#*harrow writes

Your feet work the duvet off and, still half asleep, the soft thhhhew hits your ears. His hand moves up your thigh, nails drag gently against your skin sending shivers up your spine as he reaches your hip and pulls your ass to meet his erection.

It's as if suddenly both of your bodies are awake. Your muscles surge to life. A sensation builds in your clit, and you desperately need relief. The energy pushes through both of you and your hands work at the shorts you wore to bed. His hands try desperately to help you but fumble and a small little laugh escapes the both of you. His lips no longer kiss your skin, but his hot breath tickles need against your neck.

He moves away from you to pull your shorts down and off your legs. You turn to look at him, sleep still rests on his face like a mask, leaving his skin looking soft and fresh. He meets your gaze for a moment, his eyes dark with desire, his face heavy with sleep. Your gaze drifts away to his hands as he pulls down his gray sweatpants. The light through the curtains shines on his erection as it hits his stomach with a soft slap, it is this moment that is one of your favorites, seeing him naked, the need building in your legs and core; but you barely have time to admire him in the morning light as he pushes you against the mattress. The hot spot on the pillow where your head rested for the night presses against your cheek and the heat that has already started to pool in your face intensifies.

Normally the two of you take your time. He enjoys licking and kissing your body and you enjoy touching him, your fingers taking their time to read him. There is none of that this time. Both of you hungry for the other.

His hands pull your hips up to meet his and your whole body shivers as you feel his cockhead slip against your folds. Your arousal mixes with his precum and before you can take a breath, he pushes into you. You grab the pillow and pull it away from your face. Your body falls the incredibly short distance to the mattress, and he lets out a moan as he buries himself inside you.

"Namjoon," his name is spoken against the cotton sheet like a prayer.

You feel him shift against you, moving your hips with him like he's fixing a glove put on in a hurry. Slowly, you feel his body pull away from you, his dick nearly pulls out of you until he slams himself back in you, and the whole mood shifts.

It's quick, hurried, passionate, and needy.

You press your hands against the wooden headboard to anchor yourself as he pounds into you.

He watches your back as the muscles move with each thrust. Your ass shakes and he can feel a pressure build in his chest as a realization he’s had many times hits him and courses through his veins like caffeine - you are his. You stretch around him, accommodating his length and girth. You are the epitome of lust and desire. He is certain that if any of the greats tried to describe you with such childish things like words they would fail. How the two of you exist at the same time, in the same place, is a mystery to him and one that he will continue to try and solve.

The room is filled with the slap of his body against yours and just as quickly as it started, you can feel the build in your core. Your nails drag against the headboard desperate to hold onto something and he smirks as he watches. Your core tightens around him with each thrust.

"Come for me," he whispers as he leans down and kisses between your shoulder blades. The shift in position makes your breath hitch, your body jolting with the contrast of the sweet press of his kiss and the way his cock fills you. Each thrust is deep and rough.

"I'm close," he moans gently against your shoulder, and then without warning his body has left yours, his hand grips your hair and twists it around his fist as he pulls your head up, your back dipping and your hips thrust up and against him.

His thrusts now are short and quick. You can feel his cockhead slip against your spot, suddenly the feeling overwhelms you and your walls tighten around him. As the feeling snakes down your body you realize that his hands are keeping you from collapsing.

"Fuck!" He moans, his voice deep and loud as finally with one quick stab he comes. You can feel him twitch inside you, his hips thrust into you in short spasms, and then you feel his body push against yours, both of you falling against the bed, and his weight presses against you sandwiching you between the mattress and him.

"Joon," you breathe out.

"Hmmm?" he answers.

"Good morning." A soft smile slips over his face and he kisses your shoulder again before he slowly rolls the two of you on your sides, his cock slowly going limp in you.

"Good morning," he greets you with a little chuckle and a kiss on your cheek that sinks deep into your skin and moves to your chest. He slowly pulls himself out of you and a small moan escapes you at the sudden empty feeling. His hand moves up and down your arm tenderly and traces small lines causing a trail of goosebumps to show themselves.

Everything has slowed again. Your body is awake now, happy with the sudden jolt of energy. Every inch of you feels new and refreshed despite the thin layer of sweat that has appeared over your skin and the wet feeling between your legs. You can feel his semen slowly slip out of you. He notices this as you clench your pelvic muscles.

"Don't. Don't push it out," he moans against your skin as his fingers slide off your arm and down to your ass. He squeezes your flesh and your body tightens. You want more of him. You crave to feel his fingers in you. The two of you have plans but you could happily stay in this bed all day long if it meant that you could have him repeatedly. "Can you keep me in you all day?" he asks, his gaze now directed to your pussy, two fingers push into you and both of you moan at the action.

"I can try," you breathe out.

"It will be our little secret, walking around knowing that you have me in you," he smiles against your skin, his face buried into your neck like he can't get enough of you, like he needs to feel as much of you as possible.

You love how he loves you. How much he needs you. It's not always easy to see yourself through his eyes but you try. It's intoxicating to see him look at you the way he does, as if you are the most beautiful person that he has ever been with, when you know that he has been with women who are accepted by society easier; but he loves you and more than that, he worships you.

You feel him slowly slide his fingers out and you whimper as he leaves you.

"Later, baby," he whispers and kisses your neck gently and tenderly before he slips off the bed and walks over to your closet. You watch him, admiring every muscle and movement that he makes. His arms and the softness that he has when he's not flexing. Your gaze drifts down his spine as he lifts a shirt over his head, each muscle dances across his back with the small every-day action, the material being pulled down like a curtain closing off the stage. The pressure in your chest feels almost unbearable as you watch him, and you are sure you have never loved anyone like this before.

"Get up, we have things to do," he instructs without looking at you.

The snow is falling lazily from the gray sky. It takes it's time landing on the ground, each flake enjoying the descent knowing that as soon as it hits the ground it’s short life will come to an end. You watch the flakes land on his tan wool coat and on his hair. Each flake an accessory that he doesn't need and as if they know this, they melt against him faster than they landed.

The two of you walk hand in hand down the street and to your favorite bookshop. The shops have taken down their holiday decorations, and yet there is a feel in the air that has stayed since Christmas. You haven't celebrated since you were a child, but the air is thick with nostalgia and romance. Winter was never one of your favorite seasons until Namjoon walked into your life, and while you can't quite explain why, it adds to the romance of the day.

You left the apartment with quiet words spoken to each other and soft looks shared. You find it intoxicating as the two of you walk out of the building and out into the fresh air. You are both the only people in the world, wrapped up in each other's looks and touches like a blanket to protect the two of you from the outside world.

You think about the first time you saw him. His hair was longer then, dyed yellow, sweat had poured down his body as he played soccer with six of his friends. It was laughter that had caught your attention first as you lay on the grass under the protection of a tall tree. You hadn't noticed them arrive, you had been too wrapped up in your book and the feel of sun on your skin, but his friend's loud and high laugh had caught your attention and you had peered over the top of the book’s spine as you watched one of them fall to his knees in laughter. The seven of them pulled a smile across your face. You always enjoyed watching people enjoy themselves and your smile grew as you watched him bend back at the hip and point at the one who was lying flat on his back.

You hadn't realized that you had lowered your book to watch them until he looked at you and while he had been laughing, his face tight with a smile, you watched as the smile changed. From that moment on you had a hard time reading, constant glances to them, addicted to watching him run in his black shorts and white t-shirt; and he struggled with his own concentration until finally he jogged over to you and asked about the book you were reading. Countless dates later, he stayed at your apartment more than his. He watered your plants as if they were his own, the two of you shared your favorite spots with the other, and discovered new favorite places that belonged to the both of you, you met all his friends and he yours, and soon you couldn't remember your life without him.

It’s this bookstore that was one of his places that he had shared with you. The first time he brought you here you had told him you had always tried to find a place like this and his smile had shown pride as he gave you one thing you were looking for. He pulls the door open, and you step through with a little nudge to his hip. The two of you are still lost in conversation as the man behind the counter gives you a little nod and greets the two of you. You watch as Joon pauses the conversation to greet the man back and you give a small, shy smile.

It isn't a large bookstore. Wooden bookshelves and a dark green carpet gives it a timeless feel. It's owned by an older couple that Joon has managed to become acquaintances with over the years that he has been here. You have witnessed conversations between them, the way that Joon's face lights up as he talks about the most recent book that he has read, or the way he listens to them giving them his full attention. His laughs are always genuine, his eyes always fixed on the one who is talking, and he includes you in the conversation, making sure that you're in the stories he tells, looking over at you and bringing you into the conversation with questions that are appropriate to the topic at hand. When you don't go with him to the store, he comes back and tells you that the couple say hi; and it makes you feel included in his life.

There is something about him in this store, despite being familiar in it, he moves about the place with respect, treating each book like it is a piece of art. He takes his time waiting for the books to catch his eye and when they do he picks each up tenderly and reads the back cover carefully, then tenderly flips through each one and reads a few sentences careful not to break the spine, when he is down he carefully parts the books on the shelf and slips it back into its proper place.

The two of you separate as you move in between the shelves, leaving him at the tables near the front looking at new books. You don't need to be around him. You enjoy these kinds of days where the two of you go off and do your own thing, look at the things that catch your attention while he goes off to find things that catch his. It's a routine the two of you have down and one that brings you great happiness and comfort.

Today, though you don't quite want to be away from him. You can’t quite concentrate on the books that want your attention because it is he that you want to look at. You watch him pick up a hardcover with no real discernable book cover, just a simple brown with black lettering, and he starts his routine, the wheels in his mind are obvious to you, as he tries to decide whether it's well written or worthy of his time.

You've missed days like this. They have been rare since the two of you have gotten lost in your careers. The man you love is a man of dedication, throwing himself headfirst into books, art, you, and his career. The problem with being that type of person means that you cannot always balance them equally and things slowly drift to the side. Despite your own busy schedule, you long for the weekends where this type of day would be expected. Weekends spent in bed kissing away each other's stresses from the week behind you and loving away the worries of the week to come. Now your weekends are usually spent with a few hours together and you watch him slowly slip into his work headspace. His laptop and notebook have replaced the kisses and tender hugs that accompanied every Sunday morning.

A book catches your attention with its gold lettering and you carefully pull it out of its place on the shelf. When the two of you had moved in together, it had been a long conversation about whether you would put your book collections together or split them just in case, and you decided to take the chance. Your small house is now full of tall bookshelves with shelves that slope in the middle with the weight.

You begin to read the book.

The arms wrapping around your waist catch you off guard and you jump a little. He laughs a gentle and sweet laugh before he presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

"What are you reading?" He asks and you show him the cover, keeping your finger between the pages to keep your spot. He hums and you open it back up and for an entire page he reads over your shoulder. The two of you paused in a bookstore enjoying another’s words and description.

It's moments like these that have you forgetting the troubles that you face, the way that you can feel lonely in your apartment, and how you often miss how often these moments used to happen. It's the infrequency of them that makes you jump a little when he wraps his muscular arms around you and pulls you close to his body. It's his smell that, despite being a scent you are now used to, still catches you off guard and fills your senses as it brings you back to the first date when he kept himself distanced from you and you only got a small taste; or, when, on your third date, he laughed hard at a joke and pulled you into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, the two of your walked down the boardwalk while you wished you could drown in the subtle scent. He loves you, there is no doubt in your mind. You just sometimes fall a little too deep in the nostalgia and it is this that makes you wonder if the issues in your relationship are all in your head.

"Before you read the whole book right here, how about I buy it for you?" He asks and leans into you further, burying his hands into your coat pockets and pulling you closer to him.

You want to melt.

"I have enough books on my to-read list," you say instead of denying him.

"There is no such thing," he says and pulls his hand out of your pocket and grabs the book from your hand. "It's a perfect day for a new book."

There is no arguing with him when he has already set his mind to it. You learned that when you denied him in buying a little figurine that had caught your attention in a museum gift shop. He went back to the shop the next day and bought it for you, insisting that if he wanted to buy you something that you should just let him.

"Anything catch your eye?" You ask as you look at his face as he reads the back cover of the book that is now in his hands.

"No," he answers with a little shake of his head.

"Maybe I want to buy you something."

He looks at you and a small smile plays on the corner of his mouth. It's a smile that you've seen so many times and oh, how you want to kiss him. You stare at him, the way that the hood of his sweater contrasts against his jacket and accenting his neck. His body has changed, just as yours has, and in the beginning of his changes, you wondered if after everything he would still want to be with you, but he proved your worries wrong. Worshiping your body, the way he would worship any woman's body. The way he kisses your stomach and lets his hands drag over your hips. He once dragged his tongue along the stretch marks that decorate your hips and the shyness you normally experienced at such exploration of your imperfections left your mind and for the entirety of the next day you slipped your fingers over those stretchmarks retracing his steps.

You have a habit of thinking that you are subtle in your appreciation of your boyfriend, but he has told you many times that your looks are obvious. You have argued that he just knows you too well and he can read you like the book that sits in his hands. He knows you’re admiring him now, and this knowledge warms him. His gaze searches your face. He takes you in. Your beautiful red cheeks. The little bit of cold that still decorates the tip of your nose. Your beautiful lips and those eyes.

Your eyes are his favorite of your features. How they tell your every secret and how they watch him the way he loves watching you; and oh! how he loves to watch you. He watches you as you do things throughout the day. He loves watching you read, or how you hum softly to yourself as you move from room to room in the house you two share, and always there is a warm feeling that grows in his chest as he watches you. His favorite is watching your eyes move over words on a page. He draws sketches of you in his brain and he is sure that if they were real, he could fill a gallery.

He steps forward and brushes your cheek with his palm, leans down and kisses you. It's not an appropriate kiss for a public place. It is filled with lust and passion. It's filled with all the words he cannot tell you and the words he wishes he could invent so you could know just how he feels about you.

"I want you," he whispers against your lips before he takes them in again and the two of you step backward.

"Joon, we're in public," you gasp as you break the kiss and look around you. The store is empty, the clerk is behind the desk several feet away busy doing their own thing and paying no attention to the two of you.

"I don't care," his lips have not left yours, each word its own separate kiss.

Suddenly, as quick as the kiss started, it stops. He looks back at the clerk and then at you, grabs your hand and pulls you to the back of the store. You watch as he puts the book in an empty space on a shelf and your face grows hot as you realize where he is leading you.

He opens the door to the public washroom and pushes you inside before quickly glancing again at the front of the store and following. His fingers press the lock in and then he is kissing you. His hands cupping your face and pushing into your hair. His kiss is full of need, and you feel each kiss on your knees and on the back of your neck. You let out a small moan against him and he smiles into the kiss. A small worry, that something is wrong, presses itself against your pleasure trying to break through and ruin the moment, and your brain fights. You give into Namjoon and his touches. When he pushes you against the counter, he pushes every worry out of your head and it is only him that you think about. Every part of your brain cries for him.

When his hands reach your hips, you expect him to lift you onto the counter but instead he pulls himself away from you and spins you around. You watch his reflection, and he gives you a little smile.

"I want to fuck more cum into you," he moans against your neck, and you feel your core tighten and your pussy clench. You've felt the remnants of your morning slowly drip out of you on your walk to the bookstore, but you crave more.

"Please."

It's all you can say, your words left behind with all the books as he closed the two of you off in the washroom. You can't take your eyes off his reflection, the way he is looking at you as his arms snake around you and he begins to unbutton your jeans. You watch as his gaze moves down your spine and to your ass as he pulls down your jeans and lifts your coat. His jaw clenches and while his hands are soft against your body, his gaze sends shivers through your body. His eyes are always so telling, now they are full of lust, desire, and you feel almost like you shouldn't be watching him, as if you are the voyeur.

"Fuck," he moans out as he pulls down your underwear and you bend over the counter. He holds up your coat and presses it against your back. You feel his hand drift over your ass.

"You're all mine." He growls, his voice low.

You want to respond but instead you push back against him and his gaze shoots to the mirror and meets yours. A silent reverie is shared between the two of you and he keeps your gaze as his fingers find your folds and you watch as his mouth opens just a little as he finds how wet you are. Wet for him and only him. He slams his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaw clenching as his eyes go dark and he pushes two fingers into you sending pleasure through you. His gaze fixed on your reflection like a predator watching his prey. Your breath catches and he lets out a little chuckle.

Without any warning you feel his thumb push into your asshole, you slam your hand to your mouth and slip against the counter at the same time.

"Is that okay?" He asks, worry suddenly painting his features.

You nod. It isn't something that you two have done much of, and usually it is discussed ahead of time but this time, this one time, you are okay with the surprise.

His fingers have stilled in you, and you move your hips to let him know that it truly is okay, and he quickly gets the hint. His fingers find your soft spot and you feel the pads of his index and middle finger move against it and your hand clenches around your face, indenting your cheeks, your eyes wide. The heat in your cunt swells and he watches, fixed on you.

It's a combination of the morning, the feeling of being with the man you love, and the feeling of romance that has swept the two of you up that has you feeling your excitement build.

"Joon," you whisper against your fingers, and he looks up at you with an amused look.

"Yes?" he responds, his tone almost mocking and matching the smirk that is now playing on his face.

"Fuck me."

"Oh? Is that what you want?" he asks as he slips his fingers out of you and then slams them back in.

"Ple...please," you beg, and your chest tightens at the look that is returned to you in response.

"Anything for you," he growls, and your cunt and asshole are suddenly empty as he pulls his fingers out and begins to work on the buttons of his own jeans.

This time you don't get to see his cock. Your eyes are locked on his face in the mirror. The way he looks at his erection and back to you. You're so locked onto him that when you feel the soft perfect skin of his cockhead it catches you off guard and a small moan slips out of you which makes him smile and his gaze locks with yours as he pushes in. You can feel every ridge, every vein of him, his perfect thick cock filling you. He enters slowly, pauses for a moment, and then bottoms out and you moan against your hand as you feel his skin against your ass.

"You are so fucking perfect, baby," he whispers against your neck as he bends over you and presses his weight against your back for a moment.

You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes as your body feels so full and you can feel yourself get slicker around him. You want to tell him that he is the love of your life, that you will do anything for him, but you don't trust yourself enough to remove your hand from your mouth and you don't trust him to pull out and slam into you just so that you will moan loudly for him.

Sure, enough he pulls himself out as he stands back up and then slams into you hard and fast. Your body shakes under him and you press yourself against the counter, your arms no longer able to hold yourself up as he continues this pace of fast and hard. Tears start to stream down your face, your eyes close as you try and stop them, but then he pulls you up against him. Your back arching against him as his hand wraps around your neck and your eyes shoot open and you catch your reflection. You marvel at yourself. Your reflection is the perfect pornographic image. You are perfect. Your mouth falls open as he squeezes the right spots on the side of your throat, and you push your head against his shoulder.

"Keep watching yourself, baby. Watch how beautiful you are as I fuck you."

You do what he says, moving your head so that you can watch the two of you.

"Look at you. Look at how your body reacts. God, fuck, baby you are perfect." His voice is low, a whisper against your ear, and the two of you look at your reflection as if you are admiring a painting in a gallery.

Your eyes are wide and fucked out. Your neck burns under his hand and then as if he's reading your mind, he releases your neck and moves his hand down your chest. You watch as he moves his hand against your belly that is pushing up your shirt. He pushes it up further, and he grabs your belly and for a moment you move your gaze to his face, and you catch a smile that you've seen before when he has looked at a work of art. Your chest burns. Your cunt clenches. He watches as his fingers indent your skin, marveling at the way your belly moves with each thrust. No work of art will ever compare to you and he is sure he will never get enough of looking at you.

He moves his hand up and pulls down the cup of your bra and grabs your breast hard and rough. Then in a quick transition his fingers find your nipple and he gently moves the tip of his middle finger over your nipple in slow motions making the small bud painfully hard.

The small room is full of sounds of your bodies moving together. The wet slapping sound is truly a wonderful chorus to the way you have been feeling all day and the build in your core.

"I'm close," you moan.

He pushes you back down against the counter and his pace quickens, his hands grip your hips tightly and he watches as your wonderfully tight skin moves around his girth as he slams into you faster and faster until you are both tipping over the edge. You shake with your orgasm, and you feel his cock twitch inside you, coating your insides with his thick cum.

He stays inside for a moment before slowly pulling out and watches as his semen slowly drips out of you. He pushes his cum back into you with two long fingers.

"You're so fucking sexy like this," he whispers, and you moan in response.

He bends down and pulls up his jeans before he crouches behind you and kisses the backs of your thighs as he grabs your underwear and jeans and pulls them up to your knees. Before you can stand up you feel his tongue at your cunt and he licks, tasting the two fluids mixed together. He kisses your ass cheek before he stands straight.

You turn as you dress yourself, leaving your jeans open as you close the gap between your bodies. You need his kiss. Need to feel his lips on you again. His touches are soft, gentle, and loving. He breaks the kiss and smiles as he fixes your hair.

"I love you," he whispers after a moment of looking at you.

"I love you too."

He kisses you one last time before he steps to the side and fixes his jeans and sweater and then moves to the door.

Every moment shared with him is written down. You spend a whole day after he leaves recording all that you can remember. Every whispered word of praise and love is written down so that you can look back on it when you miss him the most.

For now though, you stare at the door as if it were knocked on by a person (or thing) that you loathe, and not the sweet tattooed being standing on the other side.

The bathroom door opens and Taehyung walks out, running a small towel over his hair which hangs heavy against his forehead, a white hotel towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Ten years you have known and loved him, and you still find yourself shocked by how beautiful he is. 

You are still shocked that he is yours.

He cannot change; he is frozen while time moves all around him, and yet when you see him he looks new, as if you are seeing him for the first time all over again. Every time he arrives and takes you into his arms, you are certain that he has changed because no being in this universe should be able to look like that.

“What’s wron–” he starts before another knock on the door rings through the room.

He must not have heard the first knock behind the second door, but he should have guessed from the look you were giving it.

You watch as he walks toward the door to the hotel hallway and slides the chain over and out. You hear the slip of the metal against the wooden frame before you see it, obscured by his hand.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that there are only a few hours until sunrise,” Jungkook’s voice slips into the room and grates against your skin.

There was a time when you found solace in his voice. When you talked about music over coffee in the hotel lobbies while Taehyung slept upstairs. When you wondered what those hands would feel like against your skin. Whether there would be a change in feel of his skin as you touched his tattoos. All of that has since passed. You can’t remember when it did, but you guess it was around seven years ago when your time with Taehyung became shorter due to reasons that were far out of both your control and his. You couldn’t get angry or frustrated with Taehyung though, so instead, it all became directed at Jungkook. He seemed shocked at first, but had since grown used to it.

Perhaps he mourns the friendship you used to have. Perhaps he wants to get angry with you now. Wants to shake you and tell you that everything you’re feeling is not his fault but Yoongi’s. That he is the wrong man to be upset with.

You watch the muscles in Taehyung’s back move as he keeps one hand on the door. You can hear every word, and it is a conversation that you have heard before. You almost know it by heart. They change a few lines here and there, but they are actors in roles in which you have watched them for a decade: and nothing has changed.

Including the way Taehyung’s shoulders clench as Jungkook mentions that the two of them need to leave before sunrise and not during.

You know the conversation will end soon and yet you say his name, wincing internally at the way you sound like a woman in one of those old movies, sultrily asking their lover to “come back to bed.”

The door closes and you close your eyes. Mere hours left with the man you love. The man your soul is tied to.

He sits on the edge of the bed and bends over to kiss your neck softly before he whispers that he is sorry, the word falling like another kiss, this one bitter and coated in sadness. You don’t want to cry. Crying feels so useless: this is something you’ve been through before and yet—

His fingers slip up your arm, across your collarbone and down your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple s l o w l y. It pulls a moan from deep in your chest, where love sits and is filled in by the feeling of loneliness.

The raft is being directed by the tide toward your beach.

Your fingers pull at him, needing him closer.

The towel falls away as you feel his fingers against your wet sex. He moves quickly between your legs and pushes into you, pulling a moan from both of you that fills the room as he settles in you.

You make love, slow at times, hard and rushed at others. It ends with him spooning you. He stays inside your heat as his arms hold you close to his chest and he shares his warmth with you where your skin touches.

“I love you,” he whispers and you slowly separate so you can turn and face him.

“I love you too,” you say back to him, despite the shattering of your heart.

You will see him again in six months. You will share everything with each other that first day and you will kiss and fuck for the second day, until the sun comes up. Then he will kiss you goodbye, and slip out of the room with Jungkook beside him. This is the life you have with your soulmate, the one you love, the one you are bound to. You will envy those who have easier soulmates but that feeling will only last a week, and then you will get used to that sinking feeling again. You will float out to sea on your raft and wait to be pulled back in.

___

He’s not sad. No, he’s thrilled. Proud of himself. The doubt that had resided in his body and mind for the last several months has dissipated. He’s proven to himself that he can do this. That people love him for who he is and what he does. They love his music. The crowd sang his lyrics, even the new songs.

He couldn’t be happier. 

The problem is that with months of practice all leading up to one singular performance all those emotions that were present for every practice, every late night filled with worries and doubts, have met the emotions that came with being on that stage and now they don’t know where to go. Instead, they reside in his chest and brain; and with each passing beat of his heart every single emotion (and oh he has a lot of them) have begun to fill each finger and toe, have settled in his ankles and calves. His left arm feels heavier than his right, and his hands feel like they want to shake. He’s experienced all of this before but normally it’s because they’ve all gone through months of performances and it comes with a wash of relief. 

Hoseok glances into the fogged up mirror and nods to the other Hoseok looking back at him through the foggy glass. He takes a moment and a small smile quirks in the corner of the reflection, he doesn’t feel it happen on his own body even though it is the one that has smiled, the dozens of muscles taking the opportunity to remind him that they are there for him. He turns his back and turns on the fan as he exits the room and into the hotel suite. 

He needs sleep but he’s too awake. His hand has begun to let out the dormant shake except it goes unnoticed by him. He walks over to his suitcase and pulls out a clean pair of underwear and shorts. 

He pulls the towel off and folds it in half (the long way) and gently places it over the back of a chair that is sitting near his suitcase. He takes a moment and looks down at his body. He’s always thankful for what his body does for him. How it moves and creates movement. He knows that his brain is in charge of everything, scientifically he knows that, but sometimes it feels as if each muscle group is working together to create something for him. A little gift for doing such a good job. He knows that sometimes he can be cruel to his body, pushing it further than it wants to go, but it never abandons him. It is always there for him every time he falls into bed and every time he wakes up. 

He runs a hand down his chest and down his stomach. He can feel the changes he’s been feeling for the last few weeks under his palm. Each muscle is still tight from the performance but it’s slowly starting to loosen up and he knows by morning he will be more relaxed than when he fell asleep and it will continue that way for the next several days. 

He dresses. The snap of the elastic on the shorts hitting his waist just as a knock hits the door. 

He has missed the text from Jimin asking if he could come over so he thinks that it might be his manager asking if he needs anything before he goes to bed. He walks over to the door and peaks out the peephole to see Jimin. His heart thumps loudly in his chest and echoes throughout his tears as he opens the door. He doesn’t think Jimin will ever be able to understand how much his presence means to him, even though he’s told him several times, words are never enough to convey exactly how you’re feeling. 

“Hyung, I thought you might —” Jimin starts only to be cut off as Hoseok pulls him into the room and wraps him in his arms. 

Hoseok closes his eyes as he leans his weight into his friend, not noticing that Jimin has pushed the door closed. They have barely gone an hour without seeing each other and yet it’s started to feel too long for Hoseok.

It’s like Jimin knew. 

He did know. Jimin always knows. 

Jimin knows when to show up and when his friends need him. He’s there in text, in phone calls, and in person whenever anyone needs him. Hoseok tries to reciprocate but doubts that he ever will do enough. He knows deep down that the members feel the same way about him but doubt is easy to give into sometimes and he’s trying his hardest to beat it. Some days are easier than others.

Jimin makes him feel like it’s actually possible to beat any doubt that he has. All of the members have that ability in their own ways. Right now, at this moment, his entire being is crying out for Jimin’s ability. 

“You did so well,” Jimin whispers against Hoseok’s neck.

Hoseok can feel the tickle of exhausted and happy tears against his eyelid. 

There is a long moment between the two as Jimin holds Hoseok up before finally Hoseok begins to let go and the exhaustion fully sets in.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Jimin says as he pulls back and looks at Hoseok. 

And for the first time since he saw Jimin at his door, he really looks at his friend. Jimin has also showered and has changed out of the clothes that he wore to the concert. His hair is a little damp but it’s obvious that he used a hair dryer because his hair has that little extra bounce that it always has when it’s freshly dried. 

Hoseok nods and steps away from Jimin and walks to his bed. He pulls back the sheets and crawls in. The fresh cotton sheets feel great against his bare skin and he rubs his feet together as he settles into the pillow, pulling the duvet up to his shoulders. 

“Will you —” Hoseok begins to ask and Jimin nods, not needing Hoseok to ask him to stay. He walks through the room and picks up the towel and brings it into the bathroom (he knows that Hoseok will hate that it dried folded like that), and reappearing after only a second and begins to turn off all the lights. Hoseok watches through closing lids Jimin picking up Hoseok’s phone and looking for the cord before he sees it on the bedside table closest to Hoseok’s pillow and plugs it in. 

He doesn’t ask for Hoseok to move over but instead walks around the bed, shutting off the last light switch on his way, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new darkness before he crawls into bed beside his Hyung. 

“I’m exhausted,” Hoseok whispers. 

“I know, Hyung.” 

Hoseok takes a deep breath and opens his eyes to see Jimin laying on his side and watching him. He smiles and moves closer. 

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” 

“They all watched,” Hoseok mumbles, sleep slowly starting to coat each word. “They texted me.” 

“Of course they did. Yoongi-hyung even posted it on instagram,” Jimin whispers followed by a little laugh. 

“You checked instagram?”

Jimin laughs again and shakes his head just a little against the pillow, “Army posted it on weverse.” 

Hoseok’s face breaks into a smile and he laughs as his eyes flutter shut. 

“We’re all so proud of you.” 

The smile stays on Hoseok’s face. 

“You were amazing, Hyung,” Jimin says as he slips his fingers against Hoseok’s forehead and pushes his wet hair back. 

“I’m proud of myself.” 

This makes Jimin smile wide. 

“You should be. You worked so hard and you were so fucking cool and…” he trails off trying to think of another adjective to describe the performance. “Amazing.” 

Hoseok’s smile has faded a little but it reappears for a moment and then his face falls into sleep. 

“I’m exhausted,” he repeats. 

“I know. Go to sleep, hyung,” he whispers as his fingers trail behind Hoseok’s ear as he slowly starts to pick up a pattern of soft strokes through his Hyung’s hair, just as he knows Hoseok likes. 

“Love you,” Jimin thinks is what Hoseok has mumbled and he chuckles softly.  

It is a quiet life that you have with him. Quiet only in the sense of peace. The house you share, much like your relationship, is full of music. He hums when you kiss, makes you sing an aria of moans, conducts your body with his hands and together, you fill entire rooms with thick, loud beats and symphonies of laughter and conversation.

Today, he plays.

His music pulls you out of your office earlier than normal. You still have work to do, words of your own to write, but you can't help but be pulled toward him. You don't watch; instead, you slip quietly out of your office and to the kitchen to make your coffee. It amazes you how he can pull you out of your own head and work so easily. You joked that he was the Pied Piper when you first heard him play.

"That story doesn't end well," he said as he pressed his hand into the bench and leaned toward you.

"Depends on how you look at it," you countered. "Perhaps he saved those children, taught them music and made their lives better."

He had chuckled at that, a crooked smile pulled up on one side of his face and you knew at once that not only could he create music but was a work of art himself.

You step beside the piano, the music filling your head and pulling your heart forward, placing the mug on the coaster he keeps on the top of the piano.

He looks up at you and gives you a nod as his fingers continue to glide over the keys.

You return his nod with a smile, as you lean against the wall and look out the window. Your fingertips touch the hot ceramic as you bring the mug to your lips and take a slow sip. He presses the pedal and you hear the shift in the piano; it's one of your favourite sounds.

He watches you for a moment as he plays the melody that he has been working on for weeks. He wonders at times if you will get sick of hearing the same song repeated but you never mention it. Never ask him to stop. Occasionally, you’d ask how it's going and his insecurities would wonder if this is you asking so you can figure out when he will stop playing, but when he answers, you’d show interest and enjoyment in his success and give him soft touches when he tells you he's struggling. You have mentioned that he is amazing but he knows that you are just as wonderful as he is, if not more. He's not great at voicing his love, that is why he uses music and lyrics. He's capable of letting the world know through those two things just how much he loves you and the beauty the two of you create in the world.

He turns his gaze to the keys as he steps on the pedal for a moment, playing three notes, before releasing it again. The song is in a minor key, crying out with emotion and love. It sounds so simple played on one instrument but as he plays, he hears an entire symphony of strings. He can't wait to show you when it's finished as he has done with every other piece of music he has written. He never watches you as you listen, always leaves the room, and comes back when he knows it's finished. Always eager for you to be part of his world and always nervous.

His gaze turns to you again just in time to watch you smile and he watches a bird fly by the window; he knows that this is what has caught your attention. Birds always bring you a happiness that is a blessing to watch. The kind of happiness that is your inner child pressing its face to the surface and giggling at the extraordinary wonder that nature brings.

He stops playing, pushes himself up off the bench and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands glide over your t-shirt, feeling the small bumps and curves of your stomach that he knows and loves so well.

He pulls you backward carefully so that you don't spill any of the hot liquid.

Your eyes close briefly as you step backward with him, only to open again a moment later, casting your gaze to the ground as he guides you to the piano bench and steps away from you so you can sit down. Carefully, and wordlessly, he instructs you to hand him your drink and you oblige.

He turns around and sets the mug down on the coffee table a few feet away before he walks back to you, that look in his eyes that you have seen so many times and can never get enough. You have work to do. You should protest but you keep your mouth tightly shut.

You watch as he kneels in front of you, his hands running up your thighs. Those veins and knuckles grab your attention every time he does anything but especially when they touch you. Now they grab the top of your leggings.

"May I?" He asks as he looks up at you.

You nod in response and you stand for a moment so he can pull them down.

You watch him kneel before you, his eyes fixed on the skin that is shown as he pulls down the material. You sit back down on the bench; the leather has been warmed by him and you are thankful for that.

He gently, and with such care, slips your leggings off your body and discards them on the floor.

His gaze is heavy as he looks up at your body. Your eyes meet and it takes your breath away at how dark his eyes are. His mouth opens and a soft "fuck" falls out as your beauty overwhelms him. Your chest rises and falls slowly with anticipation like the first few notes of Bach's cello suites, the sound radiating through your ribs. Your body feels hot already and only burns hotter as he grips your knees and guides your legs apart gently.

Slowly, he leans down as one hand slips up your chest and pushes you back gently. Your elbows press into the keys, creating a horrible mix of notes but neither of you care.

His other hand parts your folds, feeling the excitement slip out of you. His chest feels full, his head empty of all worries and thoughts, only full of desire to make you sing with pleasure and fill the empty parts of the song he's been working on.

His mouth parts and you feel his teeth lightly graze your sensitive clit. Your hand hits a key and a deep note rings in your ear.

He moans against you. His fingers slide carefully over your entrance as his tongue slips against you. You are the sweetest taste that he has ever had the pleasure to taste. You remind him of honey and lemon. A perfect combination.

You can feel your excitement slip against his fingers. Your moan is more of a gasp as he pushes two fingers into you, stretching you just a little. Your own scrape against the wooden keys and you can feel the small spaces between each, but you don't hook into them despite needing something to hold onto as his fingers find your soft spot with expert precision.

"Yoongi," you moan, casting your gaze down to him just as he looks up at you.

His gaze makes you dizzy, or maybe it's his tongue swirling against your clit.

His hand, still pressed to your sternum, slides down and cups one of your breasts. Just as he has perfected the piano, using his foot on the pedals, his fingers playing the keys, reading each bar of notes and translating them; he has perfected you. Perfected multitasking.

He presses your breast up and squeezes gently. His palm presses against your nipple and you curse the bra and shirt you are wearing. You need to feel more of him.

He watches your face as he slips his fingers out of you and pushes back in with a wonderful lewd, noise. Your mouth opens releasing a breath.

"I want to hear you," he says, sitting up. The first words he has spoken today, his voice rough and deep. You happily oblige, releasing a moan as he slowly builds the speed of his fingers.

His gaze is locked on your face, every wave of pleasure that moves across your brow sending a wonderful surge of emotion and pleasure through his body.

He leans down and kisses your thigh as his thumb hooks up and moves against your clit. He's watched you; he knows how you like to be touched and learned every movement that makes up your symphony of pleasure. You are the greatest piece of music that he will ever create, and much like the piano, he had nothing to do with its creation; it is all you. He just knows which note comes with which press of a key and how to put everything together to make you sing.

His movements have built, fingers sliding in and out of you with precision and speed. Then he stills and presses a third finger into you. A loud moan fills the room, followed quickly by an echo of his own moan.

He sucks on your inner thigh and his hand grips your breast tightly. His thumb slides over your clit and you feel nothing but the sensation of your orgasm build. He abandons your thigh to take your clit back in his mouth, his tongue pressing against it and the sensation continues to build.

"Don't stop," you moan and every word that spills out of you is accompanied by a chorus of breaths.

"Right there."

"Yoongi."

"Fuck!"

Your walls clench around him as you spill out a long note. He licks everything up that you give him. His fingers push you through your orgasm until finally, he slowly slides out of you, and your breath catches as you adjust to the empty feeling.

He leaves a kiss on your inner thigh before his hand on your breast drops to the floor and he pushes himself up. He stares at you as he slides his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. You bite your lip as you watch him.

His chin shines with your juices and he wipes at his chin as he stares down at you. His tongue slips out and he licks his lips. This time it's you that lets out a "fuck" and he chuckles.

You push yourself up off the bench, legs a little weak under you, but you close the small space between and crash your lips against his. You can taste yourself and you moan against his lips.

His hand grips the back of your head as he kisses you back with fervor. Both of you are unable to get enough of the other.

It's you that moves your kisses to his jaw, kissing up until you have his earlobe between your lips, sucking lightly before you bite down and he shivers against you. You smile into the embrace; his hand grips your neck and you release his ear. You lick his neck before slowly lowering yourself onto your knees; he releases you but caresses your cheek as you pause and look up at him. He gives you a short nod and you bite your lip as you pull his joggers and briefs down.

You don't care how many times you've been presented with his cock but every time you see it like this, your mouth waters and you are amazed at how beautiful he is.

You lean forward, your tongue slipping out between your lips as you lick his tender tip. The salty citrus taste of his precum falls against your tastebuds and you moan just as his cock twitches against your mouth.

"Baby," he lets out with a breath.

You lift him for a moment, your hand cupping his balls as you lick them tenderly. He pushes down on your head as he moans, desperate for more.

You make a trail with your tongue, up his ball sack and his shaft until you taste his precum again and slowly you take him in your mouth, inch by glorious inch.

"Fuck," he gasps as you relax your throat and push him all the way in until he hits the back of your mouth.

You push down further until you gag around him and pull yourself off him.

"Fuck my mouth," you say as you look up at him and he runs his thumb against your bottom lip. You're desperate for him to take control again, unsure if you're able to do any of the work that is required of you as your head hasn't cleared from the kiss, the ache between your thighs still ringing like a bell.

"As you wish."

He takes his cock in his hand and taps your lip with his thumb. You open your mouth, sticking out your tongue. He gently bounces the tip of his pink head before he pushes in until he can feel the back of your throat again.

"That's right, baby, take all of me."

You gag and for a moment, you get relief as he slides out of you and then pushes deep. You feel drool slip down your chin and marvel at how sexy you feel. You love giving this to him, letting him take control.

He marvels at the beauty that you are. How generous you are, not just in these moments but always.

Your head swims as you hollow out your cheeks and take his balls again in your hand, massaging them gently as he moans above you. His voice is dark and filled with lust as he showers you with compliments.

"You're amazing."

"Oh my god, baby!"

Then suddenly he pulls out of you and taps the bottom of your chin, nodding you up to stand.

"Turn around. I need you." His eyes are wild with desire and you nod, unable to think of anything else but the craving you have for him. You do as he says, bending down and gripping the piano bench as he lines himself up with your entrance.

Your tummy hangs and while you have felt too vulnerable in this position with previous lovers, with Yoongi, you don't. You feel like the sexiest woman that has ever existed. The sexiest woman that he has ever laid his eyes on.

He pushes in and your fingers tighten around the edge of the bench as you join the other in a beautiful harmony of moans.

You love how he fills you. He loves how he feels wrapped up in your tight, warm walls. He's never loved anyone as much as he loves you. Never desired anyone as much as he desires you and he gives your ass a little slap, groaning as he watches it move around his hand.

He takes no time in picking up his pace, drilling into you at a fast rate that makes your head spin. His hands press into your hips as he grips you to keep him upright, watching your tight and beautifully thin skin slipping around his cock.

He moans your name and directly in front of you stands the instrument that he plays such beautiful music with; this is the best sound you have heard all day.

It's hurried and fast. It doesn’t take long until you’re coming again. Your walls pulsate around him, arms shaking as pleasure rips through your body, relaxing and tightening every muscle in its wake. Your fingers grip the side of the bench tighter to keep yourself upright. Your legs feel weak under you, his hands holding your hips, doing more than just helping him with leverage.

He moans, "Fuck baby, you feel so amazing."

He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he pulls out and with a few quick strokes, you feel his hot seed spill onto your ass, causing you to moan his name.

He leans down and kisses your back before he pulls his white shirt off and wipes you down.

You turn and collapse against the bench, your legs too weak to carry you anymore. You can feel your orgasm slowly leave you and he kneels in front of you. He leans up and kisses you gently.

"What was that for?" You ask as you look at him and watch as the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

"You," he answers and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

The afternoon sun shines on the wood floor, lighting them up. The plants that decorate your living room soak every morsel of light they can get and you smile as your hand drifts over his chest. Your fingers draw invisible lines as your tongues dance together to a tune that plays in his head.

YOU

You wake with Taehyung’s arm and leg draped over you. His breath tickles the back of your neck and you close your eyes again, smiling to yourself. It’s a soft moment filled with so much promise. You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but as your brain slowly wakes you begin to remember bits and pieces of the night before.

You think about the last time that you woke up in a man’s arms.

Yoongi had slept holding you after your kiss. You had woken up and thought about waking him with kisses up and down the arms that held you tight to his body, but then he had rolled over, leaving you feeling empty and cold. He made the decision for you.

You had hoped, foolishly, that when Yoongi finally wokeup, he would text you and ask where you were. That he would tell you that he liked having you in his bed and that he had been hoping to kiss you good morning.

But no such text had happened; instead what followed had made you feel even more empty, lonely, and cold than the small action of rolling over had.

You thought about doing the same with Taehyung. Leaving him with a note telling him that you had a good time last night and that you wanted to do it again, but he had other ideas. Instead of rolling over, he pulls you to him with a moan as his hand searches for yours and quietly laces your fingers together.

You feel his breath against your neck as another small moan slips out of him and against your skin.

“G’morning,” he mumbles and then slowly, his leg falls off of you as his arms stay put.

It surprises you how much you enjoyed having him draped over you. How you enjoyed being that close to him and for him to be that comfortable with you. You don’t want to think about how scary that is and how certain people you know would tell you that being comfortable so quickly is a red flag. They were wrong though. They had to be wrong, right? Or was that another red flag as well?

“Morning,” you greet him back.

A thought takes you and suddenly you feel trapped.

You never think you look good in the morning. You don’t know why you agreed to stay over. No, you asked to stay over. You’re a fool. You definitely do not feel sexy even though you want to. Even though your whole body loves being pressed up against him. Loves the way that his arms feel wrapped around you, his fingers laced in yours. It’s only your brain worrying: the stupid anxiety that popped up when you were a teenager and wove itself around the already blooming fatphobic standards of society persists, even like this.

“Can I make you coffee?” he asks in almost a whisper, his breath warm against your neck. You feel him move a little behind you, his hair tickling your ear lightly before he presses a kiss on your neck.

You’re silent, lost in your head, waves of insecurities overwhelming you, despite your body wanting to just marvel in the feel of his lips and fingers again. The last time that you stayed in a romantic partner’s bed was Jimin, and to quiet those voices you initiated sex; it wasn’t really what you wanted to do but he wanted you and that desire made you feel warm and wanted. You could still remember the feeling of disappointment and regret as you watched him leave the room, leaving you all alone in his bed.

Perhaps that was why you hadn’t stayed with Yoongi to see him wake.

“Are you okay?” his voice is deep now.

“What?”

“Are you okay? You’re quiet and tense,” he comments and you release a breath that you weren’t aware that you were holding.

He moves, pushing himself up onto his hand and releases yours.

“Seriously, are you okay? I’m sorry if I did something last night that you weren’t comfortable with,” he starts and you hate the fact that your throat feels tight. You haven’t rolled onto your back to look at him properly, frozen with insecurity that you’re not going to be as beautiful now that your makeup is a day old, your mascara probably smeared.

“I’m fine,” you lie, but you know that he’s going to catch you.

He’s quiet for a moment and then he slowly pulls you onto your back. You close your eyes as he looks down at you.

“Hey,” he whispers, his thumb drawing soft lines onto your shoulder. “If you regret doing what we did last night, we can take it slower. I–”

You shake your head, cutting him off.

“It’s not that. I don’t regret anything that we did,” you pause and take a deep breath, opening your eyes to look at him. He looks beautiful even with sleep holding on under his eyes and across his lips. “I don’t really feel…” you have to tell him. “I don’t like the way I look in the mornings,” you finally say, your gaze drifting past him onto the opposite wall.

He’s quiet for a moment and you think that maybe he agrees with you, but then you see his hand move, and he brings his thumb to your cheek, wiping under your eye.

“I think you’re more beautiful than yesterday,” he says as he smiles down at you and you finally look at him.

He nods and then slowly he leans down, and you know he’s going to kiss you.

“I have morning breath,” you whisper, conscious of the fact that he’s now very close to you.

He makes a disgusted face and pulls back, “Oh! Well then,” and shakes his head before he laughs and leans down. “I don’t care,” he whispers before he kisses you softly. It doesn’t progress past a beautifully chaste kiss, but it still has your heart beating wildly in your chest, echoing through your body and filling your ears.

“Let me make you coffee,” he says against your lips, and you agree as he shifts off the bed, leaving you in it.

He stretches as you sit up and wipe at your face. You hear his neck crack and he releases a sigh.

_______

You leave his apartment with another kiss which tastes of coffee and a slightly stale pastry that he had brought home from the cafe. You missed Jungkook again, which you think Tae was a little happy about, but he tells you that he hopes the two of you will get to know each other. He also tells you that he’ll text you, just before he closes the door.

You walk down the hallway to the elevator. It’s then that you remember you had seen Yoongi texting, so you dig your phone out of your coat pocket to find that there isn’t a text, but a voice message instead.

You [11:24]: Hey, I just listened to your message. Can I come over in a few hours?

Your day is mixed with nerves about seeing Yoongi; you’re anxious about what he’s going to talk to you about, so you float through your morning with no response. Him on your mind, the worry that he’s going to tell you what you are afraid you want to hear from him. You don’t really expect him to text you back, you know that he likes to sleep in. He had said to come over in the evening, and still you know you won’t be able to relax until he responds.

Your phone buzzes in the grocery store, somewhere between the aisle that has strawberries packed into plastic boxes and where they keep the bags of tangerines.

Taehyung [13:03]: omg I am so sorry I haven’t texted. I was on this date with this incredible woman and the time just got away on me.

Had he meant to text you? Was that intended for someone else? You decide to test it out.

You [13:04]: Incredible?

Taehyung [13:04]: Incredible. Has a smile that really makes me weak in the knees.

You [13:05]: You might want to get that checked out. Just a smile? You might just have weak knees

Taehyung [13:05]: Nah. She’s just very talented

You couldn’t quite get rid of the feeling that something about him was too good to be true. You weren’t used to this kind of praise, and you didn’t know if you believed him or if he even believed himself.

Yoongi [13:05]: Hey! Can you come over in a few hours? I just woke up

Your heart races as you read his text. It feels like whiplash going from Taehyung praising you–no, you couldn’t think of it like that–complimenting you to Yoongi’s ask. He was going to talk about the kiss and you know what you want to hear from him. You want to hear that it wasn’t a mistake. That he wanted to keep kissing you. It hurts to know that and to think of Tae, his face so soft and so happy as he looked down at you in his bed that morning.

You put your phone away, feeling slightly overwhelmed, a basket full of snacks and a few much needed staples in your hand. You need to concentrate on grocery shopping and the few errands that you need to do before you could pay attention to the men in your life.

YOONGI

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back against his head and sighing as it falls back against his forehead. He stares at the phone in his hand.

You [11:24]: Hey, I just listened to your message. Can I come over in a few hours?

You just listened to his message.

He needs to put the phone down. He is torturing himself. He is making himself feel worse with the possibilities flying through his head. In the years that he’s known you, you have always been prompt with responding. You are not a fan of leaving people on read, or having notifications just sit there on your phone screen, taunting you like a list of to-dos.

He stares at the message. If you were just listening to it, that means two things: you were either too angry at him to listen to it when he had sent it, or you stayed the night at the kid’s place and were too busy to listen to it. He could be okay with the first; that meant that you gave yourself time to calm down and be in the right headspace; he respected that about you and how you could take that time. He did the same, or tried to. Most of the time he just fell into himself and didn’t let anyone in but calm would be achieved.

The other reason was taunting him. The kid was handsome, more so than himself, and you had given no signs that you were really that interested in him aside from the text asking if you should cancel your date. But that could have just been because you were unsure and you needed your friend.

Maybe he had messed everything up.

Maybe he shouldn’t invite you over.

Maybe everything would be better if he just swept it under the rug and let your friends just be.

A knock on his door slapped him back to reality and he sighed, “yeah”

“I’m going to go grocery shopping, you want in?” Jin asks as soon as the door is open.

He needs to get out of the house, he just isn’t sure if he has the energy to leave his bed. His mind is racing along a path that it hasn’t been on for quite some time. It isn’t a pleasant path, and he has been happy without seeing the scenery that has plagued his mind for years.

“Ya, I’ll come. Give me ten?” he says, voice rough.

Jin nods and closes the door.

He picks up the phone again and types out a message quickly, not wanting to ask the questions that are now racing through his mind faster than they should have been, given that he has no coffee in him.

Yoongi [13:05]: Hey! Can you come over in a few hours? I just woke up

Hey! Possibly too enthusiastic. Overkill to make it seem like he wasn’t taking steps further and further into anxiety.

His body feels heavy as he moves from his bed and walks over to his closet.

He needs to call his therapist. It has been too long since he last saw her, and he can feel the same tingle and pull that he always feels before he begins to spiral. He makes a mental list of things he needs to do for his mental health, before you come over later, while simultaneously making a list of the groceries that he knows the house needs. One of them is going to get forgotten.

“Y/N is going to come over later, do you think you could be out of the house for a bit?” he asks Jin as he gets into the driver’s seat of his car.

“Everything okay?” Jin asks.

Yoongi shrugs and starts the car.

It takes two blocks before he can say the thing out loud. He knows he needs to say it out loud at least once before he says it to you. Jin is the perfect person to listen, though he has a feeling that he may have told Hobi the night before.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says, eyes on the road not daring to look at his friend.

Jin nods. “Are you going to tell her?”

He clenches his jaw at the thought. Sobriety is making this all feel like too much. His thoughts feel like they are flowing too easily. They shouldn’t be able to infiltrate all the little spaces.

“It might be good to tell her,” the older man says.

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, it will be good because you’ve had this will-they won’t-they thing going on for a few months now, and it is something else to be around.” Jin smiles to himself and Yoongi shakes his head at the teasing, a small flat smile playing on his face.

The store feels crowded. Too many people walking by him, too many conversations to overhear.

The day has gone too fast and too slow all at the same time. It isn’t a surprise given how he knows his mind works. After nearly thirty years of living in his head, he has it all mapped out.He knows what book to pull from the shelf so he can see all the other books topple, knows which ones to support and give attention to.

He feels like he has pulled the wrong book and all of the shelves are toppling over like dominoes. Yet, he moves around the world like he knows he needs to do. Tomorrow he will schedule an appointment with his therapist.

YOU

Your hand freezes at the doorbell.

Your heart is beating unnaturally fast and you pull your pants up; you should have worn a belt. You checked your appearance four times before you left the house. You don’t know how many times you checked your eye makeup in the rearview mirror, but you’re certain you checked it at every red light between your house and Yoongi’s.

Taking a deep breath, you press the button and wait. You can’t remember the last time that you rang the doorbell; normally, you would’ve just walked right into his house and announced yourself, but this time, it feels like you should. A week apart and everything feels new, like you’re walking on the worst terrain imaginable.

He opens the door. It’s a quick moment before he realizes it’s you, and not someone else.

“Oh, hey, why did you ring the bell?” he asks, his brow pinched.

You shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like I should have, given the last week,” you say back and he nods. His face seems to relax, but you’ve seen that look before, and there is a tinge of hurt behind it.

You step into the house and close the door as he starts down the hallway, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. You watch him as you toe off your shoes. You’ve missed him. Even just watching his back lets something ignite in you that had gone dark in the last week. You want to hug him, feel him against you again and smell his cologne.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks as he stops a few feet away and turns to look at you. His eyes are locked on you, and you see it more now: he’s sad. There’s something going on and worry begins to build within you.

You should ask for a drink, water, a beer, something, but instead, you say, “A hug.”

He pauses, fully prepared to get you something to drink, but you watch as the smallest of smiles slips across his face. He takes a few steps toward you, meeting you in the middle of the hallway and you wrap your arms around his waist.

Yes. You missed him.

Your body relaxes, all tension slipping out of you as you breathe in his scent. Your eyes close and you can feel him slip into the same state.

You hold each other for a few moments, your breathing syncs, and your whole body screams to stay here with him, to stay in his arms and forget the entire world.

It’s a wonderful state to be in. Everything from the past two weeks falls away and it’s just you and Yoongi again. The way that it should be. Thoughts pass like speeding cars. You think about how he kissed you. Confessed that he was jealous. How it felt to sleep in his arms and how he has always been there. How you have always been there for him happily and willingly.

A thought screeches to a halt and blares its horn at you, reminding you that you are here for a purpose. He wants to talk to you about something; and as he slowly releases his arms from around you, the thought and its accompanying fleet of feelings barrel toward you at an alarming rate.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks.

You sigh as you hear yourself say, “No. What did you want to talk about?”

He stops on his way to the kitchen and turns around to look at you. “Already?”

“Yoongi, if you make me wait, I’m going to run a million different scenarios in my head and I don't want to do that. It isn’t fair to me,” you say, proud of yourself for saying it, because you’re going to be a mess if you don’t hear what he wants to say to you. You know you are.

“Yeah, uh, okay,” he mumbles his words of agreement as if he’s not quite certain on what to say..

He’s quiet for a moment before he rubs a hand through his hair and then over the fronts of his jeans. He’s nervous, these are actions he does when he’s nervous. You try to regulate your heart rate as it threatens to speed and catch up to his nerves.

“Yoongi, it’s okay, whatever it is will be–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he says as he looks up from the floor and right at you. In the distance, you can see the tidal wave that threatens to sweep you both up off your feet and away together, but you’re not sure it will take you to the same place.

“You think,” you say the two words that you know he added just because he’s nervous, and yet your brain hung onto them until they slipped down and rested on your tongue, only to be spoken between the two of you.

The wave gets closer.

He shakes his head and sighs, “No. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it meant when I got jealous and how, uh, perfect it was, to, uh–” He stumbles over his words as his nervous energy takes over the room.

You stand still. You know that you should say something, do something. Your body wants to hug him again; hold him until he’s calmed down, but there is something holding you back. A cord you have never noticed before tugs at your gut, led by a part of you that remains a mystery. You are about to fight against the tension of the cord when he speaks.

“I need a drink.”

Your mouth falls open as you watch him walk into the kitchen. You slowly move to stand behind the stool you sat in a week earlier watching him and Jin cook. You miss that night. You miss the normalcy of it.

You watch as he grabs a glass and his nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He pours himself a large amount and takes a sip, releasing a small groan that you know now smells of the booze he’s drunk and not like him. Or, perhaps he always smells of booze or some sort of substance. Your body tenses as he takes another sip and then another before finally releasing a sigh of contentment.

“You always need a drink when you’re going to talk to me, do you know that?” you ask even though the realization has just hit you.

“What?” he asks as he looks up from his glass.

The cord that is wrapped around your heart and leading to him tugs in his direction while the cord around your gut pulls you in the direction of the door.

You sigh. Tears are already stinging your eyes and your throat feels raw and tense, like you’ve swallowed a sour candy.

“Every time you want to tell me something or let me in, you have to have a drink.” You don’t want to cry. Crying always feels like you’re taking away from your point, like the person you’re talking to is going to concentrate on that, and not on the words that you are saying. You try your hardest not to cry, despite the tears being just there.

“That can’t be true,” he argues as he puts his glass down. There is still a bar and a stool between the two of you, and the distance feels immeasurable and necessary. If he gets closer you’re going to crumble, and you need to maintain the thoughts that are now showing themselves. It’s as if you have binders of examples that you’ve written down throughout the years of your friendship, some part of you waiting for the day when you are ready to see all of his red flags as they are.

“It is,” you say with a nod. “It’s like you can’t open up to me while I open up to you all the time.” The sentence turns a page and there it is the realization that breaks your heart. “You know more about me than I know about you,” you say and there it is, the wave crashing over the both of you. The crash breaks both of your hearts at the same time.

You watch through teary eyes as his face falls. His lips part at the same time as his shoulders drop.

“What do you love about me, Yoongi?” you ask as you wipe away a falling tear. Fucking tears! “And I mean what is it that makes you think you’re in love with me? Is it because I’m there for you and encourage you? Or is it because you see me?”

“Trin,” he starts, leaving your nickname hanging in the air before he moves around the bar and reaches out to take your hand.

“I’m serious. What do you love about me?” You don’t look at him as you speak. Instead you look at your hands wrapped in each other. His fingers are holding yours tightly; the ring you bought him feels cold against your skin.

His silence feels like a stab. Or perhaps it’s a knife working away at the cord around your heart.

You want to leave.

You nod as the silence continues.

“Get back to me when you know the reason but until then I can’t see you.” You shake your head, “Actually, I can’t see you until you’re able to be vulnerable with me while sober. Because I deserve someone who is able to be vulnerable with me in every relationship in my life.”

Tears are spilling down your cheeks and you slowly slip your hand out of his and wipe at your cheeks. There is pride mixed in with your tears. Proud of yourself for telling him what you know you deserve, pride that you’ve recognized it; and yet the pride stings with each tear that burns your eyes.

“Y/N,” your name falls from his lips, and you want to fall into his arms.

Instead, you shake your head.

“I have to go,” you say and turn your back to him.

He doesn’t walk after you.

He doesn’t move and you hate how a large part of you wants him to. Wants the dramatics that accompany such an act. This isn’t a movie though, this is real life and it hurts even more.

Taehyung [19:23]: Thinking of you.

Taehyung [19:23]: I don’t care if that’s too forward. You’re on my mind today.

----------

previous || next

----------

Over the last week, the two of you had exchanged numbers from instagram and had spent the week texting each other planning your first date.

It was supposed to be just lunch at a cafe that he knew and loved, but when you had seen the opening of a new exhibit at your local art museum, you had sent him a link and the two of you had happily agreed on an afternoon spent together instead.

A museum date had always been the preferable first date, in your eyes. You could wander off and not spend every moment together, no awkward first date questions needed to be asked until after you had spent an hour or two in each other's company and gotten to know the other's vibe. You already knew his vibe.

He was shy when you met on the street a block away from the museum, hands stuffed into the pockets of his long wool coat, but as the two of you had approached the museum and had got all the first questions - how are you, how has your week been, did you find the place okay - out of the way he had loosened up and had even placed his hand on the small of your back as you had stepped up to the desk at the front of the museum. It had shot a shiver up your spine, and you immediately felt your face warm.

"I haven't been here for a long time," no matter how easy conversation had been over the phone, it was always just a little difficult when you met up in person, and you hoped that you weren't going to bore him or make him regret his decision to ask you out.

"Really? I would have thought that you would come here often," he says with surprise and curiosity coating each word.

You shook your head. "No, I wish I did, but it's hard when you're going to school to really do anything outside of campus and then when I’m not working or going to the gym, i don't really have much time to come downtown."

You watch him as he turns away from you and looks at the approaching landing, his hair has a slight curl to it, a carefully coiffed look. It looks welcoming and you want to run your hands through it.

A flash of Yoongi's hands in your hair and his lips pressed to yours fills your head and only when Taehyung grips your elbow to catch you as you trip on the landing are you pulled out of your memory.

"Are you okay?" he asks as his brows pinch together in a small look of worry.

"Sorry, yes," you answer as you shake your head. "Just got lost in a memory for a moment," you smile at him and as his hand falls from your arm you take a deep breath and take it in yours. He looks at you with surprise and then slowly a smile settles over his features and a small nod is given to you.

You are determined to make it through this date without thinking about Yoongi and the kiss he pressed to your lips sending a wrench whirling into your friendship and your life.

You've known him to do reckless things, make reckless decisions, but you can't believe that kissing you could be one of those reckless things and that you could be included on that list of women that he's used in a moment of weakness and loneliness.

You are embarrassed by the number of times you've thought about all the possibilities of why he kissed you. Embarrassed that it has kept you up at night thinking about how he could have ruined everything that you've both had with the other. Embarrassed that Min Yoongi has you wondering what he thinks about you and if he thinks kissing you was a mistake.

Now, you've joined the number of other women who wonder what he thinks about them and what you had could have meant. You've always hated what he does with women and how easily he discards them; but you're his best friend, he's told you that he loves you and that he'll do anything to make you happy, but this ... You didn't know you wanted him to kiss you until you felt his lips against yours, and that is the worst part of all this.

You want Min Yoongi.

"You know what? Fuck it," Taehyung exclaims with a little smirk and pulls you in the direction of the large oak doors instead of the second escalator. "Life is too short to follow all the rules and art is about breaking those rules, so..." he wiggles his eyebrows at you, a gesture that makes you laugh, as he pulls open one of the doors and releases your hand for a moment as you step into the room that should be viewed after you've looked at everything on the floor above you.

Your hand is taken again as he steps beside you.

Yes. This is someone that wants your attention now and doesn't leave you hanging for days with no texts. In fact, the man who has your hand has texted you every morning for the last five days. It's nice to know that you are the person he thinks of first as he starts his day.

It's easy being with Taehyung. The two of you move from piece to piece together, occasionally you're left alone as he looks through the pamphlet given to him at the front, but quickly joins again as he steps beside you and tells you the new knowledge he now has.

The space between you is nothing, almost as if both of you are not willing to let the other get too far behind or ahead. You find yourself wanting him beside you as you look at each piece, disappointed when he does pause, but the wonderful feeling in your chest tightens as he rejoins you.

It goes on and on like this for the whole floor. The two of you laughing at ones that capture humorous parts of life and getting quiet when something moves one of you.

He's easy to read and you know when something has caught his attention or when something has tugged at his heartstrings because he gets a look on his face that makes your breathing slow and a feeling of being grounded overtakes your legs.

The two of you leave the exhibit and start for the escalator as you make your way to the top floor, you find your hand being pulled into his again, making you take a deep breath.

"Any other rules you want to break?" he asks as you step onto the moving staircase together.

It's shocking to hear him ask something so straightforward and filled with confidence. It isn't that you think he's without confidence, he obviously has loads, with the way that he holds himself and talks to you, but it's this question that grabs you at the base of your hairline and twists.

"Oh! I didn't mean - " he looks at you with embarrassment and you shake your head.

"It's okay," you laugh, and he eases a little. "I mean for a moment there I thought maybe you were asking if..." you drift.

"What?" the question is so simple, but it's added to the way that he looks at you. You're sure that you catch lust in his eyes.

"If..." your gaze doesn't know where to land and it makes your heartbeat wildly as you finally settle on his lips.

He lets a breath fall from his mouth, a small movement that parts his lips in a beautiful movement of prayer.

"Maybe, I was thinking that too," he replies as you look up at him, both of your gazes lock in an embrace that you're too shy to make in such a public place.

You're not sure when the escalator ride ends but the two of you step off at the right moment, and yet the world seems to still move under you in a way that makes your head spin and for a horrible moment you remember Yoongi and his lips pressed against yours. You want to forget him completely, and as if Taehyung is capable of reading your thoughts (oh god you hope that he isn't) he grabs your hand again and this time he pulls you to him and walks behind you, his body pressed to yours as his hand settles on your hip.

"Please let me know if this is too much," he whispers as the two of you make your way to the open doors to the exhibit.

You shake your head.

Yoongi is pushed out of your head, and you give your thoughts to taehyung, allowing him to take every single one of them.

Your brain concentrates on the way that Taehyung feels behind you as you both awkwardly walk, he arched behind you as he whispers little comments about the first few pieces.

It doesn't last long but for the minutes that it does, you are lost in him. You give yourself to him and you love every single moment of it.

Eventually, the two of you part but he stays close to you just as he had in the previous exhibit.

By the time the two of you are close to leaving the exhibit it is clear that there is a reason why the gallery curators and artists have set it up the way that they have and the two of you share a look that tells the other that you both know it would have made more sense had you gone the way that it had been intended; and yet, you hold no regrets.

"I don't think that it would have been so obvious if we hadn't gone up to the top floor," you say as the two of you walk through the front doors back into the cool weather.

He chuckles, a beautiful sound. You want to make him laugh again; you want to hear him laugh with a full bellied laugh and you want to be the reason that makes him lose that control.

"I think you're right. We would have been in the perfect naive bliss if we hadn't finished it," he agrees and then leans in, "I am glad that we did finish it though because that one piece the one with the orange was breathtaking and I was sure that there wasn't anything in that gallery that was as beautiful as you until I saw that piece."

Your eyes widen and this pulls a grin to his face which makes your heartbeat extra as he looks at you with that beautiful smile, those eyes fixed on you.

"What?" he asks.

You shake your head, "nothing," you reply with a little smirk.

"It's true," his voice is low as he steps toward you, and you take a deep breath suddenly wondering if he's going to kiss you. You're sure you want him to kiss you.

Yes.

You need him to kiss you.

"I was kind of thinking the same thing about you," you whisper, your heart is in your throat as his gaze moves to your lips and without thinking, without any thoughts of the kiss you shared with your best friend a few nights earlier, you nod answering his silent question, and you feel his lips press to yours.

It's bliss. His lips feel soft and safe pressed against yours. You kiss him back and grip his open coat with your fists pulling him closer.

He cups your cheek softly, but he doesn't deepen the kiss and you think maybe it's because you're in public, and yet the kiss continues for a few moments before he pulls away and looks down at you.

"I know it seems very presumptuous and there isn't any pressure to do anything when we're there, but could I cook for you?" he asks as he slips one finger down your cheek that sends a quick shiver pulsating through your vein to your heart.

"I would love that," you answer.

You don't want to leave his company. Don't want to be alone with your thoughts of Yoongi and the second guessing that will happen, but you part having both taken separate cars, and as you get to your car your phone dings with his message with directions to his apartment.

It's the moment that you sit down in your seat and turn on your car that you wonder what he's doing with you.

You know that you're beautiful, it isn't always easy to look at yourself and see the beauty that you must provide, but today you know it. You know that you look good in this outfit that you've wanted to wear for a very long time, light makeup painted onto your skin; but he is beautiful.

The look he had after he kissed you. The way the breeze moved his curled bangs against his forehead.

Those eyes and the way that they looked at you.

Your fingers move over the screen of your phone as you think about the person you would normally call in this kind of situation. Knowing that he would tell you that you're being ridiculous and that you're gorgeous. How he would tell you that there was a reason why Taehyung had kissed you and that no guy would just kiss someone for the hell of it.

A pang ricochets through your chest as you think of Yoongi and how you miss him. You look down at your phone and open it, moving quickly to your thread and nothing.

That one text staying there like a scar.

Yoongi [08:23]: no problem. You’re a good cuddler

Yoongi [08:24]: have fun on your date.

You shake your head and stuff your phone into the holder on your dash as you move to the thread with Taehyung and click on his address.

Twenty minutes to remind yourself that you were not just kissed because Taehyung pitied you but that you were wanted by him. He enjoys your company. He wants to cook for you, and he has invited you over to his apartment, he has texted you every morning for a week, people don’t do those things when they weren't interested in someone.

TAEHYUNG

His fingers dance across his bottom lip as he watches you walk away from him and to your car. He feels like he could skip with happiness. He knows that you don’t know what you do to him, how nervous you make him, but he has wanted to kiss you for a week now and you were proving to be better than anything he could have imagined.

"Do you think you're going to bring up your mutual friend?" Jungkook had asked him as he had prepared to meet you.

"I don't really think that's first date material," he replied as he ran his hands through his hair and pushed the curl cream through his dark locks. "Hey, you know that guy you were hanging out with? How close are you two because he's in a lot of photos on your instagram and I need to know since he humiliated me at a party once," he gave a look to his friend through the reflection of the bathroom mirror and nodded as Jungkook chuckled.

"Yeah, okay, maybe the third date?" his friend suggested and gave him the lopsided grin that Jungkook knew everyone loved.

"Yeah, probably," Taehyung chuckled and lifted his bangs with the back of his fingers.

Now, he pulls his phone out as he begins the walk to his car. The first thing he does is send you his address, and then he calls his roommate and tells him that he needs to leave the premises.

"Finished already? I thought you were going to take her out for dinner," Jungkook answers obviously trying to sound encouraging even though it was obvious that there was worry decorating each word.

"Change of plans, I invited her over to our place and told her that I wanted to cook for her," he replies.

"Oohhhhhhhh" Jungkook’s voice shoots through the speaker, "so I need to get the fuck out.”

Taehyung nods. "That would be great if you could."

"of course! I'll find something to do or someone to eat with. How did it go, or should I ask that tomorrow? Oh! Shit! Are you going to think that I need to find somewhere to sleep?" Jungkook asks and Taehyung chuckles.

"I would love for that to happen, but I don't think that's going to be necessary. I told her that nothing had to happen, that there was no pressure, I just want to be alone with her," he rolls his eyes at the sound his friend makes on the other end.

"So, it went well then!" Jungkook had never really been one to hide his excitement, when he was happy for one of his friends, he shared that happiness readily.

Why hide happiness when it could be shown to everyone, especially the person that you were happy for?

"Yeah, it went well. She's great and she makes me laugh," Taehyung's voice fades for a moment, "I kissed her."

"Yeaaaaaaaah," Jungkook says elongating the vowel loudly.

Taehyung grins. It feels good to be the on the other end of this conversation. He had started to grow tired of being the one that encouraged Jungkook.

"How was it?" his friend asks, and Taehyung shakes his head despite the wide grin that stayed on his face.

"It was great. I want more," he hears himself confess before he can pull it all back in.

"Ok, I’m getting the fuck out right now," Jungkook laughs, and Taehyung hears him move about the apartment.

"Good luck, Hyung, you really deserve it. I'm glad that you've found someone," Jungkook says after a moment of silence, his voice even and sure of his compliment, a tone taehyung knew all too well.

"Thank you," he says before the two say their goodbyes as he picks up his pace, realizing that he needs to get to the apartment before you.

___

To Taehyung's surprise Jungkook has cleaned up after himself.

No evidence of the beer bottles that had been sitting on the coffee table when he had left the apartment. Things weren't perfect but Taehyung and Jungkook were both relatively clean and he knew that you must know what you are walking into when you have agreed to go to a bachelor's apartment for dinner.

Their apartment isn’t anything fancy, Taehyung knows this, everything has its place and they had somehow stumbled into having an aesthetic.

A grey and black rug sits on top of the hardwood floors that had been the sole reason Taehyung had insisted that they rent this place, a dark gray sofa that has been sat in a bit too much (or perhaps it had been too cheap) faces the wall with the television and shelves of records.

It had taken far too long for the two men to decide where everything should go and if they should divide their records before they had agreed that it was all bullshit and they each took an entire bookshelf and filled it with their individual record collections and books.

Jungkook's figurines decorated a few of the emptier shelves but most of his collection was displayed in his bedroom. It was cozy and very much was Taehyung's happy place.

He opens his bedroom door and looks at his unmade bed, leaning against the doorframe, coat still on as he tries to decide whether to make his bed or leave it unmade. Deciding on the first he quickly grabs the duvet and throws it up, letting it land on the bed properly.

Yes, this is best. This way you won’t think him a slob.

He thinks about what else he can do, there are a few cups he brings to the kitchen from his bedside table, always the hoarder of dishes. He takes his coat off just as you buzz up and he takes a quick breath, trying to gauge if there is anything else that needs to be fixed or cleaned.

He’s nervous. Youmake him nervous, and he wants this so desperately to go well. Wants to kiss you again somehow if you’ll let him.

His heart beats wildly in his chest as he waits for you to knock on the front door, the horrifying realization that he has no idea what he is going to make you.

YOONGI

He stares up at the crack on his ceiling. His phone lays on his chest, the sounds of Jin moving about his room filling his ears and he wonders what is happening.

Today is your date. He knows the time that it started as there had been a large countdown clock in his head that had begun the afternoon of the day, he had woken up alone with no you in his bed beside him.

His fingers tap out an unknown rhythm against the back of his phone as he thinks about what you might be doing. He hopes that the date was going well, you do deserve to have someone who wants to spend time with you. You deserve someone who could give you the words that you want to hear. Someone who didn't have so many fears like he did.

He hopes that this kid could give that to you.

"Hey, have you seen the lid to the pressure cooker?" Jin steps into the doorway and asks.

Yoongi turns and looks at his roommate. They’ve known each other for years now and aside from you, it was Jin that knew him best. There were things that he can tell Jin that he can't tell you, and until now he hadn't thought anything of it. There were just some things that Jin would understand that you wouldn't.

Perhaps the reason he felt like there were things he couldn't tell you was that he feared what you might do if you knew. What would you do if you knew how he used to treat people? Would you leave if you knew the things that he wasn't proud of?

"Yoongi," Jin waves his hand to grab his attention and slowly he turns his head to look at his friend.

"What?"

"The lid to the pressure cooker, have you seen it anywhere?" Jin can tell something was up but he knows his friend well enough to know that if there is something he needs to talk about that he will when he was ready.

"Have you checked under the stove?"

Jin sighs, "I told you that it shouldn't go..." he pushes himself off the doorframe and steps back into the hall.

"I kissed her," Yoongi confesses, stopping Jin in his tracks.

"Who?" Jin asks as he turns around and takes his spot back in the door.

"Y/N," Yoongi answers as he picks up his phone and spun it in his fingers.

"Oh."

Yoongi nods.

"Need to talk about it?" Jin asks.

Yoongi gives an awkward shrug against his pillows. He isn't sure if he knows what to say or what his feelings are regarding it.

He doesn't know if he wants to have that conversation out loud, in his head was bad enough but to talk to someone about it? That might ruin everything that he and you have.

If the kiss hadn't done that already.

"You don't sound surprised," Yoongi says without really thinking about what he is saying, but some part of him must be curious about his friend's lack of reaction.

"I’m not," Jin responds quickly, his tone calm.

"No?" Yoongi sits up and looks at Jin.

"It was a matter of time."

"What does that mean?" Yoongi asks, his brow pinches together in confusion unsure if his friend means that he can't keep it in his pants or if there is something else.

"Nothing," Jin answers with a little smile and turns and walks down the hallway to the kitchen.

Yoongi thinks about following. He thinks about asking more, wanting more of an answer than that. He doesn't know how to feel about anything anymore and it is throwing him off.

"Stop leaving the lids in the stove drawer!" Jin calls from the kitchen and Yoongi sighs.

He pushes himself up and slings his legs over the edge of his bed. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. He needs to get you out, needs to forget about what you are doing on your date, and stop wondering if you are kissing this kid or if he is making you laugh. If he doesn't stop thinking about those things now, he is going to lose all control and he can't have that.

YOU

The apartment is exactly what you were expecting. Taehyung always looks put together in his pictures, even when you saw him at the gym, his outfit always looked like it was carefully picked out. His hair taken care of. If you didn't know men the way that you did, you would think it is a bad thing that he is so put together; but it isn't, you know that it means he cares about what people think about him and that isn’t a bad thing. In fact, you like it.

Taehyung hangs up your jacket as you step into his living room and look around, two large paintings catch your eye and you walk over to them.

They are so different from one another. One light. A portrait of nature and filled with color; the other is dark and full of faces that make you feel seen.

You tilt your head as you step closer.

"Do you like it?" his voice is filled with nervousness, and you wonder if he’s more nervous being around you now that you’re in his space. You know you would be if the roles were reversed. It is always a little jarring to have someone else in your space.

"Yeah," you answer softly with a little nod.

"My roommate, Jungkook did the tree, I did the other one. Sometimes we have paint nights," he answers, surprising you. There is more to him than you thought.

You turn to him, eyes wide. "You did this?" you ask as you point to the painting.

He nods.

"It's really good, simple but in like..." you trail off and let out a little giggle, his face contorts into a slight frown as you turn to the painting again. "It pulls at something deep in here," you rub a spot on the back of your head and turn back to him as his face relaxes into a calm and proud look.

That look!

The soft look tugs you into a different space, and you think about what you would do to kiss him again. You want to kiss his cheek, want to kiss his lips softly and to make him let out a moan that was the audible version of that look.

"Thanks," he says, his voice soft and low.

"You're welcome," you say as you take a step toward him.

You are full of want. You want to hug him. Want to feel his hands on you again.

There is something so wonderfully calming about him. A familiar calmness that you couldn't quite place. It felt like you knew him already. You hadn't ever had a first date like this, so easy.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asks without leaving his spot and you wonder if he's waiting for you to join him. You want to know if he's nervous or if he thinks that the date is going as well as you think it is.

"What do you have?" you ask as you reach him and out of the corner of your eye, you catch his hand moving toward you only to stop and fall back against his leg.

The corner of your mouth twitches with a smile, and you reach out and take his hand.

"I-" he starts and stops as your thumb moves gently across his forearm. "I have some beer, or… water if you - " his gaze drops to your lips, and you take a moment as you wait for him to kiss you because you’re sure he’s going to. Instead, he moves into the kitchen, and you follow him, your hands wrapped in each other to try and stop the feeling like maybe you've done something wrong.

"Beer sounds good," you say as you try not to think about too much about what you've just done, if maybe you took too much before he was ready; though he kissed you, and for a moment a brief angry thought pops up that all men are the same. He's just another man who wants to take from you without being willing to give anything back when you try and step forward.

"Beer it is," he mumbles as you watch him go to the fridge and pull out two beer bottles. He opens them and you watch as his hands twist off the caps. Those hands make you forget your worry and you think about how only a short half-hour before he was pressing one of those hands against your cheek as he kissed you.

What had happened between then and now?

You give him a smile as you take the bottle from him and slowly his long middle finger drags gently across your hand. He is smiling at you when you look up at him.

He holds the bottle out to you, and you clink the tops together before you take a sip of the cold liquid.

"I was trying to think of what to make for you," he mumbles, shyly, and you realize that when he pulls away from you it is because he is nervous. No matter how much confidence he seemed to have at the museum, it has slipped.

"Anything, I’m up for anything," you reply with a happy smile, wanting to ease his nerves.

It's all coming easy to the both of you, but you've forgotten that you don't know him. That despite sending each other text messages over the last few weeks, this is the first time that you've spent time together.

He turns around and sets his bottle on the counter. You watch as he opens a couple of cupboards before he turns around and smiles at you suggesting a dish with a sauce that you know he’s going to have to make by scratch. He’s trying to impress you and you take this as a sign that he’s fighting against his nervousness.

There's a little hint of that mischievous side he showed you in the museum written all over his face but concentrated on his eyebrows and you feel your face get hot as you nod.

"That sounds amazing," you reply before you take a sip of your beer, desperate to cool yourself just a little.

"Perfect."

______

The air is filled with delicious aromas. Your gaze concentrates on the way that he holds the knife and how he is standing.

He stumbles over words but slowly gets more comfortable with you. You see him get a little weird, wonderfully weird, in the way he moves his head and how he looks at the food as he concentrates. It's all new and wonderful to see the contrast of the men who have cooked for you.

Yoongi moves around any kitchen like he knows it intimately. The first time he cooked for you at your apartment was amazing, he didn't ask any questions, didn't look lost as he opened each cupboard and drawer to find the things he needed.

Taehyung looks a little lost, but it makes you smile and that is all that you can concentrate on.

"Do you normally cook?" you ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Jungkook does most of the cooking, but i know some things. I have a few sauces that i’m very good at."

"What made you want to cook for me?" you ask as you take the last sip of your beer.

He turns to you then and the look makes you want to clutch your chest.

"I don't know, just wanted to," he responds with a shrug.

You lift yourself off the chair and step beside him.

"How is it?" you ask as you lean against the counter beside the stove.

"I don't know, try it?" he asks before he lifts the wooden spoon with a bit of sauce and holds it out for you.

You have always worried about how you look when you did things like this. Jimin once made you try something he had cooked and had made fun of how you looked when you had taken a taste and you worry a bit that you're going to look foolish, and yet you do.

You wrap your hand around his to still the spoon and slowly slip your tongue out and take the end of the spoon carefully between your lips.

You pull away and look up at him.

"So?" he asks as he slips the spoon back into the pot.

You nod in response and before you can lick your lips, his are on yours. His hand on your hip as he pulls you to him. You open your mouth, and he slips his tongue between your lips. It's a soft moan presses out of you as you taste the beer on his tongue, and he tastes the spices on yours. The combination makes your head dizzy and it's as if he can tell because he pulls away for a moment.

"It's perfect," he whispers and you're sure that your heart has dropped just a little in the most wonderful loss of gravity you have ever experienced.

"Mmm," you're not sure real words will fall from your mouth as they're not forming in your brain.

You were wrong and you're so happy you were. The way he looks at you before he turns his gaze back to the pot. The small smile that has slipped across his beautiful lips, those lips you've now tasted twice and want more of.

______

It is perfect. The sauce turns out wonderful and you're so glad that the two of you came here instead of going out. You've watched him in his apartment, the way that he moves around his space makes you feel excited about getting to know it. You hope that you can.

The two of you talk about the pieces that you saw at the museum, your favorites, and your least favorites, and laugh at how it would have made a little more sense if you had gone about it the right way and he brings up how art is a form of anarchy and fighting against power.

"All art? Even Buddhist paintings or paintings of nature like Kim Hong-do’s?” You ask as you taste the sauce again before digging in, waiting for his answer.

"And you don’t think Kim Hong-do’s use of color wasn’t intentional? A protest of its own kind. Don’t you have to take into consideration the history that was happening while these painters were creating their pieces?" he asks out and you want to have this conversation forever.

You wonder why he dropped out of university when he has ideas and thoughts like this.

“You can’t forget the historical context. Even modern artists are creating pieces that challenge the way that we see art and nature. Choi Jeong Hwa said that real art is on the streets. Isn’t that a protest in itself? Taking art and making it part of nature and available for everyone instead of in museums which can’t be accessed by everyone.”

"You’re right,” you concede.

He laughs softly and it is music, it's higher than you thought it might be and it is a sound you want to hear more of. You don't want this night to end. Don't want the conversation to stop or to get in your car and leave him.

The conversation switches to movies as you both finish up your food.

"Wonder Woman changed the way that people thought about female superheroes but how come marvel took so long to write theirs?" you ask.

He shrugs with a smile as he stands and gathers the plates, "I think I'm the wrong person to discuss superhero movies with," he gives a little smile, "Jungkook is the one that all those figurines belong to."

Your eyes go wide, and you turn to the doorway that leads to the living room, "Oh, just assumed that you - "

"Do I look like a big marvel fan?" he asks turning back to you from the counter and the way he looks at you makes you feel suddenly shy. He's been looking at you for nearly two hours and it’s only now, sitting here you worry that maybe with the food you've just eaten will make you look puffy or the way that you're sitting isn't attractive as he is leaning against the counter, tall and slender, like a statue of perfection.

"No, I just..." you stumble, and he catches onto your nerves.

"It's okay," he says with a smile, "I’m not offended. I think once you meet JK it will all make sense to you."

You nod and pick up the glass of water that you've occasionally been drinking out of. The nerves and insecurities still sitting there. It's always so annoying how quickly and spontaneously they can pop up.

"I was really nervous about you coming here," he says after a moment and the thought of him being a mind reader slips into your mind and he's saying this wanting to make you forget all your insecurities and nerves.

"Oh?"

"Well, actually I was nervous about going out with you. It's been a long time since I’ve been out with anyone and I wasn't sure if someone like you would be interested in me," he confesses, still facing you and it doesn't go unnoticed that he's stayed in his position as he tells you about his own anxiety.

"Someone like me?" you ask, surprise written all over your face.

He nods, "yeah, I mean the first time I saw you in the gym, the way that you moved around that space like it was yours was just ..." he trails off and makes a small o with his lips as he takes a sharp breath in.

You've seen people make that expression when they are caught off guard by someone's beauty, but you never thought that you would be the one causing someone like him, someone as beautiful and handsome and charming as him to have that reaction.

Heat builds in your chest and face, and you look down at the glass in your hand.

"Oh," you say as you bring the water glass to your lips and take a small sip of the cool water.

When you put the glass back down on the table and look at him, he's moved, closing the space between the two of you and he rests a hand on the back of your chair and the other on the table locking you into your seat as he leans down, and you watch his gaze move across your face.

"I think you're one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen in my entire life," he says softly, his voice low and breathy.

"I could say the same about you," you say back.

"But you're not going to?" he asks with a playful smile.

"Oh, I..." he cuts you off with a laugh as he presses his lips to yours again and this time it doesn't stay a chaste kiss. This time it heats up and you feel awkward as he is leaning down to kiss you. You worry that it's uncomfortable for him, so you push yourself up a little and he grabs you with both his arms, pulling him to you and pressing your body against his as you stumble against the wall that is only a foot away from where your chair was, and he takes the opportunity to sandwich you between his body and the wall.

His hands move down your hips and to your ass as he squeezes, and you moan into his mouth driving him further.

TAEHYUNG

He doesn't know why he's being so bold with you. How he is shoving down all his insecurities and nerves. Why he wants to tell you all the things that he's feeling, but he's trying so hard not to think too much about all of that. He wants to just let go.

The thought that the last person he kissed like this was your friend pops into his head reminding him that the last time he wanted more with someone was also the last time he was rejected.

He tries his hardest to push that thought out of his head as you grab the hem of his shirt and moan against his lips.

He wants so much more. Wants it all with you but he knows that this is only your first date and that he should take it slow. Which is such a strange thought because as the night continued, as you had food in front of you, he finds it so easy to forget that this is the first time you've spent together in person. He has never had this experience before and it makes him worry because nothing should be this easy, right?

You break the kiss first, pulling away a little too quickly so that the back of your head hits the wall and you both wince at the same time.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he brings his hand to the back of your head and rubs it softly.

You nod, a little (and wonderful!) Giggle escaping as you tell him that you're fine.

"Okay," he says softly, and he takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I’m sorry if I’m moving too fast, we can slow down."

He hopes that you're not disappointed in him and the way that he's craving you.

"No, this is... This is fine," and then you do something that makes his knees go weak. You kiss him softly and he hums happily against your lips. "I think you're amazing," you say, and he wonders if it's obvious that you have him hooked as much as you do.

There's a pause and slowly he leans down and kisses your neck.

"I don't really want this night to end," you confess, and he smiles against your skin.

"I don't either," he says as he pulls away from you and gives you the sweetest of smiles.

There's a silence that is shared between the two of you and he wonders how a comfortable silence can be shared so early on in a relationship.

"I’m not ready for anything to happen beyond what has happened, and please don't think I haven't enjoyed everything because I have, but I -"

"Stay over," he cuts you off and watches your face as you smile.

"I was going to ask if I could," you say, and his smile turns into a wide grin.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, you laugh as he leans in to give you another soft and wonderful kiss that fills both of your senses with the other.

YOONGI

He didn't know what he was looking for when he showed up here. A change of scenery or a possible place for him to forget everything that you might be up to. Whatever the reason, the leather notebook that you had bought for his last birthday lays open in front of him on the table with absolutely no words written on the blank page that has been catching the light for the last twenty minutes.

Instead of writing, he is absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. Twitter. Instagram. The news. Whatever he can pay attention to instead of writing.

"I know that look," her voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he looks up at the body now blocking the light.

"What look is that?" he asks as he sets his phone down on the table.

"You're trying to distract yourself," she says as she crosses her arms and puts all her weight on her back foot. The last time he's seen her stand like that was their breakup. When she was trying to stop herself from crying.

He doesn't say anything but gives her a look that tells her to explain and so she does.

"Whenever there is something on your mind that you're trying to forget or work through, you try and write but it never works and you get this look on your face that," she mimics him, and he lets out a breath of air through open lips pulled up into the smallest of smirks.

He's impressed. He wasn't sure she ever paid him enough attention when they were together to notice something like that. He wasn't sure they were together long enough for her to notice the little habits that you would have noticed and pointed out to him.

You always enjoy doing that. Pointing out what you think it means when he lets out a little huff or when he makes a certain face when he's studying. You're almost always right and when you are wrong, he gives you the same reaction and lets you believe you're right just so he can see that little splash of pride that falls on your face.

"I am," he confesses, surprising even himself with the truth. He doesn't want to talk to her and is surprised she's willing to talk to him. The last time they saw each other outside of their study group she had walked away quickly when your name was mentioned and for the entire study session she avoided talking or looking at him.

"Want to talk about it?" she asks, and his eyes go wide as he looks at her. She’s being kind, too kind to him.

"I think I’m okay," he says after a moment because he's certain he is. He can't really say the things out loud to you, so how would he be able to say it to her. He doesn't know if the wound is still there for her, doesn't want to open up and hurt her.

He'll deal with it the way that he always does - in his own head.

She shrugs. "If it has to do with ____ then you'll figure it out," she says and takes a step toward wherever she was headed before she stopped to talk to him.

"Wait," he says louder than he intends and turns in his chair to look at her. "How did you know?"

She smiles but it doesn't meet her eyes and he hates the look she's giving him. It's a mixture of hurt and incredulity, and it shoots him in the chest.

"Because it's always been her, Yoongi," she says softly, his name falling out of her lips, and it feels like a knife driving into his heart pushed by the hurt so evident in her tone. The wound is very much still open and is drenching every word she has spoken.

"I’m sorry," he says after a moment because he doesn't know what else to say. Is that what she meant when he said her name outside of the study group? When he lied and told her that he was waiting for you? The of course still rung in his ears.

"Yeah, me too," and with that, she's gone. Turns her back on him and walks back over to her table.

He turns back around in his chair and looks at the notebook still sitting on the table waiting to be opened and used. Waiting to carry his thoughts and words. The last time he was at this cafe, you were here. The two of you sitting with your drinks as you enjoyed (and hated) the open mic night. After your run in and debate in your shared art history class, it was here that you had met again. He had read one of his poems and you had come up to him and the two of you had talked nonstop about poetry and literature. It was easy to become your friend. To love you.

He opens his mouth and licks the corner of his lips before he bites the inside of his cheek. It has been so easy to love you and for you to slip into his life, why is it so hard to allow himself to feel the feelings toward you? Is he really that closed off to his own feelings?

Yoongi sighs and slips his notebook back into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he walks out of the cafe and back out into the fresh air.

He needs a drink or a toke. Something to clear his mind and to bring things back to reality.

He stares up at the darkened night sky, the moon full and he wonders if it's a full moon. You always seem to know that kind of thing. He tries to remember what the last time it was, surely, he could figure it out if he just remembered that.

Except he can only see you and your face. His brain pushing forward the image of you in his shirt. Your tits in his shirt. The way your tits hung, and the material clung. Was the kid getting those images now? Were you staining his shirt with your scent?

Jealousy rises quickly like bile in his throat. You had been with Jimin for months and he can't remember feeling like this. Perhaps because he had been too wrapped up in her.

He had loved her, he was sure of it, he had never loved anyone like that before and he wants to know what she meant by 'it's always been her' but he can't go back into the cafe and ask her that while she is with other people. He has missed his opportunity.

He has missed his opportunity with you.

Yes, a drink and a toke are needed. He needs to figure out his thoughts.

Yoongi [20:35]: What u doing?

Hobi [20:37]: Working on a few things. I just got some good shit tho. Come over

Yoongi [20:41]: See you soon

YOU

His bed smells like him. The room is dark save for a small lamp on his bedside table. You are still in your clothes, he in his. Insecurities of what you look like as you lay down with him still dance across your mind but every time he kisses you they slip away just for a moment only to waltz right back in the second it breaks.

At least when you're on your side, you think, you look pretty.

You fix your shirt as you roll onto your side to face him. He's leaning on his palm, his elbow pressed into one of the three pillows that lay at the top of his bed and you smile at him.

"Can I ask you a question?" you ask, and he nods.

"Of course," his answer is so easy, the look is full of happiness and a little like he's surprised you must ask because the two of you have been asking each other questions all night long.

"Why did you drop out of school?" you ask the question that you've been wondering about for two weeks now.

You watch as his face changes into a small slight pained look and you're a little unsure, but you think it's embarrassment that crosses his brow as he looks down at the grey duvet cover, you're both lying on.

"I, uh," he pauses.

"You don't have to tell me now," you say heat rising to your throat as you worry that maybe you've ruined the whole night, but you gently slip your hand over his arm as he picks at the duvet cover.

He shakes his head, "no, that's fine. I want to tell you,” he says, and you're caught off guard.

There have been questions you've asked Yoongi and he's promised to give you answers but he still hasn't shared them with you; and while you know that it's not something he has to share with you on a timeline, there have been things, deeper things, that you've shared with him, and you want it reciprocated.

"It's more that it's not quite my thing to share," he explains, and you nod.

"Then you really don't have to tell me," you move your hand up his arm and feel his bicep under your palm. A small dip where his muscles meet and tie together.

"I had to help someone out and I couldn't work to make enough money to cover my expenses and theirs, so I had to drop out," he gives you the shortened version and you smile.

It fits his character, this kindness. You know you shouldn't wonder the details because it is not your story to know just as it is not his story to tell, and yet the possibilities flow through your head - a friend, a family member, or perhaps a lover. You wonder if he has a child out there that he sees only occasionally, but that doesn't seem to fit his personality. If he had a child with someone then he would be involved as much as possible in its life, you think.

The devastating realization that you could be wrong hits you square in the chest, and you wonder if maybe you have him all wrong. If perhaps he is just another man out there telling lies like they're truths.

"Are they okay?" you ask instead of the million questions that are flying through your brain at an alarmingly fast rate. You feel your heartbeat quicken with the nerves and worries.

He nods, "I still help them out but they're doing much better. I'm happy with what I’m doing right now. There are a few people who aren't happy with what I’ve decided to do but I’m just here to help out the people I love and," he adds with a little awkward shrug, and you can't help but stare at the way he looks as he talks about this.

"I like what I do right now. Making coffee is really calming and I love it," he looks up into your eyes, his gaze having been fixed on the sheets between you, but now that he's looking at you, you feel like he's spread a blanket of content over the both of you.

"I’ve watched several of your videos," you tell him, heat rising to your face as you confess that you've spent time looking through his instagram. You know deep in the logical side of your brain, which has conveniently gone dark, that he's done the same; and yet you're still nervous telling him.

"Yeah?" he asks, a soft smile pushing his top lip up exposing his teeth just slightly, a corner lifting just a little higher.

"Yeah. I like watching the concentration that you have while you pour the designs," you say wanting to see more of that smile. You want to know the different smiles he has. You want to memorize them and know what to say or do to pull your favorites out.

"I really like watching your hands," you whisper, and you watch as the same corner lifts in a smirk that makes you want to melt into his bed.

"You like my hands?" he asks, his own voice a whisper adding to the tension that crawls across the floor like a shadow, growing larger as he slips a finger down your cheek and draws it gently down your ear.

"Very much," you breathe out, your chest suddenly tight, your breath shallow.

"What do you like about them?" he asks, and the tension almost feels like it's going to suffocate you with pleasure.

"Tae!" a voice breaks the tension, and you can swear you see it slide quickly out of the room under the door.

You laugh a little as he hangs his head though every bit of you is concentrated on the way he is rubbing your earlobe gently between his thumb and index finger.

"My roommate, one second," he says and leans forward to gently kiss your cheek.

You watch as he gets up and stuffs his hands into his pant pockets and a smile is pulled across your face as you watch him what you know to be him fixing himself.

Have you excited him the way he started to excite you?

The feeling of his touch on your ear lingers, making it hot and your attention is split between that feeling and watching him leave the room.

You push yourself up and rest your head against the headboard. You think about getting your phone out when you start to hear their voices, you think you can hear your name before an excited "what?!" that comes from who you can only guess is Jungkook.

"Can I say hi?" travels through the door and your heartbeat quickens a little, nervous to have the little bubble that you've built with taehyung shattered, but then suddenly there is a figure of a very handsome man standing in the door.

His hair hangs in front of his eyes in perfect little waves. He's wearing baggy jeans and a shirt that looks so good on him, and for a moment you feel the usual bit of rage that those clothes are only made to look good on people who are skinnier than you and when you wear something like that people comment on how you're trying to hide your body.

Your bought of anger is quickly smothered by a thought that you do not fit in as you look at the two of them, both so incredibly handsome.

That voice is drowned out by his excited voice.

"You must be ____" he says with a wide grin that reaches his eyes and you realize quickly that his presence, much like Taehyung's, is calming but in a way that makes you feel incredibly welcome.

You nod.

"Jeon Jungkook," he introduces himself and takes the quick steps from the doorway to the bed and leans over it. You take his hand and give him your name.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyung smiling this time no teeth show, just a happy smile. You throw your attention back to the man who is shaking your hand.

"I’ve heard a lot about you," he says as he releases your hand, steps back, and quickly throws a look at his friend.

"I really hope it's been good things."

He laughs and nods. "Trust me, they've been amazing things," he says with a little eyebrow wiggle that you can only sort of see through his bangs.

Before you can say anything Taehyung walks to his friend and begins to push him out of the door.

"Thank you, Kook," he says and the two laugh. Jungkook's laugh is a little higher but both bring a smile to your face.

"I’ll be right back," Taehyung says through laughter as he succeeds in pushing his friend out of the room and into the hallway, then closes the door, quieting Jungkook’s protests of "I just wanted to say hi" and "she seems really nice!"

You let out a little laugh and look around the room that is suddenly yours. This time you reach for your phone on the table and open the camera taking a quick look at your appearance. You run your finger under your eyes, fixing a little smudged mascara.

Why does making out always have to mess your makeup?

The voices have quieted completely, and you suspect that they've walked somewhere that you can't hear, which you wish they hadn't, you want to hear more about what Taehyung thinks of you because it helped just a little with the insecurities.

He's been talking about you and that news makes your head swim.

He makes your head swim.

It astounds you that he is everything that you thought he would be but there's so much more. You want to hear him laugh again. Show the varying smiles. You want to see what he looks like naked. What he can do with those hands. You're reminded of the time after you first saw him at the gym, the hot water cascading down your body and the way you touched yourself before you rushed out to meet Yoongi.

And there he is again. All heat that accompanied the memory is sucked out as Yoongi's face swirls in your mind and your fingers do all the work to open the text chain between the two of you. His last text message telling you to enjoy your date. You're about to close the message when you see his name pop up.

Min Yoongi is typing...

You sit up straighter, your attention completely pulled to the phone in your hands. Heat rises quickly, your heart beats wildly in your chest, and then it disappears.

Fuck Yoongi.

You sigh and put your phone back down making sure to turn off the sound and placing it screen face down.

You hope that Taehyung won't be too long or else you're going to get lost in the thoughts of Yoongi and you do not want to be there when you're with him. You want to give your full attention to him because he deserves it.

"Should I leave?" you hear Jungkook’s voice say in what can only be described as a stage whisper.

It's quiet but you think you can hear taehyung say something akin to "you don't have to."

You hope that you can get to know Jungkook better, hope that you're given that opportunity because he seems sweet just like taehyung.

Suddenly, the door opens and Taehyung is there smiling, encased in the light from the hallway. Your breath catches in your throat as you look at him. Does he know that he can do that? Is it possible that he got more attractive?

"It was nice to meet you, _____" Jungkook’s voice calls.

"A pleasure to meet you, Jungkook!" you call back.

"Have a good night," he sings, and Taehyung shakes his head as he closes the door.

"Sorry," he apologizes as he leans against the door for a moment, a small smile that seems to be like the one you've seen before but can't place where or time that you saw it.

"It's okay," you assure him as you bite your bottom lip. The tension is back, slipping in behind him and you take a deep breath letting it overwhelm you.

He walks toward the bed and puts his hands down on the mattress as he slowly crawls over to you.

"Where were we?" he asks, his voice low and you think about Jungkook and whether Taehyung told him to leave. You've agreed not to do anything but suddenly you want to break that agreement. You don't care that it's the first date.

Your boundary reminds you that it exists, but your full attention is on his hands and then on the way that he's biting his bottom lip, his eyes heavy with something that you think might be lust. He's lusting after you.

"You were saying something about the way you liked my hands," he says, a small laugh hidden behind his words as he pushes himself onto his knees and holds up his hands for you to see and wiggles his fingers.

You slap them away as you laugh which pulls a quick breathy laugh from him and he stumbles a little, catching himself with his hand planted right beside your knee.

"I really think that you should tell me what you like about these hands so much," he says as he brushes his thumb against your thigh in long drawn-out strokes. Broad strokes that you know comes from the side of his thumb then shifts as he changes direction, a lighter stroke that you figure must be just his thumbnail.

"I-" you shift your leg as he hits a spot that sends a shiver up to your spine.

His eyes go wide at this movement and it's so quick that you almost miss it. A hint of worry that shows in his eyes like tv screens and then almost as if it didn't happen, his lips bow into a perfect heart shape, and he realizes that he's found a ticklish spot.

"I just said that I like watching your hands," you start and realize the thought that crosses his mind at the exact moment it does; and before you can think about whether it's normal to be able to read someone after only spending a few hours with them or if it's just a special thing between the two, you put your hands up and shake your head. "No! No!" you point at him and his smile changes into a smirk, your tone is playful, a smile smeared across your lips as you say, "I don't like being tickled, I mean it."

He nods, his face softening and it makes your heart melt. If you were going to worry about whether you had ruined the mood, it disappears as he leans down and kisses your leg softly.

Your hand instinctively pushes into his hair, and you realize this is the first time you're really touching his hair. It feels like such an intimate gesture, and he looks at you. The look makes your breath catch with a soft sound slipping down the back of your throat.

"I’d really like to kiss you," he says after you share a smiling moment.

"You just did," you tease, and his smile changes playful, one that makes you wonder if it's a smile he's carried with him since childhood.

A pause. You both share a breath before you whisper, "please."

He's on you. He doesn't lay beside you like last time but on you.

He holds himself up as his hands press down on either side of you, his lips crash against yours and when his warm muscle drags across your bottom lip begging for an entrance, you move with him and let him in. He tastes of the food you've eaten and mint? Did he brush his teeth or chew gum while he was with Jungkook? It takes a moment to realize it's his lip balm and you moan at the realization.

TAEHYUNG

That moan.

How can he make you sound like that again? He wants to ask you but holds back because your lips on his, your body pressed to his, and oh! Your hand in his hair!

Yes, he will do anything to make sure that this kiss doesn't end until you both are gasping for air.

His chest burns with lust and lack of air; but still, he persists.

He moves, holding the kiss as he slips between your legs and pushes against you.

Your moan.

It is the sweetest sound that he has heard in a very long time. He's been aching to pull a moan like that from another person. He's grown tired of his moans filling the silence and darkness of his bedroom each night. So, he does it again. Pushes his growing erection hidden painfully in his jeans against your clothed cunt.

He's desperate to feel you. It's been too long for him, and his body needs release, aches for release with another human. The need and desire that it be you who brings his ache to an almost unbearable state.

Except, you've told him that you're not ready for anything to happen and he will respect that even if it means that he must physically separate himself from you until he can calm down. Until he knows that his body has relaxed back into a state where he can talk to you and touch you without going into overdrive like a teenager.

You surprise him as you thrust up against him and fill his mouth with a moan. What does this feel like for you? Are you only humoring him? Or does the seam of those glorious jeans press against your clit just right? He wants to ask. Wants to know everything there is to know about you. How you like to be touched (he knows now that tickling is off the table). What you taste like. How deep and loud your moans can be.

He wants to know you.

"Fuck," you moan against his lips, and he smiles, proud of himself for pulling thatfrom you. Yes, you're sexier when you swear like that.

"I know... that we... said we wouldn't... but fuck... need to feel you," he moans in return, he punctuates his words with kisses as he grabs at your shirt and pulls it out of its tucked position.

"Me too."

Yes. You will be the death of him. He marks it preparing himself for the moment.

He breaks the kiss this time and pushes himself up, so he hovers over you.

He's had people in this bed before, but he is sure that there has never been one as beautiful as you. His gaze moves between eyes, cheeks, and those lips. Swollen lips that is a result of him.

"What do we do? If we continue like this, I’m - I'm, " he stumbles over his words and you both share a laugh. "I’m going to need a moment."

You're silent for a moment and he watches you think. This is an expression he wants to see again. He saw it briefly in the museum as he watched you from across the room, but this view is a much better view, and for the second time in a matter of hours he releases a silent prayer out into the universe that your heart is not taken.

He's too caught in his thoughts to notice that you've undone the button to your jeans. He feels your hand move between your bodies and it jolts him back to reality.

His gaze moves quickly between your hand now disappearing into your jeans and back up to your face.

"Wha-?" he asks with a breath.

"I’m not ready to have sex, but I ..." you're nervous, your voice is shaking, and he wants to make sure that goes away.

You take a moment, it's such a quick moment, and then your confidence is back. "I want us to watch each other."

"Jesus," he lets out with a breathy laugh as his head hangs over your chest and then he looks up at you and nods.

He doesn't want to leave you. Wants to feel you again but you're moving quicker than him, and he needs to see more.

He leaves you reluctantly, rolling off you and beside you. You're not moving to take your pants down but instead he can see your arm move.

"Hold on for me, baby," he breaths out as his hands work frantically at his belt, button, zipper, god! There are too many things stopping him from getting his dick out.

He pushes his jeans and briefs down just enough for him to slide himself out and he watches you for a moment as you take him in. That moan slipping between those beautiful lips, and he feels like he might burst right there.

He spits into his hand and brings it to his cock. His thumb runs over his head the sensation making him shiver. He looks at you, wants to know if you can see it in his gaze that he wants to devour you. That you are the most beautiful person he's ever had in his bed and that you are made more beautiful by the way that you are touching yourself.

"Kiss me," you say, and he does but it's awkward, your necks strain into the kiss, and so he moves back.

"Fuck ___, I want to fuck you so bad," he moans out as his rhythm picks up.

You pull your shirt up leaving just enough to cover your breast and he watches, mouth open, eyes wide, as you pinch and rub your nipple as you continue to rub your clit.

He bites his bottom lip hard.

"I can't wait to feel you, Tae," you say, and it brings him extra hope.

This isn't a one-time thing.

You like him.

You want more of him.

He can feel a pull in his stomach. He wishes he could see more of you. He wants to know what you look like. Wants to see your lips swollen for him. Wants to see them red and puffy, aching for him. He feels like a horny teenager with his hand wrapped around his dick; except this time, he's not alone. He has you and your eyes are locked on him. On his cock.

The two of you watch each other. He watches as you move your hand, hidden under your panties. You watch him with his dick out.

He thinks of nothing but wanting to see you fingering yourself but he knows that you're not ready yet for that, not ready for him to see more of you and he doesn't care that you're seeing him. If he were insecure over his dick, the way that you watch him, barely taking your eyes off him, all insecurities would go away.

His hand moves just the way he likes it. He knows his body. Knows exactly what he loves and what makes him cum. He watches you and it's so obvious that you know your body. He wonders if you'll tell him what to do. Where to touch. Where to kiss and lick. He hopes that you instruct him when the time comes.

Your moan breaks the silence.

"I’m so close, Tae."

So is he but your moan and the speed at which you've started to touch yourself has his mind wrapped in pictures and no words come to mind.

He wants to come with you. Wants to flood the room with your joined harmony but instead, he slows, and presses close to you, bending slightly he licks at your neck. Draws a line up your tender and slightly salty skin until he's got your ear between his lips. Three words pull themselves out of the archives of his mind.

"Come for me," he whispers against your ear and smiles as you shiver. His tongue slips against your ear again, down your jaw, decorating your beautiful skin with kisses and back up to the spot that elicits the moan that he loves so much.

Your skin is pulled away from his lips as you arch your back, your head rolling back against his pillow, and he moves aside as he watches you. You are the most beautiful like this. His mouth hangs open as he watches you and his cock twitches in his hand, abandoned. Aching.

"Fuck! You are so fucking gorgeous like that," he moans against you and takes your lips in his. He knows you're not done. Your body has relaxed but you're kissing him back and he takes that as a sign that you are craving him just like he is for you.

He smirks into the kiss as you push him back onto the mattress and suddenly, he feels your handon his rock-hard cock.

"Are you sure?" breaking the kiss and inquiring against your lips.

"I want to touch you," you say and then your hand stills, "do you want me to touch you?"

He nods and kisses you again, breaking the kiss once again to give you a verbal confirmation and this time you join him in the kiss. He thinks you giggle a little into the kiss but isn't quite sure because everything becomes silent as he feels your thumb circle his sensitive, red, dripping head. You are in control of this situation, and he lets you.

You are driving the kisses. His hand is on your neck, his thumb gently moving against your jaw, as you move your hand in perfect movements. A realization that this is the hand that you touched yourself with presses its foot on the gas of his pleasure.

The world becomes dark as you move your tongue and lips to his neck, his eyes closed tight as you jerk him off.

"I’m so close," he moans out and you pick up your speed just a little which drives him so close to the edge.

"Come for me," you whisper his own words back to him.

It's not until you suck on his neck pulling all sound from the world as his ass clenches and releases around you, his cock twitching in your fingers. Dripping over your hand and onto his thighs.

He grips your neck and pulls you to a kiss.

He wipes your hand and his thighs down with a tissue he's kept near his bed for this exact reason, and you laugh at him as he wipes you down.

"What?" he asks, his own voice hinted with a laugh as he looks at your hand to make sure that you have nothing left to clean.

"I feel like I’m in school again."

He shakes his head. "No, nothing was this sexy in school," he answers and looks at you with a smile, his top lip exposing his teeth.

He tucks himself back in and he watches, disappointed, as you zip up your own jeans.

You fold yourself into him, resting your head on his chest as the two of you lay there in silence.

Conversation comes and goes. You fill his room with laughter just as you fill it with moans, tucking your sound into every corner of his room, and he's sure that it's hidden behind books and lays on clothes that he's forgotten to hang. Then slowly you fall asleep curled up on him and he lets his hand drift up and down your spine as he lets himself follow you.

_____

Park Sunyoung "Anarchism and Culture in Colonial Korea: "Minjung" Revolution, Mutual Aid, and the Appeal of Nature"

Wikipedia article on Choi Jeong Hwa

“Really?” you ask as you slowly look up at Jungkook. 

There is a smile that plays on the corner of his bottom lip. That lopsided smile he gets when he’s happy (or nervous). It threatens to completely ruin you but he’s just laid down a pick up four card and you are not sure if you’ll be able to win this game. 

“I should leave you,” you whisper under your breath as you begin to take the cards from the stack, all the while glaring at your boyfriend. 

“It meant nothing,”  he says, his eyes going wide and then he slips into the fake sad look that he has perfected. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

“Do what?” he asks as he looks at you, faking confusion. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you pick up a card and throw it at him. He lets the card hit him in the forehead before he slowly shakes his head. 

He stares at you for a moment before erupting into laughter. His high noted laugh that makes you smile every single time threatens to do just that now but you fight it, determined to keep your composure and not let him win.

“You’re so cruel, making your incredibly loving partner have sixteen cards and then make fun at the whole situation,” you tut your tongue against the roof of your mouth and shake your head. 

“Oh no,” he breathes out, his face going soft as he pouts and lays his cards down on the table. “I would never want to take advantage of the fact that you’re losing.” 

He pushes himself up onto his knees and slowly begins to crawl around the table. “No, Jungkook!” you protest through a laugh because he has that look on his face. 

“What?” he asks as you hold up your cards as a shield. 

As he reaches you he grabs the cards from your hand and puts them down on the table, his gaze making sure they are safe and facing down, before he turns back to you and kisses your shoulder. 

“How can I convince you that I am not a cheat?” he asks before he presses a kiss to the soft skin on your neck. Your eyes flutter closed. 

“You’re just trying to distract me,” you whisper before your breath catches as you feel the tip of his tongue slip over the spot he had just sealed. 

“Distract you from what?” he asks, his breath hot shooting a shiver down your spine until it lands with a splash in your pelvis. 

“Losing,” you start but he cuts you off as he turns your head with one hand and captures your lips in a needy kiss. 

“Let me make sure you win one thing tonight then,” he purrs before he carefully guides you down until you are laying on the rug. You open your legs for him and he presses himself against you. Your leggings and his sweat pants doing nothing to hide each of your excitement. 

He kisses you in long needy kisses as his hands slip down your chest, brushing his thumb over your clothed nipple a few times until it stands and he leaves it, painful and uncomfortable, until he pushes your shirt up and suddenly his lips are no longer on yours but wrapped around your nipple as he licks pleasure replacing the discomfort. 

Your moan fills the room and the flames flicker. 

There is a moment where you think maybe you could come with the simple flicks of his tongue when he bites down softly and pulls your nipple up and releases it with a lewd pop. You lift yourself up and pull your shirt off letting it land just behind your head. When you look at him, ready for more, the way he’s  looking at you makes your heart beat faster. The flame from a candle on the table dances in the metal of his lip ring. 

“What?” you ask. 

He shakes his head and drags the tip of his tongue over his piercing. You grow more excited. “You are perfect,” he whispers. Suddenly all sound is sucked out of the room and you can only hear the beating of your heart and the rain through the window behind him. 

The tension between your bodies pulls at the air and even though he hasn’t done anything in a few moments, you feel breathless. 

“I need you,” you say as you reach up and tug at the hem of his sweater. “Off,” you instruct and he nods before he quickly pulls the shirt over his head and discards it beside your leg. 

“How do you want me?” he asks as he presses himself against you, the feel of his skin against yours makes you moan and you kiss his shoulder. You can’t get enough of him. You want to kiss and lick every inch of him. You want this feeling to never end. 

“Babe,” he whispers in your ear before he takes your earlobe gently between his teeth. “How do you want me?”  

“In me,” is all you’re able to muster and he chuckles, sending more shivers down your body. 

He slips his hands on your hips and pulls you up with him. 

“Get up,” he instructs as he nods in the direction of the sofa. 

You push yourself up off the floor and lay down against the cushions, your muscles adjusting to the softness after the hardness of the floor. You watch him as he pulls his sweatpants down and steps out of them. No matter how many times you see him naked, he takes your breath away. You love watching how his body changes, the softness of it when he’s first undressed and how, as he fucks you, each muscle group shows itself. 

Your gaze falls to his cock, the map of veins your hand, tongue, and lips have memorized. The way it stands in front of him always pointing in the direction of you. 

You reach your hand up, lifting your torso off the cushion. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper his name, drenching your tone in need and desire as the two feelings rush through your system.

He nods, “yes.”

You feel overwhelmed with how beautiful he is as he rests a knee on the edge of the cushion near your foot and bends down to work your leggings off. His fingers graze your stomach and your breath hitches in your throat. You don’t know why but you feel like crying, overwhelmed as the room shifts from love to lust.

Suddenly you’re bare in front of him and he looks down at you with darkened eyes, drinking all of you in. Your chest rises and falls with quick breaths as he runs a hand over his length and then you can feel his tip against you before he pushes in, eliciting a gasp from both of you. 

It’s not rushed but he doesn’t take his time either. He lifts your hips off the couch as he builds his pace up. You can feel the tension build, your muscles tightening around him making him feel weak inside you. As he brings a hand to your throat and gently squeezes you let out a breath, your core muscles activated, you move and wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer. 

The rain outside is drowned out by the sounds of your breath, his moans, the slap of his skin on yours. You come with a loud moan painting the walls with sound; he pushes in a few more times before you’re left empty and you watch as he moves his hand over his cock. You’re quick and pull your sweater up just in time for him to cum on your skin. 

You look at him, love and lust mixed in your gaze. 

He bends down and kisses you before he slides off the couch and pulls his sweatpants back up and disappears for a moment, you hear the water in the kitchen run and then he’s back with a wet (warm) cloth and he cleans you with a smile. 

“Not only did you cheat at UNO but you left me sticky in the dark,” you scold with a smirk.