lucia

You twisted the sleeve of your sweater around your fingers. “If this goes badly—”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I know they stopped a complaint from being filed. I know they asked to see you again. And I know at least one of them looked like he was about two seconds from following you out the door last night.”

Your head turned. “What?”

She smiled a little. “I’m saving details for later.”

“That’s evil.”

“It’s leverage.”

The SUV slowed.

Outside, the restaurant looked ordinary enough from the street. Warm brick, polished windows, discreet signage. The kind of place you might’ve walked past in another life without thinking twice.

Except today there were bodyguards half-pretending not to be bodyguards and staff members half-pretending not to be waiting for you.

Your driver was directed around back. The alley entrance made the whole thing feel faintly criminal. “I feel like contraband,” you muttered as you unbuckled.

Elle laughed softly. “You kind of are.”

“Not helping.”

She caught your hand before you reached for the door.

When you looked at her, her expression was gentler than usual. Serious.

“You don’t have to have everything figured out by the time you walk back out.”

You swallowed. That helped more than every other pep talk you’d had in your 21 years on the planet combined.

“Okay,” you said, sliding out of the car.

A staff member guided you through the back entrance, through a spotless kitchen fragrant with garlic and sesame and something sweet you couldn’t name, through one swinging door and then another.

Voices drifted toward you before the room came fully into view.

Laughter. A burst of something that sounded like bickering. The scrape of a chair. Then you stepped into the dining room and every head at the table turned.

For one suspended second, nobody moved. Seven pairs of eyes on you. Seven men who might have your name written on their skin. Seven impossible answers waiting in a rented-out restaurant in Seoul. You tightened your grip on your bag strap and tried not to turn around.

“Hi,” you said, because apparently your brain had abandoned eloquence entirely.

Hoseok was the first to smile. Then Namjoon stood.

And just like that, there was no going back.

“Hi,” he said, and there was something careful in it. Something warm. “You came.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it eased your nerves still.

“Yeah,” you managed. “I, uh. I did.”

Hoseok was smiling already, bright and relieved in a way that made it impossible to mistake what he was feeling. Taehyung looked like he was barely resisting the urge to spring up and cross the room. Jungkook sat up straighter so fast it almost looked like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Jin’s expression softened with obvious approval, while Jimin watched you with a gentler sort of curiosity than he had the night before, almost like he was trying to gauge whether you were about to bolt again.

And Yoongi—

Yoongi was looking at you like he’d been worried. Not startled. Not confused. Worried. The force of it nearly stopped you in your tracks. You’d expected awkwardness. Maybe tension. Maybe some lingering discomfort over the fact that you had, in fact, fled their building mid-interview like a Victorian heroine in the grip of consumption.

You had not expected concern that looked that naked.

“Come sit down,” Jin said, standing halfway out of his chair and gesturing to the empty seat at the head of the table. “You’re making it look like we invited you here to execute you.”

Taehyung snorted.

“That was not the vibe,” Hoseok said, trying to reassure you that you weren’t freaking them out.

“It was a little the vibe,” Jungkook muttered, earning himself a look from Namjoon.

You let out a nervous laugh before you could help it, and several of them visibly relaxed at the sound.

“Sorry,” you said automatically, moving toward the table. “I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

“You didn’t,” Namjoon said at once.

“Not even a little,” Hoseok added.

Jimin tilted his head. “Well. A little little.”

“Jimin,” Jin warned.

“What?” Jimin held up both hands. “I’m being honest. It got weird. But she didn’t make it weird on purpose.”

You stopped beside the empty chair, fingers tightening on your bag strap. “I really am sorry about last night.”

“Y/N.”

The voice was low, rough around the edges, and it slid right through the room and into your chest with humiliating ease. Yoongi hadn’t moved, but everyone else had. Just slightly. Enough that you could tell they’d all heard it too. He looked up at you from beneath the edge of his beanie, expression steady.

“You do not have to apologize for panicking.”

The room went very quiet.

You swallowed. “I kind of abandoned an interview.”

“You also looked like you were about to faint,” he said. “Or throw up. Or both.”

A tiny, helpless smile tugged at your mouth.

“That is unfortunately accurate.”

“Then you left because you needed to,” he said, like the matter was settled. “That’s not something I’m going to be upset about.”

“I don’t think any of us are,” Namjoon said gently.

“Definitely not,” Hoseok said. “We were worried, not offended.”

“Very worried,” Jungkook added, nodding hard enough to make Taehyung grin at him.

“You should sit,” Jin said, softer now. “Please. You look like you’re one loud noise away from passing out.”

“I’m okay,” you lied.

Yoongi’s mouth twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing to one you’d gotten from him so far.

“No, you’re not.”

That should have embarrassed you. Instead, it made your shoulders drop by a fraction. You sat.

Immediately, Jin reached for the water pitcher at the center of the table and poured a glass for you, sliding it into your hands without a word. You took it, murmuring a thank you that came out more sincere than you’d intended.

“Do you want us to have everyone else leave?” Namjoon asked. “The staff, I mean.”

You blinked.

There were only a couple of employees hanging near the far end of the restaurant and one man moving quietly in and out from the kitchen, but still. The fact that he’d thought to ask at all hit you somewhere tender.

“Would that be okay?”

“Of course it would,” Jin said.

Namjoon was already glancing toward one of the staff members. A few quick words in Korean later and the room emptied even further, leaving only the eight of you and one waiter tucked discreetly through the kitchen doors.

The silence that followed wasn’t tense, exactly. Just fragile. You wrapped both hands around your water glass to keep them from shaking. Taehyung leaned forward first, elbows on the table, face open in a way that would’ve been dangerous if you weren’t already in so deep you were considering emigrating.

“I’m really happy you came back,” he said.

There was no cleverness in it. No performance. Just plain truth.

Jungkook nodded immediately. “Me too.”

“Same,” Hoseok said. “Last night was…” He exhaled through his nose and grimaced. “A lot.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jimin said.

“I mean it,” Hoseok insisted, looking at you again. “We were scared that maybe we’d overwhelmed you so badly you’d get on a plane and disappear.”

You stared at him over the rim of your water glass. Because that had, in fact, briefly been the plan. Elle would have been so smug if she were here to hear that.

“I considered it,” you admitted. That earned a collective reaction.

Taehyung’s eyes went huge. Jungkook made a faint, wounded sound. Hoseok clutched dramatically at his chest. Jin looked deeply offended on behalf of fate itself. Jimin laughed in disbelief.

Only Yoongi and Namjoon didn’t immediately react. Namjoon because he was watching you too closely. Yoongi because something in his face had gone strangely still.

“You really thought about leaving?” Namjoon asked quietly.

You looked down at your hands. “For a minute.”

“A long minute?” Jimin asked.

“A very long minute,” you muttered.

Hoseok slumped back in his chair. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s understandable,” Yoongi said.

Several of the others turned to look at him. He didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was still on you, dark and unreadable in a way that made your pulse trip.

“If I were you,” he said, “I probably would’ve done worse.”

You let out a quiet breath. “That’s weirdly comforting.”

“It’s meant to be.”

Something about the steadiness in his tone made it easier to speak. So you did.

“I just…” You licked your lips and glanced around the table. Seven faces. Seven impossible faces. Seven men who had apparently spent the last twenty odd hours not angry with you, but concerned. “I’ve spent my whole life assuming there was something wrong with me.”

The words were out before you could stop them. No one interrupted. No one even shifted. You looked down at your wrist, still hidden beneath the cuff of your sweater.

“People have one soulmate,” you said. “Sometimes two. Every once in a while some article pops up about someone with three or four and everyone acts like it’s the end of civilization. And I had…” You laughed once without humor. “This.”

Your free hand gestured vaguely at your arm.

“Doctors never knew what to say. People looked at me like I was a mistake. My mom spent years telling me I’d understand it one day, but I stopped believing that when I was a teenager.” You swallowed. “So when Seokjin told me his birthday, and then Yoongi, and then Hoseok—”

You broke off and looked up. Every single one of them was staring at you like you’d said something awful. Not because of them, but because of what you’d been carrying alone.

Jin’s brows had drawn together so tightly he looked ready to pick a fight with the universe. Hoseok’s eyes had gone soft with immediate sympathy. Jungkook looked heartbroken in a way that made him appear much younger than he had the night before. Even Jimin, who seemed naturally inclined toward teasing, had gone still.

Namjoon leaned his forearms on the table and said, very gently, “You thought you were a mistake.”

It wasn’t a question. “More or less.” You gave a small shrug, because admitting it plainly now felt pathetic.

“That’s not pathetic,” Yoongi said.

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud. Or maybe you had. You couldn’t tell anymore.

Yoongi’s expression hadn’t changed much, but his voice had. It was quieter now. “I know what that feels like.”

Your eyes snapped to his.

For the first time since you’d walked in, he looked almost... exposed. Not in some dramatic, messy way. In the way people did when they were deciding to tell the truth and hated every second of it.

“I didn’t have as much as you did,” he said. “But I had enough.”

None of the others spoke.

You got the sense they were used to that by now—used to Yoongi picking his moments and everyone else letting him have them.

“When I was younger, I kept mine covered all the time,” he continued. “Always. Long sleeves, wristbands, anything. People notice. They always notice. And when they do, they start making assumptions about your life like they know you.”

You nodded before you could stop yourself.

His gaze stayed fixed on yours.

“I hated it,” he said. “I hated people looking at me like I was defective. Or too much. Or something they didn’t know how to explain. Didn’t want to explain.”

Your throat tightened.

“I thought…” He let out a breath and glanced away for a second, jaw flexing. “I thought if that was what fate had planned for me, then maybe fate just had a terrible sense of humor.”

That startled a soft laugh out of you.

“There it is,” Jimin murmured, smiling faintly. “He’s comforting you and insulting destiny at the same time.”

Yoongi shot him a flat look. “Do you mind?”

Jimin lifted both hands and leaned back in his chair with obvious delight.

“You can continue.”

A few of the others smiled, the tension easing just a little.

Yoongi looked back at you.

“What I’m trying to say,” he said, slower now, “is that you didn’t do anything wrong last night. If you spent years thinking those marks meant you were alone, and then suddenly three of them start answering to names in front of you under studio lights…” He huffed once, almost incredulous on your behalf. “Of course you ran.”

You stared at him. Then down at your water. Then back at him.

“Thank you.”

He gave a small nod, like that was enough.

It wasn’t, not really. Not with the way your chest was behaving. But it was enough for him, apparently, which you suspected might become a recurring issue.

Namjoon cleared his throat softly, drawing your attention back to the full table.

“I think,” he said, “before we say anything else, we should make one thing very clear.”

He looked around at the others, and when they all nodded, he turned back to you.

“We don’t think you ruined anything.”

Every word landed carefully and deliberately. Like he wanted to leave no room at all for you to doubt it.

“Not the interview, not this, not any chance we might have had to get to know you,” he continued. “If anything, last night just confirmed what we’d already started to suspect.”

“You know,” Hoseok added, pointing gently between you and then the group, “that this is real.”

Your pulse kicked again. You looked down. Then, because there was no point pretending anymore, you pushed your sleeve slowly up to your elbow and turned your wrist over on the table.

They were quiet.

It was different than the silence the marks had drawn from doctors or family or strangers.

Those silences had always felt clinical. Curious. Sometimes pitying. This one felt reverent. Seven pairs of eyes dropped to the ink on your skin and stayed there.

Hoseok inhaled sharply.

Taehyung actually smiled.

Jungkook’s lips parted and then stayed that way, like he’d forgotten what he’d been about to say. Jin closed his eyes for the briefest second before opening them again with obvious effort. Jimin looked almost unbearably tender.

Namjoon sat back in his chair and let out a breath that sounded like something he’d been holding for years.

And Yoongi—

Yoongi looked at your wrist, then up at your face, then back down again like he was making himself believe it.

“Can I?” he asked quietly.

You blinked.

He lifted one hand, palm up, not touching you. Just hovering slightly over the table. Giving you every possible chance to say no.

It took you a second to realize what he meant.

“Oh.”

Your heart beat in your throat.

“Yeah,” you said, and your voice came out softer than you meant it to. “You can.”

His fingertips barely brushed the inside of your wrist. That was all. Barely anything. And yet every muscle in your body went rigid for one startled second. Not from discomfort. From recognition. It wasn’t electricity. It wasn’t dramatic lightning under your skin or some movie-worthy rush of impossible heat. It was worse. It felt familiar. Familiar, like your body had been waiting for that exact touch longer than your mind could understand.

Yoongi felt it too.

You knew he did because his fingers went still against your skin and his eyes snapped up to yours, something deep and startled flickering there before he smoothed it over.

Jimin saw it immediately. His brows shot up.

Hoseok bit his lip like he was physically restraining himself from making a scene.

Taehyung outright grinned.

You tugged your hand back out of instinct, and Yoongi withdrew just as quickly.

“Sorry,” you both said at the same time.

That broke the room.

Hoseok laughed first, loud and helpless. Jungkook ducked his head with a grin. Taehyung slapped the table once and looked delighted. Even Jin cracked, shaking his head.

Jimin pointed between the two of you. “That was so painful to watch.”

“Agreed,” Taehyung said.

“You’re both so weird already,” Jungkook mumbled.

Yoongi looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him. You suspected you looked much the same.

“Can we not?” he said flatly.

“Absolutely not,” Jimin replied.

Namjoon smiled into his water glass. “Maybe let her breathe first.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, grateful for him and resentful of the fact that half of your face felt warm.

“Do you want us to show you ours?”

The question came from Jin, who, despite being visibly entertained by your mutual embarrassment, had the good grace to ask it gently.

You looked at him, then around the table.

Part of you wanted to say no, not because you didn’t want to know, but because you weren’t sure your nervous system had recovered enough to survive seven more confirmations in a row.

The other part of you, the larger and far more reckless one, had been waiting your whole life for exactly this.

You nodded.

“Okay,” you said.

Hoseok was the first out of his chair. He bounced out of it and rounded the table, all bright energy and open delight, rolling up his sleeve and holding out his wrist to you with zero hesitation.

There it was. Your initials. Your birthdate.

Printed just as neatly into his skin as his had been on yours.

You stared.

“See?” he said, almost impossibly soft for someone so full of life. “You’re real.”

Your vision blurred for a second. You blinked hard and looked away before you embarrassed yourself.

Then Namjoon showed you his. Jin after that, with a little half-joke about finally not having to feel crazy anymore. Taehyung held his wrist out like he was presenting treasure. Jungkook did it more shyly, glancing between your face and the ink like he still couldn’t believe you were here to see it. Jimin tilted his arm into the light and watched your expression carefully, almost like he was cataloging every reaction.

By the time Yoongi rolled his sleeve up, your breathing had gone shallow again.

Not because you doubted it. Because now you didn’t.

His wrist looked like the others. Your initials. Your date. Your life, reflected back at you in black ink. You swallowed and looked up at him. He was already looking at you. Not smiling. Not teasing. Just there.

It was unbearable.

And then it became too much. Not in a catastrophic way. Not like last night. More like your emotions had all queued up at once and somebody had finally unlocked the door.

Your eyes stung. Your face burned. You looked down hard enough to make your neck ache, mortified at the thought of crying in front of seven men you had met less than forty-eight hours ago and who were, in a deeply inconvenient twist, apparently cosmically significant to you.

“Hey,” Namjoon said softly.

You shook your head once.

“You’re okay,” Jin added.

“I know,” you whispered.

But your voice cracked on the last word, which thoroughly ruined the performance.

“Oh,” Hoseok said quietly, all joking gone at once. “Oh, sweetheart.”

The endearment hit before you had time to brace for it. You laughed once, watery and miserable. “Don’t call me that or I really will cry.”

“We can call you ‘headache’ instead,” Jimin offered.

That actually got a real laugh out of you.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Anytime,” he replied, smug.

The chair beside you shifted. You looked up. Yoongi had moved. He hadn’t dragged his seat dramatically closer or done anything that might make it look like he was trying to overwhelm you. He had just closed the distance enough to matter.

Enough that when he spoke again, his voice didn’t have to carry.

“Look at me for a second.”

You did.

“Breathe,” he said. There was nothing mystical about it. Nothing grand. Just a simple instruction delivered in a voice so steady your body obeyed before your mind did.

You inhaled.

“Again.”

You did. The room blurred less. Your heartbeat eased, not all the way, but enough.

“There,” he said quietly. “That’s better.”

Across the table, Taehyung was looking at the two of you with an expression that suggested he was one sentence away from saying something unhelpfully perceptive. Jin appeared to notice this too, because he reached over and flicked Taehyung’s sleeve.

Taehyung pouted. You nearly smiled. Yoongi leaned back again, but not far.

“Sorry,” you said to no one and everyone.

Namjoon immediately shook his head. “No.”

Jungkook spoke next, more quietly than the others usually did, which made everyone turn toward him.

“You keep apologizing,” he said, “but you don’t have to.”

His cheeks pinked the second he realized he’d said it out loud in front of everyone, but he pushed on anyway.

“You haven’t done anything bad,” he said. “You’ve just… had a really intense two days.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” you said.

“It’s the correct way,” Jin replied.

“Debatable,” Jimin said. “I’d also accept life-altering, horrifying, and weirdly romantic.”

“Why are you like this?” Yoongi asked him.

“Because God made me charming.”

“No,” Yoongi said. “That’s definitely not it.”

The table laughed again, and this time the sound felt easier. Fuller. Like the room was finally letting itself relax around you.

A waiter appeared then, hesitated, and quietly began setting dishes down along the center of the table. Rice. Stir-fried vegetables. Soup. Small plates of side dishes you couldn’t even fully name before Taehyung was already reaching for one and Jin was slapping his hand away on principle.

“Wait until everyone’s served.”

“I was helping myself emotionally.” Taehyung pouted.

“You were helping yourself greedily.”

“It can be both.”

The absurd normalcy of it was maybe the strangest thing so far. That and the fact that none of them seemed interested in rushing you. The food arrived. Nobody pushed. Nobody demanded explanations.

Jin filled your plate before you could protest, muttering something about you looking underfed. Hoseok asked if you liked spice levels in food “like a normal person or like Jungkook,” which spiraled into a whole argument about what constituted normal spice tolerance. Taehyung asked if New York pizza was really as life-changing as movies made it seem. Jimin wanted to know whether American reporters always asked such boring first-round questions or if you were just strategically saving the good ones.

“I was being professional,” you said.

“You were being restrained,” he corrected.

“Maybe I was both.” You smirked.

Jimin blinked. “That was kind of hot.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon sighed.

“What? It was.”

Yoongi muttered something into his glass that made Hoseok choke on his water.

“What did he say?” you asked, suspicious.

“Nothing,” Yoongi said immediately.

“Horrible liar,” Taehyung sang.

“He said you arguing with Jimin was kind of hot,” Hoseok supplied, delighted.

The room exploded.

Jungkook folded in on himself laughing. Jin looked deeply entertained. Jimin made a scandalized noise like his job was being stolen from him. Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yoongi stared murder at Hoseok.

“I hate all of you.”

Your face flamed so fast you felt it down your neck.

“You absolutely said that?” Jimin asked, beyond pleased.

“I said,” Yoongi replied through clenched teeth, “that her being that calm after realizing three birthdays in a row matched the inside of her wrist was impressive.”

Hoseok grinned. “And hot.”

Yoongi looked ready to launch himself across the table.

“I’m leaving,” he announced.

“You’re seated,” Jin said mildly.

You were trying very hard not to laugh. And failing.

Yoongi heard it. His head turned toward you so quickly it was almost accusatory. You met his eyes over the table and finally, finally let yourself smile fully.

His expression shifted. Enough for you to see the fight go out of it. Enough for something warmer to move quietly into its place. He looked down first. That did something terrible to your heart.

Conversation settled again after that, flowing more naturally now. Less like a summit meeting and more like eight people trying to figure out how to be in a room together when fate had apparently played an unhinged long game.

Namjoon told you how he’d met Yoongi first, how seeing the same sequence of marks on another person’s skin had felt like the world tilting under his feet. Yoongi corrected half the story under his breath and admitted, reluctantly, that Namjoon had looked less panicked than he had. Hoseok chimed in about arriving after them and deciding almost immediately that destiny had excellent taste because at least it had paired him with people who were interesting.

“Annoying,” Yoongi corrected.

“Interesting and annoying,” Hoseok allowed.

Jin described joining later, eyeing the three of them like they were a social experiment gone wrong.

“I thought maybe I’d hallucinated the whole thing,” he said. “Then I saw Namjoon’s wrist and nearly walked out.”

You looked up from your food. “You almost ran too?”

“Of course I almost ran,” he said. “I’m very handsome, not stupid.”

That made you laugh into your rice.

The younger three had their own stories. Taehyung had apparently been the least alarmed by the entire situation, mostly because he found the odds “romantic in a dramatic way.” Jungkook admitted he’d been too shocked to speak for almost an hour after the reveal. Jimin, unsurprisingly, had gone straight into interrogation mode and demanded everybody compare marks immediately.

“That sounds right,” you said.

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Through all of it, you found your gaze drifting toward Yoongi more often than it should have.

Partly because he didn’t talk unless he meant to. Partly because whenever anyone else said something that made you tense, even for half a second, he noticed.

You hadn’t realized how much he’d been tracking you until Jimin casually asked, “So have you dated anyone seriously?” and your entire body went tight in a way you hoped wasn’t obvious.

Apparently it was.

Because Yoongi cut in before you could answer.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

The table quieted.

Jimin looked from him, to you, and then immediately lifted both hands.

“Fair. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, though your voice came out a bit thinner than you wanted. “It’s not exactly a forbidden question.”

Yoongi’s gaze stayed on you, not Jimin. You could feel it like a hand at the center of your back. You looked down at your plate.

“I haven’t dated seriously,” you admitted after a moment. “Not really.”

“Because of this?” Jungkook asked softly, looking at your wrist and then quickly away like he worried that was rude.

You appreciated the awkwardness of it more than you should have.

“Partly,” you said. “Mostly because my life is… a lot. My work doesn’t exactly leave room for stability. And once people started wanting serious conversations, I usually found a way to be elsewhere.”

“That’s bleak,” Jimin said.

“That’s accurate,” you corrected.

Yoongi’s fingers tapped once against the table.

“Did anyone ever know why?”

You looked at him.

“What?”

“Why you left,” he said. “Why you kept things casual.”

The question should have felt invasive. From him, somehow, it didn’t. You thought about it.

“Not really,” you said. “I didn’t know how to explain that I had seven names on my arm and none of them belonged to the person sitting across from me. It seemed… cruel.”

Across the table, several expressions shifted at once.

Taehyung’s softened into something almost painful. Jungkook looked stricken again. Namjoon’s mouth tightened. Jin clicked his tongue once under his breath, clearly displeased by your past on principle.

Yoongi just looked at you long enough that you had to glance away.

“You were alone with that for a long time,” he said.

It wasn’t pity.

That was what made it survivable. You nodded once. “Yeah.”

A beat passed. Then another. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet enough that the others stopped moving. “Not anymore.”

You looked up. Every single person at that table was watching you.

Hoseok smiled first, soft and bright. “Definitely not anymore.”

“You have us now,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook nodded. “If you want us.”

The sweetness of that nearly undid you.

Jin leaned back in his chair. “And before you overthink that sentence into the ground, we don’t mean that in a scary way.”

“We mean it in a very scary way,” Jimin said.

“Jimin.”

“What? I’m kidding.”

“You are not helping.”

Namjoon hid a smile. “What they mean is, there’s no pressure on you to have all your feelings sorted out today.”

“That would be impossible,” you said.

“Exactly,” he replied. “This is… unprecedented, even for us.”

You hesitated, then asked the thing that had been itching at you since last night.

“Did you know I existed?”

It came out quieter than you meant it to. The question shifted something around the table. Not discomfort. Something sadder.

Namjoon answered first. “We knew there was one person left,” he said. “We knew the marks didn’t end with us. But no, we didn’t know who you were.”

“Not until last night,” Hoseok said.

Yoongi looked at his hands for a moment before speaking.

“I knew your initials,” he said. “And your birthday. Same as everyone else. But that doesn’t mean much when you’ve never seen someone’s face.”

He lifted his gaze to yours.

“When you introduced yourself, I thought I’d heard you wrong.”

The admission hit you harder than it should have.

Beside him, Jimin smiled faintly. “Same.”

You looked at him.

“You too?”

He nodded. “The second you said your name in Korean, I looked at Yoongi-hyung because I thought I was losing my mind.”

“I was not helpful,” Yoongi said dryly.

“No,” Jimin agreed. “You looked like you’d been shot.”

That startled a laugh out of you. Yoongi shot him a look… Jimin grinned.

“I’m serious,” he said. “And then when your coworker, Elle…?” You nodded to him, “Well, when Elle read your birthday from your notes…” He let out a low whistle. “The room got very real very quickly.”

You thought back to that moment. To the strange shift in the air you’d barely been able to process because your own body had already gone into full revolt.

“You all knew then.”

“Yes,” Namjoon said.

“Immediately?” you asked.

“Yes,” seven voices replied in some form or another.

That should not have made you feel as seen as it did.

But it did.

Jimin reached for his drink. “For the record, your exit was dramatic.”

You covered your face. “I know.”

“But also justified,” he added.

“Deeply justified,” Hoseok said.

“Cinema-worthy, honestly,” Jin mused.

“Stop encouraging Jimin,” Yoongi muttered.

Taehyung tilted his head. “If it helps, I wanted to run too. Not away. Just after you.”

The sincerity in it caught you off guard.

“You did?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We all kind of did.”

“We couldn’t,” Namjoon said. “There were too many people around.”

“And we didn’t want to scare you more,” Jungkook added.

The image of seven members of BTS trying to follow you out of an interview room because the American reporter fleeing their building happened to be their soulmate was so surreal you didn’t know whether to laugh or dissolve.

Probably both. You took a long sip of water instead.

Jimin, who had been studying you with that too-knowing expression again, suddenly straightened. “Wait.”

Everyone looked at him.

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing at your wrist.

“Can I ask something weird?”

“Given the circumstances, that doesn’t narrow it down at all,” you said.

“That’s fair.”

He pointed toward your arm.

“Do any of the initials look… darker to you?”

The room changed again. Subtly. Namjoon exchanged a glance with Jin. Taehyung’s smile turned amused in a way that made you suspicious. Jungkook bit his lip. Hoseok looked like someone trying not to ruin a surprise. You frowned and looked down. At first, the marks just looked like they always had.

Then you really looked.

And there.

One set.

M.Y.

You blinked.

Then leaned closer.

“They do,” you murmured. No one spoke. You ran your thumb lightly over the letters. “I’ve never noticed that before.”

“They can be hard to catch,” Namjoon said.

“What does it mean?” Your voice came out quieter now, the question hanging in the air between all of you.

This time it was Yoongi who looked away first. Namjoon glanced at him, then back at you.

“There are old studies,” he said. “And some spiritual interpretations. Most people think it means a stronger pull within the bond.”

“A twin flame,” Hoseok supplied.

“That sounds fake,” you said automatically.

Hoseok laughed. “I knew you’d say that.”

“It does,” Yoongi admitted, still not looking at you. “But it’s a thing. Only some of us have it with each other.”

“Only some…?” You ask.

“Yeah. It’s not common,” Namjoon answered. 

“The three of us have it,” Jimin smirked, pointing between himself, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

You looked around the table slowly. Then finally, carefully, to Yoongi.

He was already looking at you now. And unlike the others, he didn’t smile.

He just said, quietly, “Mine is you.”

Your pulse hit so hard it hurt.

No one joked. No one interrupted.

For once, even Jimin had the sense to leave the moment alone.

You looked down at the darker initials on your wrist again.

M.Y.

Then back at him. “How long have they been darker?” you asked.

Yoongi understood immediately.

“Since you first got the mark,” he said.

The room tilted.

“And you-- you noticed mine were darker this whole time?”

He nodded.

You had no idea what your face did then, but it must have been something, because Yoongi’s expression softened in a way that made your stomach drop straight through the floor.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly.

You laughed once in disbelief. “That does not feel okay.”

A tiny smile touched his mouth. “No,” he agreed. “Probably not. But it is.”

“Yoongi-hyung was the worst about it, actually,” Hoseok said, because apparently peace had lasted too long. “He used to act like it didn’t matter and then stare at his wrist like he was trying to threaten it into revealing your address.”

“Oh my God,” Jimin said, delighted. “That’s true.”

Yoongi looked murderous again. “Hoseok.”

“What? It’s romantic.”

“It’s invasive.”

“It’s both,” Taehyung said.

You were trying so hard not to smile. And failing again.

Yoongi noticed again. That might have been the first time you saw him really smile.

It was small. Gummy.

Gone too quickly to be fair.

It hit you like a car.

He seemed to realize that immediately, because the smile vanished and he looked down at his drink like he hadn’t just catastrophically altered your internal chemistry.

Cool. Great.

Fantastic, even.

Namjoon, perhaps sensing that your brain was about to liquefy in real time, gently redirected.

“There’s one more thing we should probably tell you.”

You dragged your attention away from Yoongi with genuine effort.

“What?”

“Why we keep our marks covered,” he said.

You frowned. “I was wondering that.”

He nodded. “At first it was privacy. Then it became strategy.”

“People get weird about soulmate stuff,” Jin said dryly. “And people get especially weird about famous people having soulmate stuff.”

“That’s a very elegant way of putting it,” Jimin muttered.

“We never wanted to go public with any of it unless everyone involved had a say,” Namjoon continued. “Including you.”

The simplicity of that stunned you a little.

“You waited because of me?”

“We waited because whoever you turned out to be deserved it,” he corrected gently. “You deserved the choice.”

You sat very still.

All morning you had been braced for pressure. For assumption. For some unspoken expectation that because fate had apparently thrown your life into their orbit, you would now be expected to fall in line with whatever that meant.

Instead you got this.

Care. Restraint. Permission.

It made your eyes sting again, which was just rude at this point.

“That’s…” You swallowed. “That’s really thoughtful.”

Jin shrugged. “We can be thoughtful and gorgeous.”

“That’s exactly how I’d describe us,” Taehyung agreed.

“You describe yourself like that every day,” Jungkook muttered.

“As I should.”

Laughter broke the moment just enough to save you from crying for the second time in one lunch.

You loved them a little for that already, which seemed irresponsible, but not exactly something you could help.

By the time the plates had been cleared and fresh water brought out, the room felt entirely different than it had when you’d walked in.

Not easy. Easy would’ve been absurd. But open.

You sat a little more comfortably now. Your shoulders weren’t drawn up to your ears. You had stopped checking the nearest exit every few minutes. Taehyung had made you promise, solemnly, that if you ever did flee the country you would at least text first. Jin had asked real questions about New York and your work. Jungkook wanted to know what your favorite interviews had been. Hoseok had decided you had “incredibly stressed but cool older classmate energy,” which Jimin said was inaccurate because you were younger than all but Jungkook and Taehyung, which had somehow led to Taehyung asking if you liked dogs.

Through all of it, Yoongi stayed mostly quiet. Not absent, just watchful. And when he did speak, it was usually to you.

Never performative. Never loud. Never because he needed the room to follow him.

Just because he had something to say.

At one point, while the others were deep in an argument over whether Jungkook counted as clingy, you reached for the water pitcher at the exact same moment Yoongi did. Your fingers brushed.

This time neither of you jerked away. You just both looked at your hands for a second. Then at each other. He slid the pitcher toward you.

“You first.”

“Thanks.”

His eyes held yours a second longer than necessary.

“You doing okay?”

It would have been so easy to lie. You were good at lying about that, especially to people who had no right to call you on it. But he did. Not a right, exactly. A way. So you answered honestly.

“Better.”

Another small nod.

“Good.”

You wanted, very badly, to ask him if he was okay too.

You didn’t.

Mostly because you had the strong suspicion that if you started caring too obviously, too soon, about the man with darker initials on your arm, the rest of the table would never let you live it down.

Also because you were not, in fact, ready to examine whatever was happening inside your chest.

Eventually your phone buzzed in your bag.

Then again.

Then a third time in increasingly offended succession.

You didn’t even need to check to know it was Elle.

You sighed and pulled the phone out.

Across the table, Taehyung leaned to one side. “Is that the friend?”

“Yes.”

“Is she nice?”

“She is when she’s not threatening me through text.”

“What’d she say?” Jimin asked.

You glanced down.

If you are alive, blink twice.

If you are dead, ignore this.

If Min Yoongi is still hot in person, also ignore this. 

You covered your face with one hand.

Jimin made a delighted noise. “Read it out loud.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Coward.”

You shoved the phone back into your bag.

Namjoon smiled. “Do you need to go?”

The question hit harder than you expected, because the answer, embarrassingly enough, was no.

Not really. You didn’t want to. And judging by the shift that ran quietly around the table, they knew it. But you also knew if you didn’t leave soon, Elle was going to assume you’d been kidnapped into a soulmate cult and try to storm the building herself.

“Probably,” you admitted.

The collective disappointment that met that one word was almost comical.

Hoseok actually pouted.

Taehyung slumped dramatically sideways.

Jungkook hid his reaction badly. Jin sighed like a put-upon husband in a period drama. Jimin looked openly aggrieved. Namjoon was at least dignified enough to keep his disappointment contained to the corners of his mouth.

Yoongi just got quieter. That was somehow worse. You stood slowly.

“I’ll see you at the show tomorrow,” you said, because suddenly it felt very important to make that promise aloud.

That perked several of them up at once.

“Yes,” Hoseok said. “Good.”

“We’ll save you a seat,” Taehyung added. “A lucky seat.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Jin said.

“It is in my heart.”

“Please stop talking.”

You laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Before I go…” You hesitated, then pushed through it. “Can I give you my number?”

The reaction was immediate and ridiculous.

Jungkook nearly fumbled his phone. Taehyung grinned like Christmas had come early. Jimin looked scandalized that you’d had to offer instead of them asking faster. Hoseok was already unlocking his screen.

Yoongi tried, and failed, to act like he hadn’t gone just a little still.

You gave it to them, watching as each saved it with varying degrees of enthusiasm and speed.

Namjoon created a group chat on the spot.

Jimin named it fate’s favorite idiots before anyone could stop him.

Taehyung changed it to will our girl ever return from war?

Yoongi changed it to stop talking less than ten seconds later.

Jungkook changed it back to fate’s favorite idiots.

Yoongi looked at the title, then at you, then muttered, “I hate this group already.”

“No you don’t,” Hoseok said.

“No,” Yoongi replied, and for the first time all afternoon there was no dryness in it at all. “I really don’t.”

That settled over the table in a way no one commented on. You said your goodbyes more slowly than you meant to.

Jin insisted on walking you as far as the kitchen doors. Hoseok made you promise to eat dinner. Jungkook mumbled something shy about being glad you came that made your heart squeeze. Jimin told you next time he’d be asking harder questions and you told him next time you might actually answer some of them.

Taehyung opened his arms like he wanted a hug, then visibly thought better of it and clasped his hands in front of himself instead.

The effort of that touched you more than if he’d just gone for it.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?”

“For coming back,” he said. “And for not looking at us like we’re crazy.”

You smiled.

“That’d be hypocritical.”

He laughed.

And then you were at the threshold between the dining room and the kitchen, with one hand on your bag strap and your pulse doing something strange and slow and heavy in your chest.

Because you could feel it. Someone behind you. Before you even turned, you knew. Yoongi had followed. Not in a dramatic, possessive, cinematic way. Just enough to catch you before you left.

You turned.

The others were still within sight, but far enough away now to give the two of you a sliver of privacy. The warm restaurant lighting caught the edge of his cheekbone and the dark line of his lashes when he looked down for a second, then back up.

Neither of you spoke right away.

Then he said, “I meant what I said earlier.”

You waited.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

Your throat tightened again.

“I know,” you said, and this time you did.

He gave a small nod.

Then, quieter: “And if you panic again tomorrow, don’t disappear alone.”

That startled you.

You searched his face, trying to figure out whether he realized how intimate that sounded. If he did, he didn’t show it.

Or maybe he did, and was simply better at hiding than you were.

“Are you offering to escort me through a crisis?”

“I’m offering to make sure you don’t have to have one by yourself.”

There it was again. That unbearable steadiness. That awful, lovely sincerity. You looked at him for so long you forgot you were supposed to say something.

When you finally did, your voice came out almost embarrassingly soft. “Okay.”

Something in his expression eased. He stepped back then, just enough to keep from crowding you. “Text when you get back.”

You raised a brow. “That sounds suspiciously like a request.”

“It’s an instruction.”

“You’re bossy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The smile you gave him this time came easily.

His eyes dipped to it. Stayed there. Then lifted back to yours.

“Go before they make it weird again.”

You glanced over his shoulder.

Taehyung and Jimin were very obviously pretending not to look in your direction. Hoseok was failing worse. Jungkook ducked his head the second you caught him. Jin looked unbothered by all of it. Namjoon was massaging the bridge of his nose like this happened to him often.

You laughed.

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

You took one step backward into the kitchen. Then another. And because apparently the day had not embarrassed you enough already, you said, “Bye, Yoongi.”

The use of his name did something to his face. Tiny. Visible. Dangerous.

“Bye,” he said.

Then, after the barest pause:

“Y/N.”

Just your name. Nothing else. And somehow that was the worst one yet. You turned before he could see too much on your face and let the staff member lead you back through the kitchen, through the rear door, out into the alley where the SUV waited.

ㄨ : series warnings: alpha!bts, omega!reader, yandere/toxic/insane bts, omega scarcity, mild gore, death of zombies, poly characters, eventual smut, survival thriller, bts are obsessed with you, omegas are treated poorly (referenced omega abuse), fluff, angst, smut, pack dynamics, pack bonding, manipulation, anarchy, shooting guns, knives, other weapons, forced proximity, hiding of second genders, home invasion, panic attacks, referenced mating cycles/in rut, size kink, poly!bts, they want you really bad tho, love at first sight, more to be added as chapters progress :3

ㄨ : chapter warnings available on each chapter!

ㄨ : updates weekly until caught up with ao3!

— ⌬ INDEX

ACT I

I : Fucked.

ㄨ : You and Jeon Jeongguk are so terribly fucked for separate, though entirely related reasons.

II : Secrets We Keep.

ㄨ : When the world falls into ruin, everyone has a little bit of normalcy they find to keep them sane.

||| : Counting Water Like It’s Sheep.

-> will be posted on 3/2/26

ㄨ : The universe may put things into action, but it is the will of humans to decide what to do with it.

IV+ : -> coming soon.

ㄨ : ahh!! okay, here she is. if you’ve been on my blog for a bit, you know i’ve been talking about this series for a few months!! i’ve been updating it monthly on my ao3, but i really want it over here too. i hope you guys will be along for the ride with me <33 pls scream about this fic with me it is dear to my heart

｡･:*˚:✧｡ Chapter Index:

01. fundraising event!

02. wrong number!

03. my new little pervy friend!

04. playing the game!

05. jungkook’s little crush!

06. oomf almost died!

07. she’s the girl!

08. my home-wrecker era!

09. side quest: to yearn!

10. funny story!

11. broken fantasy!

12. let’s sleep together!

13. boy in love!

14. my girl my girl!

15. happy wife happy life!

00. epilogue

THE “SORRY, WRONG NUMBER !” CAST:

SWAG ACTIVATED — (group chat)

twitter priv profiles: you, jimin, jin, hobi.

THE HOES SQUAD — (group chat)

twitter priv profiles: jungkook, taehyung, yoongi, namjoon.

i know this is not my usual type of writing but idk i was feeling silly and i always wanted to try smau. this is for giggles and shit! — gift credits in the watermark??

Crumble 

@purpleyoonn

BTS x Reader, polyamory, weight issues / eating disorder, breeding kink

You had decided to make a change, not realizing your men would notice. The consequences bring to light your own insecurities, with which the boys decide it’s time you realize how precious you are to them.

Ethereal 

@purpleyoonn

BTS x Reader, mafia au, dragon BTS, human Reader, polyamory

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

A Bond Made of Love

@purpleyoonn

BTS x Reader, idol au, hybrid Reader, polyamory

Your last owner had almost beaten you to death, leaving you at the very shelter he had adopted you from. This time, two tall men walk in, immediately drawn to you as you rested in your small cage. You couldn’t help but become attached, just hoping you wouldn’t be abandoned once again by the idols you grow to love.

Boyfriend for Hire 

@remedyx

BTS x Reader, contract dating to real dating, father issues

Unsatisfied with your life was an understatement. Being under the thumb of your father can have that effect. He wanted someone capable of running the company, but you wanted to pursue your passion. Countless unwanted blind dates and the threat of losing your freedom drives you to seek help from a group of individuals you'd least expected. 

Masked Miracles 

@remedyx

BTS x Reader, hybrid au, hybrid trafficking, undercover police officer Reader, mating, Yoongi centered

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. A quick in and out. Infiltrate and bring down a hybrid trafficking ring. Saving lives while we're at it. But things hardly ever go to plan. And being locked in with seven hybrids that meant more to me than victims forced into a life they didn't deserve was definitely not according to the plan. 

Lessons

@trivia-yandere

Jungkook x Reader x Namjoon, Reader is Namjoon’s girlfriend, sensory deprivation

when jungkook asks namjoon for advice on oral sex, he wasn't expecting his hyung to physically show him - you being on the receiving end of it. 

Yoongi - The best one to have around when sick. Keeps the household running smoothly, like actually receiving the soup from Ben and Roy, keeping Y/N's schedule up-to-date, and of course, taking care of meals for her and the rest of the house. Has a very tender, soothing voice so as not to give her a headache. Always gentle when checking her temp.

Hoseok - Is trying to plan her recovery before she even starts coughing, taking her mind off of aches and pains.Thinks laughter is the best medicine, which Y/N agrees with, until he and Seokjin are bickering over her bed about making her exert herself. Shifts into fox form to keep her warm if she gets fever chills. Doesn't care if he gets sick too, and will loudly announce it.

Namjoon - Will get himself sick taking care of her, probably deliberately. Would get tired of her asking him to scram, because he'd be so on edge and queasy it would be palpable. Low involuntary canine whining. He'd feel helpless so he'd look up how to make herbal remedies with herbs from her practice. Sleeps with her at night to monitor her, never quite resting himself.

Jimin - Knows not to get in her hair, but he absolutely hates when she's sick. Helps Yoongi keep the household running, doing laundry and taking over Y/N's share of the chores. Brings her pretty flowers to cheer her up. If she gets bored laying around in bed all day, Jimin is the one who has the coolest stories from his past to tell her. Tries to hide his pout, but Y/N always points it out.

Taehyung - Beside himself. Distracts himself by being the errand runner. Y/N wants kimchi stew? He's on it. More Tylenol or Advil? Halfway to the drugstore already. Her parents need help? Taehyung's got it. He'd check on Y/N throughout the day and night, but seeing her so weak would break his heart. He'd want to be of use, so he'd dutifully stick to the acts of service.

Jeongguk - Honestly, probably the one who got her sick-- smokers have lower immunity (LOL). A chronic complainer, especially when he's sick, he'd not contribute much if Y/N caught his cold, too. Otherwise, he'd be trying to get Namjoon to lighten up. Jeongguk would be the type to bring down two armfuls of his warmest hoodies to toss on top of her for warmth.