. You contemplate whether to ask Namjoon to help you but you decide against it. You want to show that you can take care of yourself. 

After you rub it around on your skin for a painstakingly long time, you stand from your chaise. You look down and busy yourself by readjusting your bottom strings on your hips.

You can’t stand the sun’s heat on your skin any longer and the soles of your feet start to burn against the unshaded concrete.

You effortlessly, but purposefully, add a subtle sensual beat to each step and sway of your hips as you walk to the shallow end of the pool. When you break the surface, you gracefully descend down the stairs and keep your eyes straight ahead at the other end of the pool. 

The water meets your waist and you push ahead, bending your upper body forward in the water with your hands together in front of your head. You swim down all the way to the deep end. 

You grab the coping of the pool. You rest your forearms on it so you’re positioned upright in the water. 

You feel thoroughly equilibrated by the refreshing contact with water. It feels good, resting here like this. 

You close your eyes and rest a cheek on your folded arms.

You inhale once before you hear a heavy splash. You keep your eyes closed and breathe out. 

You hear gentler splashes of water behind you, getting louder and the ripples against your back getting larger. 

He quietly pants behind you and doesn’t say anything as he reaches for the coping, placing his hand right next to your elbow.

You slowly peel your eyes open and you see the inside joint of his golden forearm and thick bicep.

You haven’t been able to see him much lately but you can tell he’s hitting the gym more often. He feels bigger and firmer than ever against your back, like a massive, heavy veil enshrouding you. 

You want to bask in the blissful feeling of your back against his chest. You love the security of it, despite being alone with him here in his private pool. 

“Miss me?” you ask as you lift your forearms off the coping, grappling onto it with your hands. You push back further to nuzzle into his chest and he places his other hand on top of your tummy, keeping you flush against him. 

“You don’t know how much,” he admits with a mix of reverence and lust in his voice. He kisses the adjoining surface of your ear and face, and leaves a trail along your jaw.

You can’t help but squirm in the water, leaning your head back onto his shoulder and exposing your neck for his attack. You can feel his thick cock against your ass and it's harder than the concrete you’re holding onto.

“Come back,” he says hoarsely. His brows furrow and he almost lets out a moan at how you keep grinding over his trunks. 

“But it feels so nice being in the water.”

“I’ll make you feel even better. I promise,” he says with a low, sure voice. 

You turn around and the hand that was on your stomach moves to the small of your back. 

You take a moment to admire his golden skin and the lust in his eyes and eyelids. Then you trail down his neck, collarbones, and land your eyes on his pecs. 

He lifts one eyebrow at you. “You checking me out, baby?” He flexes one pec, displacing the water between the two of you and splashing just under your chin. 

Your mouth gapes open. “Joon!”

He smiles his devilish smile with his perfect set of teeth and dimples.

Where did he learn to do that, is the only question your brain cells can take on right now. You flush with heat and the pool water no longer feels refreshing. If you’re going to flush with heat, you’d rather it happen out in the sun so Namjoon can feel the burning heat again too. 

“I bet you’ve been staring at mine since we came out here,” you challenge him but it sounds out so weak once you hear it leave your mouth.

He has nothing to say to that. It’s a fact. You watch as he unashamedly brings his eyes down and admires your barely covered bust. 

You look down and up at him again, contemplating. You fidget a bit with the tiny piece of fabric covering one breast, this time more as an invitation for him to join you. You tug away the fabric to reveal a hard nipple and you let him observe you like a painter and his subject. 

You both look up at each other with wonder. 

He wants to touch you but it’s difficult without treading water at this end of the pool.

“Baby. Let’s get out of the water,” he suggests solemnly.

You start kissing up his neck. “Fine,” you relent breathlessly. 

You look in Namjoon’s eyes and slowly trail one hand up to untie the knot that keeps your top up. You undo the other knot against your back and bring the bikini to lay on top of the coping. 

Namjoon is distracted by your tits fully open for him to see. You move behind him and wrap your arms around him, your hands feeling up his pecs and your cheek on his shoulder blade. All you can see is the wide expanse of his skin and you flutter your eyes closed as you kiss his skin slowly. 

You wish you could do this all day, without a single worry over work or any other obligations. 

Namjoon doesn’t know if he’s going crazy at the feel of your soft hands fondling his pecs or the feel of your bare breasts against his back. 

“Joonie. Race me back? I get a head start!” is all you say before you’re off. 

He’s a bit late but he doesn’t take long to kick start his brain and swim after you. 

Still, you beat him to the end. Or maybe he lets you beat him so you can have this vision before you.

When you sit on your chaise and turn around to see where he is, you find Namjoon ascending from the water like a fucking Adonis. This full body view of him soaking wet makes you unconsciously hold your breath and squeeze your thighs. You want to lick all the droplets of water that formed on his skin and comb your hands through his short, damp hair as you ride his cock. 

The memory of how hard he felt against you in the water forms a burning fire in your pit and you’re sure your bikini bottom is even wetter.

He doesn’t even mention anything about your little trickery earlier.

He stands in front of his chaise before he unties the drawstring of his swim trunks and drops them. His huge cock hangs in the air before he strokes it a couple times. He moves to sit on his towel-covered chaise. Your throat feels dry as you try to swallow. 

“Come here, baby,” Namjoon tells you. 

You look at his face again. He continues to stroke his cock as you step forward to his chaise. 

You straddle his thighs and place your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“When did you get so big, Joonie?” you ask. 

His other hand moves to cup your thigh and softly trail his hand up to your hip. 

“You like it, huh?” he notes. “I love this fucking bikini on you.” He takes a moment to fully admire your breasts and the tiny bottom you still have on, strings holding everything together at your hips. “You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”

The crazed look in his eyes and his explicitness of his desire makes you want to bounce on his cock, ride him into oblivion. 

You take over stroking his cock, already slick with his arousal, and more oozes out as you twist your hand around the head. 

Your other hand plays with the bikini string at your hip.

“Keep it on…” Namjoon stops you in your tracks. “I wanna see you on my cock with how easily this can just be moved…to the side.” He moves the fabric to reveal your lips. 

He softly parts them with his fingers, feeling you dripping. Then he rubs the pads of his fingers on your clit for a few seconds and you jolt from his touch. He removes his hand to slide your slick on his cock. 

You take him in your hand again and align him with your pussy. You slide down but you feel a tight pressure, even with your slick. You really forgot how big he is but he feels so fucking good. 

“Joon…so big,” you manage to get out in a whimper. 

Namjoon almost bites his tongue at how tight you fit around him. He moans your name. “Take it. You can take it, baby.”

When you manage to take all of him, the bottom of your thighs are flush against the top of his and you throw your head back in ecstasy. You love the feeling of being filled up by him. 

You start grinding, feeling his cock snug against that spot that needs the most attention. It's not long before you’re bouncing yourself on his cock.

Namjoon watches how you take his cock like it belongs to you, your breasts bouncing with you. He keeps his hands on your back but can’t keep them at one position, sliding everywhere.

He still can’t get over the tiny bikini bottom tucked away to the side. There’s something so carnal about the sight. 

He feels like a glutton but he doesn’t feel any guilt or remorse. He wants you all for himself. He hopes you don’t wear this bikini for anyone other than him. You don’t intend to.

“Feels so good,” you drag out, building up to your orgasm. 

“Fucking fuck, you’re amazing,” he babbles.

You want to laugh because of his nonsense but also because everything feels so good. You realize you’re not bouncing anymore when he starts to thrust his hips up and he pulls you down towards his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. You’re glad he took over because your thighs were starting to burn. 

“Ngh—Joonie!” you squeal.

Finally, your tits are right up against his face, easily accessible. He takes a nipple and sucks it into his wet mouth, flicking his tongue over it. He repeats on the other nipple. Then he kisses your sternum, returning his focus to thrust more forcefully into your pussy. 

When Namjoon’s in control, he knows exactly how to play you like a fiddle. All the sensations you feel through your body are overwhelming. You hide your face in his neck and you nearly scream.

“So fucking tight. Gonna. Fucking. Fill. You. Up.” He emphasizes each word with each thrust of his hips. “Fuck!”

You feel your pussy convulsing around him uncontrollably but you lay against his chest as you let your orgasm ride out. You can feel his hot spurts of cum shooting inside your pussy and you love the feeling of it.

“You came so much, Joonie.” You hum on his chest. “I love it.”

He smiles. “I love it, too, baby. And I fucking love this bikini on you. God.”

“I know,” you tell him. If you know, why is heat creeping up your face again, you wonder.

“It makes me hard, just imagining you again.” You feel his cock harden inside you again and you blush even more profusely. “I want it saved as a picture or something,” he admits sheepishly with a chuckle.

“Hmm… ‘s early.” Namjoon flops over a half-turn with a groan and buries his face into the pillow, his nose in your hair. He slides his arm around your middle, warmer still. It’s the cutest and weakest protest you’ve heard in a long time. 

Something about this moment feels surreal. The blackout curtains in his bedroom don’t help the disorientation, but it’s also just a sensation that you’re noticing comes along with being with him. Everything in the inky morning seems undefined: the place where possibility and doubt intersect. It’s thrilling, in a way. 

And it’s stifling. 

You wiggle out carefully from under his arm and grab your phone for a light so you can shuffle your way to his bathroom to brush your teeth. 

Your phone and the light spilling into his living room tell you it is not, in fact, early. It’s past noon, you’re due to cover a new gallery opening at five, and you only have the clothes you wore to his apartment two days ago with you since you weren’t planning on spending the night. Or the previous night. 

You should go. 

You should go because you have things to do and you should go because… 

It’s hard to know where you stand with him, you think, as you pass his closet and debate stealing one of his shirts to cover yourself. 

He’d already given you one to wear around his apartment the day prior, so you don’t think he’d mind, but aside from the absolutely mind-blowing sex you’ve been having, you don’t really know one another. 

This whole thing is a daydream—there’s a part of you waiting to simply snap out of it and figure out it’s all in your head. It’s not helped by you two not really… talking about it. There’s probably some irony in you being a writer and him being a songwriter and neither of you willing to stop fucking long enough to have a proper conversation—two people who normally have so many words making a semi-conscious choice to not talk about the things that matter.

You snag the closest button down and toss it on. If it is just a fling, then you won’t care what he thinks in a few weeks anyway. If it’s not, well… If it’s not, maybe he won’t care that you’re making yourself comfortable in his space. 

As you brush, you see yourself in the mirror, small bruises and bite marks on your neck, your collarbone, your hips… It’s a lot to take in. He’d been insistent that you come over when you landed, whining when you told him you wanted to shower, change, and sleep after twenty hours of flying. You caved quickly, easily swayed when he reminded you of his wish to get you in his bed, of the things he wanted to do to you. Part of you had thought it was just lip-service, things he said during phone sex that he didn’t really mean, but a couple hours after you’d been buzzed up to his apartment, as he was coaxing your second orgasm out of you with just his tongue, you realized he meant it. 

“You look good,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s leaning in the doorway, all raspy voice, fluffy hair, and big, broad chest. 

A daydream. It’s hard to resist the notion to pinch yourself to check.

You cover the side of your mouth and spit into his sink. “Morning,” you say. 

It must come out like an invitation, because he steps into the bathroom, and slots himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his hands wander over your bare chest under his shirt. “Like you in my clothes,” he whispers, leaving kisses along the side of your neck under your ear.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t have any clean ones of my own, and I need to head out soon, so this one’s coming with me.” 

He finds your eyes in the mirror and frowns. “You can’t leave,” he pouts.

“I have work,” you say, dropping your head back against him. “Gallery opening.” 

“I’ll come with you.” 

You laugh—he sounds like a kid. Whiny and soft and sleepy. It’s adorable. “No, you won’t.” 

His chin rests on your shoulder and he nods slightly. “Okay, but please note my protest.” 

Still so cute. “Noted.”

“Want breakfast?” he says, “I already ordered, should be here soon.” 

It’s so fucking domestic, and nice, but… strange. You’re strangers. “Namjoon,” you say, turning around to face him in his arms. “What’re we doing?”

“Eating breakfast,” he shrugs. 

“You know what I mean,” you say, your voice softer. “We don’t really even know each other.” 

“Oh,” he breathes. He leans back a little, studying your face, and looks like he’s thinking about what you said, like it hadn’t occurred to him before. “Well, let’s fix that.”

You tilt your head and wait for him to offer the rest of his thought. 

“Let’s get to know each other… You know, outside of my bedroom, maybe.” Of course he has the audacity to look bashful, nervous even. You can’t believe he’s lived his whole life as this incredibly endearing person and was still somehow single when you met him. 

“Okay, you mean… like… dating,” you say cautiously. 

“Hmm…” he murmurs, pulling you in tighter so that your chests are pressed together and his lips are by your ear. “What’s more than dating? What’s the word for when I want to know everything about you?” 

And for what seems like the thousandth time since you ran into him at the airport, you realize you’re completely and utterly fucked.

You’re giddy through breakfast, and so is he, with your new arrangement slowly taking shape. On the floor in front of his sofa, you eat and make plans for the coming week. He’s got work, and so do you, but you agree on dinner at least once, and a bike ride combined with a concert over the weekend. It’s a lot of planning if you want to be out in public, you realize, but he promises he’ll make it work, that he’s done it plenty of times before and it’s not that big of a deal. Something in you churns at that—of course it’s not totally straightforward (you’re not naive) but it’s strange to hear him mention it so casually. It makes you understand that this is important, that work goes into it and he must see something in you to want to make the effort. It’s flattering and it’s a lot to process, and it just adds to the feeling that your life is the human equivalent of a Magritte: almost everything as you would expect with the addition of some glaringly obvious bit of magic. 

After you eat, you talk—he tells you about Yoongi and Hoseok, who he makes music with, and you give him stories about your roommates, Jimin and Taehyung. It feels a little silly, sitting in his giant, beautiful apartment and having to tell him you still basically live like a university student. But Seoul can be expensive, and you like your roommates, so you haven’t really seen a reason to change your situation. The three of you together can afford something much nicer than you would on your own, so there’s at least that. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem phased by it at all, telling you he thinks they sound fun, and like they’re good for you. They are. 

“When do you have to leave?” he asks. “Your roommates must be wondering where you are…” 

“I texted Tae yesterday and told him something came up, so I don’t think so. They’re kind of in their own little world, usually. But I should probably go soon so I can get ready for work.” 

Namjoon pulls your legs into his lap and grins. “Soon, but not right now. So… we have a little time?” 

You can’t help but smile back, pleased with the attention, with the way his hands feel on your calves, then traveling up your thighs. It’s only been a few times with him, but he’s smart—he pays attention, and he’s already learning all the things you like. It’s devastatingly hot. “A little,” you agree. 

He smirks, and before you know it, he’s on top of you on his sofa, his knees bracketing your thighs, and his lips on yours. You make a small squeak of surprise, and he smiles against your mouth. “This okay?” he whispers. 

“Mmhmm,” you murmur. It is okay, but if you’re honest, you’re still a little sore from the night before, and the day before, and the night before that. You’re not sure you’ve ever had so many orgasms in such a short amount of time, and he’s not exactly… small, and you haven’t exactly been careful with each other. The sex the last couple of days has been eager, more rough and a little dirty than romantic. No complaints, really, but it’s hard to believe he’s not tired yet—tired in general, of you, of this thing between you. “Just maybe… gentle?” you ask quietly. “You’ve kind of wrecked me already.” 

His smile grows at that, dimples out in full force when he leans down to whisper right in your ear, “Good. I can be gentle.” 

There are warm, open-mouthed kisses that trail down your neck, at your throat where he’s left marks, then moving lower as he spreads open the plackets of his shirt you’re wearing to leave your chest exposed. He looks up at you as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, tongue teasing and swirling while you start to squirm beneath him. 

And because your life is too good to be true lately, you seem to have the same thought at the same time when he says, “This angle isn’t going to work—” and you ask, “Can we go back to bed?” You both laugh, and he pushes himself up, then pulls you with him, turning you around and giving you a smack on the ass.

Down the short hallway, he can’t keep his hands off you, teasing and grabbing at you as you scramble into his room and then fall into his bed (again). 

You throw yourself right in the middle, laughing and waiting for him to join you, but he stands at the foot of the bed just looking at you. You can’t tell exactly what the look on his face is—lust, curiosity, pleasure, some combination of those things maybe.

“What?” you ask, knees folded together to maintain whatever remaining dignity you have, even though you haven’t had pants on in two days. 

Namjoon just shakes his head, like he was lost in some thought you dragged him out of, and crawls up the bed to kiss you. When he pulls back, he says, “You look like you belong here.” 

You think your heart stops. 

“I do?” you ask quietly. Maybe a stupid question, but he makes you feel a little stupid with all the silly, romantic things he says. 

He nods and slides down your body, leaving a trail behind with his lips before he finds your core. Briefly, he licks around your clit and then lifts his head. “And I think I belong here,” he says smugly. Then, as you laugh, he brings his tongue back to you. 

It should be no surprise that he is good at this, like he’s good at a lot of things, responsive to your smallest moans and keeping track of what works and what works slightly less well (he hasn’t, this whole time, done anything that doesn’t turn you on at least a little bit—you don’t even question how easy it seems between the two of you). 

This time, he has his hands on the insides of your knees, spreading you wide for him. Your hips move up as he fucks you on his tongue; you asked for him to be gentle, but you already want more. 

“Sorry,” you whisper when he moves to suck softly on your clit and you jerk your hips up particularly hard. 

He pauses and lifts up to look at you, his chin and lips wet. “Don’t be. I like it when you fuck my face,” he says matter-of-factly, like it isn’t the best news you’ve ever gotten. Then he’s back to work, tongue circling your clit, quick and short strokes interspersed with longer ones where he drags the flat of his tongue along your folds. 

When your hands tug him closer by the roots of his hair, he moans into your cunt, and the vibrations from it pull you even closer to yet another peak. 

His focus moves to soft but quick movements around your clit as you get closer, and he slides one long finger inside you. It’s practically perfect—you’re not sure you could take his cock again right now anyway after all you’ve done over the last couple of days. Not if you want to walk right later, anyway. But this is just enough, and he seems to like it too. When you sit up on your elbows so that you can see him, you notice that he’s palming himself over his joggers with his free hand, and still making little sounds of pleasure against you. 

And that, the idea that he likes this as much as you do, is enough to bring you all the way to another orgasm. You let out a small whine as you come, dropping your head back on his pillows and squeezing your thighs around his head. 

“Fuck,” you say, as intelligently as you can muster. 

“Was that okay, baby?” He sits up when you let your legs fall again, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. 

“So good. How are you so good at that?”

“I like to make you feel good,” he says simply. “Makes me feel good.” 

“I see that,” you say, laughing a little. Because you do—he’s obviously hard, you can see the outline of his cock through his joggers. “Want some help with that?” 

Namjoon comes up to kiss you again, and then says, suddenly shy, “Maybe I could… come on you?” He’s conspicuously eying the way his button down that you’re wearing is open, lying at your sides and covering absolutely nothing. And his kisses taste like you, and you don’t hate that he wants to mark you a little bit, and you really don’t hate that he seems nervous to ask for what he wants. It makes you want to give it to him. 

Leaning close to his ear, you whisper, “Wanna come on my tits, Joon?” 

He groans and shoves his joggers down in a rush, cock bouncing at the movement. “Fuck, yes. Please, baby?” He’s already stroking himself, fully hard with precome dripping from his head. 

“Yeah, you can. Want to watch you.” 

He’s on his knees between your legs, eyes extra dark and cheeks flushed as he moves his hand faster. You weren’t lying; you do want to watch him touch himself—you’d been thinking about it since you listened to him get off over the phone after your sister’s wedding. The real thing, being able to see it with your own eyes, is infinitely better. 

It’s not long before he’s rambling nonsense—he likes to talk. You like it, too, how all the words that spill out are just filthy praise. About how good you look in his clothes, on his bed, about how he loves the way you taste, how he thinks about you all the time since London, how he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of you. 

And at least you’re on the same page. You think about him all the time, too. 

As he gets closer, his abdomen flexes with his movements, and you see the veins in his forearm more pronounced with his effort. You’re touching yourself before you even realize you’re doing it, two fingers moving over your sensitive clit, but you don’t think you’re too overstimulated yet—you know you can come again. 

“Oh, shit.” His eyes widen a little when he sees what you’re doing. “That’s so hot.” It spurs him on, stroking faster and faster, and you can see practically imperceptible tremors running down the muscles of his thighs. 

“You look so good, Joon. Can’t wait to see you come,” you say, almost breathless as you both chase your pleasure. 

That encouragement seems to be all he needs, because within a few seconds, he’s twisting his wrist just below the head of his cock, his come spilling onto your chest and stomach as he falls forward, bracing himself over you with one hand. While his eyes are closed, you run a finger through it and pop it in your mouth, tasting him a little bitter and salty on your tongue. 

“What the—” he’s caught you, and he’s staring intently. 

“What?” you ask after you pull your finger out of your mouth. 

“You’re a fucking dream,” he says. “Thank you.” Then he’s pressing kisses all over your cheeks and forehead and chin as you giggle. 

“I’m a mess,” you counter, wiggling around under him, trying to escape more pecks. “Let’s shower.” 

And so you do. It’s quick and less sexy than you always picture things like that, but it’s nice to have him smooth soap into your skin reverently, thanking you too many times for staying with him the last couple of days. When you’re both clean, he finds you a shirt that fits a little better and doesn’t have his come on it, which is a welcome improvement. 

You gather your phone and a book you’d left on his coffee table the day before and then shove your dirty shirt and thong deep into your bag. It’s not like you’re exactly “going out” presentable in jeans you’ve already worn once, no underwear on, and your… “friend’s” shirt on, but you think you can at least get to your apartment without feeling too gross. Especially when Namjoon tells you he called you a car, so you don’t have to be crushed into a subway car with dirty underwear in your purse. 

Small favors. 

You get another flurry of kisses and appreciations at his door, and when you leave, laughing, it's with a literal pinky promise that you will call him after you get home from work. He’s unfailingly cute.

The whole way home, you feel like you’re floating. (Anytime now, you’ll wake up, you’re sure of it.) It’s heady and dizzying to be around him, to be with him. He makes you feel so good, so wanted. And even in the moments you’ve just been talking, he’s always listening to you intently, like everything you say is important—he’s not one of those people who just wait until it’s their turn to speak again. It gives you a little bit of hope that there’s something blooming between you—that combined with the idea that he’s willing to go a little out of his way to take you out in public. Maybe, just this once and just a tiny bit, you can let yourself feel excited about what’s to come, hopeful even. 

That thought makes you feel even lighter as you approach your apartment, but now you have to worry about what to tell your roommates about your disappearance. It’s a Friday afternoon, and you know Jimin won’t be home since he teaches classes, but you’re not sure about Taehyung. You are sure that if Tae is home, you won’t easily escape to your room with no questions asked; he’s about as interested in your personal life as someone can be, and you may have couched that fact slightly when you were explaining to Namjoon about your roommates. Because he definitely will want to know where you were, and he definitely will want more details than you’re willing to share.

Unfortunately for you, he is home, and it takes him less than ten seconds to clock the bruises on your neck and practically shove you down onto the sofa, begging you to tell him what you’ve been doing for two days. 

“It’s kind of obvious, don’t you think?” you tease. 

“Right, but who? I have to know,” he pleads. 

“No.” 

Tae sits back on the couch. “That’s a pseudonym, right?” 

“God, you’re an idiot,” you say. “His name isn’t ‘no.’ I mean, no, I’m not telling you anything about him. It’s too soon.” 

“Too soon to tell your best friend and most favorite roommate ever, but not too soon to let him suck your neck like you’re starring in a bad vampire movie?” 

He would have a point except… “Jimin’s my favorite,” you say. “And Seokjin’s my best friend.” 

Taehyung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a jerk.” 

“And you’re nosy. I’ll tell you more if it goes anywhere, though. I promise.” 

This seems to placate him a little. “Fine. We have to leave soon, anyway.” 

You didn’t even consider that Tae would be assigned the same event, but it makes sense. He’s one of a few staff photographers where you work, and you get paired up fairly often. Everyone knows he’s got an interest in art, more than any of the other photographers, so he tags along to shoot for your articles more frequently than anyone else. You met at work, formed your friendship over long nights in museums and galleries, gossiping about the new money patrons and the celebrities. You’ve probably gossiped about Namjoon, actually. You don’t remember anything specific, but you’d both been at enough events that he had been at… It’s certainly a possibility. One that’s a little weird to think about. 

The opening is quiet—there isn’t much fanfare. All the usual suspects are there since the gallery is new but the two artists they’re featuring are already popular locally. It makes it easy for you and Tae to get what you need and get out fairly quickly, allowing yourselves one glass of champagne each when your work is done. You think you could probably write articles like this in your sleep at this point. You’re not a critic, so no one generally cares what your opinion on the art is, but you have a few this time. You’ll keep them out of the article; but you have a fleeting thought that you wish Namjoon was there so you could talk about it with him. 

It’s silly though, you’re just fucking. Maybe. It hadn’t even been an hour after you talked about getting to know him better that you were back in his bed, so maybe he’ll never be the person you chat about art with. Too early to tell, you decide.

You hear Tae’s bright laughter next to you and it brings a little relief. It’s reassuring to know you always have him and Jimin and Seokjin, so you’re fine no matter what you and Namjoon end up meaning to each other. 

Or not meaning. 

But when you both finally get home from the gallery, Friday night traffic making it take way longer than it should have, you have a message from Namjoon. 

Namjoon [20:32]: How was the show? 

Maybe you didn’t need to worry after all. 

Vaguely, as you message him back from your spot in the corner of the sofa, you hear Taehyung say, “She’s got it bad.”

“Huh?” You snap your head up to see him and Jimin staring at you from the kitchen. 

“Nothing!” Jimin smiles in a way he probably thinks is sweet, but he really just looks like a menace. He is a menace. 

“You should see her hickeys,” Tae says. “Like a teenager.” 

“Gross,” Jimin replies. 

“You’re gross,” you huff, which causes the two of them to break down in snickers behind you. 

“Good one.” You can practically hear Tae’s eye roll. It’s fine—it was a terrible comeback anyway. 

Hauling yourself off of the couch, you announce, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Tell loverboy we said hi,” Jimin calls after you.

You shut your door before you can give in to the urge to tell him to fuck off.

Over the next couple of days, your life gets a little bit back to normal. Your body adjusts again to the timezone and the stifling humidity. You and Namjoon talk over the weekend, not much since you’re both working, but enough to have you always thinking passing thoughts of him. It’s a little maddening, the way he occupies this space in your brain. But, so far, if the frequency with which he messages you is any indication, you’re having the same effect on him. 

On Tuesday night, you meet him in Sinchon at a small spot off of the main roads. It’s a little vegetarian place, sort of uncommon outside Hongdae, and not crowded. Very not crowded. Not a single other patron. In fact, you’re not even sure if it’s supposed to be open, since when you enter, someone who you presume is the owner greets Namjoon and quickly scoots you to a table in the back, making sure the door is locked behind you. 

“I used to come here a lot,” he says by way of explanation. “They make sure I’m taken care of.” 

You nod, like you can relate (you can’t), and try not to let your eyes show that you think it’s wild you’ve shut down a small restaurant just so you can have dinner with him without an audience. 

“What do you think?” he says, almost shyly. 

“It’s quiet,” you reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever closed down a restaurant…” This is when your inability to not say what’s on your mind takes over—you don’t want to make him feel weird about it, but it’s just the truth. 

“Oh… Is this okay, then?” His knee bounces under the table and you can hear it with no one else around to drown out the rhythmic tapping of his heel.

It hits you suddenly—he’s nervous. It is your first date, technically, and when you think about it that way, you get a little nervous, too. 

“It’s great, Joon. Thanks for bringing me here.” You try to sound as reassuring as you can because it is great, and you are glad to be there with him. Things haven’t truly been awkward between the two of you since he was leaving the Heathrow bathroom, and now with you both nervous, it’s starting to be just that.

He flags down the woman who let you in and orders for both of you, then seems to reconsider, looking over at you with minor panic. “Is that okay?” he asks, a little frantic. “I totally respect you, of course. So if you want something else, you can say so. I’m sorry.” 

You want to scream. You want to scream because he’s cute, because you hate that you’re nervous, because you hate more that he’s nervous. You just want this to go well, you think. It’s becoming clear to you as you both get weirder around each other that this is actually really important to you. He is maybe really important to you. 

“It’s fine,” you say, sliding a hand across the table, palm up—an invitation. “Hey, I’m a little nervous.” You wiggle your fingers at him so he gets the idea, and he gives you a sweet smile in return as he puts his hand in yours. 

“Me too, fuck. So nervous.” Both of you laugh a little, relieving some of the tension, and he squeezes your fingers. “Glad we got that out of the way,” he says. “Should we do normal first date stuff?”

“Like getting our friends to call as a way to bail us out if things go south?” 

“Oh!” he says, eyebrows lifting, “Should I text Yoongi and tell him not to do that?” He tries to keep a straight face, but you see his left dimple start to show as he finishes asking. 

“Not funny, Kim.”

“A little funny.” 

After that, things start to feel good between you again. That same ease you’ve gotten used to returns. Your food comes in waves, and the owner seems to (thankfully) be totally content to let you eat slowly while you laugh and talk. It’s almost like being back in the airport with him—before you knew you should be nervous, before you knew he might start to mean something to you. It’s really nice. You share a bottle of makgeolli while you eat, and by the time you’re full of jjigae and pajeon, you’re pleasantly warm and just tipsy enough to be laughing more than normal at his (consistently kind of terrible but in the best way) jokes. 

He pays, and you try to get him to let you leave the tip at least, but he refuses to take your money—until he pauses, apologizes with his head bowed, and starts rambling about benevolent sexism and of course you can pay if you want to or leave the tip or really anything and he’s such dick for even assuming—

“Namjoon?” You put a hand on his shoulder. 

His eyes shoot up, his cheeks are pink and he looks sort of mortified. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for dinner,” you say, moving your hand down his arm until you can thread your fingers with his. “Want to walk for a bit?” 

The relief on his face is obvious, and instead of apologizing again, he tightens his fingers around yours and says, “Hotteok?” And then he bounces a little with excitement when you nod your head enthusiastically. 

Together, you walk hand in hand down the streets. It’s dark and chilly, but the place where your palms meet is rom-com warm—feels like it’s keeping your whole body cozy. A few blocks from the subway station, you turn onto a main road where there are actually other people around and Namjoon drops your hand, giving you a squeeze first and what you think is an apologetic smile under his mask after. 

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just…” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence; you already know. He waves his hand around in a gesture explaining there’s too many people. 

“I get it, you don’t have to explain,” you say. 

And you mean it. It’s still nice to walk with him, both of you with your hands now shoved in your pockets, scarves pulled up tight around your chins. He’s telling you about all the places he used to frequent when he was in university, pointing out his favorite convenience store, a record shop, a cute used bookstore. You like getting a picture of a younger him, the one before the producing credits and art patronage and sold-out concert halls. It feels private, reserved for people he trusts, and it’s really, really good. You know you like talking to him, like sleeping with him, like the way he listens to you… But the more you listen to him, the more you start to remove the specific things you like from those sentences and you think you just like him. Completely, and in a way you haven’t liked anyone in a while. 

You have time to mull that over as you lean against the side of the oddly fancy hotteok shop (which actually has a whole indoors and seating—you’d just been expecting an outdoor stall). You like him and he’s kind and thoughtful and handsome and you’re starting to think you might be in way over your head. 

He’d asked you to wait outside if you weren’t too cold; said he had a surprise. You’re just starting to shiver when he comes back out of the shop with the biggest smile on his face you think you’ve seen yet. Even under his mask.

“Here,” he says, proudly sticking a thick paper wrapper out toward you. 

And if there was any doubt in your mind that you might be falling for him just a little, it’s gone when you take the pink, heart-shaped hotteok from him. “What is this?” you ask quietly. 

“Sarang hotteok,” he says around the bite in his mouth, cheeks already a little full and eyes wide. “I thought it fit.” He starts to walk, and your brain (a couple beats behind because you’re still trying to process things) doesn’t tell your feet to move for a moment, so you have to take a quick couple of steps to catch up to him.

But when your mind does catch up, it’s settled. You have a giant, unmistakable crush on Kim Namjoon. “Cute,” you say, almost under your breath. 

“Aren’t they?” 

“They are also cute,” you mutter, just sort of overwhelmed. 

Namjoon laughs. “Are you alright?” he asks. 

And what do you even say to that? You like him so much you think you might cry. Or throw up, or do something even more embarrassing like confess that you’re falling for him on your first actual date. You don’t even know if you’re alright—can you be so much better than alright that you aren’t anymore? Now you’re lost in your thoughts, and you know you’re just looking at him kind of helplessly and chewing your hotteok which not only is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, but is also delicious. 

When you swallow, you say the only semi-articulate thing that comes to mind. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies. “Literally. I wish I could tell you I wanted to hang out with you every day and not have that be weird.” 

“It’s not,” you chime in quickly, making his brows lift again. “It’s not weird. I want that, too.” 

“Oh… good, then. That’s good,” he says, nodding along. Then, after a beat, he adds, “So the ‘getting to know each other outside of my bedroom’ is going okay for you?” 

You try very hard not to giggle. “Definitely, yes.” 

Namjoon doesn’t look at you when he speaks again, just stares ahead as you near the lot where the car that dropped him off is waiting for both of you. “It’s going better than okay for me.” 

“Good,” you echo. 

“And I think I don’t want this date to be over,” he says. 

“What’s next then?” 

“Come home with me? For talking, and coffee… and whatever else, but no pressure. We don’t have to go into my bedroom. Shit, we can pretend I don’t even have a bedroom. Or a bed, or a couch, or a living room floor, or a kitchen counter…” His list of the places you’ve already slept together is probably embarrassingly long for only having known each other a little while. 

“Joon?” You cut him off and he finally turns to look at you. “Yes.” 

“Yes?”

“Mmhmm. And we don’t even have to pretend half your apartment doesn’t exist.” 

Namjoon looks happy. Really fucking happy. It’s going to be addictive, you decide, to put that look on his face. You want to do it all the time. Then, as he opens the car door for you, he says so only you can hear, “Then maybe we can add some more rooms to the list.” 

He has the best ideas. 

Later, when you’re lying naked on the floor of his giant closet and you’ve just about caught your breath again, you tell him so, and you get that ridiculous, full-dimpled smile in return. 

There’s no question: you’re addicted. 

That was how Namjoon was. He was always passionate about his work, and always wanted to constantly evolve. He loved art but was never one to be content with stagnation. He wasn’t going to be locked into four corners of a frame.

You admired that about him…but it also scared you in a way. In the back of your mind, you thought, maybe it took him a while to come around to this agreement because he didn’t want to be tied down to begin with.

It was a daunting and disappointing thought but you brush it aside when his follow-up text comes in.

[Namjoon] 6:07PM: What do you think about a quiet night-in at my place? I’ll order dinner and we can just hang out. No more boners, I promise 😇

That elicited a laugh from you. Truthfully, you didn’t mind it but you had to stick to your guns.

[You] 6:08PM: 😋 Sounds good, I can’t wait! Missed you, too.

[Namjoon] 6:10PM: I also got a new firepit installed on my balcony–totally safe, BTW. No open flame! I just push a button 😅

You laughed again.

[You] 6:10PM: Oohh cozy!

[Namjoon] 6:11PM: It is! I also got some new furniture and a blanket with our names on it.😏

[You] 6:11PM: Sounds romantic…

[Namjoon] 6:11PM: That’s the goal 😘 I’ll see you in two days.

******

“Fuck…” you croaked after coughing up icky, yellow-green mucus into the sink. This was bad, you thought. Namjoon was supposed to pick you up tonight and you woke up this morning feeling all foggy.

Yesterday, you thought the scratchy throat was brought on by allergies. You took an antihistamine before bed to stave it off. But now, you were all congested, looking like death after mere hours.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” Lani asks out of concern from the other side of the bathroom door.

You open it to greet her and she looks horrified when she sees your bloodshot eyes, pale skin and overall disheveled appearance.

“Really? It’s that bad?”

“I mean…” The look of hesitation on her face all but confirmed it. 

“Damn,” you groaned. “I was really looking forward to this date, too.”

Immediately, she tries to sound consoling. “You know what? I’m sure he’ll understand. It’s that time of the year, everyone’s getting sick.” 

Sure, she made a fair point. She was a nurse at a hospital and she knew all too well that this year’s flu season has been particularly brutal. You were just glad that you didn’t feel bad enough to require hospital admission.

But for some reason, that thought wasn’t comforting enough. “It’s been over three weeks and I really miss him,” you whined.

Back then, you’d go long stretches without seeing Namjoon and it wasn’t a big deal. You just shrugged your shoulders and thought you’d catch each other again ‘next time.’

Lani puckered her lips comically and glanced below your waist. “Guess you’re regretting that 5-date rule right about now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Shut up,” you dismissed her before walking past her to go back to your room.

“Girl, who cares? It’s not like you had a contract or whatever. Nobody’s taking you to court if you break your rule–”

“Yes, but I know it! And Namjoon knows it! And…”

“Okay, okay, I’m only teasing,” she backed off. “Want me to make you some chicken noodle soup before I take a nap?” Lani had been picking up extra shifts in the evenings since they had been short-staffed at the hospital.

While soup sounded good, the concept of sinking yourself back under your covers seemed more appealing.

“Nah, you go and sleep. I’ll order from the food app or something. I just had a little bit of yogurt before I took my cold medicine.”

“Alright. Just set an alarm every 3.5 hours, if you want to stay on top of it,” she yawns.

******

“Joon, I can’t tonight…”

Delete.

“I woke up sick, can we resche–”

Delete.

“Ugh, why is this so hard? Just be straight with him,” you say to yourself before finally typing up a text to Namjoon.

You checked your watch again. Around this time, he was on a plane coming back from a schedule. You couldn’t afford to wait a few more hours until he landed because he’d be coming straight from the airport to your place.

[You] 10:15AM: I know that we were really looking forward to tonight but I just came down with the flu. I feel like crap and I don’t want to get you sick. Can we do a raincheck in a few days?

You send it off and sink back into your blankets to doze off.

******

Somewhere between naps, you are awakened by the smell of food. You checked your watch for the time–it was too late for lunch and still early for dinner. You figured Lani ended up making you soup…she was such a saint. You didn’t deserve her love! 

Next, you reached for your phone to check for calls. There were a couple of ‘hope you feel better’ emails from your team and a voicemail from Jia saying that she could drop off stuff at your door if you ever needed anything.

Oddly, there was nothing from Namjoon even though the notification below the text that you sent to him indicated that he read it over two hours ago.

You felt crestfallen that he didn’t even acknowledge it. You wanted to send a follow-up text to ask about his trip but thought you’d go and have a couple of bites to eat so you could take your next dose of cold medicine. 

You wandered out into the kitchen, fully expecting to catch Lani as she headed out the door for work. 

Your coughing announced your presence. “That smells good. Are you…" You are stopped dead in your tracks. "Joon?” 

He turned around with the biggest grin on his face. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“W-wait, what are you…I thought–” You stuttered.

“You think you can get rid of me that easily?” He chuckled.

You laughed hoarsely. “I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. As you can see,” you open up your arms, as if presenting yourself to him, “I don’t look so hot right now.”

He took two strides and rounded the kitchen counter to get to you. “Do you think I care about that? I was looking forward to spending time with you and I wanted to do everything I could to make that happen.”

You wanted to swoon on the spot…until you noticed that he wasn’t wearing a face mask.

“But wait…you’ll get sick?”

He laughed softly, curling his arms around your waist. “I’ll be fine, baby. The whole group just got over a virus–and it missed me!”

You scoffed. “Oh, right–and with my luck, it’ll be me giving it to you.”

He shook his head, giving your hips a light squeeze. “You won’t. Aren’t you glad to see me?” He pouted his lips.

His subtle gesture made your belly flutter and your cheeks warm up. Glad to know that everything was still in good working order, you thought.

You gave a small smile. “Yes, of course.”

He flashed his dimple before kissing your forehead.

Taking your hand to urge you towards the kitchen, he says, “C’mon, I brought something that I thought might help you feel better.”

You took two steps before, realization sank in. “Hold on–how did you get in? Is Lani still here?” You’d been asleep for hours.

“No but I called her and,” he hesitates for a beat, “I…kind of… met her…at her workplace to borrow her keys?” He drags out slowly.

You eyed him suspiciously.

“She was cool with it and all she asked me to do was leave the key up on the lip of the doorframe so she could get in tomorrow morning.”

With a soft sigh, you nodded, appreciating the effort. Your eyes suddenly shift towards the kitchen, remembering what brought you out here in the first place. “D-did you cook?” These were words you never thought you’d ask him.

He threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “I wish but I don’t think you or Lani would forgive me if I burned your place down. I ordered some takeout–” He says, walking over to the counter, the bags finally coming into view. “I thought you might like some chicken pho?”

You couldn’t deny, that sounded amazing.

Sensing your acquiescence, he urges you to sit at the breakfast bar while he pours soup and noodles into bowls for both of you.

You asked if you could sit on the couch instead since you were feeling woozy and your warm throw blanket was calling your name. 

“Wherever you feel comfortable,” he replies. “I got some imperial rolls, too–I remembered that you liked them.”

“I do.” You smiled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness.

It’s been years since you both went out for good Vietnamese food. You registered the familiar green takeout bags on the counter. To most people, it looked like generic to-go bags but you recognize them coming from the hole-in-the-wall place that you and Namjoon used to go to.

After settling comfortably on the couch, he comes around, bowls in both hands and sets them on the coffee table in front of you. He turns back around to bring the pho add-ins along with the deep-fried eggrolls.

He takes the spot next to you and hands you a pair of chopsticks, which you accept. While he busies himself with the basil and lime, you couldn’t help but stare at him.

He turned his head in your direction. “You want some sriracha–what? Why are you staring?” he chuckled in curiosity.

“Nothing, I just…” at a loss for words, you just smiled, “Thank you.”

He gazed at you for a few seconds before responding, “You’re welcome. C’mon, eat up.”

******

After dinner, you tidied up together. Namjoon had music playing on your bluetooth speaker. As you reach for the rinsed dish that he held out for you to put on the rack to dry, he surprises you by grabbing your hand instead and deftly setting the bowl on the counter. A couple of pushes of a button on his phone with his free hand, he turned up the song’s volume.

Catching you around the waist, he pulls you close to him into a dance. You giggle as he sings along to the song that you recognize.

You can't disguise all the pounding of your heart, yeah I see your eyes And you can't hide

You laugh when he hits the falsetto but he’s too into it to stop.

Start to make sense and quit playing These love games… Tell me what you're gonna do, yeah

You join him when the chorus hits, dancing along to the beat. When the music dropped for the bridge, he pulls away slightly and then squints his eyes at you. He enunciates every word emphatically.

I just want to know one thing Will you be with me?

Hearing the words in his rich baritone made you catch your lower lip with your teeth. You grinned and matched his enthusiasm when you sang the rest of the words to him.

Here comes my darlin’ Here comes romance Here comes my lovin’, please honey will you dance

You pull him back closer to you, grinding against his body as the music swells again.

Then, he threw his head back dramatically to sing the chorus, “Quit breaking my heaaaaartttt…” You both burst out laughing as his voice cracks at the note that was clearly out of his vocal range.

When you calmed down, you looked up into his face. He was watching you with dark, glittering eyes.

“I love hearing you laugh like that,” he said, and you knew he wanted treasured memories like that between you. “It makes me think that I’m doing something right.”

“You are,” you assured him, even as your throat tightened at the sight of his yearning.

“I want to be that person who always puts a smile on your face.”

Slowly, you bring your hand up to cup his nape. “You already do.” With that, you pulled his mouth down to yours. As your lips touched, he hugged you so tightly your feet lifted off the floor.

This relationship may not have started out for the right reasons. You were both young and impulsive back then. 

But now, you were both trying hard to better yourselves for each other. Here was a man who wanted you both to work as desperately as you did. You were finally on the same page.

******

“The girl did it,” you blurted out decisively. 

Namjoon’s fingertips paused from drawing circles around your abdomen. “What? No way!”

You were sprawled lengthwise on the couch, watching Forensic Files. He was spooned behind you, his chin on your shoulder and his legs tangled with yours.

“I’m telling you…classic sociopath,” you told him matter-of-factly.

He scoffed. “I think it was the grandma.”

You gasped, eyes widening in shock. “Oh my god!” You tilted your head to look back at him. “She’s clearly only protecting her granddaughter!”

He grinned and smacked a kiss on your cheek. “Wanna bet on who’s right?”

You snorted. “Sorry, I’m not a gambler.”

“Aw, come on…” He rose up on his elbow to look down at you.

You tutted. “Nope! Besides, I know I’m right. I’ve seen enough of these shows to figure out a pattern.”

As you scooted closer to him, you felt his crotch against the curve of your bottom. He wasn’t hard, but that didn’t stop him from gaining your attention. Curiously, you reached behind you and cupped him.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

You laughed as you withdrew your hand. “I’m just checking to see if everything is still in its place. You’ve been on your best behavior considering we’re in a tricky position.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to push you too far and scare you off.” Namjoon’s eyes glittered from the light of the TV screen.

“How considerate of you.”

He nuzzled his nose against your temple. “I’m willing to wait however long. Five, ten, twenty dates…whatever you want.”

You wriggled your body to face him. “What about what you want?”

“I thought I made it clear last time that I only wanted you?”

You try to stifle a smile but are spectacularly failing at it. “What if I decided to scrap our no-sex agreement,” you whispered. Your pointer and middle fingers did a ‘walking’ motion up on his chest. “Would you think I was being too easy?”

He watched your fingers then shifted his eyes back to look into yours. “I’d be too busy thinking how lucky I was to have the privilege.” He traced your eyebrow with the tip of his finger.

You seriously considered it. Lani was right, it wasn’t like breaking your agreement would have any legal repercussions. You were both adults!

You cleared your throat in an attempt to strengthen your resolve. “Could we settle with a makeout session for the time being?”

“Make out? What are we, in junior high?” His head fell back and he laughed, his chest vibrating against you. It was a husky, deep tone, your toes curled at the sound of it. 

You pushed at his shoulder. “Come on! Nobody makes out anymore. Everyone just wants to get right into fucking. Don’t you miss that feeling of being so into each other but aren’t quite ready to go all the way yet?”

He slow-blinks at you, wondering what point you were trying to make.

“You know, when I was in the 8th grade, there was this boy—“

“I’m going to need to stop you right there,” he cuts you off. “I really do not want to think about other people kissing you.”

You purse your lips and apologize. “I’m sorry…” Your hands crept under his shirt, gliding over his warm skin. Your lips moved against his jawline. “So…does that mean that you don’t want to suck face?”

“Baby, I’ll suck on any part of your body I can get my mouth on,” he answers point-blank.

“Why don’t we start here for now,” You tap your finger against your lips and he takes them, sealing his mouth softly over yours. His tongue traced the seam, then dipped inside, licking and teasing.

You burrowed into him, moaning when he shifted to lie half over you. 

Your hands slid up and down his back, your leg lifting to hook over his hip. You caught his lower lip between your teeth and licked the curve with the tip of your tongue.

The low growl he let out made you wet.

Your back arched as his hand slid underneath the hem of your hoodie and captured your bare breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Are you sure you didn’t plan this,” he murmured. He kissed his way to your temple, and then buried his nose in your hair. “You’re making it really hard to last through two more dates.”

You pull away from him briefly. “Listen–I had no idea that you were coming over, okay,” you argued. “I didn’t know I had to be in proper underwear around you.”

He chuckled at your defensiveness. “I’m kidding,” he plants a quick kiss on your lips. “Can we just continue making out?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. “You’re lucky, you’re cute.” You pushed past his joggers to squeeze his butt. The heat of his skin and his natural scent was a heady mix for you. It made you feel drunk with lust and need.

His mouth covered yours and you fisted at his hair, urging him closer to you with your arms and legs wrapped around him.

“I want you so much,” he rasped in between kisses.

You moaned in agreement, your mouth moving feverishly against his.

Namjoon held you with one hand at your nape and the other at your waist. Settling over you, he aligned himself against you and rolled his hips to your center.

“Mm, that felt so good,” you groaned, nails digging into his flesh while your insides clenched.

“Imagine how much better it would feel inside you,” he purred.

You nipped at his lower lip, giggling. “Are you trying to convince me to go all the way?”

“I can slide right in,” He sucked gently on your throat, making your core tremble hungrily. “You don’t even have to do anything. You can just lay back and watch me do all the work.”

It was incredibly tempting. He was rock-hard and you were primed and ready for him. All he needed to do was hook his finger to your leggings’ waistband.

You playfully puckered your lips and arched an eyebrow at him. “Hmm…I don’t know. I’m not that kind of girl anymore.”

His hand squeezed your hip bone, eliciting a light squeal from you.

Brushing his mouth over yours, he whispered, “If you don’t like it once it’s in you, I promise I’ll pull right out.”

You scrunch your face humorously at him. “Do people still fall for that line?”

He stared back at you in all seriousness. “You know I’d never feed you lines. I mean every word.”

You gripped the curves of his butt and rocked up against him, making him purr in excitement. Reveling in his playfulness, you teased, “And do you say that to all of the girls?”

His eyebrows knitted. “What other girls?”

“Oh, you know…” you sighed, “You’re Kim Namjoon, international idol. All these women, screaming for you to walk into their waiting arms.”

“You say that, and yet, I’m here in yours,” he lifted his head, his fingertips brushed the hair from your temple, “...where I belong.”

His words hit you like a freight train. You swallowed hard and whispered, “Fuck, what a line! Fine, go ahead and put it in.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breathy laugh warming your cheeks. “It’s unbelievable how crazy I am about you.”

You smiled back. “Well, believe it, because I am, too.”

You spent the rest of the night kissing and groping each other like horny teenagers but never went all the way. There was just something thrilling about that youthful, almost forbidden intimacy.

Hours later, you fell asleep in each other’s arms on your bed. You woke the next morning to the sound of his phone going off—work was calling and he had to leave.

As he prepares to head out, he tucks you back securely under your covers, and plants a kiss on your forehead.

When he pulls away, you utter, “Hmmm...I love you,” in the midst of your cold medicine-induced haze.

Before he could respond, you drowsily rolled over onto your side and fell back to sleep. You would wake up nearly an hour later, completely unaware of your words or whether he said anything back.

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“Ooohh…and you’re on the menu. Got it,” She teased, motioning to your partially exposed cleavage.

You turn and throw a balled up tissue at her in jest. “I most definitely am not!” You turn back to your mirror. “Besides, I told him that we’re having none of that until…we establish some ground rules. If he wants to be with me, I want to see a bit more effort on his part,” you reason.

“Are you putting the kitty on lockdown or what?”

You snort at her comment but your expression turns sober almost immediately after. “I just want to know whether this can work without sex being on the table the entire time.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Lani starts cackling.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose. “Damn, that came out wrong.”

After recovering you clarify, “Anyway! What I was actually trying to say was that…I want to see if there’s more to this.”

Lani paused and turned serious in a matter of seconds. “Well, you started off as good friends, right? That’s promising.”

You twisted your lips wryly. “Yeeeaah, until we fell into bed. Add him being this superstar idol and it gets more complicated. I just want to know if there’s something else that would hold us together. And if there isn’t…then I’m completely wrong and maybe I’ll wake up and realize that I was being delusional this whole time,” you finish quietly.

Lani comes up from behind to wrap you in her arms. You leaned into her hold, giving her forearm an appreciative squeeze. She was one of your oldest, most trustworthy friends. “I understand,” she says softly, recalling your conversation when you confessed how you really felt about Namjoon.

“Do what you need to, but remember to be good to yourself, too,” she reminds you.

You cocked your neck sideways at her, face wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about? I am good to myself,” you chuckled.

She released you from her hold and sidled next to you. “I meant, if things don’t go as you hoped they would, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” With that, Lani gives you a quick peck on the cheek then leaves your room.

Though her parting words sounded ominous, you couldn’t deny that you were banking on the thought that this would all work out in your favor. You loved Namjoon and wanted to be with him…but it wasn’t that simple. Namjoon hasn’t shown any signs of slowing down in his career at all. There may be a group hiatus but solo efforts were underway.

If work would start to ramp up for him, where would that leave you?

******

Namjoon’s face reflects on your wine glass while you watch the crimson liquid swirl around it. He’d been on the phone for the last ten minutes.

The evening started off promising. Lani was right–you practically had to fight him to keep his hands off you until you reminded him of your agreement. Five dates. And depending how those dates go, maybe you’d consider getting into bed with him again.

It was going to be a challenge, though. Just as you’d thrown the gauntlet, he was happy to pick it up. He showed up looking just as mouthwatering–dressed in a simple black suit with a crisp, dress shirt, top two buttons undone. Although his brushed-back hair made you feral, you had to stick to your guns.

He cleared out the entire back room of a restaurant, all wait staff signing NDAs.

His phone kept buzzing through the first course, which he mostly ignored. Once they brought in the main course, he couldn’t mute the incessant ringing any longer. He apologized to you before answering it.

He glanced at you nervously while you silently munched through your side order of fries and distractedly scrolled through your phone.

“Jon, Jon, listen bro…can we just work this out tomorrow when I stop by the studio?...Yeah…I know but it can wait. We’ll take care of it first thing, the second I get there. Alright…Yeah, thanks. See you then. Bye.” He hung up then sighed. “Sorry,” he says to you immediately.

You peered up from your phone’s screen and gave him a small smile. “That’s alright. Work is work,” is all you say.

He shook his head, reached for your hand across the table and held it. “No, I should have just sent it to voicemail. I told my assistant to field all of my calls because I wanted our night to be free of interruptions.”

You wanted to say something snarky but you held back. At least he didn’t cancel on you and he really tried to ignore his phone since you arrived. Acknowledging his effort, you relax your tense posture. “It’s fine. You’ve got a lot of stuff going on with the album and stuff. I never asked you to stop working on my account.” 

“I know that,” he says quietly. “I just wanted this date to be perfect for you.”

You smiled softly at his sincerity. You then leaned in and reached up to brush some errant strands that fell over his eye. “Joon, if I wanted ‘perfect’, I wouldn’t be doing this with you.”

His breath caught for a moment before his mouth curved into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips.

It started off as a soft, melding of your mouths, which quickly turned into hunger. He cupped your face while you curled your hand around his nape to pull him closer. It was almost second nature. 

He kissed you deeply, tonguing your mouth in that same leisurely, spine-tingling manner as he did when he was between your legs. You once thought he could make you orgasm with his kiss–if you stayed at it long enough. Everything about him turned you on–from the way he looked and felt beneath in your hands to the way he would watch and touch you. He was always greedy for you and you were the same way towards him.

But you abruptly wrench yourself away, leaving him bereft. He tries to pull you back in but you pressed your hand to his chest to stop him.

“As much as I want to,” you chuckled. “I don’t think we should.”

Nodding gently, he backs away. “Are you sure that 5-date rule is non-negotiable?”

You threw your head back in laughter. “You proposed the 5-date rule–not me!”

His mouth falls open at your accusation. “Only because you initially wanted 10,” he nearly shrieks. “It was a compromise!”

Your stomach contracted amidst your giggles. “That’s right…laugh at my pain,” Namjoon says sarcastically.

On your last conversation, you agreed to go out on 10 dates before having sex with him again. He reluctantly suggested a mid-point. Ever since you both started messing around, every interaction with him always ended up with your bodies tangled up in bed.

This was going to be a difficult challenge–not just for him but for you, as well. You loved touching him as much as he loved his hands all over you. Physical contact between you was virtually essential whenever you met. But since you’d asked him for more, you also needed to find out if there was something else to this relationship other than the physical and sexual aspect of it.

“I’m sorry, Joon,” you apologize after finally catching your breath. “But I just think that we really need to try and spend quality time together…without actively fucking,” you reiterate.

He sighed then raked his fingers through his hair. “I know, I know. I’ll try to keep things under control,” he huffed under his breath before taking a long slug of his whisky.

“Thank you,” you say with a sympathetic tone before smiling at him.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. Unlike what you had initially feared, conversation between you flowed freely and naturally–even when sex was out of the equation. Neither of you missed a beat, laughing and joking about anecdotes about your friends and work.

The evening may have hit a hurdle but you both got over it quickly. It made this effort all the more promising for you.

******

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” He asks when his car pulls up to your building.

“While I would love to say ‘yes,’ I have to finish up some things at the office…which will probably go into the night since the end of the year is right around the corner,” you say with regret.

You then stretch the kinks in your neck. “Plus, I really need to get a workout in. I’ve been putting it off too long.”

“What time do you need to head to the office?”

“My team expects me to be there by 11.”

His eyebrows twitched as the gears in his head started to spin. “Can I propose something to you?”

You purse your lips hesitantly.

“Now, hear me out,” he gently offers. You stared at him for a few beats then eventually acquiesce.

“What if you come by my place? We can work out together in the morning at the gym in my building. I can get breakfast delivered, it will be completely chill. Two hours, tops! You can bring a change of clothes and shower back at my place. Then we can head out together.”

You were already apprehensive about being photographed at his place but showering there? Being in a state of undress while either of you are in the same space? Your 5-date rule would go up in flames in a heartbeat.

He assures you that he would behave himself–even suggesting that you lock the door so he wouldn’t attempt to join you.

“Still though, wouldn’t that be…risky?” The dorms were more private when you used to meet and hook up there back then. You’d only been to his new place three times. The second time you were there, a photographer was hiding in the bushes. The record company had to buy their photos in order for them not to be posted onto tabloids.

The last time you were there was before Namjoon and his bandmates left for their most recent tour that just wrapped up. At that point, you’d agreed not to meet there again whenever he was back in town for breaks.

“Security is much better now,” Namjoon explains. “The loading dock out back was redone and it’s more private than it was before. It’s incredibly difficult to get a photo or footage of whoever is coming in and out of the building unless they hang from the street lamp or tree.”

“Don’t underestimate the will of a very eager photographer,” you say sardonically.

He shook his head. “I promise, it’s secure.”

“What about my car?”

“I can have a driver pick you up from here and bring you to my place. They can drop you off at your office, too.” 

He seems to have an answer for all of your concerns, but you didn’t hog his driver’s time if he needed him. “Joon, I don’t–”

“It’s fine, really. When you’re done with your work, the driver will be at your disposal. I figured you’d be too tired to drive from downtown and back here.”

He had a point there. There were times when you wished your car would just drive itself especially on long days. “What about you? How will you get to work and back?”

“I’ll ride my bike,” he says simply. “So…what do you say?”

You roll your eyes. “Two hours and no longer than that, okay?”

He nodded emphatically. “I swear!”

You agreed and mouthed your thanks. Before stepping out of the car, you share a chaste kiss–a far cry from the tonsil hockey incident earlier this evening. You step out of the car and watch the black SUV pull away from the curb.

When you enter your apartment, your phone buzzes with a text. A smile crept on your face after reading it.

[Namjoon] 10:40PM: Car will pick you up at 8AM. One down, four to go! Sleep tight, beautiful. 😘

******

The company car was right on time the next morning. And just as he promised, the loading dock was practically fully enclosed. You felt more at ease after seeing it for yourself.

You entered the security code that Namjoon sent to you which activated the elevator’s keypad so you could push the button to ascend to his floor. That was another upgrade from the last time that you were here.

Shortly after you push his buzzer, you hear his front door click open. He comes down to the hallway, already dressed in workout clothes to greet you with a quick kiss.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“Yeah. You weren’t exaggerating about the new security measures,” you say after he pushes the door shut.

“We have a lot of high-profile residents so–the property managers stepped it up. It was a good move on their part. Besides, with the rent that we pay every month? Shit…should be worth the upgrades.”

“Are you ready to go?” You ask, clutching your water bottle and gym bag.

“Yeah–I just need to put my shoes on then we can head to the 5th floor, where the gym is.” He adds that you can leave your bag that contains your change of clothes and that his assistant would come by with breakfast all set up while you went about your workout.

******

Since you hadn’t been to the gym in a while, you weren’t planning on a high-intensity workout. You mainly wanted to be able to stretch out your muscles while getting a good sweat session in. Admittedly, part of that stemmed from frustration brought on by this temporary celibate period but you had to stay focused if you wanted things to work with him.

“What…the…hell…are you wearing?” He nearly punctuates every word in a low, husky tone.

You hadn’t noticed him standing right behind you after you hung your oversized zip-up hoodie on one of the hooks conveniently placed by the treadmill.

“Gym clothes?” You answer as if the issue wasn’t obvious to you.

He took another look at your sports bra. “There’s no way! That is a poor excuse for a top. You look naked!”

You laughed, not understanding what the big deal was. The top showed off a little more cleavage but it was the keyhole cutouts that sat strategically over the swell of your breasts and the criss-cross straps in the back that had him agitated. “You’re overreacting,” you say dismissively.

“And these pants? What the–”

You groan and roll your eyes. The matching high-waisted leggings had strategic stitching that hugged your curves in all the right places.

Ignoring him, you step onto the treadmill, your feet resting on the sides of the machine while you key in your settings on the screen. “Let’s just warm up, okay?” You say before sticking your wireless earbuds in and blasting your workout playlist. You set your phone into a secure slot then step onto the treadmill, starting with a brisk walk.

He poked his tongue against his cheek in annoyance. Scowling, he punches his settings into the machine next to you. Seconds later, he pulls his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly on the bench behind him before stepping onto the treadmill.

The view of his bare chest distracts you causing you to nearly miss a step, but you hold onto the railing and quickly recover. He gave a victorious smirk and began to increase his speed setting. You mirror him after hitting your stride and break into a jog as well.

Guess you weren’t the only one working out certain frustrations.

After twenty minutes you slowed to a stop, finally risking a glance at Namjoon, who was still running fluidly. He was watching the news on the mounted screen, but flashed a smile while you wiped the sweat off your face. Feeling parched, you took a swig from your water bottle and moved to the other machines, picking one that gave you a clear view of him.

Ten minutes later, he moved to the chest fly machine, making sure to keep you in his line of sight. You’d occasionally brush against each other when switching positions within the facility. You watched him work out quickly and efficiently. Thank goodness you had the gym all to yourselves this morning because you just kept ogling at him. He looked so…primal and it didn’t help that you also knew exactly what was underneath those shorts. 

Shaking your thoughts away, you moved to pick up a yoga ball to do some crunches before you end your workout.

When you finish, you sit up and idly rock your hips while sitting on the yoga ball to cool down. Distantly, you hear the doors open while your playlist switches tracks.

The newcomer smiled as he approached. You see him linger a bit even after you acknowledge him so you pause your music and pull out one of your earbuds.

“Hi,” he greeted you, with a winning smile that showcased perfect white teeth. “Never seen you around here. Did you just move in?”

“No,” you reply. “I’m just visiting.”

He gives a small nod. “I’m Seokmin, by the way.” He extended his hand, and you shook it after giving your name.

Upon hearing his name, you knew he was familiar except you were a bit behind on your celebrity gossip so you couldn’t quite place him at the moment.

“So,” he began, “Are you here with company?” 

“Uhm…” You scanned the room and Namjoon was nowhere to be found. You assumed he might have gone to use the gym bathrooms.

Without missing a beat, Seokmin continues to chat you up. “You know, they recently opened up a smoothie bar down at the lobby in case you wanted to check that out. There’s a separate code for that but I can give you mine, if you want?” He winked.

Just then, Namjoon appeared by Seokmin’s shoulder. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, coming around and behind you to slide his arms around your waist possessively. “I’ve already given my girlfriend permission to have full access to the amenities here.”

The word girlfriend reverberated in your ears. Though you were still working to establish your relationship, it still didn’t stop you from thinking that the distinction had a nice ring to it. 

“H-hey, Namjoon,” Seokmin straightened and took a step back, then bowed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea she was with you.”

“‘S’alright. It's not like that's ever stopped you before, though.” He says in jest, while smacking Seokmin in the arm in a bro-manner. Namjoon had a big smile on when he said that last comment but you could practically hear the anger lacing his tone.

“But we like to keep things private so, I trust you’ll be discreet about this? You know, a little quid pro quo?” Namjoon gave him a knowing look and an outstretched hand.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in you and realization sinks in. Seokmin was a K-drama actor who was recently on the tabloids for cheating on his pregnant fiancee. Jia and Lani could not stop blabbing about it.

“He was just being welcoming,” you say to Namjoon, as they shook hands.

“Yeah, he’s very welcoming indeed,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. He absently hands you your sweater and water bottle.

His hair was soaked with sweat and his bare chest was slicked with it as well. He looked like a god. And you’d never known that a sweaty man could smell this good. Your dirty thoughts are interrupted when he slips his shirt back on and turns his attention to you.

His hands stroking down your arms, he says, “Ready to go, baby?” He didn’t wait for you to answer but you felt his lips on the crown of your head. “Anyway, catch you later, man,” he says curtly.

You smile politely and wave goodbye as you walk away. “Nice meeting you!”

Seokmin gave a tight smile. “It was great to meet you too.”

Namjoon muttered after you stepped into the elevator. “Fucking asshat. He wouldn’t stop staring at your tits.”

You lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “What can I say? They’re nice tits.”

He made a low growling noise. You stifle a grin to hide your amusement. That was payback for his little striptease earlier.

But he takes you completely by surprise when he slaps your bottom hard, leaving behind a stinging sensation through your pants. “Next time, I’m bringing an extra shirt to cover you up.”

“Since when has the way that I dress been your business?” You quipped as you got off his floor and entered his unit.

He caught your wrist while you both lingered in the hallway. “Since I made a promise to make you a priority,” he answered.

You blinked profusely in surprise.

“Look, I know I haven’t done the whole relationship-thing in a long time and I’m a little rusty at it. But I meant it when I said I’d work my ass off to keep you,” he says firmly. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d see that I’m trying my best here.”

A pang of guilt hits you and you turn apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And yes, for the record, I see and appreciate the effort you’re putting in,” you acknowledge.

“I don’t want anybody else so…you’ll have to forgive me if I start getting territorial.”

You returned his gaze. “Joon, I would never,” you say apologetically, referring to your little exchange at the gym with Seokmin.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he answered. “I just know him a little too well, unfortunately.”

He was well-aware of Seokmin’s messy behavior. Even so, Namjoon typically kept his head down. Seokmin was a big boy and it wasn’t like Namjoon to stick his nose in other people’s business. He only hoped that his neighbors afforded him the same courtesy.

Jerking his head sideways, he beckons you towards the kitchen and his face visibly relaxes. “C’mon, there’s a large triple mocha that’s got your name on it,” he smiled.

******

“So this counts as date number two, right?” He asks while he sipped on his iced Americano.

You scrunch your eyebrows after biting into a pastry and disagree. “What? All we did was work out! That hardly counts as a date,” you scoffed, downing the rest of your coffee.

“And now we’re sitting here, having breakfast and a conversation!”

You let out a disappointed sigh, “But a gym date, though?”

He laughed. “I thought that the whole point was for us to spend time together without actively fucking?” He arched a questioning eyebrow at you. He gestures at the breakfast spread that his assistant set up, “Wouldn’t you think that this counts as quality time?”

You pucker your lips, thinking for a few beats. Jia and her boyfriend considered sitting on the couch and watching their favorite show together ‘quality time.’

Sure, this may not have been like a date-date like last night but he was making a conscious effort to move things around in his schedule so he could spend time with you.

You thought back to the old days when you’d hang out in his dorm, sitting side-by-side on his bed while you read books. At that point, he only had a little over 12 hours before he and his band moved onto the next city for another show.

“You’re right,” you agreed. “Date number two then.”

He gave a small pump of his fist in triumph. “I’m glad you said that because you’ll probably hate me after I tell you this.”

“What is it?” In the back of your mind, you had a feeling that he probably needed to fulfill a company schedule locally or he had to jet off somewhere.

“After today, I have a packed schedule. I’m under a deadline to finish this album so we can get it mastered by the end of the month. So,” he sighed heavily, his face faltering, “I won’t be able to see you again… for the next two weeks, at least.”

Hearing that made your heart sink but you had to be realistic. You didn’t want Namjoon to put you ahead of his career. All you asked for was to have a place in his life. Not just as a booty call or a fuck-buddy, but for him to be actually committed to you. Part of that was him being more open to you about his schedule, when he previously was evasive about it.

“I appreciate you telling me,” you replied. “Then we’ll just make plans whenever you’re done.”

“Y-you’re not mad?” He says tentatively.

“No,” you smiled. “I’d be pissed if you just ghosted me for two weeks without telling me! I just want you to communicate with me.”

He nodded, “From now on, you’ll always know where I’m at. And…if for some reason I can’t get that message to you myself, I’ll make sure that someone in my staff tells you.”

Your heart soars, making you get up from your seat to sit on his lap–much to his delight.

Could you love this man more than you already did?

You curled your arms around his neck and captured his mouth in yours. “Thank you,” you say to him.

“No need to thank me. I want to do this.” He pinches your chin gently. 

You sit in silence, just gazing at each other. The longer you stare at him, the more you seriously consider tossing out your 5-date agreement and letting him take you on his couch right this second. You wished that you didn’t have to go to the office today and that he didn’t need to go into the studio.

His thumb brushed over your lips and touched his forehead to yours. Inhaling sharply, he says, “Alright, I think I need shower,” before gently sliding you off him. He had a pained expression on his face.

“Again? You just showered, though.” Before you sat in his kitchen, you took turns in his shower. You trusted him enough that you didn’t need to lock the door. In turn, he stayed true to his word and gave you your privacy.

He rose from his chair. “I know. But I’m going to need a cold shower before we head out.” It was only then that you noticed him cupping his crotch. 

“Oh my god,” your hand flies to your mouth. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s fine. I’ll be done in 10,” he calls over his shoulder. You shout out more apologies while he waddles awkwardly to his bathroom.

The next two weeks would be difficult but you thought it might be a good break, considering being in the same room always cranked up the tension between you two.

The good thing was that Namjoon was being more open about how he felt. And while you were ready to scream out the L-word to him, you decided to save it until you felt absolutely sure that neither of you were going to drop the ball. You were making good strides by taking it slow and things were far better than they used to be. For now, you could rest on those thoughts and count the days until date number three.

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his grip on your hips tightens as you let your tongues connect for a brief moment.

suddenly the kiss is deeper, more tongue, more push, but you need him so much closer.

you lean against his broad chest, shifting weight onto your hands into his unyielding form and feeling his warm body beneath your palms.

your kisses trail down his sharp jaw, over his neck, down to the dip between his collarbones, then up the sides again. you can’t leave marks on kai without getting him in trouble, but you lave your tongue over his sensitive skin, tracing constellations.

kai has a good pokerface, but you know his tells - his heartbeat picking up beneath your fingers when you blow cold air onto the wet kisses you leave behind, his breath getting stuck in his throat right where your gentle lips catch it.

you let your teeth softly graze his adams apple and he shivers, enough of you having your fun.

his large hand on your jaw lifts your face for another kiss, a real one, deeper still, consuming. when kai’s tongue pushes between your teeth you open up for him and let him take and take until he’s had his fill for a while.

unrelenting kai then ducks his head to attach his teeth to your earlobe. a shiver runs through you when he tugs gently and instinctively roll your hips against him, feeling just how much of your wetness has gathered between your legs as you shift.

kai bites you there gently, then moves along. he sucks a possessive little kiss just beneath your jaw, then more around your collarbones. small love bites start littering the tops of your tits and you’re undulating your hips above him, restless. you want more, want to peel his clothes off of his body too and feel him all over, but you don’t want to break this perfect arrangement you have with you perched in his lap and your feet tucked under his thighs.

“let me touch you a little,” kai demands from the valley between your breasts. you nod and kai rewards you with another stinging love bite, soothing the abused skin with his curious tongue.

his long fingers dip into your shorts, feeling your wetness that pools between your legs and rolling it up over your throbbing clit with one soft stroke.

you gasp, hips jerking forward into his touch, your head flinging back at the sensation. kai determinedly presses on, his fingers circling your clit with intent as his mouth latches onto the bottom of your throat. you don’t know if it’s the feeling of his teeth sinking into your sensitive skin possessively or the pad of his index finger stroking over your bundle of nerves just right - or both of the sensations at once - but you go limp in his hold, shivering with need as you let him ravage you.

kai carefully rolls the small patch of loose skin between his teeth, just adamant enough to have small pricks of pain traveling all over your body whenever the pressure passes over a sharp canine. you will still feel him right there tomorrow, with the familiar dull throb of him leaving his mark tonight.

even needier now you cant your hips against his hand again and kai indulges you, slipping two long fingers into your throbbing cunt while trailing spit-slicked kisses over your trembling throat.

“kai,” you groan. “more.”

kai’s arm tightens around your middle, holding you close when he curls a third finger into you, exploring your warm walls while his lips continue to trail over your shoulders and neck. you feel so vulnerable, desired, dizzy, safe.

“you like it so much, hm?” kai mumbles against your skin, lips tickling where you want them to sting. “like it when i show you how you’re mine?”

you can only respond with a desperate whimper, but it’s enough for kai to latch onto your neck again, sucking a brand new bruise against sensitive skin that sends bright sparks of pleasure fizzling through your entire body. his fingers move inside of you with intent - if the angle is tiring on his wrist he doesn’t show it - steadily grinding three digits in and out of your sopping hole and making sure to rub his palm against your clit whenever he’s buried his fingers the furthest into you, making your stomach cave and your chest heave from the overwhelming stimulation. it’s perfect, he’s perfect, and you try to tell him as much

it feels like the world stops when you cum, tucked warm and safe in kai’s lap as he guides you through it.

you’re breathless when you and kai finally kiss again, eyes shut tight, all tongue and teeth. there’s none of the earlier finesse left but you don’t mind, letting kai push his way into your mouth and explore it like he needs to uncover a secret, soft and warm and demanding.

hyperaware of the wetness between your legs now that kai has pulled his hand away from you, you’re shifting around, only to feel him rock hard against you.

“do you want me to…?”

“not right now,” kai says with his eyes still closed. “i’m perfectly happy just like this.”

without hesitation you kiss again and he bites at your lower lip, sensually rolling his tongue into your mouth and letting it play with yours with teasing flicks that make you tingle, leaving you breathless and spitslicked when you pull back with a gasp.

kai lets you fill your lungs with air, too preoccupied with littering kisses all over your cheeks, then his mouth instinctively travels beneath your ear again.

you steal a glance at the alarmclock.

2:53 a.m.

four hours and thirty-seven minutes until kai’s next schedule.

you sigh, taking his face into your hands and slanting your lips against kai’s just once more, gentle and chaste and not enough, before pulling back. kai follows - not like he’s chasing you, but more like your mouth is a small magnetic field, drawing him in with gentle but undeniable attraction.

“it’s past your bedtime,” you whisper just when kai’s mouth meets your cheek, your turned face unable to hide the smile that blooms on your lips when you feel that kai’s expression turns sulky at your teasing.

“can we stay like this a bit longer?” he asks, hands smoothing down your sides. his nose brushes over your jaw, breath tickling your neck as he mumbles the next words. “can we stay like this a lot longer? can we kiss forever?”

“we can,” you breathe.

you can’t.

both of you know you can’t.

"And you must be Y/N; it's a pleasure meeting you," Jeongin smiles back. "You know, you're so much prettier in real life?"

Not expecting the compliment, you bite back a squeal and thank him, shyly turning towards Jake. He notices your flustered state and raises an eyebrow. You just shake your head at him and he nods, not fully understanding.

As you place your orders and the chickens are being cooked, you make small talk with everyone around the table, making light hearted jokes with Keeho and praising Heeseung for his kindness. You finally make eye contact with Beomgyu and wave, mouthing I missed you.

He mouths back I missed you too and you smile, breaking the eye contact. You really wonder how he's been. You haven't been able to set a clear boundary like you said you would, so you've been avoiding him. Has he been spending more time with Yunjin? Are they finally exclusive? You don't really want the answers to those questions.

You turn back to Jeongin after looking at his cardigan, "You look really comfy today! Plus your cardigan is so cute!"

Jeongin looks down at his cardigan then back at you, "Thanks! I didn't know what to wear today so Heeseung suggested I wear this. Do you wanna try it on?"

You make a face at him, confused. He just snickers and shrugs off his cardigan, draping it over your shoulders.

"I was kidding. You looked a bit cold there, so here. Hope you stay warm," he says, turning back to Heeseung.

You're not sure if it's because you make eye contact with Beomgyu right after that, or if it's because Jeongin is so sweet, but your heart beats a little faster.

Jake can only nudge you in your flustered state while Jay gives you a thumbs up. Sunghoon isn't paying attention, and you don't think he cares much because he's really, really getting into his chicken thigh.

Catching you off guard, Jeongin leans into you a little, so you get a whiff of his cologne. He smells good, almost heavenly. He whispers, "So what kind of chicken did you get, Y/N?"

"Snow cheese," you reply. "It's really good. Wanna try?"

Jeongin smiles at you, "For a lactose intolerant person, you sure do eat a lot of cheese. But, sure. Let's give it a go."

You pick up a drumstick with your gloved hand and think you're going to give it to Jeongin. But Jeongin, the sly fox that he is, grabs your wrist and brings your hand to his face, then takes a bite out of the chicken.

Once he's finished trying your chicken, Jeongin quips, "Wow! It's actually really good. It's amazing."

"Y-yeah! R-really good!" you echo, even more flustered than ever.

"You should try mine!" Jeongin says quickly. He picks up his chopsticks and grabs a small chicken wing, bringing it to your mouth. "Say ahh~"

He cups his other hand underneath your chin to catch any crumbs. You open your mouth and Jeongin smiles as you take a bite of the chicken. Your heart has never beat this fast before.

Maybe going for Jeongin is a bad idea.

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a/n ! sorry i don't think i like this chapter very much but jeongin and y/n finally met <3

his head leaned into your neck, pressing butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin and sucking purple and red marks knowing full well you'd have trouble covering them up tomorrow morning. he doesn't care.

his head leaned into your neck, pressing butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin and sucking purple and red marks knowing full well you'd have trouble covering them up tomorrow morning. he doesn't care.

his head leaned into your neck, pressing butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin and sucking purple and red marks knowing full well you'd have trouble covering them up tomorrow morning. he doesn't care.

you were his, and that's all that mattered to soobin. he was going to finally stake his claim over you tonight.

you whined in his ear, clawing at his back. "please," you begged. you didnt even have to finish what you wanted to say before soobin was lifting you from the couch and carrying you to your shared bedroom, continuing his assault on your neck and jaw. soobin whispered hotly into your ear, "what do you want, my love? tell me." you gasped when soobin found the sweet spot on your neck. "i..i..." you started. soobin moved away to properly listen to you. he nodded, motioning for you to continue. "keep going, baby."

"...want you to touch me, so bad." you squeaked. the boy grinned, flashing a bunny smile. "of course, anything for you." soobin unbuttoned his dress shirt and allowed the fabric to freely run down his back. his body was chiseled and smooth, often times making you compare him to adonis for how well-built his body looks.

so much for someone who allegedly hated working out.

soobin worked on removing your own shirt, quickly unbuttoning it as well before his jaw hangs open at the sight of your lingerie. "was a gift for your birthday," you breathed out as he continued to gape. it was a lace pastel pink set, covering very little as your nipples were on full display for him. on the back of your bra were tiny angel wings. "happy birthday, soobin." you said. soobin's last string of self control finally snapped as he wildly removed your skirt, seeing the lace pink panties you were wearing, soaked and dripping with arousal. he groaned, feeling his pants tighten with his hard dick begging to be freed. his fingertips brushed over the skin of your stomach and thighs making you whine again. "don't tease!" you pleaded. soobin laughed at your reaction, biting your panties to pull them off. the sight of your boyfriend with your panties filled with your dripping slick hooked into his mouth was a view that had you gushing. fuck, he was so hot. soobin's hands gripped the back of your upper thighs, holding them up as he pulled you closer. "wanna eat you out." he says, lowering his face to your throbbing core. he licked a stripe up your pussy, tasting the sweet slick. "you taste just like honey," he murmured before diving in.

soobin was messy, to say the least. the boy ate you out like a starved man, pushing his head further into your heat, moving wildly as his tongue dipped into your hole as far it could go, licking and tasting whatever he could get. his nose occasionally bumped into your clit, making you writhe and moan. "fu-u-ck, soobin," you moaned. "feels so good." you added. soobin grunted in response, sending vibrations throughout your body. "i only want to make you feel good, my love." you felt your orgasm approach, stomach twisted in tight knots as soobin kept going. he barely stopped to take a breath, letting himself indulge and become drunk on the way you tasted on his tongue. "all mine." he says, suckling on your clit. "you're all mine, isn't that right? so pure and vulnerable just for me."

you nodded your head quickly. you didn't want this to end.

the knot in your stomach finally reached its limit, finishing all over soobin’s face and covering his mouth in your sweet release. soobin lapped up your juices hungrily as he finally sat up. “think you’re ready for me now, my love?”

your brain was fuzzy, the strength of your orgasm making you unable to register any of his words in your head. soobin raised an eyebrow at your lack of response, taking your jaw into one of his hands. “tell me, do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.

“y-yes, please!” you begged him, vision finally focusing on the man in front of you. soobin smirked before finally unbuttoning his pants. “if you say so, then.” you watched as his pants fell to his ankles, then his boxers before he kicked them off into some part of the room.

soobin’s cock was huge. it took you nearly a month to finally take his full length, training yourself on dildos for weeks as he watched you do so. the first time he had ever bottomed out inside of you was a feeling of pure euphoria. you felt overstimulated to no end while he fucked you endlessly, high on the fact that your small body was able to take his huge cock.

he lined his blunt tip at your entrance, teasing you a bit as you feel him nudging at your overworked clit. eventually, soobin pushed inside, your warm walls clenching his cock tightly. soobin turned your head, making you face the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. "i want you to watch yourself get ruined by me." he muttered. you whined loudly, his entire length filling you up while his pubic bone grinded against your clit. soobin pulled out slowly, feeling every ridge and vein on his dick before forcefully thrusting back in. you screamed his name loudly. fuck the neighbors who might’ve heard you. he was just too good.

soobin’s pace started off slow and fast, holding on to your waist as you watched his cock slide in and out of you through the mirror. “ah~ ah! so good- don’t stop! please,” you panted out for him. “faster!”

the man on top of you was never one to deny your wishes, immediately moving his hips faster at your request. soobin leaned down, lips softly brushing your ear as he whispered words of praise and love.

“you’re doing so good.”

“taking me so nicely, such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“m’gonna fuck you so well, i promise. gonna have you seeing stars by the end of the night.”

soobin’s thrusts were powerful, pushing your body forward on the bed with each one. the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin must be able to be heard through the walls of your apartment complex by now.

you clawed at soobin’s back, whining and moaning uncontrollably. the feeling of your nails raking across the fair, supple skin on his back had him throw his head back to release a groan. his thrusts never lost tempo, pushing you closer to your orgasm as the familiar knot in your stomach reappears again. “soobin, i’m close.” you warned. “alright, baby, hold on,” he reassured you. you brought a hand down to your clit to stimulate yourself before soobin immediately slaps your hand away, replacing it with his own. “don’t fucking touch it.” he grits out. “this belongs to me, you’re mine.”

soobin’s fingertips swirled around your clit, toying with it. “i’m the only one who’s allowed to touch your pretty pussy.” he narrowed his eyes at you, leaning forward as his forehead rested on yours.

“do you understand me?”

“o-of course, soobin. yes!”

soobin moved back, humming in response. “good to see that you know now.” you watched as he continued to wildly fuck you, red scratch marks littered all over his back paired with his hips seamlessly rolling into you, filling you up so well each time. you felt your orgasm approach closer, letting a soft moan into soobin’s ear. “m’gonna come, soobin!” you cried out for him, releasing all over his huge cock covering it in glistening cum and your slick. soobin continued to fuck you throughout it all as tears began to well up in your eyes from the sensitivity. your boyfriend wiped your tears with his thumb, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “i’m sorry, baby. just wait until i cum, too.” he grabbed your ass, pulling you up making you wrap your arms around his neck. he dropped you continuously on his huge cock, fucking you straight into overstimulation. your back was pressed against the wall, soobin destroying your pussy while his body heat radiated on to you. he fucked you like an animal, each thrust pulling the air out of your lungs. “gonna fill you up with my seed,” soobin breathed out. “i’ll fill you up so good it’ll drip out of you for weeks.” his hips began to lose its rhythm, thrusting erratically as a sign that he’s close. “m’gonna fuck you full of my kids tonight. gonna fuck you so hard your pussy will be shaped like my dick. you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he questioned. you gave a weak “mhmm,” in response. “my personal cumdump. all mine. everyone will know who you belong to the second they see you.” he continued on his ramble, promising yourself to him. you could barely think straight, only focusing on the fact soobin was railing you into oblivion. even the term rearranging your insides would fit this context with the way he was fucking you ruthlessly. soobin had fucked you stupid. then, it hit him as his head moved into the crook of your neck, letting out a high-pitched whine. his thick, warm seed was endless in filling you. the feeling of his cum filling you up had you cumming for the third time around him. you had never felt so full, so full of cock and semen. soobin’s dick was big enough to plug it all in, the liquid being kept inside you for minutes as both of you breathed heavily. you felt soobin’s hands angle your thighs slightly, putting in a position where he was sure it wouldn’t leak out even after he pulls out. he groaned into your neck, hiding himself.

“i didn’t hurt you, right? i’m sooo sorry, ___.” you giggled. “it’s okay. i enjoyed it. you have nothing to worry about.” soobin slowly pulled himself out of you, keeping your legs in the same position. some droplets dripped out of you, running down the curve of your ass before staining the sheets.

“want to make sure it takes before we clean up.” he softly whispers, making your cheeks heat up at the thought of the possible outcome. soobin giggles before setting you down, kissing your lips one last time.

“thank you. this was the best birthday gift i’ve ever gotten.”

“of course, i love you, soobin.” you smile.

it was late, much later than either you or soobin anticipated. both of your veins still buzzed with alcohol from the surprise birthday party your tall boyfriend's band members threw. you were just getting home now, crashing through the entryway of your shared apartment. the blue of the midnight sky greeted you through your open curtains, casting your entryway in moonlight. you giggled like high schoolers, desperately clinging to each other in hopes of standing up straight.

when your giggles died down, turning into soft, relieved breaths, your eyes locked with the rich toffee of soobin's. as you looked at him, you realized, in a way that left you breathless, you loved him more than life. that you'd give anything to keep that delighted smile on his face as he gazed at you so fondly. sacrifice anything, as nothing was more important than seeing his eyes twinkle with joy and elation. 

you found yourself becoming obsessed with the way his sweet, rounded eyes encompassed the entire night sky, the velvety black, and all of the stars included. his eyes, the ones that reminded you of the dwindling darkness outside. he had his very own spiraling galaxy caught in his gaze, and you found yourself falling, tripping, and drowning in him willingly. he, too, found himself sipping on the bliss and comfort he found with you. he felt the warm, fuzzy waves of endearment he found only in loving you and all of you. he smiled at you, softly, and awestruck.

he gently cupped your cheeks, kissing you chastely. it was barely a press of his lips against yours, but it left both of you unreasonably breathless. the soft plushness of his cupids bow pulled a dreamy sigh from your tingling lips. he could taste the faint liquor on your mouth, and it only spurred him on as he laid another kiss against the softness of your lips. he sighed contently when your hands cupped the back of his neck, stroking the soft skin.

when he pulled away from you, no matter how addictive you were, he felt himself choke up with emotion. "i really love you… you have no idea how much." he whispered to you brokenly. you smiled at him, faintly and watery, eyes shining with a newfound exhilaration. "i love you too, soobin. so so much, i don't know what to do with myself." you chuckled weakly, lightly stroking his jaw with your thumb.

he gave you a small, stupid grin. "i think that's the best birthday present i've ever gotten." he pulled you into his arms, pressing kiss after kiss to your bare skin, hoping you both remembered this moment in the morning, as you drunkenly stumbled into your shared room. "happy birthday, soobs." you mumbled into him, grinning when he ran his hands under the hem of your shirt.

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Her pink mittened hand was happily resting on her boyfriend Hoseok’s slim thigh. He reached down to tap out the rhythm to “walking in a winter wonderland” across the back of her knuckles as she beamed back at you, and you felt a little bit of your irritation melt away. It was nice to see her so happy. They were sweet to each other. It was lovely for them, but it wouldn’t help straighten out the kink in your back.

Who takes a coupe to pick up a live Christmas tree?

Hoseok caught your eye in the rear view mirror and smiled in apology as you shifted. He was as nice as your sister, just as keen to accommodate, and as soft for her as you were, if not more. His car was in the shop and yours hadn’t arrived yet. You’d driven a u-haul here from three states away a week and a half ago, settling down to take root during a holiday season best celebrated in an established home like the smart planner you were (not).

But for once, you didn’t care. Or at least, you were learning not to.

You’d spent too much of your life stuck in places you didn’t even want to be, taking life too seriously. Spent too many of the last few years feeling stagnant and like you were running out of time all at once. So when the opportunity arose, you took the first chance you got to move here. To be closer to your sister, to be somewhere where the air felt lighter, where you could be whoever you wanted to be.

And today, you wanted to be the owner of a live Christmas tree.

Give yourself something to smile at in your studio that currently consisted of bare stucco walls and aesthetic cardboard box piles.

When you’d mentioned it over the phone, your sister had known just the place.

“It’s the cutest little Christmas tree farm! Me and hobi get our tree there every year! They even have a hot cocoa stand up front for you to sip on while you pick your tree out. It’s owned by the sweetest family. One of our friends works there too. Oh you have to meet him!”

Your sister had gushed it all in one breath.

“Have to?”

“Absolutely. Not even a question. Get dressed! Me and hobi’ll pick you up in 10!”

That was that. You’d bundled up to the best of your ability, (Your wardrobe was not prepared for how chilly the winters got up here) and twenty minutes later, your sister and a blushing Hoseok were waiting for you in the parking lot in their jolly little holiday mobile.

Your sister had added reindeer antlers and a red nose to her Mini Cooper and jingle bells to the door handles. There was a set of white vinyl stickers with the silhouette of Santa’s sleigh and all nine reindeer plastered on the back window and a sprig of mistletoe-that she’d probably grown herself- twirling from the rear view mirror. Somehow she’d even gotten the horn to match the melody of “we wish you a merry Christmas.”

You’d have to ask how later.

The ride ended up being cozy enough. Now you were just eager to get out and get the feeling back in your toes. Hoseok tipped the driver's side seat forward for you to crawl out from the back. The second the icy wind slapped against your cheek you wondered why you thought going out in the cold would bring any sort of circulation back to your toes. You rolled your eyes at yourself and chuckled when you caught sight of the purplish tinge along Hoseok’s throat peeking out just over the edge of his chunky crocheted scarf. (Your sister probably made it for him. And now he was using it to hide her hickies. The little hoe.)

He felt your stare and blushed, his wide animated eyes becoming sheepish as he yanked his scarf up just the littlest bit higher.

So that was why that ten minute pickup time had stretched into twenty.

Good for the both of you.

Soon, the three of you were wandering through the farm. There was a section of freshly cut trees ready to take home near the front but rows and rows of trees still rooted to the ground off into the horizon, all dusted with this week’s newest burst of powdery snow. It was a magical thing to see really.

Your sister was happily tucked into Hoseok’s lithe side, one arm looped through his, the other hand cradling a hot cup of cocoa with a candy cane poking out of the lid. Nothing if not festive. You’d opted to save your cup for later. You liked the brisk air, and you liked both your hands being deeply plunged in the warmth of your fleece lined pockets.

“Cell reception is shit up here.” Hoseok piped up. “I tried to text Namjoon to see if he was working today but all I got back was the green text bubble of death.”

“Boo, Joonie’s the worst at charging his phone too. It’s probably dead,” you giggled.

“Guess I’m never gonna meet your jolly green giant, Hobes,” you bumped his elbow with yours.

“With the brain of archibald asparagus,” your sister added.

“Sexy brain, that man has,” Hoseok sighed with envy.

“Your brain is sexy too, babe.” Your sister tipped up on her toes to kiss Hoseok’s wind-chapped cheek.

“Not as sexy as his,” Hoseok nodded resolutely.

“Oh, what about when he wears his little wire rimmed professor glasses?”

“Too hot. He’d melt the snow,” Hoseok swooned.

“Goodness, are you in love with my sister or him?” You teased.

“Both,” Hoseok admitted, a little too sincerely, clutching at his heart over his oversized parka.

“I don’t blame him,” your sister nodded sagely. You quirked a brow at her and she simply shrugged, all innocence, zero guilt. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Trust me, it’ll make sense when you see him.”

“If I ever see him. I’m pretty sure he’s a myth.” Your skepticism came out with a snort and an opaque puff of air.

Geeze, it’s cold.

────────────────────────

At some point in the wandering, you got distracted watching a small child drag their parent by the wrist to the tree of their dreams. The scene was so wholesome and sweet. The little girl squealed with delight as a pair of squirrels skittered past them in chase, twining their way up her tree and darting down and away, ruffling soft powdery snow loose from the tree’s needles in their wake like a fairy sprinkling pixie dust.

The whole interaction was so idyllic that you’d stopped paying attention to where you were going and plowed directly into the broad back of what you were sure must be a bear. What else could it be? No man’s back was that broad, that’s for sure.

The force of it knocked you flat back on your bum, leaving you dazed in a little pile of crunchy snow and loose pine needles.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

The words came too fast, too rushed, and at sure as hell too deep of an octave to come from anyone you knew, man or bear included.

There was a massive olive green, gloved hand shoved in your face- apparently attached to whoever was apologizing so profusely. You grabbed on and let it hoist you up. Goddamn, whoever this was was strong. After flying backward just a few seconds ago, you were now flying forward, toppling directly into what seemed to be just as equally broad a chest as the back you had crashed into moments ago.

“Are you alright? I can’t believe I did that. Are you o-“

The rambling ocean wave of a voice stopped crashing over you the second you looked up and locked eyes with what you were sure was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in person.

“Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath.

The man’s full lips seemed to gape as he looked at you.

Not necessarily in an objectionable way. It was more like, the tape in his brain had spun off the track and tangled itself up like an old cassette that needed help to be wound back up again. His thoughts were written all over his face. If you knew him better, you could have read them like a novel. For now, you knew one thing.

He was pretty when he was thinking.

Hell, he was pretty, period.

And two, he was solid as an ox.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Mr Yun’s gonna kill me if you’re hurt.” He patted down the sides of your ribs and torso like he was half expecting a bone to be jutting out.

“I’m okay. I’m good. i-“ am still holding his pecs, you realized.

What a Christmas miracle they were. Geeze. He had better boobs than you. You swallowed once then smiled up at him. “Do you, by any chance, work here?”

He blinked at you. There was snow on his eyelashes. His tiny dark green beanie wasn’t doing any good at shielding his face from the snow, but god did the color look good next to his golden skin.

“Um, yes, actually. I do. Again, I’m so sorry that I-“

“Shush, enough of that. You’re going to help me pick my tree.”

“I am?”

It was his turn to swallow.

“I mean, yes. Of course I am. Can. What are you looking for?”

He was nervous. So visibly nervous. You weren’t sure if it was because of you or if it was just his general disposition. Either way, you were hopelessly endeared by it. Pretty, bumbly, abominable snowman of a man. With great tits.

“Well, I came here in a Mini Cooper, so… whatever will fit on top of that, I guess.”

He blinked again, before he smiled- wide and gracious. His eyes crinkled at the edges and Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

His dimples.

How obscene.

“Sounds like a great place to start, to me.” He laughed for the first time. It was so boisterous and rich, you were sure he’d cause an avalanche.

The sound was as deep as winter, but soothing and warm. You already wanted to hear it again.

Oh boy. You really liked this one.

────────────────────────

“So what technically constitutes ‘ethically sourced’ when it comes to Christmas trees?” You looked wide-eyed up at Namjoon.

“Um… you know I… well, usually I-I would know the answer to that.”

“But right now, you don’t?”

“I mean, I can’t say that I do.” He shrugged ruefully.

“Despite currently being employed on a Christmas tree lot?” You arched a brow at him, a wry smile pulling at your lips.

“That does seem to be the case, yes.” His brows pinched at his own glum response.

“Are you new?” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you watched him.

“No, actually, I’ve been helping Mr. Yun since college… senior year of high school technically, actually.” Namjoon looked a bit lost in space as he wracked his brain for his qualifications.

“So you should have seniority around here?”

“Sort of ? It’s just , you know, mr. yun is a friend of my parents and he’s always been good to me so I always try to return the favor and help out every year, if I can.” He swallowed.

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He literally talked to people for a living. He could sell a polar bear ice, for Pete’s sake. But every time he made eye contact with you, he was practically on the verge of forgetting his own name so this whole witty repartee thing was an absolute struggle in ways it absolutely should not be.

“Well, he’s very lucky to have you then. Even if you can’t tell me where this tree came from.” You chuckled.

“No, I that- I can do that. All our Douglas firs come from grey farms about two hours north of here. Again, super kind family. They’ve been doing this for generations, actually.”

He found himself affectionately gripping the top of the tree while you smiled up at him like you had a secret and he felt a new rush of sweat rise beneath the fold of his beanie.

“So locally sourced then.”

“Family owned.” He nodded.

“Well now, that’s a great start. You know more than you let on.” You tapped an index finger into the down of his puffy coat and he felt himself flush, wishing he actually could have felt that touch.

Every part of him felt like he was back in middle school right now, trying to figure out how not to trip over his words and maintain eye contact with the girl with the luminous smile in front of him. He should be better at this by now. His thirteen year old self would have been ashamed to see how little progress he’d made in that department in a decade and a half.

“So, should I choose to re-home this lovely tree, do you know of anyone who could, say, strap it to the roof of my car for me?”

Your eyes were twinkling, face framed by the softly falling snow flurries that had started up again and Namjoon felt himself swallow.

“I- I would be happy to find-“

“There you are! Finally found you- Oh, hey bro! So you are working today!” A voice bright like tangy sweet lemonade interrupted Namjoon’s inelegant struggle.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon looked mystified at the pair of you as Hoseok clasped a mittened hand around your shoulder. “How do you two-“

“This is my girl’s sister, y/n, remember? I told you we were helping her move in last week.” He explained with a happy shrug.

“This is… you’re… wow. Hey. Nice to officially meet you.” Namjoon released the tree to dizzily shake your hand, trying his best to ignore your amusement at his manic behavior.

“So you’re the mysterious friend who was too busy to help with the u-haul unloading, huh?” You quirked a brow up at Namjoon. He looked a bit green around the gills as his snow frosted lashes fell away from your gaze.

“We were slammed here that day. If it makes you feel any better, I got so much pine sap all over me that I had to toss my favorite gloves away.”

“Tsk. Now why would that make me feel better?” You teased as something mischievous glinted in your eyes.

“Because my shitty friend status made me suffer?” Namjoon shrugged.

“Well, we weren’t friends yet,” you grinned. “But now that we are, I think it’s only right that you should come over when you’re off to help the three of us decorate my new locally sourced, freshly cut Christmas tree”

“Oh absolutely!“ Hoseok piped in. “You haven’t hung out in weeks- you have to come.”

His endearing smile beamed bright across his face in a way that was impossible to fight. Bright red bits of hair peaked out beneath his beanie as he grinned widely up at Namjoon, and Namjoon was too distracted by his openness to process his nerves at the invitation.

“I mean, I guess I… I mean I wouldn’t want to intrude on…”

“Nonsense,” Hoseok interrupted,” you’d only be making the party better! Y/n needs all the friends she can get anyway. Poor thing’s stuck hanging out with us all the time- she could use a few new faces in the rotation, right little sis?” He hip checked you, ruffling your hair with the hand slung over your shoulder.

“Not your little sis yet,” you countered, eyes full of challenge.

“Wait, Hobi, this Christmas are you gonna…” Namjoon twisted his left hand, the gesture caught vaguely somewhere between the Queens wave and the single ladies dance.

Hoseok pulled a nervous face, brows lifting and jaw tightening until his smile bared all his teeth, as he patted the chest of his puffer coat.

“I’ve been carrying it around for weeks actually. Can’t seem to find the right time.”

“Are you insane?” You swatted him. “You brought it with you here? What if you lose it in the snow, you dummy?!”

“Ow!” Hoseok rubbed his shoulder dramatically. “The little ones are always fighters.”

You rolled your eyes as Namjoon blushed for reasons beyond him. Maybe he didn’t need any more explanation than the fact that you were cute as hell and he liked seeing you laugh.

“I keep it with me in case there’s a moment that just feels right. I’ll already be ready, you know.”

Hoseok’s face was far away, dreamy.

Namjoon was happy for him, even if he wanted a little piece of his friend’s wonder for himself one day.

“I still think you should propose to her at home in your little jungle. You have to know how happy that would make her,” you asserted.

Namjoon thought back to his last visit to Hoseok’s apartment. The walls had almost been alive with the amount of trailing vines climbing toward the ceiling. It was otherworldly, serene, like an indoor garden. It would be a spectacular place to propose actually.

“I think she’s right. It would be pretty damn perfect, Hob.” Namjoon offered.

“Ooo, did you hear that?” Slipping out from under Hoseok’s slinky arm, you attached yourself to Namjoon’s bulky one. “He already knows I’m always right. The company you keep, Hobi. I like this one.”

You squeezed Namjoon’s bicep, and he swore he could feel the warmth of your touch through his puffer jacket. He knew his cheeks had to match Hoseok’s fire engine hair now.

“Hey, be sweet to him. He’s sensitive,” Hoseok tutted as he pinched Namjoon’s rosy face despite being swatted away by one Namjoon’s big hands.

“I… is this the tree you’re settled on y/n? If it is, I should start getting it wrapped for you.”

“Hoist it on the beige Mini Cooper in the back, eh hulk?” Hoseok patted his unoccupied bicep, giving it a happy squeeze as he pushed past Namjoon. “Im off to find where my poison Ivy wandered off to again. Probably somewhere talking to the cedars.” He shook his head softly but gosh, there was nothing but fondness in his happily crinkled eyes. “You two don’t get up to anything too wild while I’m gone now, yeah? We haven’t even brought out the baileys and the eggnog yet. Save it for later - or I’ll be the one kissing Joonie under the mistletoe.”

Hoseok wiggled his fingers and brows in puppety unison as he vanished through the trees, leaving Namjoon alone with you once again.

“He’s quite the character isn’t he?” You chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

“He’s good to my sister though. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

“They’re pretty made for each other,” Namjoon nodded in assent as you sighed.

It wasn’t until he looked down to catch your expression that he realized you were still holding onto his arm. Jesus Christ of Nazareth, was he going to faint in a Christmas tree lot?

You looked up then, a soft giggle bubbling out of you when you saw whatever his distress was doing to his face, and squeezed his arm before walking a few snowy paces ahead.

“Come on, tiger. The quicker we take care of this, the quicker we can get out of the cold.”

Namjoon had never followed anyone faster in his life.

────────────────────────

Why had the three of you come in a compact car?

This was pure delusion.

The tree Namjoon had helped you pick loomed over the front windshield like something from whoville. Good thing you weren’t the one driving. Good luck with that visibility, Hobi.

You and your sister stood side by side, linked at the elbow while the two men tied the tree down to the roof of the car.

“Think we’ll tip over in a strong breeze?” You queried.

“I think we’ll tip over if anyone even looks at us funny,” your sister giggled.

Her laughter was contagious and soon you were both cackling uncontrollably as Hoseok and Namjoon secured your dr Seuss tree to the roof of her car. Namjoon looked back over his shoulder, making accidental eye contact with you. You let your gaze rove over his absurdly pretty face, eyes lingering around the high corners of his cheekbones and the doughy imprints of those audaciously sweet dimples of his.

“My god, it’s like heaven tried to make focaccia bread when they made his face and decided to stop two pokes in because it was already perfect.”

Your sister looked between you and Namjoon, chuckling when the giant of a man turned away bashfully, as if those big shoulders could make him disappear.

“I told you he was pretty,” she shrugged. “And you gave me your judgy eyebrows.”

“I was a fool,” you sighed. “In my defense, I didn’t know there were boys prettier than Hobi around here.”

“Wait til you meet the children. Jimin and Jungkook are so beyond anything you could comprehend. Beautiful little whores.”

“There’s more?” Your brows shot up high.

“Oh and Taehyung. Taehyung will charm you right out of your coat. He’s the dangerous one. I can’t even make eye contact with him without stammering,” she shook her head in derision.

“Whew boy, what a winter we’re in for.” You rocked up on your toes with a whistle.

“Winter is a mercy. Seokjin’s shoulders in summer? Glory be.”

Lovingly, you squeezed her tighter into your side. “At least we have Yoongi on our side.”

“Oh, no ma’am we do not. He’s the worst one!”

“Min Yoongi ?” You gasped. “No!”

“Yes! He’ll sneak right up on you out of nowhere just when you think you’re finally friends, and keep your glass full of wine all night until you accidentally spill all your most embarrassing high school secrets,” she muttered.

“No,…not the pyramid.”

“Yes, the pyramid. And he’ll get it on tape too. Adorable little bastard. Don’t let that cute little gummy smile fool you. He’s ruthless.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard your big sister curse before.

The pout on her face was too priceless not to laugh at so you did. The laughter was robust and full- it came straight from somewhere deep in your belly and pretty soon she was laughing too, hiding her face in the faux fur collar of your coat. The two of you clinging to each other as you cackled like wild children in the snow.

────────────────────────

Hoseok looked over the roof at the two of you and melted into an inordinately affectionate grin.

“You could just go ask her now and put yourself out of your misery, you know,” Namjoon chuckled to himself.

“Nah, she’s so happy right now. I’ll let them have their moment.”

Namjoon let himself study you.

The two of you looked so much alike yet so different. Your sister was all spun sugar and sweetness, quick as a dragonfly on the breeze. But you, well, he didn’t quite know how to put it into words. You were still sweet, but it was different. There was something more rich, a bit more solid about your aura. If your sister was candy floss, then his best guess - based on his limited interaction with you- was that you were salted caramel.

The thought had him pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted to know what else made up the pieces of you. He wanted to get off this shift so he could be in the same room as you.

He wanted to get you under the mistletoe and taste those pretty lips of yours.

But of course, that meant he had to at least talk to you coherently first.

“Hey, quit undressing my baby sister with your eyes,” Hoseok snapped.

Namjoon shook his head, rattled the stars out of his eyes.

“My bad. Sorry, man.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” Hoseok huffed. “Hey, I think I’m getting good at this protective big brother thing. That was pretty convincing right ?” He beamed proudly.

“More than you know… hey, we should be good here.”

Namjoon patted the now secure tree, rustling a bit more soft snow from its branches.

“Then it’s time to get this baby back on the road!”

Hoseok slapped the chassis and the car jingled— jingled!

“I can’t believe you’re gonna marry a Christmas elf,” Namjoon snickered.

“You’re one to talk, Yukon Cornelius. I’m sure you’ll be next. Y/n is just as bad.”

Namjoon stole another glance your way, his eyes darting away in a flash when he realized you were already watching him, something sultry glittering in your gaze that he tucked away in his pockets to think about later.

“Maybe being next wouldn’t be so bad,” he smiled to himself.

────────────────────────

Before you could get off the tree lot, Namjoon was running back to the car, something small in his hands that you couldn’t make out.

You were crammed in the back seat between the extra boughs your sister had bought to turn into wreaths and garlands. All the evergreen scents made you feel like a new car air freshener. God. It was gonna be a long ride back to the city.

Namjoon knocked on the glass in a hurry, and you rolled the window down. What on earth was he-

“You never got your cocoa.”

“What?”

“You said you were gonna wait to nurse it on the ride home so I got… I got you cocoa.” His volume trailed as he handed the cup to you, like he was second guessing every action in his life that had brought him to this moment.

“Oh, I…” you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t trust yourself not to open your mouth and accidentally tell him you were already in love with him and did he know a guy who could get you both a marriage license by sundown.

“Kim Namjoon. You absolute sweetheart,” your sister gushed from the front seat.

Namjoon’s cheeks went from rosy from the cold to plum from embarrassment. You’d never wanted to kiss someone’s eyelashes before.

“Well, that’s all. I gotta get back. i-“

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes flicking up from beneath your lashes to meet his.

“I…. Yeah. I.. I hope you like it.” His smile was wide, inebriated, giddy. You swore you could see the stars during the daylight.

“I’m sure I will. Six o clock. Tonight. You can come right?”

He nodded, bobbleheaded and boysish.

“Yeah. I’ll grab the address from Hobi.”

“Oh will you now?” Hoseok piped up from the front.

“Hobi, shut up or I will end you,” you threatened through your own teeth as he and your sister laughed at you.

“Tonight?” You called to Namjoon as Hoseok began to shift the car into gear.

“Tonight!” Namjoon shouted back, both his arms waving over head as the car pulled off and he shrank into something small in the distance.

Settling back in your seat, you brought the cup to your lips and breathed in the steamy liquid. You noticed a little black heart drawn in sharpie on the cup, remembered seeing a sharpie tucked behind one of Namjoon’s ears and smiled to yourself like you’d just been passed a note in eighth grade.

You looked up to see two sets of eyes watching you in the rear view.

“Oh god, eyes on the road mom and dad. This has nothing to do with you.”

Your sister giggled, “well I for one am very happy for both of you.”

Hoseok chimed in with a “right? They’re cute.”

God. What a pair of menaces.

You sank in your seat but couldn’t help but smile.

“He is cute, isn’t he?” You whispered into your cocoa cup.

Maybe this would be such a long ride home after all.

────────────────────────

“Why did I let you make me think this was a good idea? I don’t even have any furniture! What, we’re gonna make that Goliath sit on boxes for a chair?”

You were frazzled. Namjoon had texted Hobi that he’d be at your place in half an hour. Suddenly the idea of that massive man being in your tiny apartment drinking eggnog out of a solo cup that you’re sure would look like a shot glass in his massive hands made no sense at all.

“First of all, this was your idea,” Hoseok chuckled,” so don’t pin this on me.”

“Traitor.” You whispered.

“But if it makes you nervous, I can shout out the boys to swing by.”

“What? How does that make any sense? Why would we add more people I have no place for? Come on now, use the brain in that pretty head, Hobi.” You rapped your knuckles against his temple as he laughed at you- laughed!

“ I am! It’ll make it feel less like a date. Less pressure to talk one on one there’s a little more of a crowd,” he shrugged like it was that easy. Maybe it was.

“Okay. Fine. Do it. But somebody’s gonna have to bring food cuz there’s nothing in that fridge but eggs and kombucha.”

“God, we need to feed you, little one.” Hobi frowned, concerned.

“Groceries are on tomorrow's to do list. I wasn’t expecting to feed a small army today. I was just gonna grab some take out once you and the missus went home.”

“And you still can. I’ll see if JK can snag something from work.”

A key jingled in the lock as your sister shimmied her way in the door, arms filled with Christmas decorations with a string of gold tinsel draped across her throat like a feather boa.

“I’m back! Hobi, baby, I texted you. Can you bring the other bin up?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and darted out the door.

“Holy mackerel, it’s gonna look like Santa’s workshop exploded in here.” You took in the sheer amount of tinsel, lights and decor your sister had managed to manhandle up the stairs.

“Oh stop you. They’re just extra decorations and props from the photography studio. I figured you can use what you like, and we’ll just put them back when the season’s over.” She shrugged.

“I’ll take free decorations that I don’t have to store any day.” You asserted with a grin. Peeling the sticky back off a command strip, you climbed up on a chair to hang the dang thing as close to the ceiling as you could reach. Your sister came behind you to spot you. No sense letting you break your neck before the guest of honor even got here.

“Most of our mini sessions are over anyway. Nobody should be trying to book their Christmas card photos after December 14th, and if they do, they deserve the Charlie Brown Christmas tree they get.”

It always tickled you when your sister tried to be matter of fact. You knew good and well she was too accommodating not to at least try to bend.

“Lay down the law, sis. Hey, hand me those string lights will you. Can you plug them in?”

The room burst into light in a cacophony of colors.

“Whew. Multi. Bold.”

“Sorry, I didn’t check if they were colorful or warm white first. Shoot.”

She looked so chagrined. It was so sweet. Here she was being so giving and thoughtful, and she really thought you were gonna have the nerve to be picky.

“Shush, you. They’ll look great. It’s kind of… cozy. Very vintage Christmas. Nostalgia chic,” you smiled, and she smiled with you, relieved.

“Hey, you don’t need to be nervous about Joonie.”

“I don’t?” You looked up at your sister through your lashes.

“He’s really a sweetheart.”

“I mean, I can tell that from space.” You smiled.

“Don’t be smart, you know what I mean, dummy.”

“Wait, which one am I ? Smart or dumb?” You laughed.

“Goofy. But I mean it. He’s such a good guy. His last relationship didn’t go so well,” the color of your sister’s voice changed then. “It was a long time ago. It was. I’m sure he hardly thinks about it anymore. It’s just, I think we’re all rooting for him to find someone who realizes just how lovely he is.”

Hobi chose just then to come clunking through the front door.

“Look who I found!”

Sure enough, all six foot something of Namjoon was right behind him, bashfully twisting a Santa hat between his nervous hands despite still wearing his little green beanie from the tree farm on his head.

Thirty minutes, my ass, you grumbled internally. But out loud you said : “Hey! You made it!”

He looked so big in your doorframe like that. Were his shoulders going to fit? Surely he was going to get stuck like Santa in a chimney flue.

“Looks like you guys got the tree up no problem.” He offered gently.

“Me and Hobi accessed our inner lumberjacks and got it done.” You flexed one bicep and Hoseok patted it like it was made of steel. You both giggled like the weirdos you were as Namjoon smiled softly, still hulking in your doorway like a vampire in need of an invite to cross the threshold.

“Come inside, you silly boy,” your sister tutted. “You’ve let half the winter in.” She tugged Namjoon’s sleeve as he ducked his head to come inside. God, you wanted to climb him like a tree.

He looked so nervous shucking his snow-caked boots off by your front door. It made you want to put him at ease.

“I can take your coat, and… whichever piece of headwear you’d prefer not to wear,” you eyed his double hat situation for the second time as he seemed to notice it for the first.

“Oh shoot. Am I still?” He snatched at his scalp and realized it was shrouded in green yarn. Pulling the beanie off, he inadvertently gave you a glimpse of his face framed by his thick head of tousled ebony hat hair. You weren’t sure if you wanted to climb up to fix it for him or pull him into your room and make it worse. “Can I use your bathroom?” He blurted.

“Mmm hmm. Down the hall, to the right.”

He thanked you, banking around you and the corner to hide in the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut, you locked eyes with your sister across the room. Even you felt how desperate you looked. She had the gall to laugh at you.

Traitor.

────────────────────────

Maybe this was going to be alright after all.

Sure enough, each of Hoseok’s boys rolled in, each one prettier than the last. The apartment had never been so blessed.

Jungkook brought two massive trays of food from chick fil a with enough side sauces to last until the apocalypse. What a fascinating juxtaposition he was. Wide eyes, innocent pink lips puckered unsurely around a little silver hoop and the dimensions of a Mack truck. How someone with that much ink curling across his skin was allowed to serve the lord’s chicken, you did not know, but you did know that god himself must have had a hand in sculpting his perky little peach of an ass. Glory.

Jimin and his obscenely pretty face brought champagne. Taehyung and his intense eyebrows brought vintage Christmas vinyls and a record player that looked like an old leather suitcase that he’d carried up the stairs on his hip like a briefcase. As soon as he’d gotten settled he’d put on Bing Crosby’s rendition of “white Christmas” and waltzed with Jimin around your kitchen island.

Seokjin brought the good food. Yoongi brought the good liquor. Your sister and Hoseok brought the laughter and joy.

It was a perfect way to spend a December night.

Somewhere during the course of the night, seokjin - who was wearing a Christmas sweater with an embroidered cat on it that he referred to as The Second Coming of Min Yoongi- decided to make an old fashioned popcorn garland for your tree. As he and Yoongi squabbled over how to properly thread a needle, you realized it had been ages since you’d seen Namjoon.

When he’d emerged from the bathroom earlier, his soft skin had been glistening as if he’d splashed water on his face. His hair looked to have been slicked back with wet hands, while one stubborn piece jutted forward to softly frame brows. You’d gulped down your drink and avoided eye contact, knowing good and well your face was probably screaming “for the love of god, please marry me” every time you looked at him.

In your self-preservation, you feared it may have come across as plain avoidance. You needed to find him.

He’d driven all this way.

The tree farm was so far and he’d been working in the cold all day. Yet somehow he was here in your tiny home, without a single complaint.

Earlier in the night, you’d nearly tipped off your chair ladder trying to put the star on your tree and he’d caught you, scooping you up bridal style like it was as natural for him as breathing air. It was an unnecessary gesture. You really hadn’t been that far off the ground and the show of strength was absolutely welcome but embarrassing nonetheless. You’d been cradled in his chest again and god, it had taken everything in you to fight the instinct to bury your face between his pecs.

“Stop objectifying my sweet baby. You’ll taint him.” Hoseok had teased from across the room.

You’d shot him a death glare as a glum Namjoon had placed you gently on the ground.

“Sorry. Hope I didn’t make that awkward. I just… you were falling and…”

“It’s alright, Joon. Thank you.” Your smile was earnest. You watched the way his reaction played across his face like a movie. It made you want to kiss him. “Besides, I should’ve put the tallest man on the job in the first place.”

His dimples had reappeared then, and you’d felt the oxygen in the room go thin.

You’d been avoiding him ever since.

Pressing up off your IKEA futon and stepping around the push up - off a shirtless Jungkook was currently doing as Jimin sat cross legged on his back and Taehyung counted, you set off to find Namjoon.

In less than six hundred square feet, there weren’t many places he could go. Everyone else was in the kitchen/living room. That really only left the open bathroom, the balcony- which your sister and Hoseok were currently cuddled up on, watching the snow fall- and your bedroom.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you pushed open the door, but somehow Namjoon folded up on the floor studying the lower tier of your bookshelf actually made loads of sense. You hadn’t been aware someone that large could fold themselves into something so small. His long fingers trailed over the spines of your favorite books and something in your lower belly swirled.

You could have spent the rest of the night just watching him read.

That, however, even in your own home, might be kinda creepy so you decided to announce your presence instead.

“Howdy stranger,” you crooned, leaning shoulder first into the door jamb.

Namjoon startled, clutching his chest like you’d just given him a heart attack. His long limbs flailed, knocking into the bookshelf like the baby moose he was, sending a small picture frame careening down onto his head. It knocked his Santa hat off kilter, leaving the beautiful man looking like a bamboozled disaster.

Your laughter filled the room as he collected himself, straightening his hat and placing your frame back on the shelf. You came to sit beside him, hugging your knee and leaning one shoulder into his.

“Whatcha doing? Whatcha reading, more importantly?” You shot him a pointed look paired with a smile you hoped was disarming.

“Oh. Uh, nothing yet. I didn’t mean to pry. I just… well there was so much going on in the living room. I just wanted to get some air so I stepped in here, but I ended up getting lost in your book collection.”

His fingers trailed their spines again, and you felt a shiver down yours.

“You like to read?”

It was a pitiful question on your part really. Clearly he did. He was surrounded by your personal mini library, and it was the most comfortable you’d seen him be all day.

“Oh it’s the best thing, really. You can learn so much about a person by looking at the things they like to read.”

“And what have you learned about me?”

You felt yourself hold your breath as he looked down, dimples daring to show themselves again now that the two of you were in a private place.

“Well, it seems like you appreciate the classics, for one.”

His finger traced the curve of letters embossed in gold on an ivory spine.

“I went through an intense thrift shopping phase over the last few years. I got kind of obsessive about collecting beautiful books,” you confessed.

“You should come to my store sometime then. You’d love the first editions section.”

There was a pride glittering in beautiful dark brown eyes, the first swell of something like confidence showing in them.

“You work at a bookstore too?” You tilted your head to the side in question as his trademark sheepishness returned.

“Um, own. Co-own, really. Between me, Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Stop- seriously?” You felt yourself press into his space without meaning to. The sharp, earthy smells of cedar and pine still swirled on him, but underneath that was soft clean soap. You found yourself wanting to press your nose into his throat. You realized too late that your eyes had been doing it for you, and Namjoon had caught you doing it.

Cleaning his throat, something in him seemed to grow bold.

He didn’t shy away anymore. He pressed up off the palms he’d been leaning back on and leaned into your space like you did into his. His thumb pulled your bottom lip out of your teeth, tracing along the edge of it softly.

“Seriously.”He whispered, the timber of his voice deep as winter.

His deep set gaze grew heavy as the moment lingered. You caught sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his full lips as his thumb traced yours and suddenly you felt all your grace leave you all at once.

“You should stay.”

It came out breathy, soft. You knew your face must have given away how molten you felt beneath his touch. He chuckled gently, eyes warm as he smirked. Only half a dimple this time, you noticed.

“Stay?” He arched a brow your way.

“When the others leave… you should stay.”

It was crazy, but the lightheaded part of you that was under his spell couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more.

Suddenly, he was soft again. Eyes no longer serpentine but wide. Kind.

“Is that… would you… like that?”

You smiled at him, sweet as strawberries, and then you were kissing him.

Just once. Slow, gentle, but deep.

There was a hint of cinnamon on his lips. Hobi had picked up some horchata at his favorite taqueria on the way back. He must have given some to Joon. You smiled against his mouth, licked into it once. Felt his chest vibrate with the groan it created.

When you pulled back, he was dazed, staring at you like you were made of stars. Eyeing you like he wanted to know what else you were made of. His lip bitten like he was too hungry to wait.

“Stay.” You breathed again.

“I’ll stay.” He whispered back.

────────────────────────

When the last person had left the apartment, you’d locked the door behind them.

Suddenly it was truly just you and him.

You’d turned, back to your front door and looked at him, eyes sultry, smile sweet.

Namjoon was across the room, too busy drinking you in to remember how to move. But you hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You took your time crossing the small room. The vivid lights cast bursts of blue and red across your skin- it made your eyes look unearthly, tempting in a way Namjoon was incapable of fighting.

You stopped in front of him, palms pressed to his chest. He felt his eyelids grow heavy at the sensation, but he wouldn’t let his eyes close. Not yet. He didn’t want to miss a moment of you.

You slid your hands up his chest, alongside his throat, skimming his jaw and cupping his face. You stood between his legs and god, did he want to rock his hips against you. You were already leaning into him, your hips pressed into his pelvis. What were his corduroys gonna do? He knew you could feel him already swelling against you.

Your brushed soft thumbs across the angles of his face. He reciprocated by tenderly pushing your hair out of your face. Was your heart racing like his?

Slipping his hands down, he tugged the buckle of your belt forward into him with a thunk. He crept his thumbs beneath the sweater you’d tucked into your high black jeans, and let his fingers swirl against your stomach, smoothing over the dips at your waist. Your body was so soft. He felt himself grow warmer, swell against you harder. When your eyes clouded over and your bit your lip, he knew he was sunk.

“I’m gonna take this off now, okay ?” He whispered, tugging at your sweater as you nodded, glassy eyed and obedient, up at him. Jesus.

Why was he whispering? He didn’t know. It just felt right, he thought. Felt right like being beside you all night had felt. Felt right like he knew being inside you was gonna feel.

When he slipped the sweater up over your head, your earring got caught. A little gold hoop snagged in the knit.

Breathe, he reminded himself, go slow. You don’t have to rush.

He soon realized that was advice he was going to need to take to heart in more ways than one the second he untangled you and saw your glittering smile glowing brightly, saw the way your breasts were spilling smooth and fleshy over the confines of your lacy little balconette bra.

Jesus. Fuck.

Turns out he’d said both out loud and your glossy eyes grew hungrier the longer he looked at you.

“Do something, daddy.” You teased, voice low, gaze heady.

“Christ, y/n,” he drawled as his self-control blacked out.

Soon he was pushing your breasts together, burying his face between them. Sucking one into his warm mouth, scooping the other loose from the dark lace. He had one large hand firmly fitted just behind the buckle of your jeans as the other cupped your breast that wasn’t in his mouth, thumb diligently flicking your nipple until it grew stiff like a meringue peak. He slipped that one in his mouth then, tongue picking up pace his thumb had set and tweaking the nipple on your other breast.

You panted beneath his touch, sinking and molding into him like warm clay in his hands. He wasn’t sure when his hips had started to glide against you, but god, yours were moving too, supple and fluid like water. He needed to get you out of the rest of these clothes. He needed to find out if he could mark your breasts and neck black and purple with his mouth like he wanted to while he fucked you. You really did taste sweet, just like he thought you would. God, he wanted to take a bite out of you.

Pleasantries first though, he reminded himself.

Pushing his head back against the wall, he tried to catch his breath but your nimble fingers were working open the snaps on his corduroys instead.

“Question-“ he asked breathless.

“Answer,” you grinned, triumphant as you finally popped the latch on his pants.

“Jesus, fuck. Cripes.” His eyes fluttered shut as you ran his zipper down and reached beneath his boxer briefs to grab him.

“Which one of those was a question?” You smirked, licking your thumb before brushing it gently across the fleshy tip of him. His stomach dipped in, toned muscle crunching in on itself as your big man buckled under your touch.

“Okay, okay okay. I’m gonna have to ask this quick before you make me spontaneously finish on your tits touching me like that. Whew.” His eyes were blown, head back. Unprepared for you licking more fingers and slipping back down to gingerly play with his balls. “Oh my gooooooood. Okay. Okay. Okay. Marks?”

“Like hickies?” You asked curiously, your hand moving of its own accord to grip him firmly at the base and pull up.

“Yeah, yeah hickies,” he panted, his pretty skin growing sweaty.

“I like that.” You smiled, wide and way too pretty for him to handle right now.”it’s winter. Go crazy, big boy.”

He nodded raggedly, his brow furrowed deep as he bit his lip. He almost looked angry, he had no way of knowing it made you incredibly aroused.

“Tits. I like your tits. A lot. So much. They’re so pretty.”

You smiled into his throat as you kissed his neck and pumped him silly.

“Joonieee, youre so sweet.” You nipped at his collarbone, giggling at shiver that ran through him.

“Would it… could I… Jesus, woman, why are you so good at that? Screw this. Fuck it. Can I cum on your tits at the end of this?” His eyes were direct now, serpentine and lusty as he licked his lips.

“Yeah ?” You ran your tongue along his neck, sending another tremor through him.

“Yeah. You’d look so pretty with my cum on your tits. I mean, they look so pretty already, but Yeah, god yes I want that.” he nodded.

“Okay. Promise. You can finish on my pretty titties, if you want.” You laughed.

“I want.”

“I’ll even let you fuck then if you want.”

“Christ, what?” He was out of breath, lightheaded from the thought of himself being pressed between the two warm pillowy clouds on your chest.

“Uh huh, if you don’t finish inside me first, that is,” you breathed in his ear.

“Oh my god. Not fair. Get on the bed, now.” He said it with an edge, a grit you didn’t expect from your sweet nervous Christmas tree man. A bite that made you want to obey. Made you want to fuck his brains out. Made you want to be his baby girl so you followed along and played nice. He fumbled with your belt so you do what you were told and climb back on the bed, but strip the rest of the way for him along the way.

────────────────────────

As he followed, he pulled his thick wool sweater over his head, black hair falling in gorgeous eyes as he did. The full reveal of his torso left the space between your legs glossy and sticky in ways you hadn’t known it could be. His Jeans and black boxer briefs went next and then he was climbing up and over you, golden and lanky and strong and hung.

Jesus , fuck, Indeed.

He smiled at you, sourdough dimples and serpentine eyes as he slowed down.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

You nodded, obedient, nervous, eager. You wanted him. God, how did you describe how badly you wanted Kim Namjoon? His lips were plump, sweet, inexhaustibly delicious. His tongue slipped deep into your mouth, his hand firm but sweet on your hip as it climbed up your torso.

Your tits were in his mouth again, tongue flicking wildly as he moaned around your fullness and your nipple. He tweaked the other, switching back and forth as he rutted his too big dick into the meat of your thigh.

“Question,” you gasped, breathless.

“Answer, baby,” his hooded eyes were looking darkly up at you as his thumb slipped its way down to gloss smoothly over your silky clit. You cried out, and he smiled, mouth still filled with your voluptuous tit.

“Daddy?” You questioned, and the primal groan that rattled through his chest and through the sharp twitch of his dick against your leg answered any further queries you had to ask.

“Yes, please, baby. “

He slid up to suck a dark splotch into your neck, his dick sliding up and catching on the slippery ridge of your clit as he did.

“I can call you that ? Can I call you daddy?” You gasped.

He simply nodded, dropping kisses along your collarbone and throat as he lined up to finally slip inside you. The fit was snug, the drag of him along your inner walls sublime as he rocked, working you more and more open to the massive size of him. You smiled, delirious, giddy, as he fucked you like you were divine.

You came three times that night, he came twice. Once inside you and once on your pretty tits. Then one more time down your throat in the morning.

────────────────────────

“There’s not much, but I have…. Coffee, kombucha, seokjin’s leftover gingerbread men… oh and eggs. Can I make you eggs?” You fluttered your lashes up at him. “I’d really like to make you eggs.”

Namjoon looked so cute. Face puffy, lips full. Hair still damp from the shower he took. You’d both been too nervous to shower together, so you’d taken turns and done it separately. You thanked god you actually owned two bath towels to make it possible. He was so adorable. It made you want to cook for the man.

“Sure,” he nodded. Mercy, his voice was even deeper in the morning. He’d barely used it so far today, aside from the sexy groans that had spilled out of him this morning when you’d woken him up with your cheek resting sweetly on his inner thigh and his cock in your warm mouth. (You’d gotten consent the night before, of course.)

“Um, how do you take your coffee? And is scrambled okay? I make really cool scrambled eggs.”

He smiled warmly, his gruff exterior softening with your exuberance. He nodded his assent and you got to work getting out the egg carton, your chopsticks, the milk and your lone skillet.

“Oh, wait. Your coffee, how do you take your coffee?”

You turned in your robe, a harsh pivot, just to accidentally end up nose to Namjoon’s sweatshirt covered tits with an Ooof.

He kissed your hair, a deep chuckle from the depths of his throat booming through his chest. He was wearing one of your giant college sweatshirts ( that fit just on the roomy side of just right on him) and his black boxer briefs, his substantial thighs looking gorgeous as ever as he stood barefoot in your kitchen. What a turn of events.

He slipped his sturdy arms around your waist from behind, pushing up against the underside of your boobs and buried his blushing face in your hair.

“Black. Just a little cream is good.” He murmured as you sank back against him.

You weren’t used to how soothing another person’s presence could be.

“Gotcha. I’ll grab the-“

He chuckled, pulling you tightly into him to stop your scurrying.

“Shhh. I got it. Thank you.” He pressed a kiss deep into the skin on your neck. It melted you just a little bit further into the solidity of him.

“For what?”

“Last night. This morning. Yesterday. All of it.”

His confidence has dipped again. Cockiness replaced by a sincerity so disarming you feel your heart dip softly. He’s so sweet, you think as you caress his forearm over your stomach.

“Yes, well…” and you realize you don’t know what to say. “I….” In lieu of words, you kiss his palm.

“You’re already making us breakfast. Least I can do is grab my own coffee… you want some?” He nudged the tip of his nose against the top of your ear. Being that close to his voice made you shiver. You nodded without realizing it. The sound of his voice made you want to be so obedient to him. Why were you so turned on by him being kind, damnit ?

His hands fitted themselves to your hips, pushing the fullness of your bottom back against his hips. You were about to tell him sugar and more cream than coffee when your phone began to ring.

Startled, you bolted out of his arms to find… your sister trying to FaceTime you?

Kissing Namjoon’s cheek, you stepped away to answer. Queuing up the screen, you were thoroughly unprepared for brilliant, happy screams pealing through the phone. There was too much motion to make out an image at first, until finally. you caught a glimpse of sparkle. It was the ring Hoseok had shown you a picture of the day he decided to custom order it for your sister.

“Hobi proposed!!!” Your sister squealed. No regard for the neighbors, this one.

“When?”

“Last night. When we got home. Y/n it was perfect…. I could tell he seemed weird when we were on the balcony yesterday, oddly stiff. Like he was trying to tell me something, but it wasn’t making any sense. I teased him and told him to try again later. I was just being dumb- I didn’t know! but when we got home, I had gone upstairs to change out of my Christmas tree clothes and when I came back. He was on his knees in the kitchen.”

Your sister clasped a hand over her mouth as her eyes filled with happy tears. Smart boy, he’d listened to you and Namjoon.

“Y/n, I’m gonna be a wife. I'm gonna marry Hobi. Y/n, I’m so happy I could cry,” she sniffled as tears spilled over the backs of her knuckles.

“Baby, you are crying,” you teased, your own eyes growing glassy too.

“Hey, that’s MY BABY” you heard Hoseok yell from somewhere off camera.

“She was mine first,” you stuck your tongue out petulantly.

“Congrats, man!” Namjoon cheered from his spot by your coffee pot.

“Thanks bro!” Hoseok called back.

“Wait.” Your sister started….

Oh no.

“Was that…”

No. No. No. no. No.

“Oh my god. Y/n, was that Namjoon?! Did he spend the night?!? Oh my gosh are you two in love now?!?

Startled you let you out something between a yelp and a shriek, dropping your phone on the carpet.

“Did you hold onto those arms of his all night?” Your sister teased.

“Wait- Hoseok interrupted ,” do you have a thing for Namjoon’s arms babe?”

“Everyone does,” your sister quipped.” You do too Hobi.”

“That’s not the point… eh! We’re balenciaga buddies!” Hoseok cheered, the snap of elastic ringing through the air.

Apparently your phone fell in such a way that the camera gave them a beautiful view of Namjoon’s sleek black briefs and the tree trunks they were stretched around.

“Stop objectifying him!” You scolded Hoseok.

“I will when you do!” He taunted.

“Oh my god I can’t do this.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed as Namjoon scooped you up from behind again

“Then I will.” He whispered in your ear. “Congratulations you guys!”

Hoseok and your sister gushed something sticky sweet about how obnoxiously in love you and Namjoon were and you couldn’t help it, you smiled too. You told your sister how happy you were for her, promising to call her later with all the juicy details before finally hanging up the phone and burying your face in Namjoon’s hard tiddy. Which he flexed for you, god bless him, before also flexing his yummy, yummy arms around you until you burst into a fit of giggles.

“I like this,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Me too…. Got any plans today?.”

“Nope. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

“Wanna go grocery shopping with me after I cook you eggs?”

“Are you just using me for my car?” He squinted slyly at you with a smile.

“No. That hadn’t occurred to me actually. I was actually planning on using your height and your body for my own personal benefit.” You answered thoughtfully.

“Oh.” His eyes went a bit wide like he hadn’t thought about that option. “Well. Then. Can I use you for yours?” He asked innocently.

“Sure. Although, you should know, I’m all talk. I’m the biggest softie…. I’m pretty sure if you’d asked me to marry you when we were talking tree-sourcing ethics, I would have strongly considered saying yes.”

Crap. You hadn’t planned on admitting all that. This was his fault. He was just so damn sincere. Those stupid eyes of his were so goddamn kind. It made you forget to put a guard up around him.

As you braced for him to be thoroughly traumatized by your admission, nothing of the sort came. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he hugged you beneath the ribs and hoisted you in a circle, nuzzling his cheek tenderly into your cheek.

“Oh thank GOD” he bellowed.

“I’m sorry- what?”

“I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out how to tell you how much I like you without making you fear becoming the next true crime podcast headline.” He ran a hand through his silky hair as you stood stunned where he’d set you down to process his words.

“You….”

“Yeah…”

“That bad?”

“Honestly I’m not opposed to taking your last name if you asked me.” He shrugged.

You covered your face with both hands, shaking it ruefully despite the cosmically bright smile on your face. Soon you were both howling with laughter in each other’s arms, smiling into Namjoon’s deep eyes.

“This is crazy! We’re crazy.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement.

“I like you.”

“I really like you.”

“I don’t know the first thing about you.”

“Let’s find out together, shall we?”

You felt your eyes fill with annoyingly happy tears. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“You just moved here right?”

“Yeah. Finally. Why do you and Hoseok have matching designer underwear ?”

“We all do. It was Jimin and Seokjins doing a couple Christmases ago.”

“So you and Hobi just happened to be on the same daily rotation when you fucked a pair of sisters?”

“Please don’t word it that way.” Namjoon grimaced.

“I worded it how it is.,” you nodded.

“My turn. Why do you really want me to go to the grocery with you, Hmm?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Besides the company? For the view when I make you stretch for everything I’ve ever needed on the top shelf, Babyyy.”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” He couldn’t contain his laughter.

“As a heart attack.” You winked.

“C’mon. Show me how you make these super fluffy eggs I’ve heard so much about. I’m starving. The gorgeous girl who owns this apartment milked me dry three times in less than twelve hours. I’m famished.”

Goddamn him and those cheeky little dimples.

He grumbled on the other line. “How come? I can fit you in—“

“I don’t want you to fit me in.” You interject, not bothering to hide your exasperation..

“Well…how much time do you need?”

With a growl, you snapped into the phone. “As long as I want!”

“C’mon, you’re not being fair.” His tone was accusatory and a little whiny. It only agitated you further.

“Oh, and you are?”

That shut him up for a few seconds. Then, you hear a familiar creak in the background…it was the sound his chair made whenever he reclined it at the studio.

His voice softened. “Can I please just see you so that we can talk about this?” 

“No,” you say decisively. “I need time to think and clear my head. In order to do that, I need a break from you, Namjoon.”

******

You told Lani about your much-needed Namjoon hiatus. You felt as if you were losing control again. You were back to setting expectations and getting disappointed and you couldn't help it

“I thought you said you guys were back to…I don’t know…just having sex?”

You sighed deeply. “I just wanted to keep it simple. Now, he says things like, he wants to take me away for a weekend by the coast…alone.”

Lani snorted. “Welp…it’s not like that’s not happening anyway.”

“I know that,” you sighed again. “Is it bad I feel guilty for pushing him away?”

She smiled softly at you. “YN…you and Namjoon…I don’t think I can ever imagine a scenario where you guys don’t end up together.”

You scoffed and picked at your cuticles. “Jia would beg to differ,” you muttered. 

Lani rolled her eyes at you. “Jia has her own opinions about Namjoon. She’s never seen how you guys started out. She’s never seen the friendship you had…and that bond.”

You and Jia met while you were interns at the same company. You and Namjoon had been sleeping around for a year at that point.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah…I remember she found it really strange that Namjoon and I would just meet up, sleep together, and then hang out like nothing happened.”

She laughed. “But that’s how you guys are. Jia has a whole concept of what a proper relationship should be…what normal dating looks like; true love and soulmates. I swear to god, those romance novels that she reads are getting to her head.”

You fell silent for a bit. Although, Jia made a fair point when it came to her thoughts about dating. She’s all about commitment, monogamy, having a clear set of rules…and love. There had to be love or a potential for it. Otherwise, it’s a waste of time.

“She cares, though.”

“Oh, I know,” Lani agreed. “We just want you to be happy, YN. She thinks you’d be happier without Namjoon since he’s so flaky.”

“And what do you think?”

Lani propped her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her head against her hand. “In my opinion, I think that you and Namjoon want the same thing but you’re both scared to take a chance. But…what Jia and I think don’t really matter. At the end of that day, it’s what you want and your choice.”

She stares you down silently where you sat on the couch.

After a beat, you swallow the lump in your throat. “I love him, Lani…fuck.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you threw your head backwards, holding back tears. You’d been in denial for so long.

She scoots closer, pulling you into a tight hug. You rest your chin on her shoulder. “I know. I’ve known for a while,” she says softly. “Took you long enough to say it.”

When you pull away from her, your shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to do. I want him but…everything’s just so complicated.”

She then looked at you sternly. “If you want him, tell him that. And I sure as hell know that he wants you, too. I honestly don’t know why he’s being so cagey about it.” 

Namjoon always played his cards close to his chest. One way or another, you’d get him to reveal his hand. It was time to sweeten the pot and hope that your gamble will pay off.

******

“Uhm–a-are you gonna get that?” Your client awkwardly asks.

Your eyes momentarily drift to your phone that keeps blinking from several incoming calls that you’ve been rejecting.

It was Namjoon. Again. He wasn’t deterred by the ‘do not disturb’ notification that had you blocking calls and texts from him.

He gave you space…it lasted…all but two days before he cracked.

“Nope,” you respond, picking up your phone and shoving it in your top drawer to avoid any more distractions. “Sorry about that. I should have done that in the beginning.”

He chuckled. “Looks like somebody needs to get a hold of you desperately…” Then they look around your office, which currently contained five different arrangements of gardenias, including a potted one. “Or…they messed up big time. Besides, isn’t it a little too cold for these to be in season?”

You responded with a tight smile, guessing that Namjoon found some obscure nursery that had temperature-controlled greenhouses. “Someone’s just very grateful for the book advance that they received from us,” you lied.

“Ah,” your client mouthed. “Would I be getting that same deal?” He asks hopefully.

Before you could answer, the office assistant, Emily, knocks at your door. You look up to find her with another vase of gardenias in her hands. 

“Hey, YN. I’m so sorry to interrupt. These came in for you.”

You apologized again to your client for the interruption then walked over to your door to take the vase. You plucked the card out of the arrangement and flipped the top to read it. It only contained one word–’Please.’ With a huff, you set the vase next to one that you already had on one of your shelves.

You thanked Emily and returned to your desk, choosing to focus on finishing up this contract negotiation rather than allowing yourself to be distracted by the heavenly scent that currently surrounded your office.

******

Namjoon had stopped calling after that last gardenia delivery. You got through the rest of the afternoon at work without a hitch and headed straight home after your meetings. When you get out of your car, you find a familiar black SUV by the curb.

Just when you thought you were home safe. You curse under your breath.

You hit the ‘lock’ button on your key fob and proceeded to walk up to your building’s entrance. As you close in, the passenger side door opens and out steps Namjoon. He was dressed casually, in oversized jeans and a lived-in sweatshirt that had the hood pulled all the way down to where it stopped right above his eyebrows.

“YN–”

“What are you doing here, Joon?”

“Can we…can we please talk inside?”

You weren’t ready yet. You had a half-baked plan in your head and you didn’t want to fuck this up. “Namjoon, I really—“

“Please?” He looked around your block to make sure that the coast was clear. “Or–we can talk in the car? I can tell hyung to give us some privacy,” he says, referring to his driver.

You sighed. Lani was spending the weekend at her parents’ on account of her baby niece’s first birthday. Suddenly, you wished that she was here so you’d have an excuse to make him leave.

Instead, you relent and you take the elevator up to your apartment.

You tossed your coat and keys on the couch but left your heels on. You never thought you’d find Namjoon standing in the middle of your living room again. You purposely didn’t bring him to your building anymore in case some crazy fan takes a snap and posts it all over social media.

You stood facing each other–him, closer to the doorway and you, by the couch. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for him to speak.

“Okay, Namjoon–you wanted to talk. So…talk,” you say with a hint of impatience.

He opened his mouth briefly but shut it again to gnaw at his bottom lip, looking conflicted as to how he should start this conversation. 

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about what happened last weekend. It’s just that one of my producers called to tell me that this artist whom I’ve been dying to work with was in town and had a small window…It was such a huge opportunity and I…” he stopped mid-sentence. “Look, I’m really sorry that I had to cancel on you. Could we—“

It was the same tune, each and every time. You shook your head. “Joon, you don’t have to explain it to me. That’s your job. You work odd hours, all hours–and you love it.” You sounded resigned. He always proclaimed how much he loved music and that he was living his dreams.

He shifts his weight on his feet. “Did you get my flowers?” 

You rolled your eyes at the subject change. “Yes, but you didn’t have to go overboard and make my office look like a whole botanical garden.”

“Because you haven’t taken my calls or answered my texts. What was I supposed to do?”

You shrugged. “Go about your life like you normally do? I don’t know!” You stare at each other silently for a few beats before you let out a heavy sigh and grip your forehead, a migraine building up. “Look, Joon…can we just do this some other time? I’ve had a really long day–”

“So have I, but at least I was grown up enough to pick up the phone,” he retorts.

You scoffed at him. “Don’t start that shit with me, Kim Namjoon!” Your pulse rose along with your voice. “What part of ‘I need time to think’ didn’t you understand? Your response to that was disrupting my work week with your nonstop calls. And the flowers–” you groaned, regretting telling him that they were your favorite. “Now here you are, showing up unannounced at my place–”

“I needed to talk to you, YN! I wanted to make sure that we were okay.”

“‘Okay?’” You repeated with a sharp edge in your voice. You chuckle bitterly. “Namjoon, this isn’t exactly new for us. You live on airplanes and hotels for months at a time. And then you come back to town, hit me up, we fuck…” You throw your hands up then drop them to your sides. “After we’ve had our fun, we’re back in that same cycle.”

Years ago, you struggled with that. Were you lovers? Were you in a relationship? What were you to him? What was he to you?

“Namjoon, what are we doing?”

Your question seems to take him aback. “W-what?”

“What are we doing? What is…what is this?” 

“We’re…” he stops, his mouth partially open, as if there was something that desperately wanted to jump off the tip of his tongue…but he just held it there. “We’re f-friends. Really good friends.”

You swallow dryly. “It might have started off that way. And sure that was all fun…when we were younger. But we’re way past that, don’t you think?”

He stared at you blankly as he let your words sink in.

You lifted a shoulder. “For years, we’ve done this whole dance. Are we or are we not in a relationship? We always table that conversation. But you know what? I’m really getting tired of it.”

You see his eyebrows crease from beneath the shadow of his hood.

“W-wait…? Tired? What do you…what are you saying?”

This was much easier the first time. You were dating someone else and it had the potential to grow into something more. You had a backup plan then. Not this time. There was no one waiting in the wings. No safety net.

It was just you and him.

“I’m saying that…” you sighed deeply, knowing that this could change things between you two. After taking some time to think about it, you’d made up your mind. You square your shoulders, straighten your stance, and look him straight in the eye. “I want more, Namjoon.”

He regarded you intently. You see his facial expression change, his jaw ticking furiously. It’s not like he didn’t want to give you more. But things were complicated…and this whole time you gave him an out for that.

After thinking about it, you decide—not anymore. You knew that he was capable of giving you more but you didn’t know why he was holding back.

It wasn’t the band or management. It was something else and you were determined to find out what that was.

He scrambles for an explanation. “YN, the extended break is going to give us more time together. I’ll try to work on that, I promise.”

“I don’t want you to ‘try’. I want you to want to do it. Because if you can’t…or won’t…then we need to end this now.”

Panic spread throughout his face. He pulled off his hood, making his hair flop over his forehead and took two strides to close the gap between you. He placed his hands on your arms.

“Look…don’t…don’t end this, please. Please, YN…”

“Why shouldn’t I? Give me a reason.”

You awaited his answer but he seemed to struggle with his words. You shrug off his hold and turn around to walk into your kitchen. You grabbed a glass from the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of vodka that Lani kept in the freezer and poured yourself a shot, which you downed swiftly.

You turned to face him again to find him standing behind you. “Do you ever think about the future, Namjoon?”

You were met with silence again.

“Because I do.” You felt your nose sting. “I used to not care so much about it years ago but I’ve thought about it recently. A lot, actually. I picture myself a year or two from now. What I’d like to be doing…and who I want to be with.” You sniffled, in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

“Do you think about things like that?” Your chest rose and fell, your anxious breaths filling the silence in between.

“All the time,” he answered confidently.

“Really?” You watched him take careful steps towards you. He takes the bottle and pushes it into the far corner of the kitchen counter, away from you.

“Yes. I’ve always thought about the future…” He gently reaches for your hand to rest it on his chest. “And how much I really want you to be part of it.”

You sighed. “That’s not enough to make me stay, Namjoon.”

“I know.”

“So, how? How can I be part of this future when you won’t meet me in the middle?”

His grip tightened around your hand. “I’ve been unfair to you. Somehow, I always felt like you’d always be around and–that was stupid of me to assume…especially…that first time.” The first time you ended things.

“We needed some time to grow. I needed time to grow and I just felt like…I was stuck since I didn’t know what my place was in your life.”

“And I never meant to make you feel that way…that I hold you back.” He added immediately. “That’s why…” he sighed heavily. “That's why I didn’t really say anything before.”

Your mouth drops slightly as realization sets in. That was why he stepped aside. You thought that he didn’t care because he let you go so easily.

“You let me get away with half-assing things with you when I really should have been putting in the same effort…or more. It’s what you deserve.” His eyes flicked downwards and he hung his head.

“Hey, look at me,” you demanded. He lifted his head. “From now on, I want us to have an open and honest conversation about this relationship. I’m done with your whole spiel of, ‘I don’t want to define this because it adds undue pressure’ and all that bullshit. If you want me to stay, I want you to tell me…” you tilted your chin up. “Give me a reason,” you punctuate each word, repeating your earlier question to him.

The corners of his lips twitched. “You want to hear me say it?”

You didn’t flinch. “I do.”

“You want me to say how I’ve felt about you all this time?”

“Yes, damn it! Tell me!”

“Alright,” he says after a beat.

His chest lifted, releasing a sharp breath. “You matter to me, YN. You are,” he moistened his lips, “...one of the most important people in my life, if not the most important. And that’s not a superlative,” he quickly added.

“The reason I’ve avoided the conversation is because…what I feel for you is so strong that it scares me, honestly. So I thought, if I didn’t define this…the stakes would be lower and maybe…it’s less likely that I’ll fuck this up.” His lips twisted wryly. “That worked out great, didn’t it?” He says sarcastically.

He exhaled again and raked his fingers through his hair. “Do you remember, years ago? When you first asked me what this whole thing was between us?”

You nodded.

“I meant what I said that night, years ago...that I didn’t want to disappoint you. But I did and that’s why you pulled away. You were right to do it. I was struggling to find a balance and I didn’t want to drag you down with me. After I thought about it more, I realized that if I ever got another chance with you, I promised that I would work my ass off to keep you in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be speechless. You’d told him as much the first time you ended things. You didn’t want to keep filling those gaps that he left.

You weren’t that young, bright-eyed university girl anymore. You were more experienced now and practical. Was it really going to be that easy for him? You couldn’t help but be slightly skeptical. 

“What about your career? Don’t you need to focus on your solo album?”

“I do…but I will find a way to figure things out for us. I’ll talk to management and since the members and I are taking a break from group schedules, I only have myself and my own work to consider. I’m sure they’ll allow me that privilege after all the years I’ve given to the group, to the company…not to mention all of the money I helped bring in,” he finishes smugly.

So, was this it? Was he really going to try this time?

“The group, my album, my career…those are all important to me. But you are, too–on a whole different level. I don’t want to lose you again and I will do everything that I can to keep you.” He kept his gaze at you then let out a nervous breath, “As long as you haven’t fully given up on me yet? Can I please get another chance to make things right with you?”

You were apprehensive, but this was more than he had ever given you before. Much more.

It was enough to reassure you. You nodded softly. “Okay,” you agree cautiously.

His mouth curved into the biggest smile ever. The joy in it could only be described as the look a kid would have as they walked into a room full of presents on their birthday.

In his excitement, he dipped his head to kiss you but you immediately put your fingers over his lips and tilted away from him.

“Nah-uh!” you tutted. “Not so fast, Kim! You’ve got to work for it first. You said so yourself!”

His dimples deepened as his lips curved against your fingertips. “Oh, you know I will,” he said before he nipped at them.

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“Uhm–yeah. I like it so far,” you answer him.

“Pretty interesting title. What’s it about?” He proceeds to ask.

Random bookstore conversations weren’t new to you. Sometimes, you’d find yourself bonding over a particularly interesting story with a complete stranger for hours, then walk out without even bothering to exchange names. All you’re left with is a memory of a great conversation.

“It’s about love, loss, and self-discovery.”

His mouth falls open. “Wow…I did not expect that from the title.”

You chuckle softly. “The title is taken from a Beatles song of the same name. ‘Norwegian Wood’ happens to be a significant song in the main character’s life experiences,” you explained.

“I see. Do you think I would like it?”

“Uhm…” you hesitate. Why is this random guy asking you if this book would align with his taste?

“I-I guess,” you say, shifting in your seat. “It’s…it’s pretty tragic, though. If that’s the type of genre that you’re into?”

He smiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you answer him frankly.

He gave a swift nod, got up from his seat without a word. He walks to the back of the store and disappears. You blink a few times then shrug your head, turning back to your book.

After a few minutes, he returns to the same spot where he sat. This time, he had a book with him—Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. He looks up at you briefly, a dimple flashing on his left cheek before diving into the first chapter.

A couple hours later and the shopkeeper announces that it’s nearly closing time. You start to gather your things, stuff them in your backpack before heading back to your apartment by the university.

Your reading buddy gathers his backpack, too and slips his receipt into the most recent page that he was in.

“Hey, thanks for the recommendation. It’s good so far.”

“Oh, that’s great! My friend recommended it to me,” you answered.

“Would you care to talk more about it? Over dinner, maybe?”

Your cheeks flush. He was cute but he hasn’t even bothered to introduce himself to you.

“Dude, I don’t even know you,” you sassed.

He laughed, realizing his misstep. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m Namjoon, by the way,” he held his hand out.

You purse your lips then stare at his outstretched hand. Seconds later, you clasp it against his. “I’m YN.”

He briefly mentions that he passed a restaurant closeby that served kimbap. But he left it up to you to decide if you preferred something else.

“Kimbap sounds fine. I’m not picky,” you mention.

“Great,” he responds with a grin.

Right before you walk out of the bookstore, another female patron stops, hand flying up to her mouth and gasps loudly. “Oh my god! Are you Kim Namjoon?” She exclaims.

He looked slightly panicked but smiled kindly. “No, but I get that a lot.”

“I think you are,” she continues to argue. Then she pauses and gasps again as if she remembers something. “Is the rest of the band here? Are they here? Oh my god!” She nearly squeals in a panicked state.

You stand there utterly confused. What band was she talking about? How did she know his name? And why would he be denying it?

He chuckled, waving his hand, “Oh, no-no. I just look like him. Sometimes, I get hired as a stand-in for some schedules,” he explains, while peering at you nervously.

“Anyway, my friend and I have important business. Have a good evening,” he says with a rush and ushers you both out of the bookstore.

Once you get far enough down the block you stop abruptly and turn to him.

“Okay, hold up—what the hell was that about? Is your name really Namjoon? And why did you lie to her? Who are you?”

He grimaced, a pang of guilt hitting written all over his face. “YN…there’s a perfectly good explanation for all this.”

******

Although the idea of being friends with an idol was uncomfortable to you, Namjoon was very sincere and down-to-earth. You followed some pop music trends but you preferred indie bands and, what most Gen Z-ers would call, “your grandparents’ music.”

But his band’s music was interesting. It wasn’t your typical bubblegum pop. Their discography was intriguing and captivating on a different level, mostly due to his way of working in metaphorical and often philosophical elements to their lyrics and content. You made playlists and dove into other publicly available material online in an effort to learn more about your new friend.

Their record label kept them busy and every day was a hustle. While he relished and was grateful for adoring fans around the world who screamed his name, all he craved was some normalcy during his downtime…and you were an essential part of that. 

Whether it was out to dinner or drinks with a large group of friends, who have all signed the necessary NDAs; or a leisurely stroll in the park–he always managed to steal a moment with you. And in those moments, you shared the deepest conversations.

Your little ‘book club’ for two started off innocently enough. At some point, it turned into late night phone calls while he was on tour or in-between schedules.

It didn’t feel romantic…not at the outset. He just needed someone to bounce ideas with, which you were happy to do. He was just a really deep thinker and had a lot to say. When he did, his thoughts and words would fly over his other friends’ heads and they’d be dying for a subject change. You enjoyed talking and spending time together because not only did you challenge each other intellectually but there was always that underlying chemistry that drew you closer.

One summer, about a year and a half after you met, you and some friends rented out a house by the coast. At some point, someone busted out bottles of makgeolli and soju. Historically, you hadn’t been able to handle them at university parties so you’ve tried to stay away from the stuff. But peer pressure and all, you joined the gang and took a few sips…and so did Namjoon. Minutes later, you remember why you’ve abstained from it.

You sat out on the deck, hoping the sea breeze would help sober you up.

Then he joined you.

As usual, it started off with the usual tipsy ribbing…how you were both lightweights, which set off stretches of nonsensical giggling along with playful smacking and shoving of each other.

The giggling pulled you two closer…too close. Too close to be considered platonic.

He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then his eyes slowly drifted down to your mouth. “You know, for so long, I’ve wondered what it was like to kiss you,” he confessed.

You blinked your eyes lazily at him. “You have?”

He gave a small nod. “I wanted to…a few times.”

You smirked at him. “Then why haven’t you?”

Seemingly taken aback, he exhaled softly. “I didn’t know if you wanted the same thing.”

You brought your face close to his. “Well, you’ve never asked me.” And boy, did you want him to.

He leaned in closer, your noses now touching. “So…may I?”

You bit down on your lip to keep yourself from grinning. “You may.”

A smile ghosted his lips before they brushed yours.

His kiss was tentative at first but when you tilted your head to the side, it gave him that nudge of confidence to raise his hand to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. His lips were as plush as you imagined them to be. They coaxed you gently.

You licked his tongue and he let out a soft, husky moan. The sound made your belly flutter, the same way it does when you listened to his demos before he sent them to his producer.

You made out on and off that evening, thankful that the rest of your friends were too wasted to interrupt.

******

It had been days since you first kissed at the beach house, and you kept at it a few more times after you got back to the city.

God, you loved kissing him.

He had a couple more weeks off before the comeback schedule started so he invited you to spend some time at his dorm. After clocking out of your part-time job at the university, he’d pay for a driver to drop you off at his building.

He had his own space and his bandmates didn’t mind. A couple of them had their own ‘guests’ who had special, confidential privileges just like you did. You just acknowledged each other quietly in the hallways before you retreated to Namjoon’s room.

Luckily, each room doubled as studios…which meant soundproof walls.

You thought it would be awkward. You’d been friends for a while so how did things escalate from talking about books to having his head between your legs. He would pause to ask if you preferred him to do something differently or if you wanted him to focus on a different spot. He was intent on pleasing you so you’d direct him where to put his hands…or his tongue. 

You repaid him on your knees, to which he was equally grateful.

He didn’t have condoms that night so he had to walk across the hall to sheepishly ask his bandmate for one.

After that, he kept his own stash for when you spent the night.

Two days before he was set to get into the comeback cycle, he stayed over at your apartment.

“I’m going to miss you,” you murmured. You both laid on your sides, mirror images of the other. His fingers lazily brushed your bare arm sending goosebumps through your skin.

“Me, too,” he answers.

“Are we still friends?” You ask him.

He made a face, as if you just asked the most ridiculous question. “Why wouldn’t we be?” 

“I mean, two weeks ago, all we did was talk about whatever book I could recommend to you or what Pokémon card you were collecting. Now, you’re laying on my bed while your clothes are sitting on a pile on my floor.”

He grinned, making you chuckle softly. You grip his cheeks with one hand and quickly release them. “Jooooon, I’m serious though. Is this…what is this?”

Turning serious, he pursed his lips, thinking about his answer. Seconds later, he swallowed hard. “I don’t know yet.”

“Mr. Philosophical doesn’t have any insights?”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “All I know is, I’m happy with you and I don’t want to ruin that by defining it or putting any labels on it. I’m afraid that if we do that, and…given the nature of my job…we set expectations for ourselves. Expectations that might end up disappointing us.”

It sounded like a long-winded answer that basically said, ‘I like being around you but I’m just not ready to commit because my job is demanding.’ He had a point, though. He was going to be gone in a few days time…then where would that leave you?

“I get it,” was all you managed to say. Truthfully, you enjoyed spending time with him. The sex was just a nice bonus.

“I do want you to know that I care about you…and I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Your heart lurched at the sound of that. You twisted your lips, knowing that things wouldn’t be able to get any further than where they currently stood: his career would come first.

He caressed your cheek. “I know I could give you more—“

You shook your head gently. “Don’t say things like that if you’re not sure…because it’s going to make me yearn,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Let’s just take this for whatever it is right now. If…if it turns into something unsustainable or unhealthy, then we’ll stop.”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to scare him away or stress him out further. His job in and of itself put on enough pressure on him and he saw you as a reprieve. You took comfort in knowing that.

He moved closer to you. “I hope neither of us has to make that call,” he whispered.

Your thumb brushes over his lips. “I hope so, too.”

He caught you by the wrist to kiss your finger, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked. Damn it, he really knew how to turn you on.

Putting your hand on his nape, you close the gap between you and seal your mouth over his.

You agreed not to define your relationship. You knew the risks and the stakes. In the end, you decided that you also cared about him deeply. So deep that you couldn’t help but hold out hope that things would work out…and if they didn’t, you’d know when to stop.

Those were the perks of being young and optimistic. 

You’d see each other for a month or two at a time when he was back in town or he’d pay to fly you out wherever he was during long travel stretches.

It wasn’t always about sex when you and Namjoon were together. When you spent time with him abroad, you’d take in the sights with him–after dark, of course; sometimes one or two of his bandmates would tag along.

Honestly, it was like going on a nice vacation with your friend…a friend whom you got naked with as soon as you got back to the hotel.

When he was home, he’d sneak a few hours with you. Sometimes, he just wanted to talk about the most recent book he was reading on tour. Other times, he just wanted to share a bed with you and stay until the next morning.

For a while, that setup worked for both of you. You were young and wanted to experience many things before you locked yourself down into a committed relationship with someone.

But being with Namjoon was proving to be difficult. You’d quietly expect things from him and be disappointed when he didn’t come through because of work or some other scheduling conflict. And yet, you didn’t fault him for it or openly tell him that you began to crave for more.

Your breaking point was when that vacation that you’d both planned to go on after they returned from their world tour two years ago fell through. Instead, he went straight into working on his mixtape to maximize studio time and the producers were only available during that timeframe.

Before having all of these expectations, you were perfectly okay with Namjoon being this unpredictable presence in your life. But that was then.

This time, you were more experienced and a bit more realistic.

It was then that you decided you didn’t want to put your life on hold for him. So, you told him that you wouldn’t be at his beck and call anymore. You could keep things platonic but, any more than that, it wasn’t going to happen.

He didn’t argue. Frankly, that shit hurt a lot…that he didn’t even put up a fight. You cried over it for weeks. But you knew that not pushing him to define your relationship was a mistake…and you let that happen. You vowed not to make that mistake again.

You’d gone on a few dates after that and you were pretty sure that Namjoon had messed around with other women, too. You read as much on the gossip columns and social media postings. Eventually, you found someone, too. That relationship lasted almost two years…until it ran its course.

It wasn’t until a few months ago that you and Namjoon had reconnected, after news of their hiatus was announced.

He found out that you were single again and hinted that you could pick up where you left off. But things were different now and you maintained the boundaries that you had set a while back for yourself. You thought it would protect your heart and keep him at bay…instead, he seemed to be drawn to you more than ever. 

He was like a drug–specifically made for you…and it was hard to stop. You could deal with the bad because deep down, it felt good.

He felt good.

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜