#bangtanedu

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

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“I want to fuck you.” A melodious voice made its way to your ears, the words it spoke meant only for you. Along with the words came a fleeting but noticeable touch along the inner seams of your pants to further accentuate Min Yoongi’s simple but heavily laden statement.

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at Yoongi’s jawline, letting your gaze trace along his chiseled features. Upon not receiving an answer from you, Yoongi’s touch ghosted higher, more insistent. When his long fingers pressed against your clothed core, you closed your eyes, arching your back and letting out a soft moan.

You were vaguely aware that the two of you were very much in public, in an upscale omakase restaurant with your four other friends, but you didn’t care. Be it a sudden surge in horny hormones or just a longing to end your two and a half year long dry spell, you wanted him.

Your eyes opened slowly again and you met Yoongi’s gaze, burning a hole in each other’s eyes with the sexual tension that roared between you. Your lips parted slightly to allow a gentle exhale to pass, a tingle making its way up your spine as you laid in Yoongi’s lap, heart racing.

While it hadn’t been a long time since you felt this way, it seemed like aeons since you trusted someone enough to let them touch you intimately. With the latter thought, temporary sobriety washed over you and you launched yourself off Yoongi’s lap, panicking. You’d always had commitment issues, ten years of friendship be damned.

You flung yourself into Nayeon and Seokjin’s arms in one swift move, heart now beating quickly in fear.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

You remained silent, only dry heaving in panicked gasps as Nayeon and Seokjin tried to comfort you, sending each other bewildered looks above your bowed head.

While you tried to catch your breath and slow your heart rate, Nayeon and Seokjin patted your back gently, soothing you with whispered coos of encouragement.

In between less frequent hiccups, you whispered to your friends that Yoongi wanted to sleep with you and asked them to confirm, not trusting your ears. One thing you’d learned after 6 years of drinking was to not trust yourself after downing a 720 mL bottle of sake in the span of three hours. With raised eyebrows, Nayeon left your side to do as you asked and returned in what seemed like the span of a few seconds, confirming what you said was true.

Your heart stilled. Traumatic memories that had caused you to panic were long forgotten and a rush of arousal wet your panties. Suddenly, bedding Yoongi was all you could think of. Fleeting images of having him under you, unable to do anything but moan as you rode him, then his eyes, as they closed in bliss, and he came undone under your skillful tongue flickered through your mind.

You kept your face neutral, not wanting to give anything away.

“I think you should go home given your level of distress,” Nayeon murmured, stroking your hair. Seokjin nodded in agreement, wanting nothing but the best for you.

All of a sudden, the thought of going home without anything stirring your insides was the most distressing thing you’d ever experienced, more than the memories had caused you to panic. Quickly, you shook your head. “No, no. I need this. Please. Please, let me have this.”

Nayeon met your eyes, expression unreadable. “If you say so.”

You broke eye contact, gaze shifting to the floor. You knew she knew why you were begging to sleep with Yoongi.

Now that you had gotten both permission and confirmation that you were to end your dry spell that night, you flounced back to your seat next to Yoongi, hopping up on the barstool.

The rest of the night passed by in whispered flirting, coy touches, and more drinks. Before you knew it, you were outside the restaurant building, giggling as Yoongi ran drunkenly at you, bowling you and Nayeon over so that the three of you landed in a heap on the floor.

People stared, but you didn’t care, too caught up in the moment. In the moment, all you could think of was how lucky you were to have friends that truly loved you, regardless of their sexual intentions towards you.

Nayeon groaned, clearly done with the two of you as she pushed Yoongi off the both of you and helped you up before dusting herself off. She held a hand out to you, which you took happily, always enjoying the extra excuse to show your friend some love. Nayeon walked the two of you like children to the taxi stand and ushered you inside, making sure Yoongi had his seatbelt buckled before sliding into the backseat with you.

Yoongi promptly fell asleep, which you and Nayeon giggled at — neither of you had seen Yoongi so drunk before, but something niggled at the back of your brain, worrying that Yoongi may have been using alcohol as a temporary means to rid himself of his inner demons. With a mental note to have a serious talk with him when the two of you became sober, you spent the rest of the taxi ride alternating between staring out the window and giggling with Nayeon, making sure to keep quiet so as to not wake Yoongi.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to roam around outside Yoongi’s house in nothing but your bra and dress pants, but nobody ever said the brightest ideas were made whilst drunk off your ass. Besides, you had a good reason to wander — Yoongi had gone missing and you were tired of waiting to be fucked.

You refused to play the role of a good girl, naked in bed and waiting to be dicked down. That persona was reserved for one person only — Jung Hoseok, Korean idol and international superstar. Admittedly, you’d spent a good two minutes topless in Yoongi’s bed, distracted by the thought of getting fucked silly by Jung Hoseok, but you managed to shake yourself out of it.

Drunkenly, you toddled back into Yoongi’s home and wandered around aimlessly until you finally heard Nayeon’s voice, scolding Yoongi. Eyes wide and shining with excitement, you made your way to the open doorway, bare feet making soft pitter-patter sounds on the cool marble floor.

“Nayeon! Where did you go? I missed you,” you pleaded, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Your best friend smiled at you, reaching out to ruffle your hair. Though she was one year younger than you, you often became like her little sister when drunk, childish personality shining through.

“Yoongi left the house to go wander around outside so I had to drag him back,” she explained, shoving the man in question into the entryway. When she followed him and took in your state of undress, her eyes widened slightly and she looked away pointedly, clearing her throat. “Let’s get you two upstairs.”

“Yoongi, is this still your bedroom?” She called, having reached the first floor. Yoongi grunted in response, stumbling up the stairs. You followed in his footsteps, your vision swimming a little.

“Okay, stay here, the two of you. I’ll be back with water. Don’t start fucking.” With a warning and a pointed glance that you avoided by pretending to be interested in Yoongi’s room, she left the two of you alone.

You let out a giggle and peered out into the short hallway, wanting to check that Nayeon was really gone. When you confirmed your suspicions, you turned to Yoongi, rearranging your expression to what you hoped was a seductive one.

You and Yoongi moved in tandem, reaching out for each other and pressed your lips together insistently, not bothering to exchange pleasantries. All things considered, it stayed somewhat tame. You didn’t know if it was because you knew Nayeon could be back any second or if you were testing the waters, but your tongue had barely met Yoongi’s before the faint sound of bare feet padding on the marble floor one level below warned you that Nayeon was back.

Quickly, you pushed Yoongi away and took a split second to resume your semi-disinterested visual tour around Yoongi’s room. If Nayeon narrowed her eyes because she knew what the two of you had been up to after she left, you didn’t know, too busy currently taking in the size of Yoongi’s king sized bed and pristine white sheets. Filthy thoughts traversed your mind, all of them involving sexual activities and some of them involving Yoongi. To say that Jung Hoseok was constantly on your mind was a bit of an understatement, after all.

“Here, this is all I could find. Drink up.” Holding out a 2 litre bottle of Sprite to you and Yoongi, Nayeon watched with the eyes of an eagle as the two of you drank meekly from the bottle. When she was satisfied, she turned to go, mumbling under her breath. “If you guys are gonna fuck, wait till I’m gone.”

You and Yoongi exchanged a grin behind Nayeon’s back, excited that the two of you were finally getting alone time. Ever the gallant host, Yoongi followed her down the stairs and you tottered after him, anxious to see your best friend out as quickly as possible so that you could end your dry spell.

You hung around the staircase, making use of the goodbye Yoongi bade Nayeon to unclasp your bra and dangle it in front of Yoongi, out of your unsuspecting friend’s sight. Yoongi glanced at the movement out of the corner of his eyes and tried to grab your waist, eyes widening, but you were too fast for him, giggling and darting up the stairs.

Bursting through the open doorway to Yoongi’s room, you quickly stripped yourself of your pants, depositing your bra and bottoms on the floor. You flopped onto Yoongi’s bed, clad only in your underwear, tits on display and nipples standing at attention as you rearranged your limbs and head on Yoongi’s pillow.

When what seemed like hours passed, you took your phone from Yoongi’s bedside table and messaged your best friend, upset.

Yoongi laughed when he saw you topless in bed, pausing in the doorway. Your heart sank. This didn’t bode well. Maybe it was a mistake to sleep with Yoongi after all. Nonetheless, you gestured for him to come over, patting the mattress next to you.

He paused and pointed to the bathroom, letting you know that he was making a pit stop and you nodded. You sighed when the bathroom door closed with a click, worry spreading through your veins. Were one night stands typically supposed to go this way? You didn’t think so, but your knowledge was strictly limited to tumblr fanfiction, so maybe that wasn’t the best source of information.

The sound of running water and gargling reached your ears. You hummed absentmindedly, lost in your thoughts but still acknowledging the noise. You barely noticed the door opening after a few more torturous moments, too busy setting an alarm. If you weren’t home by 1 AM, your parents would kill you.

“All done?” You asked, not bothering to look up from your phone. Yoongi said nothing, merely staring at you from the doorway. You paid him no attention, still a little miffed that he’d left you waiting for so long. Instead, you continued to stare pointedly at the screen in front of you, lying on your stomach with your knees bent and calves and feet in the air.

Yoongi took his shirt off, ambling over to the light switch, barely allowing you enough time to admire his lean torso before he turned off the lights.

“H-hey, what are you doing? Keep them on,” you stuttered, taken aback. You didn’t like the dark, though you’d never mentioned this to Yoongi.

The man in question chuckled, shaking his head. You shivered a little, only able to see the faint outline of his body. With a series of clinks that let you know he was removing his belt, you propped yourself up on your elbows, electing to focus on the naked man before you rather than the darkness that surrounded the two of you.

Nervous about the night that was to come, you bit your lower lip. What if you didn’t like it? Was it too late to back out? What if —

Yoongi silenced your inner rambling with a kiss, lips pressing insistently against yours and hands roaming along the side of your body. You sighed as he caressed the side of your breasts, fingers moving along the swell in a slow, languid motion, finally relaxing back into the bed.

You’d laid for no longer than five seconds when you decided that you didn’t like not being in control and rolled over, taking Yoongi with you. When he was under you, you smiled, though he couldn’t see it in the dark. This was where you were meant to be. On top. Like a boss ass bitch.

Yoongi chuckled from his position under you, tilting his head. “Not a bottom?”

You snorted in response, scrunching your nose gently. “Not particularly. Do you have a condom?”

“I should,” Yoongi replied, before flipping you back under him. You scowled at his back, baring your teeth. You’d get him back for that. You weren’t born to be a bottom.

After what seemed like minutes of rummaging through his bedside table and pants, Yoongi turned to you, shrugging. “I don’t.”

“Are you clean?” You asked. You were horny and drunk off your ass, but still maintained a shred of self preservation.

Yoongi laughed, his throaty chuckle echoing around his room. “Of course I am. Are you?”

You bristled at his tone, a little put off, but answered in the affirmative. With a wave, you motioned for Yoongi to come back to bed, only to trap him under you again in a manoeuvre you weren’t sure how you were able to pull off, considering your drunken state. From then on, everything was a bit of a blur, though you managed to remember most of the details.

You moaned, gripping the headboard so tightly your knuckles hurt as Yoongi bit the soft flesh of your left breast, marking the area where your heart laid, beating quickly. Being on top had its perks, such as the ease of access to your luscious tits, placed ever so conspicuously in front of Yoongi’s face before he smirked at you and bit down on your nipple.

Pain erupted from the site of the bite, Yoongi not having taken the steps to prepare you. Your hand shot out to find purchase on the soft velvet of the headboard, holding yourself upright. You huffed, closing your eyes as your breath began to come in pants, pussy leaking arousal onto Yoongi’s pelvic bone.

If Yoongi cared about you making a mess of his body, he didn’t say anything; instead, he chose to grip your breast so tightly you nearly saw stars. Pleasure mixed with pain flowed through your veins and you let out a howl, throwing your head back and involuntarily shoving your tits further into Yoongi’s face.

Just at that moment, the alarm you’d set earlier came to life, your screen lighting up the room. With a groan, you pulled yourself off Yoongi to reach for your phone, unable to bear any sound other than the moans that had been emanating from your parted lips.

“Fuck, Yoongi, I gotta go, I have to be home—” your sentence ended with a moan. Your phone fell to the floor, temporarily snoozed and forgotten as Yoongi draped himself over you, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder blades.

“Mmmm? What’s that?”

“Y-Yoon… I have to… ah…” thoughts jumbled in your head, colliding with each other as you struggled desperately to find the right combination of words to express yourself.

“Yeah?” You felt Yoongi’s lips curve upwards into a smile as you faltered, sensing that you were about to give in.

“…it’s fine, my parents fell asleep an hour ago, they won’t know if I stay out for a little longer.” With a grin of your own, you flipped back over onto your back, enjoying the way Yoongi’s body bore down on yours.

Yoongi tilted your head for a kiss.  You let your eyes flutter closed as his fingers traced your jawline, but before your lips could meet, your phone’s alarm rang again, letting you know that the snooze period was over.

With a frustrated whine, you tore your arm out from under Yoongi’s bare chest and reached over your head, fumbling around to find it, but froze when Jung Hoseok’s growl began to echo around the room. You’d forgotten Base Line was your new alarm, having fallen head over heels for Hobi’s low voice.

Yoongi, not knowing the dilemma you found yourself in, chuckled and reached over you, easily pressing ‘stop’. Your idol’s voice faded into silence once again, but instead of focusing on the man on top of you, you wondered what it would be like to be in bed with Jung Hoseok.

You brought your lips to Yoongi’s, feeling a bit guilty that you were thinking of another man in bed, and hoped that his touch would chase away all thoughts of Hoseok. Yoongi chuckled again, amused at your eagerness, and flipped you over onto your stomach, letting one hand massage your back as it made its way down towards your ass. His other hand pushed apart your thighs, making his intention clear.

Startled, you forced your legs shut, trapping his hand between your thighs, and looked over your shoulder. “Yoongi, what are you doing?”

Yoongi looked down at you from where he knelt above you, one hand still gripping your thigh tightly. “I’m going to eat you out for the next half hour, why?

You groaned at his words, head falling forward, a gush of arousal wetting your thighs and creating a puddle on Yoongi’s bedsheets. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

With a grin, Yoongi pushed aside your thighs, noting the way you relaxed under his touch and arched your back slightly, already desperate to feel his tongue on your most sensitive spot. You stilled when you felt a calloused finger rub gently against your clit in what you were sure was more edging; but before you were able to grind out Yoongi’s name in the form of a warning, a finger slipped inside you, helped by the copious amounts of lubrication on and around your pussy.

You cried out, walls instantly clamping around the foreign object. Yoongi groaned at the feeling, imagining how it would feel to have you tighten around his cock instead of his finger. Grinning, he pulled his finger out of you, ignoring your wordless protests and flipped you over again so that you were on your back. From there, he spread your legs the furthest apart they would go and motioned for you to keep them that way before delving down to press his mouth against your sex.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t the alien feeling of having Yoongi’s tongue piston in and out of your cunt, literally lapping up the arousal that flowed endlessly. You laid there, thighs propped up on Yoongi’s shoulders, knees bent and hanging in the air, unable to do anything but take it. Each time you reached up to weakly push Yoongi away, wanting to return the favour, he’d put your hand right back by your head without missing a beat, continuing to devour you like a man starved.

When you felt your high approaching, you whimpered, trying fruitlessly to get Yoongi to press his tongue against the parts that you wanted. You felt Yoongi smirk against your core, knowing what you wanted but unwilling to give it to you so easily. Instead, he prolonged your ascent, making sure to stay away from your clit until he was sure your climax had ebbed away like a retreating wave.

When Yoongi had let your orgasm fade away from you for the third time, you growled, a low noise building in your throat as a warning. “Yoongi…”

The man in question simply tilted his head up to meet your gaze, not bothering to remove his mouth from between your legs. “Let me cum.”

Perhaps it was the hard edge to your voice, or maybe Yoongi felt slightly sheepish at having taken so many orgasms away from you, but when your next high began to approach, it came quickly and you fell apart under Yoongi’s talented tongue, clutching at his forearm as he worked you through the most powerful climax you’d had in a long time.

Your legs quivered with the strength of your orgasm, instinctively closing around Yoongi’s head. He grinned at your reaction, supporting you by gripping your thighs and ensuring you didn’t slide off his shoulders. By trapping his head in between your legs, you’d unintentionally pressed Yoongi’s mouth even harder against your sex, a position he was only all too happy to be in as he continued playing with you.

You mewled as Yoongi continued his relentless attack on your pussy, overstimulation mixed with pleasure causing you to push at him weakly. You wanted him off, but wanted him to continue at the same time.

“Nnnh, Yoongi, no… no… it’s too…” you whimpered underneath Yoongi, hair sprawled across the sheets and at his mercy. Yoongi slowed his ministrations but never ceased, waiting for you to call ‘red’ or ‘yellow’. Despite both of your drunken states, you’d agreed on this one point very clearly. ‘Stop’s and ‘no’s would be ignored unless there was a caution colour accompanying the words.

You didn’t call either colour, so Yoongi resumed his previous pace and you hurtled headfirst into another orgasm, fisting at the sheets as Yoongi continued to lap at your entrance and piston his tongue in and out of you, sucking on your clit all the while. You groaned lowly, the feeling of your second orgasm in ten consecutive minutes spreading through your veins like ice.

“Yoongi,” you panted, gripping at his sheets so tightly your knuckles matched them in colour, “h-how soundproof is your room?”

Yoongi paused, finally taking his lips away from your equally pampered and tortured pussy, expression unreadable. “Completely soundproof.”

At his words, you let yourself crumble, let yourself sag into the mattress underneath your back, let yourself let out the loudest moan yet that night. You squirmed under Yoongi’s touch, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his tongue laved over your clit to concentrate on working you through your second orgasm, how his fingers dug into your thighs, and the way his breath came in hot pants, depositing small puffs of air onto your labia.

“Fuck, HOBI!” You cried out Jung Hoseok’s nickname by accident, thoughts of the man haunting your every waking moment culminating in you moaning his name at the worst possible moment. Without warning, your pleasure skyrocketed and liquid gushed out of your core, dripping down your thighs and all over Yoongi’s face. Mortified and suddenly feeling very sober, you covered your face with a whimper and attempted to pull your legs towards your chest, wanting to curl into a ball.

Yoongi caught your legs as you began to slide them off his shoulders, instantly understanding what was running through your mind, seemingly not aware of whose name you had moaned in the throes of passion. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed, that was hot as fuck.”

He chuckled, feeling rather than seeing the slightly concerned and somewhat judgemental stare you gave him. “It feels good to know you turned a girl on so much that she can’t help but squirt,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Besides, it already happened. No use dwelling on it. Get back here, I want to continue eating you out.”

You shook your head quickly, wanting to return the favour. In retrospect, you probably shouldn’t have moved your head in such a violent fashion, as you lost several seconds trying to fight the vertigo that temporarily overpowered all other senses.

“No,” you finally managed, after the dizziness had subsided. “You, on your back, now. If you want to eat me out, we’re sixty-nining. I’m sucking you off. You’re not getting blue balls on my account.”

Yoongi groaned loudly, the sound reverberating throughout his bedroom. He pulled you towards him after gently lowering your legs to the bed underneath your bodies and kissed you hard, surprising you with the ferocity behind the motion. It wasn’t wholly unwelcomed, but things were starting to get a little too intimate for your liking. It scared you, the way your heart went into overdrive, thumping hard against your ribcage.

With a gentle swipe of your tongue along his lower lip, you broke the kiss and turned away from him, crawling down the bed to Yoongi’s lower body, grasping him in your right hand, enjoying the way his breath left his parted lips in a breathy groan. The sound travelled along your spine, raising goosebumps as it caressed your skin, heading straight to your core. You closed your eyes as a fresh wave of arousal crashed upon your being, threatening to bowl you over with its intensity, but you shook your head, reminding yourself that it was time for you to return the favour.

The pale-skinned man underneath you chuckled drunkenly, the weight of your conundrum not lost on him. With a strong arm, he grabbed your thigh and hefted it over his stomach so that your pussy was directly above his face.

“Problem solved,” he grinned, flexing his fingers. Without warning, he pulled you down on top of him and pressed a thumb on your clit, dipping his tongue in and out of your entrance, causing you to miss taking his cock into your mouth completely.

You felt Yoongi smirk, the corners of his mouth lifting against either side of your pussy. However, he had no intention to move away from you, as evidenced by the way his tongue continued to lap at your entrance, collecting the arousal that seemed to flow endlessly.

Dipping your head from the sheer pleasure that Yoongi brought to your battered cunt, you allowed yourself a brief reprieve before turning your attention once again to the semi-hard member, taking the tip into your mouth.

Your tongue traced patterns on the glans before you lowered your head to take the entirety of him into your mouth, causing a muffled vibration from Yoongi to spread through your body. It set off a chain of events, both of you moaning and working harder at the task at hand in an effort to outdo each other.

You didn’t know how long you and Yoongi had stayed like that, but your back was starting to hurt from maintaining the same position for so long. With a groan, you pulled yourself away from Yoongi, pussy immediately protesting at the sudden lack of attention.

“Isn’t that enough for now? Fuck me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi merely raised his eyebrows, not bothering to move as he stared at you from where he rested against his pillows, cock standing at attention, red, angry, and precum seeping from the tip.

“Come on, I want you inside me,” you moaned.

With a breathy chuckle, Yoongi motioned for you to climb on top of him with two fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, cocking his head to the side as he waited for you to follow instructions.

The sheer cockiness in Yoongi’s simple actions suddenly made you eager to please, his dominant persona making way for your more submissive self.

When you had settled yourself on Yoongi’s lap and sat straddling him, Yoongi lifted your ass and placed his cock at your entrance, teasing you.

You whined, a high-pitched sound emanating from your throat as you begged Yoongi wordlessly to hurry up and impale you. Yoongi chuckled at your impatience, but finally acquiesced and pushed his erection against your folds and into your pussy, groaning at the way you tightened involuntarily around him.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Yoongi groaned through gritted teeth, the strain apparent in his voice. You simply clenched your pussy around him as an answer to his unspoken question, at which Yoongi let his head fall forwards to rest against your breasts, panting.

When he had caught his breath, he brought his hands up to you, motioning for you to take them. Grasping his offered hands, you began to bounce on top of him, relishing in the way his cock hit all the right spots inside you. You’d never felt so full, so fulfilled, so…complete.

True to his word, Yoongi didn’t last long under the combination of four hours of oral sex you’d had and the way your pussy clenched around him, enveloping his cock entirely. With a loud groan, Yoongi came undone under you, spurts of cum exploding from the tip of his erection, shooting deep inside your cunt. With a pleasurable shudder, you bounced a few more times on Yoongi’s lap, not caring that you didn’t orgasm with him. He’d made you climax several times already, after all.

“Stay the night? Cuddle?” came Yoongi’s voice sleepily as you rolled off the bed, gathering the clothes that had been abandoned on the floor earlier that night.

“No, I have to get home. I don’t do sleepovers after sex,” you commented drily, rejecting him outright. “Thanks for the sex, though. It was pretty good,” you added, hoping to soften the blow somewhat.

Yoongi nodded, pulling a hoodie and sweatpants on, already half-asleep. “Let me walk you to the door.”

It wasn’t until you were home and sitting on the shower floor, tired and still intoxicated, that you bolted upright, eyes snapping open.

You hadn’t used a condom.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this fic. Please consider reblogging so that others are able to find my work! It gives me a lot of motivation to continue writing.

Taglist: @codeinebelle​

You stare at him blankly, wondering if he's perhaps having some kind of stroke and considering whether or not you should call an ambulance. He comes over to your rooted feet by the door, and before you can say anything, his arm winds around your waist and guides you over to his desk. You're hyper  aware of his hand on you in such an intimate manner and it infuriates you, boiling your blood liquid hot in your veins. It feels like everything's moving in slow motion while you attempt to piece together all the chaotic thoughts happening in your mind, but nothing makes any sense. 

The room got slightly colder as a light breeze let itself in from the cold night outside through the open window, courtesy of the latest fight you and your boyfriend Jungkook had gotten into just minutes before, everything all too familiar now as he laid in bed placidly sleeping, soft snores, messy hair and a rhythmical up and down of his chest, while you could just admire him peacefully, a constraining feeling inside your chest burning to be set free, words dying on your throat, eyes prickling with hot tears as you decide to press your head into his chest, listening to his heart beating, legs locked around his figure like the safest kind of sorry you could offer him after putting him through hell the past few months. It hadn’t always been like that. The fights, the screaming, the constantly storming out of conversations. You loved the man that had decided to stay by your side for such a long time now. You hated yourself for being unable to voice out loud just as much. Taking things slow had done the trick when you had first started dating, his patience like no other you could have encountered as he promised to pick up the pieces of your broken soul. And he did. All the while, it seemed to you that by doing so, he was only constantly destroying his own as he muttered soft i love yous to your sleeping form, as he handled you with utter care every chance he got, as he stood by your side even when you screamed at him to walk out of your life. Why was it so hard to whisper the same three words back if you knew deep down they were true? You hug him tighter as you close your eyes, knowing you’ve let him down before, yet are doing so again as tears stain his shirt and you fall into a dreamless slumber.

____

You slowly make your way out of the room as the dimmed light coming in from the hallway slips under the door, signaling that Jungkook had just gotten home after you had asked him to leave yet again following a heartfelt discussion that turned out to feel rather unilateral, leaving you vulnerable and guilty for being unable to say the words you were so sure he wanted you to say the most. 

He’s hunching over himself while sitting on the couch, TV on playing a random program that can’t even be heard as the volume lies on minimum, both of his hands clutch his phone as he sighs loudly, unaware of you watching him a few meters away before he reclines his head against the wall, eyes closed and you swear you can hear a sob getting strangled in his throat that only makes your heart feel heavier as you lay back down in bed, black lingerie long forgotten. It 's 3 am. The man you love the most is quietly falling apart in the other room and yet you can’t find the strength within yourself to tell him how much you love him. You can’t find it within you to hold him the way he holds you. And you remember the way it goes.

“Well I’m not asking you to say it back Y/N. I’ve told you a million times before!” Jungkook says as yet another time, soft smiles and happy giggles at lunch turn into an ugly argument

“Then just don’t say it, would you?” you feel your chest constrict immediately as the words leave your mouth and you see your boyfriend’s eyes widen

“You can’t ask me not to feel! I love you Y/N!” 

“Jungkook please… don’t do this to me” in his eyes there’s a remainder of softness yet he pulls himself together as he takes a deep breath and clenches his teeth as your eyes fill with tears and your voice breaks “please”

“I’m going out”

______

It’s the little things that you wish you could work the courage to tell him, even through all the ugly part of it, you can’t help but feel giddy inside after  along day at work to know that he’ll be there to hold you, to have his warmth embrace you like no other, the way that he mutters your name as if it was meant to be said by him and him only, even as he lets out those god forsaken words that weight you down. The way that you are free to caress his peaceful sleeping face like you’re insane as the words keep repeating themselves in your mind but refuse to get out i love you.

i love you.

i love you.

i love you.

______

The moonlight hits both of your sun kissed bodies as you can’t help but wish to remain that way forever, his inked skin on yours until it comes off on you from being so close for such a long time, the sparkles of a bright future ahead as everything else is forgotten, as harsh words are nothing but a distant echo in the back of your head, as you pour yourself into him, still unable to articulate the words, yet trying your best to convey them with your actions.

 The TV is on again. The dim light escapes the hallway into your room just the way Jungkook’s words do time and time again, a painful reminder of reality as you lay awake in bed. A strangled sob resonates within the frail walls. The lock turns just seconds after. The image of his clenched jaw, dry eyes as yours run with tears makes its way into your head yet again as the room gets colder without him.

_______

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

*

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

*

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

*

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

*

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

*

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

*

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

*

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

*

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

*

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

*

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

*

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

*

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

*

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his. 

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips. 

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long. 

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you. 

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug. 

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat. 

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers. 

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders. 

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening. 

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer. 

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight. 

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom. 

*

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly. 

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence. 

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug. 

You peak back into the small room, noticing something long and light blue under the rearranged foliage. You look around the hollowed trunk, making sure there’s no hidden creature that could jump out and bite you. “Oh God, please don’t let there be a snake,” you think to yourself as you reach in to retrieve the mystery item. Snatching your arm back, you let out a small breath and chuckle at yourself for the small overreaction.

“An envelope?” you say out loud, looking at the newly retrieved item in your hand. You flip it over while observing it, noticing that it's sealed with nothing written on the front.

“I wonder if anything’s in it,” you mumble to yourself. You reposition yourself with your back up against the trunk of the tree, opening the envelope as you get settled. The paper tears easily and you guess that it must be old. Finally getting the envelope wide enough, you pull out a piece of paper, unfolding it carefully to make sure not to tear it. You were happy to see the writing was still legible with only some minor smudges and dirt marks spread across the page. Noticing a small date at the top, you squint as you bring the paper closer to read, only able to make out a faint 2018 as the rest of the date was ruined by the dirt.

“Two years ago… Wow.” You pull the paper back, taking a quick look around the small meadow before you start to read.

Dear future me,

I hope when you open this letter, it finds you well. Maybe you finally asked out that cute girl in your Art History class. Or maybe, at the very least, grew a pair to introduce yourself to her properly. Anyways, I’m not writing this to give you a hard time. We’re dealing with enough of that as it is. I’m just hoping that writing this will be something to help me gain some motivation. Give me a sense of purpose. Things just feel stagnant lately. I’m in the middle of my Senior year of university and have no idea what I’m going to do once I graduate. Everyone around me seems to have everything planned out and I’m just… here. I’m hoping when you finally read this again, you’ll have found your path. I promise to try my best on my end to get you there.

Starting with Art History girl. Hopefully she likes nature walks or hikes. I would love to take her to this old ginkgo tree for a picnic. So let’s work on step #1. Figure out how to simply walk up to her without falling flat on your face.

This is hopeless. Sending you luck and well wishes from the past. - Joon

You flip the page around to see if there was anything only to be met with a blank back.

“I wonder if he ever came back to read this,” you think out loud. Taking a look around the base of the tree, it seems like this place has been unbothered for quite some time. You assume so, anyways, especially with how covered the letter was when you found it. You continue to sit there against the tree, looking out into the small clearing. “Maybe I should write a letter back.”

You feel a slight gust of wind, closing your eyes as you appreciate the soft chill kiss your face and the beautiful sound of the rustling leaves of the ginkgo tree. “I’m guessing I should take that as a yes,” you say with a giggle. The tiny laugh is cut short as you let out a small scoff and shake your head.

“Great. I don’t know what's worse; me talking to myself or to the wind,” you grumble as you reach into your backpack, pulling out a notebook and pen, flipping to a blank page. “Okay, well here goes nothing.”

You sat at the base of the ginkgo tree writing out your letter back to this Joon. Constantly erasing and rewriting half of it, feeling like you were getting too deep and personal with your reply. It wasn’t until the third revision that you finally told yourself that it didn’t matter. No one was going to find it and read it anyways. Once complete, you reach back into your bag, pulling out a yellow envelope meant for holding photos. You check to make sure it’s empty before stuffing your letter inside and sealing it. You place the envelope inside the hollow base of the tree and close the door.

Standing up, you brush the leaves and dirt off your knees, backside, and hands. Not quite ready to leave your newly found secret hideaway, you look around the area, eyeing many rocks of different shapes and sizes. Most of them being just the right size for making a rock tower. You check your watch for the time, mentally calculating just how much time you have before you need to be back at the studio. “5 minutes until noon. Just one tower, one wish, and then I’ll head back to the real world. Sound good?” you said out loud, looking up at the ginkgo tree. A small breeze picks back up as you start to search for the perfect rocks. The wind softly blows through the leaves as if it were trying to give you a response.

The sun sits high in the sky as Namjoon treks down the now familiar path as the wind blows softly around him. The trees and bushes make the most comforting sounds as their branches and leaves rub together through the breeze. He looks down at the blue envelope in his hand before checking the time on his watch. 5 minutes until noon. He’s out here earlier than usual. A bittersweet surprise due to his class being canceled. The very class where he was finally going to talk to the pretty girl who sat by the window. Or at the very least, sit right next to her awkwardly while not saying anything at all. He hadn’t planned on writing another letter, but with the surge of motivation the last one had left him, he felt like it wouldn’t hurt to do it again.

Namjoon readjusts the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder as he enters the small hidden meadow. His eyes and lips turn up into a small smile as he looks at the lone ginkgo tree. “Hello, old friend,” he says as he approaches the base of the tree. The branches and leaves sway in the wind as if giving their own greeting back. Namjoon looks around at the empty meadow before placing his bag on the ground and kneeling before the small wooden door.

“I’m not here for long, friend,” he says as he looks up at the tree. “Just dropping off another.” Namjoon reaches for the small loop to open the door. Blue envelope in hand, he reaches in to place the letter inside, pausing when he sees something he didn't expect. There in the middle of the hollow trunk sat a clean, yellow envelope, seemingly untouched by the nature around it.

“I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” Namjoon mumbles to himself. He grabs the envelope from the opening, eyes going wide in a small moment of panic as he realizes his previous letter is no longer there. He lets out a low groan. “Oh no, someone read my letter.”

He hits his head with his palm, looking at the stranger’s envelope in his hand “Should I read it? They wouldn’t respond with their own letter just to laugh at me, right?” he thinks to himself. Namjoon looks around before adjusting himself to lean against the wide tree trunk. He opens the envelope, pulling out the letter. The faint scent of a female’s perfume follows, hitting Namjoon’s senses as he breathes it in. Appreciating the lovely scent while also finding it oddly familiar, but he just can’t place it. He takes a look at the letter and shrugs his shoulders. “Well I guess fair’s fair,” he mumbles to himself again as he begins to read the mystery letter.

Dear Joon,

I hope you don’t mind that I read your letter. It seemed to have been left untouched for sometime. I felt the least I could do is write back, even if you don’t ever return to this place. I would like to apologize in advance for using your letter as my own little outlet to vent. I’m sure there’s more interesting things you would like to know about the future if you were to ever find this. Not much has changed in the two years since your letter. The world is still a big mystery where people still feel lost. Myself included. I hope that’s not too discouraging. It’s normal to experience a sense of mispurpose and self doubt in college. Everyone feels lost at least once in their lives. Even if they felt like they had everything planned and figured out. The universe doesn’t make exceptions in that affair.

If you did figure a way out of your stump, let a girl know. I could use some words of wisdom myself. My boyfriend of almost two years broke up with me not too long ago. On White Day, if you can believe it. We started dating my senior year of university and I thought we were on the same page as far as our future together was concerned. But there I was, sitting on a bench in Yongsan Park, thinking I was about to be proposed to and end up getting dumped instead. He always talked about marriage, but I guess people tend to just change their minds.

But here’s the real kicker… my feeling of being lost isn’t from the heartbreak. I wish it were that simple. I'm feeling lost because when he broke up with me and ended almost two years of us, I didn’t feel sad. I felt relieved. Who in their right mind feels relief when the person they thought they were going to spend their life with breaks up with them? I don't know. Maybe love just isn't for me.

Anyways, that was a long drawn out way of saying, don’t place your sense of purpose on a relationship, let alone another person. People will only let you down. That being said, if Art History Girl doesn’t enjoy nature walks or picnics, she’s not the one. It sounds like the perfect date. - Y/N 2♥2♥

Namjoon reads the last couple of lines over again, smirking as he traces the small hearts you drew in place of the zeros of the year by your name. “Cute,” he mumbles to himself as he places your letter on the ground next to him, digging into his bag for his notebook and a pen. He quickly scribbles out a response, grabbing the blue envelope he brought and discarding his unread letter from it. Replacing it with the new one he just wrote. Namjoon sticks the now sealed envelope and letter into the holy trunk, closing the door before checking his watch again. Almost 12:35 PM.

“I guess I have time to eat lunch here.” Namjoon reaches back into his bag, pulling out the carefully wrapped sandwich his roommate made him this morning. After finishing his meal, he leans back against the tree, closing his eyes, enjoying the occasional breeze as the time passes. Deciding he spent enough time hiding from the real world, Namjoon stands from his spot against the tree, grabbing his bag in the process. He takes a quick glance at the small door, eyebrows furrowing as he does a double take, noticing the door is slightly ajar. “Didn’t I close this?” he thought to himself as he kneels back down in front of the door, opening it wider to see if anything was keeping it from closing all the way.

“What the hell?!” Namjoon exclaims as his eyes widen at the sight of another yellow envelope lying in the middle of the hollow trunk. His blue envelope, once again, nowhere to be seen.

You take a step back from your newly built structure, admiring your handiwork. You decided to build the little rock tower at the base of the tree, right in front of the little door. You tell yourself it’s to discourage any newcomers from opening the door, but you know it's just to discourage yourself from retrieving your letter.

“Okay, Y/N, now make a wish.” You close your eyes and bow your head by the rock tower. Searching your mind for the perfect wish, you finally land on the right words. Please let me be wrong about love. Please let it find me in this lifetime. You let out a deep breath as you open your eyes. Grabbing your bag off the ground, you take one more look up at the ginkgo tree before starting back towards the walking trail.

“I hope I’m able to find this place again,” you whisper to yourself as you take a few steps away from the tree. You’re only halfway across the small meadow when the sound of a snapping twig stops you in your track, causing you to turn around, looking for the source of the noise.

“Hello?” You call out as you look around the seemingly empty meadow. Finding nothing, you turn back around towards the walking trail. “The woods make noises, Y/N. Nothing to freak out about,” you mumble to yourself.

You barely take another step when you hear the sound of rocks falling behind you. You quickly turn around, hoping to catch whatever person or woodland creature that could be causing these disturbances only to find that you’re still alone in the meadow. You take a quick scan of the area before your eyes move straight to your rock tower at the base of the ginkgo tree. Or at least what used to be your rock tower. What resides there now is just a pile of rocks. The sight of your fallen tower alone isn’t enough to put you on edge. Rocks fall. You just didn’t expect to see the previously closed door at the base of the tree to now be wide open.

You take slow steps back towards the tree, scanning the surroundings again for anyone or anything hiding in the tree line. Telling yourself that it was just the wind as you make it back to the tree, you kneel down to close back the little door. Your movements halt when you sneak a peek inside the hollow trunk, your eyes landing on what should have been the yellow envelope you just left inside. Instead, in its place, you find another blue envelope. You snatch the envelope from the hollow trunk, tearing it open with so much force that you wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped the letter inside. You pulled the letter from the envelope and began to read.

Dear Y/N,

Thank you for writing me back. I’m going to be honest, I'm a little surprised to have found your letter. I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place, considering it's off a hidden path that's found off another hidden path. But I’m happy someone else gets to enjoy the beauty of this hidden gem of a meadow. Thank you for your kind words. It’s nice to know there are people out there who care enough to try and comfort a stranger. I’m sorry to read about your breakup. Those are never easy, regardless of the tenure of the relationship. I hope you don’t feel too troubled by your feelings around it. It could just be a blessing in disguise. Sometimes you have to close one door for another to open. I believe there is someone for everyone and they will find you when you least expect it. So if you return here to find this letter, don’t give up. Love will find you. I promise. - Joon

P.S. Thanks for the little 2020 joke. Got quite a chuckle out of that one. Maybe we’ll see each other at this ol’ ginkgo tree some day. You know, in the current year of 2018.

You were only eight years old when you discovered Min Yoongi was your soulmate.

Living in a society where love was predestined all thanks to a little red string on your pinky, made you inescapably curious. So from the moment you gained the ability to string words together into coherent sentences, you would press your parents on everything you could about the scarlet thread on your finger, garnering knowledge the more your questions frequented.

Maybe it was the fact that the foundation of where you grew up was constructed around finding “the one” in order to achieve peak happiness. It was absurd. Yet everywhere you looked you were surrounded with proof in the most palpable of forms.

And in the plainest or most kitschy of ways.

Honorable mention could be your older cousin orchestrating the most flashy of proposals—quite literally renting a billboard on one of the busiest highways that read “Honey, I rented a billboard! Meet me back at the Silverlake Hotel for a special surprise! Yes, it’s Johnny. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you.”

Your parents were high school sweethearts—meeting at the tender ages of fifteen and staying attached by the hip ever since.

Your dad was the one who was able to see the string in their case. And he would describe to you how only one person out of the relationship can see it—how it appeared to trail off into a gradient of nothingness—and how the closer he had gotten to your mother, both physically and emotionally, the more visible it was between them. It was only until he had confessed to her that she was able to see the connection between the strings as well.

You took pride in having the ability to visibly see the string for yourself, and being the one to discover who it would be connected to one day. But what you didn’t realize was how soon the discovery was going to be made.

Especially not when you were seven years old, clad in a purple unicorn hoodie littered with sequins and jeans that were embroidered with flowers—your knees scraped and small fingers soiled with sand.

“Are you okay?!” A small raven-haired boy shouted out, his small legs hastily sprinting to your side after seeing you face-plant into the wet sand.

Your thoughts are intruded as you noticed that the sand had a red thread trailing out the surface and into the air. The red thread emitted a golden sheen that you were able to see despite your hands carrying fistfuls of sand.

The boy that appeared to be around the same age as you was dusting the sand off of your sleeves and pants, dismissing your lack of response and how you were ogling at him with eyes that took up half of your face.

And then his hand brushed against yours.

“What are– ! Who are you?!” You exclaimed, ripping your hand out of his grasp only to gawk at how bright the string was glowing without any sand to obscure it.

“O–oh I’m sorry, you have sand all over you,” he tells you shyly, retracting his hands, as if you didn’t already know. “But my name is Yoongi, Min Yoongi.” He smiled sweetly with an evident gap due to the loss of his two front baby teeth. His small hand outstretched towards you, offering a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You timidly smiled back as you slid your palm into his, shaking his hand while unknowingly transferring all the sand onto it.

After you shake hands he rubs the sand on his pant leg, an adorable giggle escaping his lips as you mutter an nth number of apologies.

“Don’t worry about it!” He beams, his eyes turning back to an older, slender woman with a frown on her face motioning him to come towards her. “Sorry, but I think I should go back to my mom. She’s looking for me.” He said as he began to stand up.

“No, it’s okay! I don’t want you to get in trouble anyway.” You quickly told him as you continued to wipe your hands against your jeans.

He nods with a smile. “I’ll see you around Y/N. It was nice meeting you!” He beams as his little legs start sprinting in the opposite direction— the glow that surrounded the thread fading, the farther he ran.

You frantically waved your arms back and forth, exchanging looks one last time before walking back towards your family with only traces of a smile left on your face.

Here you are ten years later, still equipped with the same amount of clumsiness and childish outlook as you did when you were eight, except now you were eighteen and about to graduate high school.

You hadn’t forgotten about your soulmate, but the inevitable reality of growing up shifted your mindset—your priorities were centered around applying to colleges and trying to keep your grades up despite having a terrible case of senioritis.

The red string on your finger was serving as a solid reminder that you haven’t seen your soulmate in years and weren’t likely to see him anytime soon.

As the years ticked by, it became harder and harder to recall and visualize his features—as if there was a ticking time bomb in your memory nerves, only a matter of time until all the memories would be blown into bits and you would be left with a shoddy visualization of the boy you once ran into. You wondered if you would even be able to recognize him now if it wasn’t for the fact that you were quite literally, bound together by fate.

Occasionally, out of fear that you would forget his name and his face, you’d set aside time to relive the moment in which you met him ten years ago at a beach that was hundreds of miles away from home and felt light years away from the present. You’d shift into the desired reality where you’d get to come in contact with the boy that had a gentle aura, sweet smile, and kind-hearted actions. You never were able to find men, let alone boys like that these days anyway.

Yet the security of knowing and seeing your soulmate still wasn’t enough for you. As much as fate was able to bind people together by string, there have been many instances where the string, well, was just nothing but a string. Soulmates never finding their other half. Or spending their lives with someone that wasn’t destined to be theirs. Even the rarity that fate makes a mistake and the two predestined lovers just simply don’t click like they’re supposed to.

Even though fate bounded you two together, to what extent was fate willing to go through for your paths to crossover again?

Hint: More than you think.

You kick a pebble to the side of the road.

Letting out a sigh, you run a hand through your untamed hair, your feet taking you to a destination unbeknownst to you. You just need to get out of the house. Another glance at your sloppily scripted notes would leave your mind spiraling into an even deeper pit of frustration and laziness that you don’t have the energy to pull yourself out of right now.

In other words, you need caffeine.

You take a trip to the local coffee shop you are a regular at. The shop greets you with the soothing aroma of coffee beans—taking a moment to inhale as the scent wafts through the air. To your surprise, you see one of your good friends, Jisung, at the register. He’s in the middle of taking someone’s order until he gives you a sideways glance, having a double-take and waving to you after the customer finishes paying.

“Someone’s having a rough week, aren’t they?” He says under his breath, brows shooting upward as his eyes trail up and down your disheveled state.

You cross your arms, the cinch between your brows that hasn’t seemed to fade ever since the start of finals week deepening, “And somehow you aren’t because…”

“I’m smart and only took the classes required to graduate,” he reminds you, “the only final I'm concerned about is my dance final.”

“Well, lucky you,” your words trailing off as your eyes bore holes through the glass cabinet filled with an array of your favorite desserts. Maybe if you stare long enough, the glass will vanish and you can swipe a meringue without anybody noticing.

He smiles at your dismissive behavior. Your decision to make most of your schedule advanced placement and honors classes never boded well with him to begin with. He had warned you countless times about your demanding course load and how it was going to bite you in the ass later on. You both knew that he was right, but you also both knew that you weren't going to do anything about it. Per usual, Y/N.

“The usual?” He asks.

You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets to scrounge for your wallet, “Give me an extra shot of espresso.” You add.

He halts as soon as the words hit his ears, setting your cup down on the counter and turning back towards you with a quizzical look on his face, “Only if you don’t pull another all-nighter.”

“I swear I won’t!” you exclaim in an attempt to reason with him but to no avail, “I just need a little pick me up, because sadly, as much as I’d wanna pull another all-nighter, my body can’t take it.”

The crease of his brows deepen even more until he eventually relents— noticing the way your eyes are nearly half-shut and the bags are about ten shades darker than their usual tone, your shoulders slouched in your jacket that was already five sizes too big, “Alright, but I only believe you ‘cause you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“A day and a half.” You correct.

“And a whopping five espresso shots later. And to think you call me the insane one.” He scoffs. You can almost hear the pout on his face if he wasn’t preoccupied with the espresso machine.

You let out a yawn, far too tired to banter with him right now. There was always plenty of time for that anyway. “Fine. We are both insane, actually no I think ‘stupid’ is a better word to tack on there, hence why we’re friends.”

He twirls around with a grin on his face, holding your drink in his hand as he places it on the counter. He's been only putting four shots of espresso the entire time he’s been making these drinks for you just because he doesn’t want to see the jittery aftermath and sudden caffeine crash that he knew could potentially occur. “Hey, it only took you three years to admit it.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a swat on the shoulder that he dodges, “Yeah, yeah… but hey, when are you getting out of here anyway?”

“I’m working a closing shift so I still have another hour left. Don’t worry about me, go home and finish up so you can rest. You have econ tomorrow right?” He asks while closing a lid onto your drink.

You sigh, more than ever wanting to slam your head against the counter, but you digress, “Yeah.”

“You’ll be just fine. Now c’mon get outta here and go back home.” He says while sliding your drink towards you and nudging you towards the exit.

“But I haven’t paid?”

“On the house.”

You set your drink down with a frown. “Han, no.”

He laughs. “Why not?”

“You already give me your employee discount every time I come here, just take my money.” You spit, shoving your dollar bills into his chest.

He giggles at your frustration, standing grounded despite you punching money into his pecs. God, this boy really needed to stop spending his days only dancing or going to the gym. “But I don’t want your money.”

You audibly sigh, not having a single ounce of energy to be arguing with him right now, but you yelp in exasperation, “Jisung!”

“Y/N!” He mimics your pleading tone in an obnoxious high-pitched voice that was octaves higher than your actual one, your hand plopping to the counter in defeat.

You grab his wrist, forcing his fingers open as you slap the bills into his palm and close his hand into a fist. You swiftly grab your drink and run out the door, momentarily pausing to peek your head through the door and yelling a “Thank you! Love you!” before scurrying out, fumbling with your coffee in the process.

He stares at the door incredulously long after you leave the premises, shrugging and shoving the money into the pocket of his apron.

Your hands are wrapped tightly around the cardboard cup, clutching it close to your chest in hopes that the heat would emanate to the rest of your body as you continue to drag your feet along the bustling sidewalk.

A few stores down from the coffee shop is the record store that’s had its doors open for as long as you can remember. Memories of the adorable elderly couple who always greeted you replay in your mind as you step foot inside.

It always personally irked you that you rarely purchased anything while you were there. One of the main reasons besides the most obvious one: not being able to just buy one, is the fact that you didn’t even own a record player to begin with. And displaying it on your walls like some wannabe ’pinterest indie grunge 90s aesthetic’ inspired room (which you would definitely have if you weren’t broke™️) was out of the question, because having only two vinyls on your wall is very much lame yet very much something you would do.

As if on cue, your legs involuntarily take you to the first table that’s right behind the door— which you have grown to remember is always full of their latest shipments and newest presses. You always made a mental checklist of the records that you would consider buying in the future once you had the money for them. The list is embarrassingly long to the point where you’ve sadly had to make a note on your phone reserved just for the occasion.

Your eyes are practically glued to the Selena album that sits in the box that you don’t notice the man trying to greet you.

“Um, excuse me miss, hi, are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Oh, I was jus—“

You freeze dead in your tracks— the record you were holding in your hand dropping back inside the shelf with a thud. The string on your finger is gleaming brightly as ever. It’s striking. It’s blinding.

And it’s directly connected to the pinky of the man standing right in front of you.

It takes you a few seconds to register that you look positively perturbed, and that the only justification you have, isn’t good enough because of course, he can’t see the string. Your jaw is practically down to your knees, blinking vehemently at the man that was standing still with a polite smile on his face, your eyelashes could probably counteract as a fan. It can’t be. Maybe if you blink fast enough he’ll just disappear.

Never mind, he’s still here.

No, there’s just no way.

Surely, there’s no way my soulmate is standing in front of me. Again.

Coughing into your sleeve, you barely manage to slip out, “I’mjustlookingaroundbutthankyou!” You say, the words coming out all at once, as you take a moment to gasp for air.

He chuckles softly, the distinct and unfamiliar noise akin to dripping saccharine to your ears, “Alright, just let me know if you need anything, I’ll be back there.” He says while cocking his head towards the register.

You nod as he starts to make his way back behind the counter. You slowly turn back towards the shelf, mentally giving yourself a nice big slap to the cheek acting like that after finally seeing your soulmate after ten years.

Ten years… oh my god.

Pretending to flip through more records, you start to converse with yourself in your head, trying to formulate a plan as to what your next move should be.

Now, the smart and most obvious thing would be just straightforwardly telling him that you two are soulmates and that you can see the string connected between the two of you.

But you are not smart nor good at befriending strangers.

You swallow down some of the anxiety in your throat, grabbing the Musiq Soulchild record that just so happened to graze your fingertips. You’re nearly tiptoeing to the register, the man looking up at you with a smile as you timidly place the record on the counter and slide it towards him.

“Musiq Soulchild, good taste.” He says, smiling as he exchanged a delayed glance between you and the record.

“I appreciate it.” You manage to whisper, staring down at your untied shoelace.

He scans the record as you whip out your wallet and look for your card. If you were correct, you had enough money to pay for the record, and by the record means just the record alone.

In hindsight, you would know better than to buy, sorry scratch that, go bankrupt for materialistic things just because there was an attractive guy as a cashier. Luckily, you had the justification of this particular guy being your soulmate so the whole act wasn't that lame. Even for you.

The radio silence isn't deafening thanks to the soft 80s rock humming in the background. Your head naturally bobs along to the beat of the familiar Tears for Fears song that your dad used to play in the car all the time. The tune alone isn’t able to rip you out of your thoughts as you watch the hands of the man in front of you drumming his fingers on the counter to the rhythm of the song.

His hands, are gorgeous. Dare you say the prettiest hands you’ve probably ever come across on a man.

Y/N. Stop it.

The thought of you coming back to the shop only to "coincidentally" run into your soulmate sounded ludicrous—your wallet already screaming at you and your mind wracking itself just to come up with conversation starters. Since your time was running out and his unprecedented presence here is piquing your interest anyway, you say,

"I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

His fingers pause on the counter, his head perking up, "Oh yeah, I just got hired here last week."

"O-oh that's cool," you stutter, stumbling on your words and struggling to sustain the flow of conversation. He smiles at you while he rings you up.

"Are you from around here?" He asks.

You nod, "Yeah, I've known this place for as long as I can remember. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Yang needed some extra help around the shop. You're the first person to be employed under them."

He hums, "They told me that when I got hired, I guess there's been an influx of vinyl purchases lately and they've been expanding their inventory. They thought they could use some extra help." He informs you while sliding you the receipt—carefully bagging the record with his lip tucked in his mouth. Cute.

Picking up the receipt, your eyes immediately scan for a name, specifically the one of the man ringing you up, "Ah, that makes a lot more sense.” Aha! Got it.

Cashier: Yoongi

You can’t even stop the words that come out of your mouth next, “Oh, fuck.”

His head shoots up, “Sorry?”

You snap your mouth shut, “Oh, nothing! Do you happen to live around here by any chance? I don't think I've seen you around this area before."

He shakes his head, some of the ebony strands of his hair falling into his eyelashes, "I moved here in the fall for college actually. I've been meaning to get a job but I wanted to get adjusted to school a couple of months before trying to branch out."

"Wow, that sounds so exciting, congrats!"

Thank God I just turned legal.

It took nearly all your willpower to keep your eyes off of the suffused piece of string and the way it swayed along with his hand movements. Instead, you let your eyes focus on the curve of his lips and the pink flesh of his smile. Just merely looking at him made you feel effervescent—as carefree and light on your feet as the child you once used to be. The same one that genuinely believed they had a shot with Zac Efron when they were younger. And the same child that had their feet frolicking against the sands and their eyes looking past the limitless blue water—running into a boy with a youthful grin but manners beyond his age, and droopy eyes that haven't changed since you first saw him.

He slides you your bagged record. You look up at him to see the apples of his cheeks raised into an endearing close-mouthed grin. You mumble a small 'thank you' and turn around to exit the shop before he stops you,

"Wait, I don't think I caught your name?"

An enormous lump builds in your throat. After all this time, you've managed to remember his name for the sake of already knowing that he was your soulmate, but what about him?

"I–I'm Y/N."

"Well, hi Y/N. I'm Min Yoongi, but you can just call me Yoongi."

You nod, clutching the record even closer to your body as you smile at him in acknowledgement. "It's been nice to meet you Yoongi, I hope you like it around here."

He leans over the counter, resting his forearms on the wooden surface as he speaks, "I'm not too worried about that," his grin widens as he takes in your stunned expression, "see you around Y/N, take care."

"You too, Yoongi," you reply with a small smile, turning back around to exit the shop with an empty wallet but a content heart with flushed cheeks to match.

"Was that Y/N?" Mrs. Yang asks as she leans against the doorframe to the break room.

Yoongi grabs a couple of boxes to the front of the store to organize, turning around to face Mrs.Yang, "Yes, it was, she just stopped by to pick up a record."

"Y/N bought something?"

He pauses to turn around to his boss, "Yes ma’am, she just bought one right now."

“Wow, that’s a first.”

The box he had just nearly slips out of his arms, but he manages to lift his leg up to support the base. His brows scrunch in confusion, reflecting back on you telling him that you’re an avid visitor of the store, “Ah, really? She was telling me how she comes to the store all the time.”

"That is true, she’s stopped by all the time ever since she was young. She just never buys anything when she comes here," Mrs. Yang chuckles, fondly looking back at all the times where you would casually stroll in just to routinely talk to the couple and go on about your day without purchasing anything. They never minded it of course, always treating you as one of their own and even offering you meals at times.

"Oh, I see," he drags out the syllable—the cinch in his brows dissipates the longer his eyes drift towards the exit.

Acquiring five hours of sleep is considered a feat to you. A trivial feat but a feat nonetheless. The duration of your R.E.M. would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for the thought of your soulmate keeping you awake. The fact that this fate-driven world could methodically bring you two together like this was something you wouldn’t have ever fathomed. At least not outside of the universe formulated by your deepest desires or the stories of other people’s firsthand experiences.

As much as the expectancy of being with your soulmate was so close within reach—nothing a few minutes of light jogging and a little sip of courage couldn’t withstand, you know you had many commitments you had to stay dutiful towards. You knew yourself enough to grasp that if you were to let your mind wander off towards everything of importance to you, you weren’t going to get anywhere or get anything done.

Most times, your self-control and habitual tendencies would swallow you whole—your heart’s voice speaking volumes louder than your mind. Your interaction with Yoongi caused your heart to transport back ten years in time, where you were able to mature quicker in the realm of romance than most of your peers.

The nights where you would go to bed thinking of him and wake up with the same visions of him corrupting your thoughts, were something you grew to gain control over as you aged.

After years’ worth of a hiatus, you dream of him again that night.

With one final down and more left to go, you head off to your local library after school to get some more work done.

You stop by at the coffee shop first—needing your daily caffeine intake to get you through the rest of the day. You don’t see Jisung there, but you quickly rewind back to the morning when he had told you he was going to practice his dance final after school. So with a cup of coffee in one hand and a backpack strap in another, you retreat to the first empty table you see.

Laying all your belongings flat on the table, you slump in the wooden chair—your head rolling back and hitting the top of the backrest. You look fixedly at the ceiling, trying to outline your game plan of how you were going to tackle your schoolwork today. If you didn’t adhere to it (which you usually didn’t), at least you can say that you thought about it.

You let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the stillness of the moment and the lack of brainpower you weren’t being required to use.

“Y/N?”

You jerk in your seat, your knee striking against the edge of the table as your eyes shoot open only to see the last person you wanted to bump into. His face is hovering a couple of feet above yours as he’s standing right next to you. His close-lipped smile is the only thing that envelops your vision for a few seconds before you tear your gaze away, your cheeks turning embarrassingly hot.

You don’t even hear him asking if you’re okay, the voices in your head yelling louder and the pain in your knee growing substantially as the seconds pass. You can already envision the big barney-like purple splotch that was going to be there.

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” You blurt out, wincing at the obvious question considering the fact that he too, is a student and can go to the library whenever he pleases.

“I have midterms this week, and the library at my school is packed,” he says, widening the distance between you two as he moves into your field of vision once more, “is it okay if I sit here?” He asks while pointing to the chair across from you.

“Of course.” You quickly respond, rubbing at the spot where you hit your knee while trying not to noticeably grimace in pain.

He sits down across from you, starting to take his belongings out of his bag and setting them on the table. “Sorry for scaring you, I didn’t mean to.”

You chuckle nervously, running a shaky hand through your hair, “It’s okay, I should be studying now anyway.”

He nods in return, giving you a small grin before proceeding to his own work.

You’ve been staring at your laptop screen for half an hour now. Hoping that maybe if you stared long enough, the words would just magically materialize onto the empty word doc.

You purposely remained slumped in your chair, letting your screen obscure the view of his face so you could only see his eyes up to the strands of his tousled hair.

It wasn’t the first time you were forced to write an essay on a book you’ve never bothered to lay an eye on. Yet it was the first time doing so with your soulmate sitting right in front of you—your focus meter depleting rapidly as you continued to sneak glances at the top of his head.

After minutes of reading chapter summaries and trying to pick the best quotes that would correlate to the essay prompt, you sit back in the chair, taking a long sip of your coffee.

As you lean down to place your cup back on the table, you sideways glance at the man to see him yawning into his sleeve. He sniffles, the tip of his nose slightly pink as he blinks hard before proceeding to type on his laptop once more.

“Do you want some?”

“Hm?” His head peeps from the screen, his eyes peering towards you before glancing at the cup in your hand.

“Some of my coffee.” You reiterate, sliding the cup towards him.

He hesitates, his focus flickering back between you and the cup, “Are you sure?”

“I insist,” you assert, sliding the cup even closer to him, “We all need our caffeine.”

He chuckles, nodding in thanks to you before taking the cup into his hands and sipping into the contents. “This is really good.”

“It’s actually from that one place that’s a few doors down from the record store.”

“Ah, I’ve been meaning to try from there, but I just haven’t gotten the chance to.”

“I go there all the time, I’ll gladly vouch for the place.” You tell him as you step back to your seat.

He lowers his screen slightly, forcing you to see the entirety of his face— your focus meter blown to smithereens. “I guess you just happened to catch me on a rare day without coffee. I swear at this point, coffee is preeminent to water.”

Chuckling at his remark, you lower your screen as well, “Coffee is fucking amazing. I probably would've been knocked out cold by now if you hadn’t scared me.”

He scrunches his nose and you swear you almost audibly squeak at just how adorable he is, “I still feel bad for that, but I figured you would’ve been more mad if you knew that I just let you fall asleep there.”

“Well yeah, you’re not wrong about that.” You admit. You can hear him laughing on his end so you look up— the corners of his eyes are crinkled up and his gums are on full display. His shoulders are shaking as laughter escapes his lips. He’s beautiful. You can’t help but laugh along with him.

As your laughter fades, you sigh, “At this rate, I’m not going to get anything done. But is it bad that I'm not mad about it?”

“What grade are you in?”

“I’m a senior. I just turned eighteen.” Of course, you’d make that clear.

He hums in acknowledgement, “As much as I’d want to encourage you and tell you to keep going, it’d be hypocritical of me. If high school procrastination is harmful, then senioritis is just a lethal force of nature.”

You huff, “I couldn’t have said it any better than that.”

He fumbles with his jacket zipper, clearing his throat, “Do you need any help?”

“No, it’s alright. I know what I need to do… I just don’t feel like doing it.” You admit sheepishly.

He nods, his fingers start to drum in the table before he says, “Just take a nap then.”

A cinch forms in between your brows. “A nap? Here?”

“Yeah, I can wake you up,” he says nonchalantly.

You laugh at the thought of you potentially drooling all over the public desk, “I think I can manage without one.”

He clicks his tongue, his head tilting to the side, “It’s just a nap Y/N, it won’t hurt you.”

A nap does sound good. Especially after hearing him suggest it after saying your name. “I mean I guess, but I’ll only take like ten minut–”

“Y/N, cut yourself some slack. I can sense sleep deprivation when I see it.”

You gasp exaggeratedly, in mock offense. You hope he doesn’t sense the indication of worry there too because, shit, did you actually look as tired as you feel? “Wow, thanks.”

He chuckles, forcing another smile to come out of you, “The only two times I’ve seen you, you’ve had a coffee in your hand.”

“Well, maybe I just like coffee.” You quip. Okay, the eye bags aren’t that brutal today, thank God.

“And you just admitted to me that you almost fell asleep, but I woke you up.” Fuck I did, didn’t I.

You exhale deeply, raising your hands in defeat and surrender, “Fine Mr. Alarm Clock, choose a duration.”

“An hour.”

“An hour?” You stare at him incredulously as he smiles at your uptightness. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting here.”

“I was planning on being here all day anyway, it’s okay.” He reassures you.

“Fine,” you relent, “half an hour.”

“An hour.” He counters.

“Forty-five.”

“Deal.” He smiles. “I’ll wake you up in forty-five.”

You frown at him, using all your might not to smile at the way he was looking at you right now. With a deep sigh, you shut your laptop, scooting it to the side and crossing your arms on top of the desk. Shaking your head in dismay, you look back at Yoongi one last time.

“Forty-five,” he coos. You stick your tongue at him before placing your head in the nest you created with your arms, quickly drifting off to dreamland.

I don’t need to tell you what I was dreaming about, you probably know by now, you pricks.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Wake up.”

Yoongi’s been trying to wake you up for four minutes now. His futile attempts at a hushed whisper yell are starting to piss off the people at the tables around you. He stills in his actions for a moment, not wanting to inconvenience anybody any longer.

Standing up, he leans down and reaches across the table, softly tapping on your sleeve, “Y/N.”

You groan, sliding your arm away from his touch as you fall back asleep once more. He sighs, looking languidly at the top of your head, considering another way to wake you up. But he refrains and taps your arm once again, not pausing this time. “Y/N, come on.”

“Hmph…” you groan into the fabric of your sleeve, your head slowly rising as you attempt to rub the sleep from your eyes. “Mmstop…” You mumble into your sleeve, squirming under the constant tapping on your forearm.

Your head shoots up from the crook of your elbow, your eyes still closed shut, “What?!” You retort loudly, the man sitting in front of you doesn’t react in the slightest as a chorus of shushes are all made towards you. You scratch your head, curling into yourself at the realization of what you had just done,

“Sorry, everyone.”

He blinks. “You’re awake.”

“I am.” You mumble softly, straightening yourself in your seat. It would be a lie if you were to say that you aren’t slightly alarmed to have his face be the first thing you see when you wake up. Then you soon remember that he had advised you to take a nap, in which you complied.

You’re far too drowsy to notice the way his eyes have been fixated on you this whole time, and it’s probably better that way. “Do you feel better?”

You nod, “I do.”

And with that, his lips curl into another close-lipped grin. “Go finish your essay so you can head home and sleep.” He advises, but by the way his mouth stretches into a big yawn afterwards, it seems like he’s in dire need of sleep more than you.

“Alright,” you reply monotonously, opening your laptop screen, the sudden brightness making you flinch, “only because you said so.”

Hours pass by a lot quicker than you account for. Picking up your phone in what felt like potentially half an hour but realizing that nearly that plus a whole two hours had ticked by.

All you could clearly recall was at one point, you decided that you were in critical need to purge out the thoughts inside your head about the man sitting across from you. You were so inwardly embarrassed to be ogling over the man who was just minding his own goddamn business. After minutes of fumbling through your bag to find your earphones, and additional minutes just to untangle the mess itself, you narrowly succeed.

It was tremendously difficult for you to stay in work mode when your mind was in complete disarray. You’ve barely been given time to process that your soulmate is once again back in your life—not just for a scant amount of time that only allowed for the exchange of names, not without a single clue of where their whereabouts are, and not without knowing what they look like all this time. You had all this information now, along with the maturity and ability to solidify this interconnection once and for all. Yet your inner diffidence and unease hindered you from having the confidence to reveal yourself to him.

You told yourself you were going to work up to it.

Eventually.

He inhales through clenched teeth, “Crap, sorry for drinking so much of your coffee.” He says as he clinks the cardboard cup on the table, the lack of swishing insinuating that there was nothing inside.

You wave a hand dismissively, “No, don’t worry about it. You made me take a nap anyway, you need it more than I do.”

His lips twitch into a lopsided smile, conveying that he still felt bad regardless, “Have you made any progress?”

“Yes, actually. I finished that stupid essay and now I’m just studying for another final. You?”

“Just working on a thesis paper that I had two months to work on, so the usual.” He chuckles dryly.

You grimace at the thought of the situation, knowing that you have been in that same predicament far too many times, “That sounds rough, I hope you can finish it soon.”

He snickers, “Shit, I hope I can too.”

You can’t help but laugh at the comical expression that paints across his face— yet the sound of him swearing in that husky, subdued voice of his causes a pang in your chest.

“Are you heading out soon?” You ask as you slowly shut your laptop.

He leans back in his seat, “Probably, or else I might end up passing out on this table too.”

“See, I am not the only sleep-deprived student in this world, Yoongi.”

“I never said you were Y/N, knowing myself, I’m probably worse than you.” He assures you, clicking away at his keyboard.

As you start to pack, you notice him examining the label on the cup before throwing the empty contents into a nearby trash can, swiftly making it in one go. “We might not know each other that well, but if it was up to us, the whole education system would be abolished,” you say.

What you don’t notice is how his focus immediately zeroes in on you after saying that. His eyes conveying an unreadable expression along with the slight quirk of his lip and brow that have you frozen stuck in your seat.

“Hm?” You squeak.

“You flatter me Y/N.”

You sputter at his words. “Uh—“

“What the hell, are you psychic or something?” He teases, cutting through the one-sided tension with a hearty laugh.

You manage to hide your surprise, reciprocating the laughter while trying to reply back with another rhetorical question, “Would you even believe me if I said yes?”

“For the sake of us just meeting, I will not answer that.” He replies, receiving an audible gasp on your end which makes him fold over even more.

You roll your eyes playfully, chomping down on your bottom lip to stop the smile that threatens to split your face in half. At last you stand up, slinging a backpack strap over your shoulder, “Okay, I think I’ll head out now.”

He nods, tending to his own belongings, “Are you driving home?”

“Oh no, I live like a ten minute walk away from here.” You inform him.

“But it’s pretty dark out right now,” he halts in his actions, his head turning towards the window as it clearly displays the lack of sunlight replaced by a navy sky, “I can take you home if you want.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“I think it would bother me more if I knew that something were to happen to you,” he counters, shutting his laptop and turning towards you.

You open your mouth to respond but are unable to formulate a rebuttal. His eyes soften as he takes in your lack of reply, voice going softer than usual, which was already soft to begin with. Why did he feel this sense to be protective over you? He just met you, didn’t he? “I won’t push you if you don’t want to. I don’t know why but… have we ever met before?” he asks while scratching the back of his ear.

“I—,” You can’t tell him the truth. At least not now. And so you don’t, “I’m not sure we have.”

He nods, “Hm, alright.”

“You can take me home.” You suddenly blurt out.

His brows shoot up in surprise, “What?”

You chuckle nervously, smiling in hopes that you appear less suspicious, “You can take me home,” you reiterate for both him and yourself.

“O-oh alright,” he stammers, standing up from his seat.

You follow him out of the library, keeping a safe arms distance away so he wouldn’t see the way your face was getting hot. You tap on your phone, pressing at the blank screen to emulate as if you were texting someone to avoid awkwardness and forced conversation. It wasn’t helping in your case but at least you could look a tad bit less insane.

He lets you into his car, asking you for your address so he could find the directions. His car smelled of pine and men’s cologne. It was very pleasant and not at all pungent like others you have encountered in the past. Before leaving, he fishes through his center console, pulling out his aux cord and offering it to you.

Bewildered is an understatement. To be in a car of someone that you barely know, let alone just met yesterday, and you’re being handed the aux? The amount of trust that runs through the notion is much deeper than one would assume, or at least that’s what you always perceived it as.

You point at yourself questioningly. “Me? Are you sure?”

He smiles, nodding and placing the cord in your lap. “I trust that you have good taste.”

“I am honored you think so for working at a record store.”

He smiles again. The same shy one that causes him to turn away most of the time from what you’ve noticed. You almost want to grab his face and turn it around just to see it. “I won’t judge, you can play whatever you want.” He says, turning away as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

Obviously, you care. Plugging the cord into your phone, you begin to scroll through all your music, trying to find a playlist that you think would most match his musical preferences. After realizing that you were almost at your house, you quickly tap a song on your playlist for winding down.

His finger taps the steering wheel at the sound of the song starting, “Giveon?”

Good choice, Y/N. “Yeah.”

“See, I knew you had good taste.”

Your lips quirk up into a grin, “I’m happy you think so.”

The two of you sit in silence for the rest of the ride home. Coincidentally, the song comes to an end as he pulls up in front of your house.

You step out of his car, turning towards him before shutting the door, “Thanks for taking me home.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I can do for drinking all your coffee.”

You roll your eyes, smiling at him, “I told you it’s fine, all that matters is that it got drunk in the first place.”

“Whatever you say,” he huffs, “you should probably get inside, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

You nod, turning back to glance at your house before turning back to him, “Alright, I will. Thanks again Yoongi, drive safe.”

“Will do, goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” You say as you shut the door and wave through the window, trying your hardest not to look at the glowing string. He waves back before retracting his focus back to his steering wheel. You watch him drive off before going inside your house.

As you get yourself ready for bed, your mind is constantly bombarded with thoughts of your soulmate and nothing else. You go to bed once more with a new and unfamiliar warmth brewing deep inside your chest.

You dream of him again that night.

It had been awhile since you were able to have such good sleep. You rarely used the term ‘slept like a baby’ because frankly, you couldn’t relate. But last night was the closest sleep you had gotten akin to the phrase.

Pushing past through yet another final and being exempted from the other could equate to a not shitty day for you. Because of the progress you were able to make in terms of your studying (besides the fact that you spent half of your day with your soulmate), you make your way back to the library again in hopes of having another productive day.

Being the hopeless romantic you are, you had a sliver of hope, just a little that maybe he would come back here to work alongside you once again.

After an hour of sitting by yourself, you came to the conclusion that you were being way too optimistic about the coincidence.

With your hardest final being tomorrow, a subject in which you sorely wished you had never enrolled in, also cause of many migraines and frustrated tears, Calculus— you decide to get started on it since you knew it was going to be the most labor-intensive.

You’re nearly about to rip the hairs out of your head from staring at your math teacher’s crappy explanations and poorly drawn graphs until someone’s jacket swipes against your chair. Two cups are set down in front of you as a man drops his backpack to the floor and plops onto his seat across from you, slightly out of breath and hair sticking to his forehead.

Your eyes widen, smiling at the sudden realization of who was sitting in front of you, “Yoongi?”

“Hi, sorry, I went to go grab us some coffee,” he says while sliding a cup towards you.

“Wha— Yoongi you didn’t have to.” You tell him, the action alone almost literally brought tears to your eyes. It was so sweet. A boy just bought you coffee. And at small observation, it was your exact order to a T, too.

He shrugs, his lips pressed in a line, “But I wanted to.”

The gesture makes you speechless. He’s standing there with the smallest of smiles, a cardboard cup in his hand and the thread shimmering like a slinky between the two of your figures. Your chest heaves at the pure sight in front of you, rising and sinking before spitting out, “I— thank you.”

“It’s nothing, really.” He dismisses with a shake of his head, sounding like he just checked a box off his grocery list. But his gaze flickers to every spot in the library besides wherever you were, wanting to hide the way his face was turning completely flush. He hated how his face could convey so much about him even after trying to uphold a stoic attitude most of the time. Being with you had to be the most he’s ever struggled with in terms of this issue, though.

You’re willing away the instinctive notion to gawk at him like he was holding out an elixir that would add plus twenty years to your lifespan. Even though he was holding out a cardboard cup of plain coffee that probably cost him some spare pocket change.

He decides to occupy himself by setting down his belongings while avoiding your lingering gaze.

You were terrible at the art of subtlety.

But he thought it was so goddamn cute.

“What are you smiling at?” You speak up. He had been unknowingly grinning at his Business Law and Ethics textbook like a complete fool. Oh God.

Clearing his throat, he faux coughs into his sleeve to hide the hot pink tint that was decorating the apples of his cheeks. “T-this coffee… tastes really good.”

You let out a small chuckle as he swipes the cup off the table and begins to down the contents of the cup like he’d been deprived of liquids for the past week.

Damn it, you’re so cute.

His lips detach from the cup as he blurts out with his eyes wide, “I’m so… what?”

Your eyes mirror his, widening at the realization that you just said he was cute, out loud. Before you know it, your hand reaches out to snatch your coffee, taking one long swig before setting it down on the table with a thunk.

“I mean the coffee– like the packaging!”

His brows furrowed together, making you want to almost groan in exasperation for his need to mock you. There is definitely not anything rather special, or cute even, about a cardboard cup. “Wait, what about the packaging?”

“It’s biodegradable and… nice-looking.”

With the two of you frequenting the local library in the middle of finals season, many people seemed to have the same idea of studying here as well.

The most likely underpaid librarian is far too engrossed in her own recreational reading to try to settle the commotion of all the students in the library. And it just so happens that the children’s tutoring program had started its hours as well.

The noises were starting to overpower the lo-fi beats you had been routinely blasting into your ears, and it was beginning to get really hard to focus. Looking up at the man sitting in front of you, you could infer that he was struggling as well— fiddling with the empty coffee cup at his hand as he stared off at the children sitting at their miniature-sized desks and missing the lines of their coloring pages.

If you were mistaken, you can make out a lot of peers from school, and in all honesty, you did not want to be seen by them right now. Small talk was never really your forte anyway.

“Hey.”

Yoongi’s focus shifts to you with a raise of a brow.

“I think I might head home early, it’ll probably be easier for me to work there.” You tell him, already feeling the fragments of guilt poking at you since he already had the predetermined plan of meeting you here. And even buying you a coffee and remembering your exact order above all.

“I’ll make it up to you by buying you coffee next time, I swear.” You laugh off to relieve some of the guilt that was still eating away at you.

“Nah, it’s not needed. I was thinking of heading to my school‘s library in a bit anyway.” He responds with a deep sigh and visible fatigue in his features.

You stand there wordlessly, feet unwilling to move from their current spot, the guilt quite literally eating away at your ability to walk all of a sudden.

“Y/N.”

He snaps you out of your statued reverie. “What?”

He crosses his arms, “It’s fine I promise, don’t worry about it.”

Slouching, you slither your way back down to the seat, “No, I feel so bad.”

“But what did I do?” He smiles, the sound that comes out of his lips a little hesitant and akin to a chuckle but sounded more like he was trying to get a hairball out of his throat. You smile back.

“Nothing.” That’s the problem.

Jutting out his bottom lip in concentration, he sets his arms on the table to direct his focus towards you, “Okay, why don’t you just come with me then?”

You point at yourself, as if he was directing his question to someone else other than you. “Am I allowed to come in there with you?”

He nods easily, giving you the presumption that you were far too worried about it, “They don’t manage who comes in and out of there anyway. And you can pass as a college student.”

“Well, I hope I do. I’m literally going to be there in like a few months.” You note, because other than the piles of schoolwork all your teachers assign and the near lucid dreams about the boy sitting in front of you, college was another topic of interest that took up a lot of real estate in your mind.

“That’s true. Let’s head out then.”

You two leisurely vacate from the commotion of the library, hopping into Yoongi’s car and dipping before the parking lot becomes more filled.

The car ride had the same comfortable silence it had the first time. He handed you the AUX with the simple instructions of ‘Just play something that won’t put us to sleep.’ with a long yawn at the end to top it off.

And so you turned on the playlist that you prepared for the event of when you could finally drive on your own and blast whatever the hell music you wanted.

You can see his cute head bobbing to the rhythm as he continued to drive, and so you forced yourself to look away and lean against the window. The vibration of the bass against your cheekbone was the only thing keeping you from conking out entirely.

He pulls into the parking lot, and you finally sit up—taking a moment to scan the university and its rather large campus. If you thought the library parking lot was full then your eyes must have been undermining themselves because there was such a sparse amount of parking spots, you weren’t even sure how Yoongi managed to find one so quickly.

Catching sight of all the students roaming the streets, you begin to partake in your people-watching habits. One thing you could clearly detect was the bustle and hastened pace of the students, probably rushing to crash in their dorms or their next class or to snatch a free table at the library.

“Are you sure I can just go to the library here?” You ask him once more as you step out into the chilly spring breeze.

He leans against the car door, talking to you over the roof of his car, “There’s so many people that go here, I’m telling you they won’t notice.”

“What if I stick out?” You argue, a very shitty argument may you say.

He laughs, raising a brow at you, “Do you want to stick out?”

“I want to be practically invisible.” You joke, except you’re not quite sure if it’s really a joke after all.

“Alright,” he leans down to open his car, getting something that you can’t quite see out of the backseat. “Put this on.”

He throws the undisclosed object to you, and you bear hug it in midair to catch it. You unfold the wrinkled fabric in your hands, and read the big, imprinted letters of the university on the front of the sweatshirt.

“See. Now you’ll look more like a student than half the people that actually go here.” He says with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, setting your backpack down to slip the sweatshirt on. Pausing halfway, your face is buried in the thick fabric when the sweet scent of his cologne hits your nose. Dismissing it, you pull the rest of the sweatshirt onto your body—the sleeves were far past your hands, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs. Throwing the hood over your head, your eyes land on the red string on your finger that has implacably maintained its glimmer.

Looking up from your hands, you notice Yoongi’s eyes shift quickly to avoid yours. He presses a button to crack open his trunk, grabbing his belongings out before reaching out to shut it close.

“Pause, is that a guitar case?” You point out before he can shut the door.

“Oh,” he blurts out, almost forgetting that he had it in there, “Yeah, it is.”

Your eyes remained on the black case, amazed at the sight like you’ve never seen one before, “You play guitar?”

“A little.” He replies reservedly, a tint of pink spreading across his cheekbones.

“Can I hear you play one of these days? I have a feeling you're bluffing.” Your eyes narrow, trying to milk the true talent of this mysterious man out of him. You don’t know him too well, almost not at all, but you could guess that he has a lot of love for music.

He smirks, shutting the trunk close before leaning on it, “And why would I bluff?

“I highly doubt you just have a whole guitar in your car that you only play ‘a little’ of.” You assert, mocking his tone by making your voice go several octaves lower. His lips stretch into a grin, tucking his lips into his mouth to withhold the laughter that was about to seep out of his lips.

Walking through the campus, you stay closer to his side; in case of the situation that you would get lost in the crowd with a bunch of people you didn’t know at a place you have never stepped foot in until now.

“You look like one of those Harry Potter things.” He states without looking in your direction.

You glance towards him, brows scrunched in thought, “Dementors?”

“Yeah, those. I can’t even see your face and you’re looking at me. I think.” He teases while leaning down to meet you at eye level. You scrunch your face in disapproval, and he mirrors your face exactly—scrunching his nose and puffing up his cheeks before you two lose it and break out into laughter.

“I probably look two feet shorter with this on.”

“You do.”

“Hey!” You gasp, feigning and exaggerating the anger in your tone. You cross your arms, your hands still enveloped in the fabric and nowhere to be seen as you trudge your way besides the boy.

After so much walking, you two finally make it into the library.

The building was bustling with students, all clad in sweatpants and solemn expressions to express the mutual disdain they all carry for finals week. And you realize you are one and the same.

The library is quite big, standing at around four stories from what you can observe, with plenty of books and supplies along with plenty of open areas for these debt-ridden students to be spending most of their days and nights studying. Which was also going to be you pretty soon as well.

How exciting.

“I’d get us a study room, but they’re all reserved. And I think we’d both need campus IDs anyway,” he tells you, coming to a stop at a table that neared the corner of the first floor.

“No worries, I don’t mind wherever we sit.” You affirm as you sit across from him.

You guys resume your study session as if Yoongi didn’t have to travel through half an hour of rush hour traffic just to get here. Both of your books and pencils are scattered in a disarray on the table, the blue light from your computers shining on both of your faces per usual in hopes of getting another productive day of studying down, as it was the final stretch of finals week, and then graduation coming faster than you could comprehend.

Maybe you were in over your head, but just being here, sitting in a collegiate library with your head buried in your Calculus book and your soulmate just inches away—it seems like you were already getting a glimpse of the future and what it could entail. And for the first time in this entire year full of people telling you how fast things are going to come at you and how time just seems more like an illusion, without a moment to sink in what’s around you and dwell on the brevity of events.

It felt like you were beginning to accept this without the inclinations of fear creeping through your mind and body.

“Y/N?” Yoongi calls out to you. He notices that your eyes have been glued to the window for a fair amount of time, your chin propped on your palm as your curious, doe eyes stare into the swarming, bustling quad. “Are you okay?”

Yoongi knew you were very pretty from the moment he saw you, but it was the first time he was able to observe you, or admire you closely if he was being completely frank. The sun bathed you in it’s golden embrace, it’s bright streaks of light dancing upon you like you were the only one in it’s line of sight. It accentuated all your greatest features, kissing you with it’s celestial touch that made you look all the more ravishing and real and so intimate despite being more than an arm’s length away.

You know those few moments that you experience in your life where for that small, fixed moment in time everything just feels like it’s where it supposed to be—as if the moment was written in verbatim for you to live through, experience, and later on treasure and later look back on with fondness and a smile.

Your eyes shift to him, softening as you notice the gentle smile adorning his lips, his dim eyes twinkling from the effects of golden hour, in which you reply back with your own lazy grin. Your eyes tear away from his face before you could feel yourself falling into oblivion and for what felt like getting completely lost in his orbs without reservation.

You chuckle, eyes casting down back onto your laptop, “I’m fine, you?”

Yoongi didn’t know you all too well, and it was indefinite how long you would be placed in his life. But in this very moment, where it felt like you were the only one present in a library filled with hundreds, he knew that even if you were to leave tomorrow and you two were to never cross paths ever again after that, he wouldn’t be able to forget you.

Even if he tried.

And he was already scared of losing you, but then again, you weren’t even his to begin with.

You were under the sun’s bewitching kiss, but he was pretty sure that he wanted to kiss you just a little bit more.

Yoongi can’t seem to look away from you, “I’m great.”

Shutting the screen of his laptop enough for you to notice he says, “It’s getting late, do you need to be home soon?”

You shake your head, your hands reaching up to your hair and pulling the hair tie that’s just barely been holding your hair up and out of your face for the past few hours. “Nah, I told my parents I’ll be studying out late with friends. They’re pretty lax about curfew and stuff as long as I don’t show up home at like 4 in the morning.”

Your words emit a chuckle out of him, “Good to know, it’s the perks of finally being legal coming to fruition, huh.”

Nodding in agreement, your brows raise at how true of a statement it truly was, “No actually, as a joke I would make the argument of how they can’t micromanage me anymore since I’m eighteen, but then they agreed with me and I just ran with it I guess.”

The aftereffects of studying without much abating was starting to catch up to you—your yawns becoming more frequent as the sun started to set and people slowly started to simultaneously leave but also file in for some late-night, last-minute cramming.

“Are you leaving town for college?” He asks while shutting his laptop, giving you his full attention.

“Yeah, I am,” you sigh, “it’s actually not too far from here, but it’s like an hour and a half away from home so I’m dorming there.”

“You excited?”

You take a moment to think about it, deciding to just be outright. “Scared more than anything, if I’m being honest.”

“I can promise you it’s not as scary as it seems, it just takes some time to get adjusted to, of course. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He tells you, and despite many people saying words so similar to his, the fact that he’s saying it directly to you makes you want to believe it just a bit more than all the others.

“You’ve probably heard the same inspirational spiel from so many people, so I’ll save you the headache.” He chuckles, knowing that he too, was just in the same position as you only a year ago.

“No but, I feel like you’re more trustworthy of a source considering you just graduated last year,” you reassure him, “instead of a bunch of 50 year olds whose tuition was probably the cost of a textbook now.”

“The fact that it’s true is just fucked. We’re set up for failure before we even start.”

You nod, both of your faces having the same expression of ‘tell me about it’ painted across them.

Yoongi pops up in his seat, “Is it too late for you to get food? I’m starving.”

“God,” you huff out in relief, “I was hoping you didn’t hear my stomach growling this whole time.”

He clicks his tongue, a smile spreading across his cheeks, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shut your laptop this time. “But what if you weren’t hungry?”

As soon as you zip your backpack closed, he takes you by the wrist—slinging his own backpack over his shoulder. He glances over his shoulder back at you, his eyes crinkled up and his gums on full display. The first time you’ve seen him smile this bright all day.

His beauty is blinding.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Never ever let me scarf down McDonald’s that fast ever again.”

He laughs, the raspiness of his voice making him sound like he was out of breath. Or he might be, but you’re too over-satiated to be aware of what was going on. “Please don’t yak in my car, I’m not cleaning up after you.”

Leaned back in the passenger’s seat, you get up slightly, just enough to nudge him in the shoulder. “Don’t make me consider it, asshole.”

“Alright, no Mcflurry for you then.”

“No!” You shoot up in your seat, leaning over the center console in which he holds the cup out the window.

He smirks, leaning in towards you, “I thought someone wasn’t hungry, hm?”

“I just ate too fast, I did not say anything about being full.” You explain with a frown, eyes glued to the cup that he was still holding out the window. “At least don’t waste the poor thing.”

He concedes, bringing the cup back inside the car and handing it to you, “Hold on, let me get one more bite.”

You nod while holding the cup for him, watching him closely in case he ends up downing the entire thing the moment you look away. He’s aware of your focus on him, and as the spoon is about to enter his mouth, he dips a finger in—leaning forward to smear it across your cheek.

“Yoongi!” You shriek as he drops the spoon into the cup and makes a run for it—fiddling with the handle of his car door and running out.

You run out as soon as he does, scooping up as much ice cream into your hand as you can as you scan the premises for any sight of that boy.

Because right now, revenge tastes sweeter than any ice cream.

Noticing a lock of hair peeking out from the rear end of his car, you inch towards his trunk, keeping your hand behind your back as you jump around the corner to face him.

His eyes widen in horror at the entire scoop of soft serve in the palm of your hand, and he attempts to make his pursuit, only to realize that you two were parked in between two other cars.

You manage to get ahold of his jacket sleeve, and instead of Yoongi running away, he relents. Turning around and accepting his defeat as you greet him with a smug smile, bringing your dripping palm into his line of vision.

“Okay, that’s just unfair.” He deadpans, staring into the obscene amount of ice cream in your hand, the cup got discarded somewhere along the chase.

Taking a swoop of it in your finger, you reach up to place a dollop of it right on the apple of his cheek—swirling it around to make a circle. You do the same thing on the other side.

“You look pretty,” you say, because he does. He always does.

He takes your wrist, dipping his finger into the ice cream before placing some of it onto the tip of your nose, “You look much prettier.”

“Mine as well stick a cherry on my nose at this point.”

“Oh, you know that would’ve been the first thing I’d do if I had one,” he teases, thinking you would make a very cute Rudolph.

Yoongi reaches into his car to get a couple of napkins as you try to get rid of the dripping, sticky mess on your fingers.

Before you realize, he gently grabs your wrist again, wiping your palm with the napkin before he could clean off any of the mess on his face.

You stare at him as he wipes your hand, the way he holds your wrist so delicately with his calloused fingers. Grabbing one of the bottles of water in his car, you saturate a napkin, before reaching up to help wipe some of the ice cream off his face.

“You don’t have to—“

You smile, hands leaving his face momentarily, “It’s fine.”

He stands there, unable to make eye contact as his eyes shift to every single thing surrounding you two except you.

You can’t make any eye contact either, thanking the dim night sky for the fact that he can’t see how fierce you’re blushing right now.

Grabbing a napkin from his pocket, he pushes some of your hair back with his other hand, leaning in closer to get a better look of your face before bringing the napkin up to wipe away the big smear of cream on your cheek.

You freeze at his actions, his face clean for the most part as he begins to wipe away at the mess he caused. Not that you were complaining anymore.

He takes a finger and swipes off the dollop of cream he put on your nose— pausing for a bit before inching forward even closer, smearing the remaining cream onto your lips.

Without thinking, you’ve been inching closer this whole time too, so close in proximity where all you can see is his face, all his beautiful details and lack of imperfections. Did he always have a mole on his cheek there?

When he finishes smearing the cream onto your lips he wipes the excess off his fingers with a napkin, eyes stayed focused on yours. And you realize this is the first time you two have held eye contact for this long.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, but you immediately regret it as the corner of his lip curls up to what would resemble a subtle smirk. You feel him lean in closer, your bodies millimeters from colliding in the already tight space between two cars— but he pauses in his spot before your lips can meet, leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“Only if you’re okay with this, Y/N.”

His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he’s perched over your shoulder. Bringing a hand up to the nape of his neck, you gently guide his head back to meet face-to-face once again.

“I am.”

You’re not quite sure who closes the gap first, but your lips meet and a flurry of instant shockwaves shoot down your spine at the initial touch. He brings a hand up to the small of your back, pulling you in closer so that there’s no space in between your bodies.

While getting your first taste of him, the taste of the cold ice cream lingers on your tongue, and you’re wondering if this was just what exactly he had intended. You feel your mind go fuzzy, numb-like as he continues to kiss you, and you kiss him back, and you swear you’ve never felt more at home than you do right now— wrapped in his arms, lips against yours, and sending the gleam of the string glowing as bright as it ever been before as he continues to kiss you.

Your lips detached, and the two of you are almost out of breath, panting as you two stare at each other in bewilderment of what had just occurred.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he admits shyly as he tucks a loose strand of your hair away.

“I think I like eating my ice cream like that, I don’t know.” You tease, your hand reaching down to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Oh, do you now?” He scoffs, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead as you lean into his chest.

“Yes, I do,” you speak into his shirt, “but it’s getting cold, can we go in your car?”

He laughs as he opens the door he was leaning against, scooting so there was enough space for you in the backseat.

As soon as you get yourself situated, you sigh, your body slumping against his backseat, “Yoongi, I have something to tell you.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Quirking a brow, “Do you wanna be?”

“Possibly.” He says in a low whisper, a small grin etching itself onto his features.

Oh God, you don’t think your heart can handle much of this any longer.

“Okay, I’m not sure if you remember but I know I do,” you chuckle, your mind briefly glossing over just about how much of your time had been spent daydreaming about the boy sitting right in front of you— if he was doing okay, if he was smiling right now, how he looked, if he ate breakfast that day. You tell him, glancing up to stare into his eyes under the dimness of being in his car, “We’ve met before.”

His head tilts, brows raising slightly at the confession, “We have?”

“Yeah, now this might sound creepy as fuck,” you say, letting out a hollow chuckle in the air to ease your nerves, and to hopefully sound less like a sputtering fool, yet it was already too late for that, “but did you happen to go to Pacifica Beach 10 years ago? With your family?”

“No fucking way,” he deadpans, and you’re slightly taken aback at his choice of words, his expression unreadable, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the way your heart was beating erratically in your chest, or if it was because it was nighttime and the lights inside his car weren’t working, “Are you the girl? The girl that fell in the sand?”

Your jaw nearly drops to your lap, you shake your head, shaking off some of the astonishment and awe on your features, “You remember?”

“I mean, yeah, at the age of nine I thought you were pretty hot,” he confesses with a smile, making you laugh and alleviating the tenseness in your shoulders, thankful for the boy in front of you always knowing the right time to say certain things, a talent in which you wish you had, “Even for getting wet sand all over my favorite shorts.”

“I think I’m still as clumsy as I was ten years ago, unfortunately.”

“It’s cute, don’t worry about it.” He says like it was something so obvious. Like his words weren’t going to make you want to curl up in his seat even more. “How did you know it was me?”

Oh, here we go. You take a deep inhale, fingers grasping at the hem of his sweatshirt. “That's the thing… you know the whole red string soulmate thing.

You can’t make this out in the darkness, but his lips press into a thin line, he stares down into his lap while nodding at your words. “Yeah, what about it.”

Damn it, just say it already.

“The string is connected between us, Yoongi.”

His head perks up, “So that means—”

“Yoongi,” you whisper, reaching across the seats to gently take his hand into yours, “we’re soulmates.” You say just loud enough for him to hear, admiring the way his hand fits quite nicely in yours.

His head droops down, avoiding your gaze as he tries to slither his hand out of your grasp. Your eyes widen at his actions, creases of worry developing on your forehead at his lack of enthusiasm, or lack of anything for that matter.

He coughs dryly into his sleeve, awkward, and not at all seeming like he registered anything you had just told him. Like you just told him the weather forecast or that his laundry was done.

“I see.”

Scooting back towards the door, you stare down at your lap, wishing that the darkness of the night sky would swallow you whole and that you could take back the last ten minutes. If the genie of Aladdin popped up right now, it would be the first wish you would request.

The mood had evidently changed, in the matter of your brief confession and his lack of reaction thereof. The silence was thick like fog, suffocating you, encasing you, and you don’t think you have ever regretted saying something so much until this very moment.

Years and years spent imagining this very moment that you would confess to your soulmate the truth about your ability to see the string, was blown into oblivion. No chance to take it back, to reverse time and keep your words contained in the cabinets of your mind for safekeeping. Everything was all laid out. Whether you liked it or not.

And you just screwed it all up.

You can feel yourself nearing to tears, your eyes brimming to their capacity, eyelashes damp, “Yoongi, did I say something wro—”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he cuts you off, “I forgot I have to do some last-minute packing before I leave tomorrow. I’ll drop you off back home.” He says, immediately opening the door and retreating to the driver’s seat.

You quickly wipe the tears from your eyes as you quickly trudge to the passenger’s side, refusing to make eye contact with him as you plop yourself into his seat and stare out the window as he starts the car and leaves the parking lot.

He plays music from his own phone to avoid half an hour of silence. You two don’t say a single word the whole time, and you don’t bother to spare him a glance—letting the tears you were trying so desist, escape freely down your face and onto the sleeves of his hoodie as you stare out the window.

Finally reaching your house, you hastily get out of his car as soon as he puts it in park—not returning his hoodie, and not sparing a single glance behind you as you had no intentions of speaking to the man who had just ruined every ounce of longing and expectation you had to meet and fall in love with your soulmate.

As soon as you fall under your covers, your sobs wrack your body for what seems like eternity, unable to calm yourself down and instead deciding to cry all your feelings out— only able to fall asleep once your body grows too tired to cry any longer.

Min Yoongi was going back home tomorrow, and if you never spoke to him again after today, so be it.

Curse Min Yoongi for being the cause of your puffy, red eyes and lack of sleep the day that you graduate high school. This day was supposed to be a day of utmost prominence, given your age, and new beginnings—a close on a chapter you were sure you would look back on with both fondness and distaste with years to come.

But instead of focusing on that aspect of today, you could only dwell on yesterday. Yesterday night, in particular.

The day of your high school graduation, you were awoken to your phone blaring ceaselessly into your eardrums—your phone placed accordingly so you were sure that you would wake up early enough to get ready, save your damaged ears.

Your lids were heavy, and after what seemed like five alarms had passed you grumble out of annoyance as you swipe your phone off your bedside table. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you turn on your phone to realize that the sound from your phone in fact, wasn’t an alarm, it was from someone calling you.

Yoongi was calling you.

At 4:30 in the morning.

You shoot up in your bed as you read the name that pops up on your screen. Pondering for a bit before swiping to answer, you bring your phone up to your ear.

“Y/N?”

“What do you want, Yoongi? It’s really early.”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, you know I’m leaving today.”

You groan, “I’m also graduating today, Yoongi, Can you just tell me over the phone?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But this is something I need to tell you in person. Please, I swear it won’t be long, and I’ll buy you coffee and breakfast.”

You sigh into your phone, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine.”

“I’m sorry for how I acted last night, Y/N. It was cowardly of me, and I just need to explain some stuff to you before I go.”

“Okay.” You deadpan, holding back tears once more. Although they never really stopped, honestly.

“Alright, thank you, Y/N. I’m outside your house.”

You hang up, as you slide out of your bed, walking up to your window to peek through the curtains to see that he was, in fact, parked on the curb in front of your house.

Slipping on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, you brush your teeth and leave the house with your phone in your pocket and your heart no longer on your sleeve in the presence of Min Yoongi.

You stood in your bathroom for a little longer, contemplating and backtracking on everything that had occurred this past week—the insurmountable amount of highs in comparison to lows.

You couldn’t help but think that it was destined for you to meet Yoongi and as much as you could pretend to hate his guts, pretend that you don’t love him or like him, or hate him, he would find some way to slither himself back into your life.

But back when you were seven, getting visions of a boy you didn’t even know and having this gnawing feeling at your heart due to the fact that they weren’t beside you—how were you supposed to comprehend that back then?

That same sense of control you thought you once regained as you aged was seeping out of your fingertips. All those unanswered questions that had you brimming with ambivalence were getting answered one by one.

Everything you had imagined him to be was appearing right before your very eyes. From the way his own pupils carry stars that appear to be handpicked from the sky itself, to his round cheeks that you would puff up when he was concentrating on something, turning rosy whenever you’d say something to provoke him, his rough and cold hands that you couldn’t wait another minute to be held with. His mouth that speaks words of wisdom beyond his years, but also snarky remarks that make it hard to withhold your laughter. The natural, deep timbre of his voice and the raspy laugh that you could hear on repeat for the rest of your life.

He was everywhere. And he was everything but avoidable.

It took years later for you to realize that fate had its own way of working. Regardless of all the stunning people you had encountered, that had charmed you, that had you swooning for them—they were never going to get anywhere near the same effect that Min Yoongi had on you.

The only sand you were having to confront now was the hourglass tracking the amount of time you had been stalling to tell him— the final grains slowly making their escape to the bottom to join the rest of their friends.

You walk out your front door only to be greeted by him standing at your doorstep, a bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“Congrats on graduating today.”

Your eyes flicker from his face to the flowers as he hands them to you. You wordlessly acknowledge him, giving him a tight-lipped nod in appreciation as he turns around and goes to his car, you trailing behind him while keeping your distance.

You climb into his car, slamming the door shut and throwing your hood over your head—presuming the position you had the night before on the drive home, your chin in the palm of your hand as you stared out his car window with the flowers resting in your lap.

Yoongi looked over at you from time to time, knowing that he very well deserved this cold demeanor from you. He stayed quiet and kept driving to his destination, waiting until he would get there to say what he wanted to say.

You lull into sleep as he continues to drive, your forehead resting against the window of his car. At a stoplight, he glances over your figure to see your eyes shut and he makes a note to take his turns more carefully so he wouldn’t disturb you.

He parks on the side of the road as he reaches his stop. The car stops humming and your eyes peel open as he opens his car door. You slip your hood off enough to see out the window and you notice that you’re at the record shop you’ve probably been to hundreds of times, and now, Yoongi’s workplace.

He fishes out the keys in his pocket as he starts to fiddle with the door handle. It’s pitch black outside, no one to be seen while none of the shops on the downtown strip are open, or about to be open anytime soon.

Unlocking the door, he motions you to go in first. You step carefully into the shop, noticing how everything is in pristine condition— the shelves stocked for the most part and the floors sparkling.

“Is it okay that we're in here?” You ask, taking in the quietness of the store and how weird it felt being here without all the noise from all the people you’ve grown up on the same streets with.

“Yeah, they’re both out of town so we’re closed for the weekend.”

You nod, as you continue to window shop at all the records. Yoongi locks the door behind him, walking past you as he begins to make his way towards the back.

“Follow me.”

And you do, you don’t have a choice, really. He shuts off the lights to the store and pulls the switch to the small overhead lamp in the middle of the breakroom. The small, vintage looking lamp manages to illuminate the room just enough for you to observe the rest of the space.

It reminds you of a basement that older homes have, wooden and simple, but comfortable enough to be labeled as a break room. A couple of shelves filled with boxes stood in the corner of the room, the rest of their inventory, you assume.

A worn out leather couch stands on the other side, the leather fading to a lighter shade of brown a tad on the armrests, but still looking intact overall.

A mini fridge stood next to it with a microwave and coffee maker on top.

But the most noticeable piece of furniture in the room was the record player.

It stood off on its own, kept more hidden to be treasured aside from everything else. Unlike the other record players that you would always see in the store, this one looked different.

The others once were probably newer models, with improved needles, buttons and improvements in technology to make it easier to play whatever records one may choose. While the record appeared spotless and clean, it looked like no one had used it in a really long time. It stood on a wooden podium, kept safe in a glass case.

Tearing your focus away from the record player, your eyes scan for Yoongi as you find him patiently waiting for you on the leather couch. He’s hunched over with his arms resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stares at the floor.

You sit across from him, squishing yourself against the armrest to be as far away from him as possible.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You ask. He sits upright on the couch as he continues to look forward instead of at you. You do the same.

He sighs, turning towards you. “First off, I just wanna say sorry about last night. I completely blew you off when I know you had just disclosed something that was really important to you—“

“To me?” You cut him off, appalled.

“Y/N,” he calls out, and for the first time you look at him straight in the eyes, shooting daggers as you give him the most intense glare you could muster, “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Your eyes soften on their own accord. You were shitty at concealing your feelings, and you were sure that your face was expressing the immense amount of sadness his words are making you feel. You turn away from him in hopes of him not noticing. You can feel your bottom lip quivering, another wave of tears threatening to deter your vision.

You scoff, feeling the beginning stages of anger starting to creep into your body. “Did you bring me here just to tell me that?”

Yoongi heart breaks upon seeing your face fall at his notions. “I’m here to explain why.”

Taking a deep breath, you stare back at the wall in front of you, giving him a perfunctory nod.

“My parents were soulmates, they met in high school, and got married right after they graduated.” The irony.

“They had me a year later when they both were in college despite having financial troubles, but from what they told me, that was when they were the most happy,” he explains, a crooked smile making way across his lips, “Knowing that they had a son on the way, and going to school, and being able to see each other between all the commotion and everything in between.” He continues further.

He exhales, shaky and hollow, before going on, “That day when you first met me ten years ago was the last vacation I ever went on with my mom.”

You look up, your focus slowly shifting towards him, the guilt managing to ignite through your system in flames, “Yoongi, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. It’s fine,” he tells you with a chuckle to help soothe his apprehension about the subject. “It's just… my mom left when I was still so young, and I had no idea that something was going on. It was like a bomb had dropped, you know. They were perfect in every way when I was growing up—stable jobs, a home they can call their own, always acting so civil and domestic and loving towards one another. I thought everything was fine, or at least it seemed that way. And then suddenly one day it wasn’t. We went from eating dinner every day together as a family to my mom sending me postcards every holiday and visiting once a year.”

You notice that the pace of speech starts to quicken the more he explains, becoming more frantic. Scooting closer to him, you place a hand on his, stopping him in his panic. “Yoongi, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation, okay? I was being selfish, and I should’ve been more considerate.”

He shakes his head, fingers curling around his as he offers you a small smile. “No, I want you to know, and I should’ve communicated better.”

You nod, enclosing another hand around his and squeezing it.

“I don’t know,” he starts off, more controlled, “It’s like she just stopped caring. And yeah, after that I just thought that soulmate shit was all for show. Because it just didn’t make sense to me how a red string can determine so much about a person's life when they can change the course of everything so easily.”

You hum, because his justification was very much valid. “No, you’re right.”

“Same with love, in a sense,” he continues, placing his other hand atop of yours as he sits back, the conversation coming easier to him, “to put so much of yourself into one person just seems so… I don’t know… unrealistic. All that vulnerability and trust that goes along with being in a relationship just seems like too much to ask for from one person.”

All you can do is nod. As much as you wanted to say that you were willing to go above and beyond for him, you know that your words wouldn’t be able to be evince what you wanted in place of actions.

“I think that’s why being with you scares me, in a way.” He admits, glancing off to not gauge what reaction his words had gotten out of you. He’d rather not see.

“Seeing this string so clearly makes me even more scared,” he explains furthermore, detaching his hand from yours to bring it up to his field of vision.

“You can see it now?”

“I started seeing it when you told me last night.”

A small grin makes its way onto his lips. “Even if I try not to think about you Y/N, there’s no way I can’t.” He tells you as he fiddles with the gleaming thread, intertwining it around his fingers before letting it fall loose around his wrist.

“I don’t know what this feeling is, do I like you? Do I love you? I’m not sure,” he says, “I just know that whenever I see you, I feel happier when you’re around. And that I wanna keep you safe and be the one that makes you happy, too. It sounds so simple, but it feels so complicated to explain.”

“I feel the same way, Yoongi.”

“I just- I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want what we have to be temporary, to be short term. I don’t want you to just be another girl who exits just as fast as they enter. But whatever love is, I think I’d be willing to try with you.”

“Yoongi,” you say, tears brimming at the seams of your already swollen eyes, thanks to your previous flash flood from only a few hours prior, “you’re gonna make me cry, again.”

He scoots closer, his knees bumping into yours as his eyes gloss over you tenderly. You’re avoiding his eyes, using the back of your palms to blot the tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry for making you cry in the first place.”

“Please don’t be sorry. I was being insensitive.” You counter, tasting the teardrops at the seams of your lips.

“How could you be insensitive if you didn’t know what was going on?” He declares. As you let your hands fall to your lap, your tear ducts managing to quiet down for a moment, you feel another pair of hands brush over your own. “How about we just forget what happened last night? We’re flawed, we’re human.”

You chuckle, twining your fingers into his. “I think I’d like that.”

As you turn to face him with a smile, he brings his hand up, looking as if he’s about to scratch his head. His hand pauses, decidedly running a hand through his hair, and moving carefully to reach out towards you.

He brushes the pad of his thumb over your dampened cheek, his touch so soft and gentle that the sensation is barely felt. But you know, oh you know it’s there. The rest of his fingers come to find their place around your jaw, as he uses his other hand to mirror the same motions on the other side of your face.

Yoongi has you almost entirely in his hands. And even with your cheeks wet, hair a mess, wearing clothes that were tattered and two sizes too big, and eyes swollen and red from all the pain he had inflicted upon you— he thought you were so beautiful. Stunning, nonetheless.

He stands up from the couch, holding a hand out for you in hopes that you would grab it. The iridescent string moving in waves as he reaches toward you. “Follow me.”

And so you do.

He brings you out of the break room and back into the store. Switching on the lights, you’re greeted by the overhead buzz of the lamps. Taking a glance out the door, you notice the sun’s rays beginning to make its entrance for the day. Yet it was still far too early to see any signs of civilization out.

“Pick a record.” He tells you.

“What?”

He smiles, all gums, “Pick anything. It’s on me.”

You shake your head, leaning against the register. “No Yoongi, oh my God. No way.”

“Why not?”

“It’s expensive.” You say, crossing your arms for added emphasis.

“And I work, I work here. Think of this as a graduation present.” He reasons, walking deeper into the store as he skims a hand along a shelf of vinyls.

You toe past the register, walking up to his side as you took his forearms in your hands. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he affirms, and the assuredness in his eyes makes you feel like there’s no way you could say no, “Now go pick something out.” He tells you, placing his hands on your shoulders and giving you a slight push towards the shelves.

Your eyes scan the possible hundreds upon hundreds of vinyls that took residence in the shelves, most of them likely artists you’ve never heard of.

Fingertips riding along the spines, you begin to seriously browse, already feeling bad enough for the act of getting an album for free. You didn’t want to add insult to injury by taking an eternity to pick something out.

Too occupied and immersed in finding something, because there’s so much inventory meaning a considerable amount of options to choose from. Narrowing it down to one began to be harder than you thought.

A pair of arms, bigger and clad in a black hoodie, wrap around your waist, hands securing at the curves of your waist as you get pulled in closer.

You feel the soft huffs of his breath tickling the nape of your neck, in which he later rests his chin in— holding you so tight in fear that he might lose you again.

Smiling at the sensation, you place your hands over his, gingerly rubbing the backs of his hands with your thumbs. You tilt your head to the side to rest yours over his tufts of hair, “Hi, there.”

“Hi,” He speaks into your neck, the tickling sensation making you squirm a little.

“I don’t know what to pick, there’s so much to choose from.”

You feel his head move, he nods into your shoulder. “Why don’t you just go to a random section and pick one blindly?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

Scanning what each shelf had been individually labeled with, you decide to make your way over to the most popular presses, Yoongi still pressed up behind you as you two shuffle towards the shelf. As you stop in front of it, you grab his wrist, slapping his hand over your eyes.

Blindly grabbing at air, your hands finally drop onto the albums, fingertips gliding over several before stopping at one unbeknownst to you. Hesitantly, you grab it, sliding it out of the other array of albums.

“Ready to look?”

“Yeah.”

He removes his hands from your eyes, your vision coming back to you. You look down to see Stevie Wonder’s ‘Songs in the Key of Life’ in your hands, and you’re more than elated about your pick.

Wow is the only word that manages to leave your lips.

He hums in shared awe, “We should play it.”

“Are we allowed to use the record players here?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Taking your hand, he leads you to the breakroom once more until he stops in front of the record player in the glass case, still appearing like it hadn’t been used or touched in years.

“Does it still work, you think?” You ask, feeling like you two were overstepping your boundaries even more by attempting to use this.

He wipes some of the dust off of the glass case with his sleeve, carefully unlatching it and lifting it open, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

To your surprise, the record player appears to be in mint condition aside from all the dust and debris that had gathered on the case. It looks practically new.

Yoongi lifts the arm, sliding the record out of the case and onto the turntable. He cautiously cleans off the needle before slowly placing it on the vinyl.

“If it works, can I pick the song?” You ask meekly as you tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. His hands and fingers, although appearing to be rough and calloused, were much more nimble then they seem as he carefully handled the antique machinery.

“Alright,” he huffs out, glancing over his shoulder at you, “it should be all set. Just tell me what track number you want.” He tells you, handing you the vinyl sleeve so you can find what song to play.

You already knew what song to play though. You just needed to know what number it corresponded to. “Track two.”

A small smile creeps onto his lips, as he shifts his focus for you back to the record player. Tucking his bottom lip into his mouth in concentration, he lifts the arm once more, his eyes scanning for the very next groove vinyl as he gently places it there.

You don’t realize you’re staring off into space until you feel a hand on your wrist— the contact surprising you a bit and making you jump. He smiles, motioning back to the record player as he gently tugs your wrist to stand next to him.

“Just press play right here.”

Hesitancy is what you feel. You’re not exactly sure why, it’s not like you’re being asked to do something grandiose or complicated. And regardless of how much sleep you had gotten or, at least wish you had gotten, he wasn’t asking much of you.

But you press it.

The vinyl gradually begins to spin, and you can detect the intro of the song— faint keys of the piano playing in a melody that brings a smile to your lips.

Yoongi looks at you fondly, you begin sidestepping to the rhythm of the song. He steps back to crash back onto the couch.

Reaching out a hand, you turn towards him with a pout, “Get up.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, feigning annoyance but the affection he holds for you clearly appears up more than the latter. He slides his hand into yours, letting you tug him up from the couch.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

Glancing down at your hands, you see the string swirling around your figures, it’s light emitting a glow as bright as you’ve ever seen. Yoongi notices you looking down, and his eyes trail down to your hands. He reaches for them, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours, and squeezing them briefly before looking back up.

“Dance with me.” You say under your breath, detaching and bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

Your hands trail from his shoulders all the way down to his hands, grabbing both of his wrists and placing his hands on the small of your back. You look back up to see him chuckling at your assertiveness, and as you place your hands back on his shoulders, you can feel him bring your body closer to his, and so you wrap your hands around the nape of his neck, similar to those cheesy prom scenes in a coming-of-age movie.

Well, you two weren’t very far from that. You both had wide, lazy, and near foolish grins painted across your faces, eyes half-lidded and worn out from the day before. Rocking side and side to the beat of the music, the ends of his bangs falling into his eyes, his gums on full display as his smile does everything but fade.

The small overhead lamp that just barely served its function to illuminate the break room wasn’t on. It didn’t need to be.

Not when the man standing in front of you was finally here, his presence feeling extrusive almost. Even more than the string that’s been stuck to your finger all your life wasn’t compared to any of this— none of it prepared you for the moment that you would finally be standing in front of your soulmate, experiencing how it felt to be cherished and loved. You felt whole.

“You gonna miss me?” You tease, tilting your head as you rest your forehead on his.

He smiles, “I’m not going there for the whole summer you know, only a month.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” he affirms, pecking the tip of your nose, “then I’m all yours.”

You kiss him. It’s not as intimate as the kiss you two shared last night, but you’re grabbing him by the sides of his face, inching closer to slot your lips into his before pulling back with a smile.

He strokes a hand through your hair gingerly, his fingers hooking under your jaw “You’re beautiful.”

“Don’t miss me too much, eh?” You taunt, although you feel yourself automatically sink into his touch.

“Oh, shut up.” He cuts you off with a wide grin, leaning forward to shut you up with his lips.

thank u so much for reading!!! <3