#btswritersnet

Were you actually going to do this? Was this really happening?

As you stood in front of the tattoo parlor christened “Inked in Blue & Grey,” by the messily arranged jagged font that laid out the cobalt blue neon letters decorating the shopfront, you almost chickened out. 

When you had been scrolling through Yelp late at night two weeks ago, flitting between the stages of depression and bargaining as you made your way through the grief from the breakup between you and your ex, Donghyuk, your eyes had stopped on the highly rated tattoo parlor – 4.9 stars? That was practically unheard of, especially when they had reviews and ratings in the tens of thousands. It hadn’t taken much for you, with eyes hurting from the blue light of your cellphone in the late hours and a head aching from how wine drunk you were, to quickly find the link to their website and sign up for an appointment to get twin nipple piercings. Well, no one ever wanted a singular nipple piercing to your knowledge. But you had no doubt that there were countless people out there who had chickened out from the pain of the first to not follow through with the second one.

You slowly pulled your lower lip with your teeth, softly biting down on the plump flesh as you had your head tilted up towards the intimidatingly bright letters of the parlor’s sign. The last time you had gotten any piercings was in summer camp ten years ago when Yuju had stabbed your ears through with a sewing needle. The needle had been unbearably hot from having been heated by the flame of the fluid lighter she had snuck into camp by tucking it in the black Nike crew socks she had been wearing on drop off day. It had stung you with the quick flashing pain of a burning stab wound. 

Yuju had been your last resort to get additional ear piercings which you had thought were so cool after you saw your brother walk into the house one day with several new helix piercings to go along with his lobe ones. You had begged your mother for another set of piercings, tired of having the boring set of two you had. You wouldn’t get them in the cartilage like Jimin had but wanted to add to your lobe. Your mother had vehemently denied your protests and grounded Jimin for sneaking out and getting piercings with his best friend Taehyung. 

You had complained about it to your cabin mates, who had seen the scores of tween and teen campers swoon over your brother and his friends who seemed edgy and dangerous. Your friends however were immune to their appeal and knew that they weren’t much more than geeky nerds who carefully hid their embarrassing tastes in both anime and porn. Hearing thirteen-year-old Y/N complain about her plight in the late-night whispers covered by the chirping of crickets that kept the night camp counselors from checking in on your cabin, Yuju had jumped down from her bunk into yours and eagerly offered to help you increase your total number of piercings up to four.

Looking back, you had no idea why you had trusted Yuju’s dubious claims of working at the Claire’s in the mall close to her house for three months. Later on, you found out that it had actually been Yuju’s older sister who had had the nice mall gig. The incident had left you with piercings that kept getting infected until one of them finally closed up, and you were still rocking the asymmetrical ear-piercing look, almost a decade later with one dangly earring threaded with stars on your right ear while a cubic zirconium stud and gold bedazzled moon clipped your left ear. You never saw the point of getting them fixed and had avoided piercings and needles to the best of your abilities until now.

You thought you pulled off the mixed jewelry look pretty well, but your face instantly scrunched up with an unhappy frown when you remembered Donghyuk telling you to wear matching earrings when you went out on dates with him. You bit down on the flesh of your bottom lip harder as you recalled how Donghyuk had constantly berated you and put you down for the entire duration of your three-year long relationship. Your face twisted as though a bitter taste had flooded your mouth when you remembered that your mother had been expecting him to propose to you this year. Why had you begged him for another chance when he callously threw your arms off him as he stomped around the apartment gathering up his things, ignoring your pleas and requests for an explanation until he couldn’t take it anymore? Then Donghyuk had turned around to you, glaring at you with the heat of his hard black-brown eyes, staring you down resentfully from his towering height of 6’2.

“I broke up with you because I’m tired of having such mind-numbingly vanilla sex with a woman who never comes. You’re so boring and honestly, I’m just not attracted to you anymore, Y/N. I thought I could change the meek mousy weirdo. But after three years, it looks like I was wrong,” he had said with a caustic bite to the venomous hate he spewed from his mouth.

Yes. You remembered exactly why you had booked that appointment in the fuzzy high you had gotten from too much wine and “Emily in Paris.” You had been so livid. Of all people, Donghyuk thought you were boring? Unadventurous, and vanilla? You were the one who was always holding yourself back from being too enthusiastic during sex because he could only get off when he was doing you doggy style with his hand covering your mouth in what he thought was his attempt at BDSM in the bedroom.

Your eyes lit up with renewed heat and you found yourself marching forward to the door and swinging it towards you with a powerful pull as you made your way in. Your newfound confidence only lasted until you made your way to the receptionist. There, you found yourself fumbling once more.

“Hi, I’m Park Y/N,” you stammered nervously, “I – uh, I made an appointment for… um nipple piercings,” you whispered the last bit, embarrassedly as your neck straightened and you twisted your head around to make sure no one else had overheard you. “Two weeks ago? I made my piercing appointment a while back,” you finished more confidently.

The receptionist stared at you expressionlessly. “What time is your appointment?” she asked, tucking back a vibrant purple lock of hair behind her ear.

“It’s – it’s the one o’ clock,” you mumbled, clearing your throat uneasily. You had never been in an establishment like this before and dressed in your oversized sage colored waffle knit sweater and a pair of charcoal gray Lululemon leggings you felt wildly out of place.

“Alright Y/N, here are the forms you need to fill out before you do this,” she said easily, plucking out the thick stapled document out of a manila folder. “Just a reminder, this is a semi-permanent body modification and this will close up rather quickly if you go without wearing jewelry for too long. There are pages on your medical history and if you have any allergies on the front. Prices and payment information are on the pages following that. The documents explaining the procedure and aftercare are at the end. We’ll send you home with a list of instructions on how to care for your new piercings after your appointment ends as well.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by the staggering amount of information she had just thrown your way. As you sat down at the oatmeal colored sherpa sofa at the reception and read through all the health risks and warnings, making sure you were taking in all of the information, carefully signing all the lines and checking off all the boxes, you wondered if you were in over your head.

Technically, it wasn’t too late for you to turn your back on this. You would lose your deposit, but you could still walk away – pain free. What would Jimin do if he found out that you had gotten your nipples pierced? Probably murder you, based on how he had reamed you and Yuju out after your ears had gotten infected from swimming in the lake the camp had been located next to. But would you really let your overbearing annoying older brother control you even now when you were 23? And how would Jimin even know about you getting these very intimate piercings? 

You only saw him a few times a year. There was no way Jimin would be finding out about this, nipples were more discreet than ears and you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been around your brother in clothing that would even hint that you had boobs, much less nipples. Jimin had only ever seen you in oversized T-shirts, flannel pajama bottoms or baggy sweats, and giant zip-up hoodies when he had the fortune of being in your company. No wonder he sometimes forgot you were a girl. 

Once you finished up the paperwork, you made your way back to the girl at the front desk with the clipboard. Placing it down on the counter, you took out your credit card to pay up front, with your id card beside it as verification on top of the terrazzo surface, but she shook her head, “You pay at the end for the piercings and the jewelry you pick. Personally, I prefer nipple clickers,” she said wryly, twisting her lips into a smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you mumbled as you watched her stand up and come around to you.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to the private room we have for the more intimate tattoos and piercings. There’s only one artist in today but he should be finishing up with his other client soon. You’ll probably only have to wait 5 to 10 minutes for V,” she threw her words over her shoulder carelessly as she guided you through the narrow hallway.

When she closed the door behind you and left you alone in the room, you felt rather like you were at the doctor’s waiting for your gynecologist to come in and the panic quickly set in once again. Should you have your shirt off and be ready for the piercing? Or would the tattoo artist be freaked out if he was instantly assaulted with the image of your breasts the second he opened the door? Should you sit up on the wide leather covered table or continue to stand while staring awkwardly at the door waiting for the artist to walk in?

As you looked around the small room, your eyes caught on the artwork decorating the walls. They were on white backgrounds that were framed and looked like post-impressionist portraits. The color scheme stuck to black and the primary colors, while the faces had the boldest of expressions painted over them. Extraordinary, you thought, as the door opened behind you.

“Hi, I’m V. I'll be the artist who is piercing you today. I see you’ve signed up for two nipple piercings?” A deep sensual voice flooded into the room, making you shudder involuntarily. 

You turned back and saw a male looking down at the clipboard with the forms you had filled out, his face was half covered by an indigo face mask dotted with silver embroidered stars while the other half was concealed by the soft looking black waves that were flowing forward as his bangs swept over his forehead and obscured his eyes.

“Yes, that’s right,” you nervously tittered, “Should I– should I take off my top?”

“Mmhmm,” he murmured, his eyes quickly sweeping over you, barely looking at you, as he continued on professionally, “Could you also take off your bra and tie back your hair before sitting up on the table?”

V turned around to the cabinets to get out the clamps and needles he would need to pierce you. As he bustled around gathering purple latex gloves and alcohol wipes, he asked in his soothing husky voice, “So what type of jewelry are we thinking? Titanium straight barbells? White gold hoops?”

“Which one is better?” you asked, shuddering in the air-conditioned room as your arms prickled up with goosebumps and you wrapped your arms around your naked upper half.

“Most people get the straight barbells; they find them to be the most comfortable,” V said as he tinkered around with the selection of nipple rings, “Titanium is hypoallergenic so it’s a really good metal choice. If you’re more sensitive to metals I would probably recommend gold but that’s a little more expensive. Any special closures you’re looking for? Star attachments at the end? Moons?”

“Just the basic white gold straight barbells with the star ends,” you muttered quietly. You’d worry about getting more decorative adornments for your nipples when they fully healed from the piercings and you were more accustomed to them. For now, the cute stars at the ends, instead of spherical stoppers, would be enough.

V readied everything on a small table with wheels that he pushed to one side of where you were sitting. As he pulled his gloves on, he said, “I’m going to clean your nipples and then I'll flick them to make sure they are erect enough that I can comfortably clamp them and pierce the needle through them, okay? Let me know if at any moment I am making you feel uncomfortable, sound good?”

You hummed your assent and V finally looked up from his equipment, an alcohol wipe in his hand as he reached forward for your left breast. Before he made contact however, his eyes met yours.

“Y/N?” he yelped in shock, his large gloved fingers brushing against your nipple for the briefest of moments in his shock before he recovered and recoiled from you as though he had been struck.

Your brows furrowed as you confusedly inquired, “Taehyung?”

The two of you stared at each other in shock. The male who was standing in front of you with the Van Gogh-esque vines and branches wrapping their way up his right arm  and covering his throat surely could not be the Kim Taehyung you had grown up with. This could not be your brother Jimin’s childhood best friend. This could not be the former bane of your existence.

“Yes,” breathed Taehyung, still gaping at you with his mouth wide open from behind his mask, not that you could see. You noted that he respectively maintained eye contact with you the entire time, not letting his eyes dip below your gaze. Shrugging on your muted green sweater you glared at him. The second you were covered, Taehyung gazed upwards to the rafters and murmured a not so silent prayer much to your displeasure.

“Y/N why are you getting your– ” Taehyung stopped, obviously struggling with how to word his question while not wanting to talk about his best friend’s younger sister’s nipples. “Why are you getting more piercings?” he said instead with what you thought was highly misplaced affront. “Remember when you almost died because of Yuju in eighth grade?”

Taehyung was so dramatic. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, noting with satisfaction that a red flush was spreading across his golden skin as you held your gaze.

Taehyung had been a junior in high school and the camp counselor assigned to all the cabins in the row yours had been in the same summer Yuju had gone ham with your ears. He had also gotten his ass handed to him when Jimin had found out that instead of making sure the campers were asleep he had been sucking face with Jennie Kim every night.

You scowled, annoyed by how the Taehyung in front of you was a long way away from the gangly nerd with unattractive rectangle framed dad glasses and straight brown hair cut into an unflattering bowl cut that you remembered. Sure, everyone had always talked about how attractive Taehyung had been growing up, but you had never seen it. Taehyung had been a geek who had a penchant for weird outfits with his loose fit/too short culottes, brightly colored oversized crewnecks that were more hole than sweater thanks to his overeager hands when it came to snipping with scissors, and black beat-up converse lows. He had been the furthest thing from what you were into back in the day. However, the man standing in front of you right now? He was almost intimidatingly beautiful. A stunning Adonis, so gorgeous that even Aphrodite had fallen in love.

Taehyung had pulled off his mask and was frowning at you, his petal pink lips pressed thinly together. Your eyes widened when you noticed the glint of silver peeking out between his lips. Taehyung had a piercing on his tongue.

“Are you trying to police my right to have piercings?” you angrily demanded, “You work at a tattoo parlor! You have seven piercings.”

His beautiful dark brows pulled down as his wavy hair swept forward covering one of his eyes again, but he hectically moved his hair away from his face as he looked at you in abrupt alarm, “How could you possibly know that?!”

You froze in confusion, halting your impassioned tirade. Taehyung had seven piercings? You looked at him straight on again, your eyes flitting across his body, scanning him from head to toe. You had known about his five ear piercings. He had gotten them with Jimin when the two of them had still been in high school and you would see Taehyung everyday either at school or your house because of how often he would be over. The only facial piercing he had was his tongue. Where was the seventh? As your gaze drifted down his front, it stopped at his chest. Though you had been thinking about people with only one nipple piercing earlier, you somehow didn’t think Taehyung would be in that crowd. 

Your gaze finally stopped awkwardly at his crotch which was concealed by his black jeans. You stilled at the thought of Taehyung having a piercing on his cock and tried to look away quickly after you came to the realization. 

Unfortunately for you, Taehyung hadn’t planned on making it easy for you. A large veiny hand palmed at his denim covered crotch. “Are you having dirty thoughts about my dick, Y/N?” murmured Taehyung.

“I’m not!” you protested. “I’m just here for my piercing appointment so get on with it, Taehyung! Treat me like one of your usual customers!” 

You grabbed at the bottom of your sweater again and this time, instead of just holding it up above your breasts for Taehyung, you pulled the entire thing off. With your bare chest still heaving, you attempted to straighten your back, meeting Taehyung’s eyes confidently. 

Taehyung held your gaze with heat behind his chocolaty brown eyes for long interminable minutes. A sense of understanding seemed to pass between the two of you before he bit his lips and grated, “Fine, Y/N.”

Taehyung went back to the table where he had been preparing his equipment, making sure that he had gathered everything before pushing it along to stand right next to where you were seated. He sat down on a circular stool with wheels and slid towards you, using his feet to propel him forward.

Sighing once he was in front of you, he squirted hand sanitizer on his purple encased hands to make sure they were still clean, though he hadn’t touched anything other than your jewelry to resterilize them after his panicked realization that you were his client. He slowly and thoroughly rubbed his palms together, working the sanitizer in between his fingers, taking as much time as he could to delay the inevitable and then fanned them to dry. You were mesmerized by the size of his hands. They were so big they could probably cover your boobs with room to spare even though you were a rather busty girl yourself. You whimpered a little as you watched him at work.

Taehyung had heard you making that sound but he tried to ignore it. You were making it hard for him to think straight. He had never once thought that one day his dick would fall for Jimin’s crybaby little sister that he had annoyed at every opportunity he had gotten when he was younger. He had been trying to avoid direct eye contact with your uncovered upper half without much success. Your two voluptuous teardrop breasts seemed to be begging for his attention with their perky upturned nipples, hard due to the cold air drafting into the room. And below your breasts was your tiny waist and heavenly hips. You were shaped like the hourglass filled with black sand that he had for decoration in this room. 

He had already sterilized the white gold bars that you had wanted, and cleaning them a third time would only make you have an angry outburst again he was sure, but now it was time for him to get your nipples ready. He matter-of-factly ripped open an alcohol wipe, unfolding the drenched white sheet within the packet. It was finally time for him to touch you. He didn’t think he had ever been so unnerved in his life. 

Pulling the seat as close to the table that you were on as he comfortably could, he reached out for you. One of his large hands clutched your side, long fingers splayed over your ribs to hold you in place, as his other hand delicately swiped at your nipples with the alcohol wipe. You were frozen like a statue, not even daring to breathe as Taehyung was at work, his face only inches away from your breasts. Too soon, or so you had thought, his hands went away to grab the surgical scrub to further ensure that your nipples were as clean and disinfected as possible before he went to work and actually stabbed your chest to create the piercings. 

You sighed as his hands returned to your chest again. Taehyung had moved on from cleaning your skin to etching them with a marker to indicate where your piercings would be. He cupped the underside of one of your breasts with his left hand while his right hand carefully drew blue dots on either side of your nipples that were parallel to each other. He then switched over to your other breast and drew on the dots to replicate what he had marked before as symmetrically as possible. 

The scratchiness of the pen tip hardened your nipples even more than they had been and wetness pooled in between your pressed thighs. When he was done his palm was flat against your abdomen, pushing you back, “You’ll want to lie down Y/N just to be cautious. Some people get their piercings done sitting but there is the possibility that you’ll faint so I just want everything to be safe for you.”

As you laid back to rest on top of the butcher paper covering the cool leather of the table, you panicked. Taehyung was really going to do this. He was treating you like a paying customer, which you were, but you found yourself wishing that he wasn’t acting so professionally and had tried harder to dissuade you from getting these piercings, especially since you were having second thoughts about this. 

He finally returned to face you again, holding a steel contraption that looked like scissors but the ends were flat with little holes. He had his fingers threaded through the clamps he was going to use to hold your nipple as he pricked through it with a long sterilized needle. 

Taehyung sighed, “I’m going to have to flick and touch your nipples a lot. I’m sure you’re aware of that already but it might take a little more finagling than you thought. It might not be a one and done process where the clamps are perfectly on on the first try. Just, tell me if it’s too much or I’m making you uncomfortable and I’ll immediately back off. Okay, Y/N?”

You nodded mutely. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. What if you threw up all over Taehyung the second you opened your mouth?

Taehyung held your right nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, gauging its firmness before determining that it wasn’t erect enough. He flicked it with his finger, and you had to stifle your reaction, the hardness of his nail bed, even through the latex glove, catching you by surprise. Finally, he was ready to use the clamps.

You breathed through your mouth as the metal clamps pinched your delicate mauve areola to hold the bud of your nipple in place. Leaving the equipment dangling from the edge of your breast, Taehyung turned back around to grab the needle he had prepared. 

While Taehyung had been focused on the next step, you had managed to further your panicked state and were almost hyperventilating. Your lips were pressed tightly together and your hands had furled themselves into clenched fists that had your fingers digging into the thin white butcher paper beneath you, ripping it as your nails dug tiny indentations into the smooth leather underneath. 

Before Taehyung went ahead with the first of your piercings, he glanced at your face, like he did with all his clients to make sure that everything was still going smoothly. What he found had him putting the needle down again. Your face was white with fear and your eyes were filled with liquid. 

“Hey,” murmured Taehyung softly, his gloved hand cupping your cheek. “What’s up Y/N? You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“No!” you protested fiercely.

“Miss Park Y/N,” teased Taehyung, striving to adopt a lighthearted tone, “Come on, is it just nerves? You can tell me. If I know what’s wrong then I can help you fix it. Do you not wanna get these done today?”

You sighed, “Taehyung, it’s just. I don’t know. Why am I even doing this?”

“Hmm,” hummed Taehyung, steepling his fingers, his warm brown eyes glancing at you comfortingly, “A very good question. Why are you doing this? We don’t want you getting a piercing for the wrong reasons. What is it? Have you been down in the dumps and need some change? Well maybe it’ll help you but maybe it won’t and then you’ll end up with far more piercings than you ever thought you would.”

“Is that what happened with you?” you whispered. Now that Taehyung wasn’t actively working on getting your piercings done, you had covered your chest again with your hands cupping your breasts.

“Not exactly,” admitted Taehyung, “Maybe at first when I was getting the piercings with Jimin, but later on as I got more serious about art and creating, it became a way for me to express myself to the world. A way to solidify my character and what I wanted to be known for and associated with. I really had fun once I started adding the tattoos in,” he laughed huskily. His cheeks came with his boxy wide spread grin. You had missed Taehyung. Though granted, he had been annoying for much of your childhood, you’d had a lot of fun with him. You adored Taehyung, you realized belatedly. Though perhaps realizing it while you were topless was not the best time for your epiphany, you thought as blush took over you, blood rushing to the surface of your skin, painting your cheeks, ears, and chest a muted red.

“Will you tell me where the seventh piercing is?” you asked softly, pushing yourself up. 

Taehyung stared at you, his gaze going in between your face and your uncovered form, its heat was infectious and made your own skin flush even further in its wake.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “Although, you’ll have to tell me what pulled you into this studio today, first.”

You pouted, “It’s really dumb.”

“This is a safe place,” Taehyung smirked winningly. He repeatedly raised and lowered his thick, impeccably groomed eyebrows mischievously, “I won’t judge you, Y/N.”

“Yes, you will,” you groaned.

“Yes, I will,” admitted Taehyung easily, the ghost of a smile still painting his lips. “But you’ll tell me anyway, won’t you?”

“Donghyuk broke up with me,” you grumbled, “We were supposed to get married.”

Taehyung blinked, he vaguely remembered a baby faced male that was slightly taller than him with a mushroom cap haircut. He scoffed, “The audacity of some people. You were so far out of his league, it’s insulting that you weren’t the one to end things.”

You smiled weakly at Taehyung’s attempt to cheer you up. “It made my mind go all over the place. I don’t know. Maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe I am unadventurous and boring. Maybe I am vanilla.”

“What’s wrong with vanilla?” complained Taehyung, throwing his hands up. His outcry of displeasure loud and clear.

You snorted, your gaze focusing on the length of his fluttering fingers for far too long, “Let’s not pretend you’re not one freaky mofo, Taehyung. But I don’t know, I just wanted to live a little.”

“So?” retorted Taehyung mulishly, “I am a man of diverse tastes. I can appreciate both vanilla and some of the more– experimental stuff.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “I wanted to get nipple piercings, they're adventurous right? And it’s not because I think that if I do this he’ll get back together with me. But maybe he’s the one who kept me trapped and complacent. Maybe he’s the reason I’m not bold. I just wanted to try something new.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You didn’t have to go to such drastic and permanent measures. You can barely handle the nipple clamp. You would’ve cried and complained the entire month that you had to wait for your nipples to heal. You forget that, I know you. Oh Y/N,” Taehyung suddenly recalled, “You can’t do sexy stuff with your nipples while they heal so how exactly would that have helped you during your kinky adventures?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You don’t know me that well!”

“No?”

“I’m gonna lose my deposit,” you griped. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“You are so dramatic Y/N,” Taehyung replied, “How can this be the worst day of your life?!” he demanded, “What about the day Donghyun broke up with you and pushed you head first through the five stages of grief?”

“Donghyuk,” you corrected. Taehyung made a face at you, contorting his handsome visage into something that made you let out a loud laugh, visibly showing he did not give one fuck about what your former boyfriend’s name was.

“It’s not a complete loss, Y/N,” Taehyung murmured. 

“Why do you say that?” you asked. 

Taehyung placed those devilishly sexy and large hands on your waist pulling you closer to the edge of the table to where he was seated besides you. You gasped at how his grasp almost entirely circled your waist until his widespread fingers were millimeters away from meeting each other. “Ever had sex with the owner of a tattoo parlor?” he breathed, his deep voice purposefully gravelly and husky. 

“No,” you murmured, hardly daring to believe that Taehyung returned your affections. The long buried feelings from your secret crush on Taehyung all those years ago, erupting once again in your heart.

“You don’t need to get piercings to make it fun, Y/N,” Taehyung tantalized.

“You’ll tell me about the seventh piercing?” you confirmed.

Taehyung barked out a laugh. “I’ll do you one better,” he murmured, “I’ll show you where it is.” He finished off with a rakish wink.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked, hands already moving forward to cup his chiseled cheeks and jaw within their grasp.

“Hold on one second,” Taehyung chuckled, peering at you playfully as he looked up at you from where his face was in between your palms. “I gotta do one thing first.”

Taehyung went to remove the metal clamps from your poor neglected nipple that had gone slightly numb from being within its confines this entire time. “My poor Y/N,” Taehyung softened his tone as he rubbed your breast to bring back the feeling. “I’m sorry for not doing this earlier.”

He ducked his head, his plush lips wrapping around the abused peak as he soothed it with warm wet licks and light suction. You let out a high pitched sound and then choked when the cool metal ball on his tongue slinked against your sore nipple as he twirled his tongue around the flesh. He was uncharacteristically gentle though he was spitting against your breast and spreading the welcome coolness around the hard peak.

You let your hands go up to his head, fingers raking themselves into silky soft black waves, holding him into place while he worshiped your chest. Soon, Taehyung switched over to the other breast, enveloping it in the warm wet heat of his mouth, as well. He was much rougher this time as he didn’t have to be careful. His teeth grazed the hard bud, nipping the nipple lightly as you found yourself letting out endless keens.

“Fuck,” muttered Taehyung finally pulling himself away, “How are you this sensitive and responsive? You would’ve had such a rough time with the aftercare if you had gone through with this.”

You shook your head, ignoring his question. “Taehyung!” you whined instead, “I need you.”

Taehyung scoffed lightly as a pleased smirk marked his lips. He ripped the purple gloves off, flinging them onto the side table. 

“Will you let me eat you out, Y/N?” he asked. “I’ve been dreaming of it ever since I saw those snaps on your private story for your 21st birthday.”

Your brows furrowed. For your birthday your friends and you had gone down to Cabo since it was close to spring break. You hadn’t even realized Taehyung was on your private story. Your brother Jimin certainly wasn’t. You had posted everything from videos of you skinny dipping with your friends in the hot tub, to full length mirror selfies of every itty bitty neon colored bikini you had worn on the trip. 

“I’ve had fantasies about you too,” you admitted as Taehyung’s hands slid down your waist to hug your hips, fingers digging into your charcoal gray leggings, ready to pull them off. 

He looked at you curiously, “Since when? Was I your sexual awakening?” he teased, his cheeks full in his joy. You wanted to bite those bread cheeks but you controlled the impulse.

“Hardly,” you retorted, “I was dreaming about Min Yoongi before I ever thought of you. But he graduated and went away for university. And you had that wavy silver brown hair. You looked so hot in your old school hiphop outfit you’d worn for Halloween senior year.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes, “I was always hot, Y/N. It’s cute of you to deny it. But wow headbands really do it for you huh? Is that why you ran up to your room when we started watching It? I thought it was because you were scared. Had I known that you were sneaking away to shove your hand in your panties–” he trailed off.

“You would have what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Taehyung hit your hip lightly with his fingers, more tap than slap, making you lift your bottom so that he could drag the dark colored athletic fabric down your legs. 

“Why don’t I show you?” Taehyung said. 

With your leggings down to one of your ankles, completely off of the other, Taehyung took a hold of your thighs, swinging your legs around so they hung over the side of the platform you were seated on. You were facing him now, but he was so tall that even with the small boost your seat offered, you were eye level with him. He slid back the stool he was on, moving it out of the way. Then he sank to his knees so that his head was at the perfect height for the treasure that laid between your slightly parted thighs. 

With his left hand still grasping one of your thighs, he used his other hand to prod at your folds over the drenched fabric of your black seamless panties. His forefinger and middle finger stroked at your opening, hunting for your clit, slipping over the sodden fabric over and over. When you were so wet that his fingers went away, picking up enough evidence of your arousal that a transparent string clung to him before finally breaking off, Taehyung decided to move the panty off to the side, revealing the swollen dripping folds of your cunt to him. 

“You’re so pretty, gorgeous,” he sighed, “I want to feast on you.”

His fingers were curiously spreading you even more, parting the furling petals to your entrance, revealing the pretty wet hole to his hot seeking gaze as it desperately clenched around air, wanting something bigger and more substantial to close around.

“Taehyung please,” you pleaded, your fingers knotting into his unruly hair, as you attempted to move his head closer to your cunt.

Taehyung dipped down, his lips pursed at first, almost like he was kissing you down there, but he soon found his pace, tongue wildly thrusting into the hole and gliding over the folds. As he lapped at your entrance, he hummed in pleasure, rejoicing in the sweet poignant taste of you. 

As his tongue ran over your folds and the engorged bud of your clit, you shuddered and trembled. It had been so long since someone had eaten you out. You had been broken up with Donghyuk for two months, but it had been even longer since the last time he had gone down on you. 

He tongued at you curling the tip of his wet muscle to urge more of your juices into his open mouth. You tasted like heaven, “You’re so fucking sweet,” he furiously growled into you, his baritone sending vibrations through your most sensitive part. “I love your reactions. I could eat you out for hours,” he hissed.

When his teeth nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out his name, babbling senselessly, mad with pleasure. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking tightly at the bud. Your eyes rolled back at the pressure, the stimulation almost unbearable. You felt the prodding of two long fingers invading your entrance even as his lips continued its merciless assault on the swollen bud. 

“Taehyung!” you panted. Your fingers were almost digging into his scalp. “I can’t stand this!!”

Your back arched as he scissored his fingers furiously within you. His teeth and tongue were sloppily pursuing their war on your heated and engorged clit.

“That’s it Y/N,” murmured Taehyung huskily, “Give yourself to me.”

His fingers reached deep within you, dragging against your folds that gripped around it like a vise, clenching and unclenching in stuttered movements. He groaned at the tightness, the vibrations of the sound echoing through your opening, your clit fluttering at the stimulus.

“Another finger,” you susurrated, your words chased by loud keens and moans.

“Yeah?” Taehyung breathed out, “You think you can take that? I can barely even move the two I have in you now. Your pussy is clenching around me so much.”

“Want it Tae. Need it,” you babbled, “Need to prep for that big cock you’re hiding.”

Taehyung exhaled loudly through his nose, the gust of air falling over your oversensitized core. “Yeah, you dirty girl? You wanna prep for my fat cock? You need it,” he admitted. “I’m gonna destroy your tight little cunt,” He growled.

With another nip of your clit, this one harsher and more toothy, he stuffed a third finger in you, frantically pumping them and curling them to drag against the taunt muscles of your inner walls. The appendages were stretching you out gloriously. You closed your eyes as you edged head first towards your orgasm. Taehyung’s tongue danced over your folds, stimulating them even further. 

He breathed through his nose as he ate you out even more enthusiastically; he had been going at this for a long time but it would be worth it. His cock was a hard and heavy weight against the confines of his constricting dark jeans. You whimpered, lightheaded and overheated as the pressure at your core continued to build. You were stuffed to the brim with his nimble slender fingers pushing savagely in you. 

All it took was a swipe of his long tongue over your bud, the metal sphere of his piercing a hard heaviness digging into your clit, as his fingers found your g-spot and hit it brutally, and you let out a shrill scream, immediately gushing like a flooding waterfall. There were black dots in your vision as the edges of your eyes gathered with tears. You panted as you continued to squirt over Taehyung’s trapped fingers, drenching his hand with the evidence of your orgasm then trailing down his wrist. 

“Fuck,” swore Taehyung, “You fucking squirted. That’s so hot, gorgeous.”

He reluctantly moved his hand away from you, licking a wide stripe across his palm, tasting your sweetness, still not tired of your delectable release. What he didn’t consume, he wiped against the butcher paper covering where you were seated. You had your hands splayed besides your thighs, needing help to keep yourself upright. Your gaze drifted down to your crotch where the paper was sopping wet, dark, and translucent from where you had squirted all over it. 

This was why you never had sex in public; you were already getting a headache at the thought of Taehyung having to clean up and sanitize everything before his next appointment.

“Hey what’s wrong?” asked Taehyung, getting up from his knees. His hand went to his belt, unbuckling the black leather and loosening it around his hips. He undid his button and zipped open his fly, finally freeing his aching hard cock from the confines it had been resisting against.

You stared at his erection, pressing against the band of his underwear. “Is this really okay?” you asked.

“Going soft on me so fast?” Taehyung teased, “Thought you were gonna prove to Dongkyung that you were fun and freaky. I bet he’s never had sex outside of the bedroom.”

“No,” you protested, “I still want to. I just– I just wanted to make sure you were still okay with this.”

“Oh,” murmured Taehyung with a ravenous glint in his eyes, “I’m thrilled about this. I want to destroy you in a way that has you limping after. I want your pussy to have PDD, never wanting another cock.”

“PDD?” you asked, repeating the acronym with confusion heavy in your tone.

“Post-Dicking Depression,” Taehyung clarified with a faux condescending tone. You could hear the laughter in his voice that he tried to keep in.

“I don’t know if I want to have sex with a man who refers to it as me getting dicked down,” you scoffed, wiggling your butt backwards to move away from Taehyung who scowled and quickly moved his hands from his pants to your hips, holding you in place.

“But you want a dicking from me,” he sing-sang, “You used to have fantasies about me.”

“I used to have fantasies about Flynn Rider, that means nothing,” you retorted, your hands placed over his.

He narrowed his eyes, “That says less about me and more about you, gorgeous.”

He palmed his heavy cock through the cotton fabric of his briefs. 

“You sure you wanna stop right here, Y/N? Don’t wanna go for another orgasm?”

“I can’t leave you hanging,” you acquiesced easily, “Golden rule of reciprocation and all that.”

“You don’t always have to give back what you get in sex,” Taehyung frowned, “It’s not a business transaction, it’s a group effort. As long as we both enjoy ourselves, you don’t have to worry about me, Y/N.”

“You don’t want to have me?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, “You seemed really enthusiastic about it earlier.”

“I’m dying to have you, but I only want you if you want me,” Taehyung clarified, his baritone wafting into your ears soothingly.

You smiled up at him, even though you were naked in this room that might have his assistant or coworkers knocking at any moment, even though he was completely dressed while you were not, you still felt comfortable with Taehyung. You put your fingers through the belt loops of his partially opened jeans, dragging it down his hips, over his ass, stopping midway on his thighs. Taehyung watched you, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard with the heat of his lust, thick dark brows furrowed as he bit his lips.

“Please, Tae?” you asked, “I want you. I want the heavy fucking that has me walking side to side afterwards.”

Taehyung snorted, “‘4.5 when I make the bed shake,’ huh.”

“Ariana is a legend,” you gasped, outraged at his little quip, your hands falling from where they had been clutching his ass. 

Taehyung just gave you one of his gorgeous boxy smiles that left you breathless before he went to free his fat cock from the cotton confines of his underwear. His cock bounced once it was free from its bounds, his length even more thick and imposing than you had imagined when you were sixteen, slipping your fingers down your throat and choking on them, pretending they were his dick instead. 

It was impressively girthy and you knew your fingers wouldn’t be able to wrap around it and touch at the ends. The mushroom head was flushed burgundy. The seventh piercing winked at you, a curved steel barbell turned towards you as a part of his king’s crown piercing that was threaded through his head, running along the ridge of his shaft. Your mouth watered - the tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you wanted to whirl your tongue around its bulbous head like it was the tastiest lollipop. 

“Taehyung,” you pleaded, your fingers going towards his crotch. 

Taehyung gently slapped your hands away. 

“Uh uh,” he chastised. “Behave, gorgeous.”

You spread your thighs apart, knees up and feet flat in front of you as you sat up with your hands wrapped around your calves, holding your legs open. Taehyung took hold of the meaty softness of your right thigh and pulled you towards him, settling in between you, his cock bouncing lightly, the tip brushing against your entrance as he used his hands to pull your legs around him. Your hands let go and fell backwards and you splayed your fingers and palms behind you to balance your weight as Taehyung carefully situated your lower half, pulling your hips up to be aligned with his so that he could easily slip in and out of you.

He slapped your flushed and swollen cunt with his cock, the proof of your orgasm mixing with his precum. After a few slaps, he finally began to guide his shaft into you. For a moment there you didn’t think the fat bulbous head would be able to breach your entrance even with how wet you were as your tight glistening hole protested around it, but a firm push later he was sheathed. 

“You like that, gorgeous?” he growled, “You feel that? You’re gonna wring me dry when I cum inside, aren’t you? Gonna creampie this fucking pussy. Have your beat up cunt leaking my cum for hours.”

You whimpered as your mouth sought Taehyung’s lips but couldn’t. Instead you found your tongue licking up a line up the bare expanse of his neck, tracing the lines of his tattoos, your lips following their path, leaving bruising kisses and kittenish bites. He moaned and his head ducked down, moving his throat away from you so that you could finally kiss him. At first your tongues twirled around each other, but Taehyung was a messy kisser. His teeth were soon nipping at your lips and his tongue was thrusting in your mouth, licking the insides of your cheeks, the roof of your mouth, not letting you pull away to breath and leaving you lightheaded. 

Taehyung slowly pushed himself in and out, not going more than an inch or two within you, giving you time to get used to the fullness. He was so thick, your walls were clamping around his girthy length like a vise and he was struggling to move, but the movement he was able to make had you keening and whimpering as the round ends of his piercing jewelry dragged against the ridged muscles of your walls, making them spasm uncontrollably at the feeling. 

As you grew wetter and wetter, your desperation increasing exponentially, Taehyung found himself getting lost at the sensations, thrusting faster and more erratically until his control was so frayed that he could no longer hold himself back. He slammed into you, the thick heaviness of his cock stealing your breath away as he was impaled within you. You tried to catch your breath but he continued to jerk inside you, the piercing hitting your g-spot and making you scream as white spots appeared in your vision. 

His pace then grew progressively more frantic and Taehyung found himself holding you up with his sheer strength which left you breathless at the display of power; you were no longer on the table, he was fucking you standing up. Your legs were wrapped around his hips and your head was at the side of his face, pressing kisses against his jaw and nibbling up to his ear. Your moans were an echoing throaty vocalization in his ears, making them burn as a pool of lust gathered in his gut and made his abdomen tighten. Meanwhile, your hands were flitting across the expanse of his back, under his shirt, leaving long scratch marks in their wake as your nails dug into his skin every time Taehyung thrusted a little too hard, his fingers pinched your clit, or his piercing found that glorious g-spot.

“God, Tae,” you panted. You could feel him so deep inside you that as you glanced down you saw that your tummy was bulging a little bit and you had to wonder if it was because of him. You pressed down on your stomach experimentally and then you both gasped as your walls clenched tightly around him, rhythmically pulsating around the entire length of his shaft, keeping him connected to you. 

Taehyung hadn’t forgotten your tiny clit, although it was swollen and not as little now. He thumbed at the responsive bundle of nerves; the pressure from his finger had you on overdrive, hyper aware and feeling like you might go ballistic at any moment. Your mewls were like music to his ears and propelled him forward, making him plunge into you so violently. You were bouncing on his length, your legs loosening slightly around his hips from the force that came with every time he rammed into you.

For your safety, he lowered you down to the table you had been sitting on earlier, making your back flat against it as he had one hand by your head holding him up, keeping himself from crashing into you, and one hand wrapped around your hip, snapping it up to meet his every thrust. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper and he found himself slowing down to enjoy the feeling of your folds fluttering around his shaft as he dragged it through your walls deliberately, penetrating you acutely. 

He was holding himself back, he didn’t want this moment to end but at your surprised cry when one of those thrusts hit your g-spot particularly hard, you suddenly gushed like a broken faucet around him, and then clenched his cock tighter than you had ever before, even as the stream of cum cascaded all around his shaft. He grunted before following you in your wake, the heat of his own release leaking out of his tip and mixing with yours. 

Somehow Taehyung was still hard around you, you noticed with surprise as your legs fell with no strength left in them, no longer making your body cling to Taehyung’s. You stared at him in confusion, your eyes wordlessly saying, What now?

Taehyung licked his lips, his familiar grin appearing sheepishly. “Ride me, gorgeous,” he dictated.

He hadn’t let you remove his cock from inside your pussy and he picked you up, holding you beneath your thighs, his fingers brushing against the cleft of your ass as he moved you two around so that he was now seated with you on top of him. 

One of your hands fluttered against his chest as you got used to sitting on him, the other was holding onto his shoulder. You inhaled deeply, your hands going up to stop his head from moving so that you could kiss him punishingly, neither of you parting to breath for long interminable moments. His fingers threaded through your hair that had long since fallen out of its bun, holding you in place, so that his lips could chase yours easily every time you tried to break apart from him.

He helped you with the first move, his hands gripping your hips and his long fingers dimpling into your skin as he moved you up, almost entirely off his cock that dragged enticingly along your folds as it slipped away, before slamming you back on his lap with enough force to have your teeth knocking against each other. 

You braced yourself with your palms on his chest, fingers curving over the broad length of his shoulders, slowly lifting yourself away from his dick before quickly and forcefully bringing your ass down, reluctant to let him withdraw completely. Each time you brought yourself back onto his cock, Taehyung snapped his hips up, impaling you with his thick impressive length. His fingers were bruising into your hips with how hard he was holding you in place. 

Your movements were erratic and feverish, following no rhyme or reason, only seeking fullness and release. He had you writhing on top of him wantonly as your hips swiveled to meet each snap of his, until his cock was hitting you again and again vigorously. But it wasn’t enough; he wanted to give you more. So Taehyung found himself squeezing two fingers into you alongside his cock, filling you even more than you had thought was possible, bordering on the side of painful. His palm was positioned up so that it was pressed against your clit. And with every bounce and jerk on top of him that had his cock and fingers moving deeper within you, his palm pressed against your puffy bud stimulating you endlessly. 

You screamed as you sprayed around Taehyung, coming again. As you writhed against Taehyung’s body, his arms kept you wrapped in his embrace, keeping you from injuring yourself, pulling any muscles accidentally. Your cunt was reluctant to release its grip on Taehyung’s cock, holding onto him tightly, and he found himself grabbing your hand, borrowing it for a second to have you squeeze his balls. And then Taehyung felt himself cum for the second time that day. He shuddered into your chest as his balls emptied themselves, getting lighter as streams of his warm cum shot into you, painting your insides with lines of white. 

You mewled at the feeling, wiggling on top of Taehyung in discomfort. He chuckled huskily, an airy yet throaty sound. Carefully, he withdrew from you, using one of his hands to keep the cum from pouring out from between your legs, his palm against your entrance keeping the hot liquid trapped inside you. After a moment he moved his palm away so that his fingers could play around in your folds, pushing the cum into every divot and crevice, the pads of his fingers massaging it in and then his fingers went back inside you, swirling the cum around your hole with his fingers messily. You let him play around, rubbing his mark into you even though it was fucking filthy and gross, but when his fingers brushed too close to your battered clit, your inner thighs spasmed with your muscles jumping, you found your hand frantically pulling at his wrists attempting to pull him away from your exhausted and overworked pussy.

“Taehyung, stop!” you whined. 

He glanced back at you sheepishly. “Sorry,” he murmured, an apologetic tone painting his words, “I got distracted.”

You snorted, “Yeah, you did.”

Taehyung pulled you off his lap and sat you down beside him, from in between your parted thighs, your pussy leaked out the mixture of both of your cum out onto the ripped and mangled butcher paper that looked as though it had gone through the wringer. Taehyung stood up to grab a bundle of paper towels from his work station and came back with them, bending down in front of you and starting to clean you up. Once he was done, he looked back up at you.

“I’ll give you back your deposit, Y/N. Don’t get the piercings today, okay?” he said, “And when you finally feel like you’re ready to modify your body for the right reasons, you can come back here and I’ll do it for free. A piercing, a tattoo, whatever the case. Just– just don’t think you have to change for a man. You are perfect as long as you like who you are.”

Your eyebrows dipped down in confusion as Taehyung stumbled over his words, painstakingly attempting to make sure that you understood him and realized that he liked you and you should like yourself too because you were perfect and no man was worthy enough to make you change. 

“Why for free, Taehyung?” you asked instead, uncomfortable at his sincerity.

Taehyung smiled nervously, “Well if you’re dating the owner, it’s the least I can do. Don’t you think so?”

“Who says we’re dating?” you teased, pulling him closer to you, making him stand between your legs.

Taehyung pouted and then huffily said, “Fine, have it your way. See if anyone in the Tri-State area takes you as a client then. I’m getting you blacklisted from everywhere so Jimin doesn’t kill me when he finds out you want to look like Post Malone.”

“Post Malone?” you questioned, laughing uncontrollably. “Taehyung, why would you offer to help me if Jimin would kill you instead of those other tattoo artists?”

“Girlfriends hold more weight than best friends,” he said mulishly, slumping forward and resting his forehead against your sternum.

“Yeah?” you asked, quilting your fingers through his hair, scratching at his head comfortingly.

“I’m also in love with you,” Taehyung confessed, turning his head so his ear rested against your chest. He could hear your heartbeat, you realized with a panic, and how it stuttered at his reveal. But his arms had slowly wrapped themselves around your form and you couldn’t find it within you to push him away.

“Really?” you asked needily, needing the confirmation.

He hummed, “I would do anything for you.”

“I think I’ve been in love with you too,” you admitted as well. You suddenly shoved against him. “It was you,” you accused.

“Hmm,” muttered Taehyung, instantly knowing what you had meant, “I can’t help it if I’m beautiful and you kept fantasizing about me while dating Dongbyun.”

“Tae!”

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

“And yet,” your eyes danced with warm amusement, “you have not looked away.”

It was true. 

He hated himself for it, but saints he was mesmerized. Sheer silk danced over your skin with every breath, caressing and revealing the forbidden curves of your body in a way that left his hands aching to explore them.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered. 

The question was quiet - pained-  

Almost hurt. 

His eyes darted across your form and face with naked longing, drawing you in like a siren song.

Utterly forbidden... but still so brutally sweet.  

Min Yoongi was notorious in many circles for his fierce gaze and callous demeanor... yet he was never able to fully tame his reaction to you. 

He tried though. He always tried.

Even the most careful observer could barely hear the hitch in his breath when you passed, or note the way his gaze lingered on your face just a second longer than any other.

Now, however, with nothing but a hint of silk and the soft glow of firelight in the intimate space between you, your effect on him was far harder to conceal.

What would it take to break this man?

A lone shiver twisted lazily up your spine. 

Focus. 

This is the last step. The final piece. 

And all of it depended on him.

“Do you remember that summer 5 years ago?… I was seventeen - finally allowed to accompany my father on a hunting party.” You smiled as if you were discussing the weather and not an event that radically altered the course of your life. “I was so excited… I’d never been to Old Forest and it was only the third time I’d met your brother... He was so handsome I could scarcely speak…”

Yoongi’s fingers twitched reflexively against his shirtsleeves. Of course he remembered that day. 

Part of him relived it every time he closed his eyes. 

“When that boar charged my mare and she bolted through the woods, I held on for as long as I could, but I was still thrown... The impact was terrible, but I’d scarcely begun to pull myself upright when I heard the boar charging… and then...”

Your voice tapered off as you lost yourself in the memory. 

“You saved me.”

A man with dark eyes and wild midnight hair suddenly landed between you and the boar. The bow in his hand bent sharply as he slotted two arrows, drawing them back till their feathered tips brushed his lips. 

For the barest instant his gaze darted into yours - shocking your body with a sharp, strange heat. 

Then he fired. One arrow into each of the boar’s eyes - 

A nearly impossible shot. 

The stranger was by your side in an instant - but you could not look away from the gruesome corpse behind him-

“Are you hurt, my lady?” 

Fear and adrenaline beat heavily in your chest, blotting out sound and sensation- 

“My lady!”

Strong hands wrapped around your shoulders, startling you from your daze. People simply did not touch you - not even over your clothes. Warmth spread from his palms, curling through your arms and neck like a caress; drawing you safely back to the forest. 

Back to him.

Saints he was magnificent. 

Eyes like onyx peered into yours with tender concern. Sweat and dirt marred his smooth pale skin, but the sunlight flashing hypnotically over the rings on his fingers and the bright silver earrings dangling from each ear lent him an almost magical aura.

Curious new sensations hummed to life beneath your skin.

“Who are you?” 

The corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

“Min Yoongi.”

“Min Yoongi...” The name struck a familiar chord. “You’re - you’re prince Aurengi’s older brother - the bas-”

“The bastard prince,” he finished for you - his eyes and tone markedly colder than before.

“That’s odd,” you mused with a shy smile “You don’t look like a wicked despoiler of innocents.”

Yoongi threw his head back and laughed.

“Ah well - it's my day off you see. I left my lecherous horns and sinful mask of debauchery at home”

You grinned.

“No wonder I didn’t recognize you.”

Yoongi’s horse had run off and your attempts to walk unassisted were fruitless which left you both in a rather delicate situation… 

Royal law explicitly forbade any man to touch you skin to skin.

Initially you urged the prince to leave you and return with help, but Yoongi dismissed that idea in favor of wrapping his neck in cloth (from one of your many underskirts) and carefully lifting you into his arms. 

You’d never been in a man’s arms before and frankly it was downright exhilarating. You would have willingly broken both legs to experience it. The curl of his bicep under your knees - the warmth of his chest pressed intimately to yours-

Your fingers itched to feel the texture of his hair where it curled softly over his nape…

Hopefully he would attribute your erratic breathing to the near miss with the boar and not his delicious proximity. 

Sighing, you allowed your gaze to roam over the exotic slope of his eyes and the sharp cut of his jaw all the way up to the intricate silver ornaments at his ear. They appeared quite strange and foriegn to your inexperienced eye. No men and very few women in the kingdom favored such adornments. 

“Why do you wear the earrings?”

Yoongi tipped his head a bit to offer you a small indulgent smile. You tried very hard not to swoon. 

“My mother… she was an Eastrili”

Your eyes widened. 

Eastril was an ancient kingdom - far older than Norlandria - whose borders were the limit of your experience with the outside world. The Eastrili were known for their rich cultural ties to ritual magic; the elaborate piercings and intricate designs inked into their skin set them apart from their less spiritual neighbors. 

“Have you ever been there?” 

You were practically burning with curiosity, but the prince shook his head. 

“No… My mother was a warrior. When Norlandria invaded Great Bay, she was captured as a prisoner of war.”

Your eyes widened even further at that.

The Battle of Great Bay was infamous to both Norlandria and Eastril. The conflict lasted nearly twelve days with catastrophic loss of life on both sides-

Until Eastril’s beloved princess was slain on the field. 

The shock of her death forced an immediate cease-fire. Technically the two countries were still ‘at war’... but since the loss of the princess there had been an uneasy - unofficial - peace.  

“Was she there? Did -did she see the princess die?”

Yoongi’s jaw worked reflexively - as if he was carefully considering his next words,

“She served directly under the princess, but would never speak of her death or of Eastril. I believe the memories were too painful.”

“So…” your mind followed his words to their logical conclusion, “they’re her earrings. Your mother’s.” 

“They’re all I have left of her really. The piercings of an Eastrili are sacred - so much so that Norlandria and Soutmar have signed Articles of War promising never to remove them from Eastrili prisoners.”

“They suit you,” you spoke suddenly - and then immediately wished you were dead because saints you had said that out loud-

Yoongi laughed and you smiled up at him sheepishly.

It could have been minutes or hours of engaging conversation and playful banter before the pointed towers of the royal hunting lodge finally came into view. Yoongi had just finished handing you to you father (who’d come rushing through the iron gate looking frantic) when he found a blade pressed against his chin.

“How dare you put your filthy mongrel hands on my fiance-” 

The crown prince’s snarl dripped with palpable malice.

Yoongi didn't move. His eyes flew to yours, but that only seemed to enrage Aurengi further.

“Don’t look at her,” he growled, driving his sword infinitesimally harder into his brother’s flesh.

‘STOP!” 

Both princes sported nearly identical expressions of shock as you scrambled from your father’s hold to lunge awkwardly between them.

Clearly neither one expected you to intervene and the surprise on Yoongi’s face was almost heartbreaking.

“He never touched me! He saved me. That boar would have killed me if not for him.”

Deafening silence followed your breathless declaration. 

In any other situation, your father would have expressed his immediate gratitude, but the crown prince’s open hatred of his elder brother had the man holding his tongue.

Your jaw clenched in fury. 

“Min Yoongi!” Your eyes locked with Aurengi’s as you called out his brother’s name. “I require a token.”

Gasps echoed across the chamber in all directions. Aurengi’s eyes widened. You could not see Yoongi’s face, but you heard him stiffen behind you,

The token ritual was a sacred custom among your people. When any man or woman saved the life of another - the person spared requested a token from their savior. The token was a reminder of the service rendered. In a time of great need, the savior could call on a token holder for aid ...and he or she was bound to give it. 

“I cannot grant you a token for doing my duty.” 

The words whispered quietly across your back. Beside you, your father visibly relaxed, and for the first time in your life- you were ashamed of him.

“No.” The word rang out with fierce conviction as you turned to face him. “You would not dishonor me by refusing my request...Your Highness.”

Yoongi’s expression remained carefully neutral, but the impact of your statement was not lost on him. No one ever addressed him by his title in his brother’s presence. 

Aurengi hissed angrily behind you, but you ignored his antics and defiantly held out your hand.

Slowly - as if in a daze - Yoongi reached up to the braided metal dangling from his right ear. Your mouth parted in surprise.

His mother’s earring.

The young prince’s fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before he dropped the precious keepsake into your hand.

Yoongi’s eyes drifted unconsciously to the treasure he’d given you all those years ago.

You had not taken it off since that day. 

He almost couldn’t believe it when he saw you - nearly two years later-  with his token hooked into your skin for the world to see. It enraged Aurengi that you insisted on wearing it - knowing full well it was the mark of his bastard brother.

A mark you both wore proudly.

His hand stretched toward the familiar metal braids almost of its own volition - brushing the delicate links against his fingertips before pulling away from you once more. 

“I was only doing my duty,” he whispered - an echo of his words so many years ago “You should not read too much into such things.”

“And the letters?” you asked. “Were they your duty too?”

Yoongi paled.

“Letters?”

His tone was deceptively even. An amused smile tugged at your lips. 

“My letters,” you sighed, casually slipping the velvet cloak off your shoulders - removing the last barrier between his gaze and the diaphanous slip draped decadently over your skin.

Every nerve in Yoongi’s body fired chaotically - all at once. 

Spirits and saints have mercy.

You were here - in his room - soft and inviting in a way he had only ever dared dream about - and even then none too frequently because such tempting thoughts about the woman he wanted so desperately, but would never have were needlessly masochistic. And now here you were - beckoning to him like the ancient sirens - so glorious in their draw - yet so deadly in their embrace-

It was far more than he was prepared to handle. 

His eyes flew closed in a fruitless bid for self preservation. There wasn’t nearly enough blood left in his head to produce coherent human speech, still he was quite ready to beg you - for the love of all the gods - to please stop tormenting him and let him live out the rest of his wretched solitary existence in peace, but you spoke again before he could find the words.

“The letters I’ve been forced to write every week since my thirteenth birthday... letters to Aurengi which he pawned off to his steward - and somehow… found their way to you.”

“You’re mistaken” he muttered - turning away from you to hide the havoc in his mind and body 

It took every ounce of self control you possessed not to openly revel in his reaction - both to your words and your daring negligee.

“Hoseok is a good man,” you whispered after a moment. “He may be your brother’s steward, but he was your friend first and his loyalty lies with you.”

Yoongi carded his fingers through his hair in an attempt to ground himself again. 

“How could you know that?”

“His wife, Ana, was a handmaiden before she became a lady in waiting. She noticed my letter in the tray on Hoseok’s desk. Later she watched you retrieve it…” 

A tender smile crept over your face at the thought of your fierce (though outwardly serene) former handmaiden and the man wrapped securely around her finger.

“Hobi is quite besotted enough to tell her anything she asks.”

Yoongi wished - fervently - that he didn’t completely understand. 

He gulped reflexively. 

“How long…?”

“I’ve known I was writing to you for three years. Though... there were hints before that. Aurengi clearly wasn’t reading my letters, he never understood any reference to them I made in conversation. But the gifts he sent me - gifts I assume he expected Hoseok to take care of like everything else - those could only have come from someone who read my words - someone who knew me-” 

A sudden swell of emotion twisted heavily in your chest, “They could only have come from you.”

Yoongi would have traded his best horse to be anywhere else. He felt vulnerable  - betrayed - exposed. The familiar desire to lash out and defend his innate sanctity bucked frantically against his fraying control.

Yet as he turned to rage at you-  he found himself simply offering the truth...

“I never receive letters.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor - carefully avoiding your gaze.  “I was visiting Hoseok one day... and he was frustrated because Aurengi refused to read yours. He’d ordered Hoseok to go through them all and let him know if there was anything important.” 

Yoongi shook his head and breathed out a bitter chuckle. 

“There were stacks of them just sitting there - stacks of letters for my arrogant brother from the woman he was going to spend his life with.... and he couldn’t even be bothered to open them.”

He swallowed convulsively-  acutely aware of your eyes on him and of the unprecedented vulnerability he was allowing.

“I don’t know what made me do it… perhaps curiosity -or jealousy that my brother was already guaranteed companionship when I was always-” his jaw clenched, “so lonely.”

The prince’s eyes finally rose to meet yours.

“You were… such a surprise. The letters were vivid...engaging - filled with intelligence and personality and I was... fascinated by you.” 

His hands clenched reflexively.

“When I learned that you would be coming on the hunt that year, I joined so I could catch a glimpse of the woman from those letters.” 

Yoongi would never forget the first time he saw you…

Laughing with your face tilted into the rays of the sun. 

He had never experienced anything so acutely bittersweet.

You were the answer to a question he had quietly asked all his life.

And yet he would never know you. You would never be his. 

He determined then and there to ignore you for the sake of his own sanity, but when your horse suddenly tore off into the forest, Yoongi felt the world itself ground to a halt. The other hunters were courtiers and aides - they wouldn’t know how to safely retrieve you, but he’d grown up racing stablehands through the trees - engaging in the kind of deadly recklessness young men seemed to be known for. He was ironically grateful for those idiotic antics as he spurred his mount after yours.

Even then, he was almost too late. 

“I never expected to save you or give you my token, I certainly never expected you to wear it…”

“And you kept reading my letters.”

“I felt like you deserved to be heard,” the words slipped out almost absently - as if he had not meant to speak them aloud. 

Your quiet gasp instantly set him back on edge. 

“After all” his tone was cooler now - without a trace of his former vulnerability, “you were kind to me and you will be queen one day- my dear brother’s wife - it's the least I can do - for family.”

“Family!?” you scoffed, “Is that what we are?”

“We are nothing, my lady. I am the king’s bastard son and you are the fulfillment of a centuries-old prophecy-”

“Yes. The prophecy,” you sighed wearily. “How could I forget-” 

“- which clearly states you will have one lover - the heir - the crown prince - so if anyone were to see you here - in my bedchamber wearing-” (his eyes dipped briefly below your chin) “-that - it would mean death- certainly my death, possibly yours too - and not just any death - the long-drawn-out painful kind-”

“Do not presume to tell me what the prophecy states. I’ve lived my entire life in the shadow of those words! They’re all anyone ever sees when they look at me-”

“That’s not true-”

“It is true! That prophesy bound me to Aurengi before I drew my first breath!”

Yoongi’s eyes closed in pain.

Your hands fisted into the fabric of your gown.

“I’ve seen the women who stumble out of your brother’s chambers… Their bodies are battered and their spirits broken. His taste in bedsport feeds on fear and violence, They are not his lovers...they are his victims. There is neither love nor trust in his dealings with them.” 

You took a deep breath, closing the distance between you till you stood directly in front of him. 

“Aurengi leverages his power over them just as he will someday leverage his power over our kingdom - over me.” 

“No.” Yoongi growled. His hands wrapped around the soft flesh of your arm- dragging you just short of fully against him

“Yes,” you fired back bitterly. He was close enough to feel the word against his lips. 

“They’ve all spent years preserving my sacred virginity so they can hand my body and soul over to that despicable animal. I’ve voiced my concerns - my objections - again and again and it does not matter that I’m terrified of surrendering my freedom and our people to a man who cares for nothing but himself!”

Yoongi’s forehead pressed intimately to yours. The sound of your labored breathing filled the scant space between you. His eyes had fluttered closed, but your scent curled around him like a mage's curse. He could barely breathe for want of you. His fingers fanned out to skim the smooth planes of your shoulders, sending heady waves of pleasure directly to your core. 

“Spirits and saints above,” you moaned - no longer capable of hiding your reaction, “I have wanted your hands on me from the moment I saw you.”

The prince wrenched himself backward with an anguish gasp.

“You would have me defy the gods?! Your blood is sacred-”

“And what of my choice!? Is that not sacred too?!”

His eyes flashed like warm obsidian. 

“Yes.”

The fragile tether restraining Yoongi’s desire seemed to snap around the same moment as your patience. 

His hands, which were digging desperately into the surface of his desk, suddenly curled around your waist and dragged your body flush against him. You barely had time to register the flood of new sensation before Yoongi swooped down and took your mouth.

If you were offering yourself to him on a silver platter, then by the gods he meant to have you.

The sheer force of your reaction to his kiss - your first kiss - had you whimpering desperately, but Yoongi was in no mood to be merciful, plundering your mouth like a man who would rather die than stop. 

He broke away briefly to lift you onto the desk and run his palms up your bare legs- pushing that accursed gown back till they wrapped easily around his waist. 

“Is this what you want, my lady?” he growled into your ear before taking it between his teeth. A lifetime without intimate touch left you wildly oversensitive. His hands, his mouth, his heated breath fanning over your skin - it was too much - it was far too much, but saints you’d do anything to have more.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even entirely sure what you were begging for.

Yoongi nipped the skin at the base of your neck, drawing out small potent shocks of pleasure. His hands spread greedily over your thighs until he gripped the soft mounds of your backside and slammed your aching center against him.

You screamed.

“Gods you’re nightmare” he hissed, grinding harder against you till you were literally shaking.“You come here - into my private chambers - wearing nothing but a scrap of see-through silk,” a harsh tearing sound filled the room as Yoongi shredded through the finest fabric in all the land. Cool air whispered over your exposed torso for a brief moment before he replaced it with the warmth of his touch.

“Why must you ask for my hands when you belong to someone else.” His teeth sank into the sensitive flesh between your neck and shoulder. Your hips jerked involuntarily - forcing another tortured groan.

“You know what they say about me don’t you?” he muttered as he mouthed along your collarbone.You gasped every time his tongue flicked out to tease you.“That I'm a heartless bastard.”

He tugged you forward off the desk - upending your balance as his thigh moved between your legs - causing you to straddle it lewdly.Your toes were barely able to brush the floor. You were forced to cling to him and struggle against his muscled thigh to remain upright.

Wicked waves of pleasure and frustration erupted from your core and the shock of it had your eyes flying open.

Yoongi’s hands suddenly cupped your chin, bringing your mouths into a teasing almost contact.

“I’ve been heartless since the moment I met you,” he whispered, letting his lips brush against yours, “I didn't even know I had a heart until you took it from me.”

Tenderness and desire jerked violently in your chest as he opened his mouth to you - letting you explore him as he had explored you only moments before.

Brutal sensation trembled through your limbs. Your fingers shook as they clawed at his tunic - desperate to feel more of his skin against your own.

“Yoongi please,” you sobbed, burning up with an emptiness you couldn’t quite comprehend, “help me, please.”

“I will,” he swore - clearly misunderstanding what you were begging for, “I’ll get you out. I don’t care where I have to take you, I’ll never let him have you.”

You giggled breathlessly.

“No, I’m not going anywhere.”

Yoongi froze.

Which was terrible, because you’re reasonably sure he was about to put his mouth over your nipple and you had no idea that was even an option, but you’re really keen to try it now if he would just -

“What are you saying?” His previously tender grip became surprisingly clinical as he hauled you none-too-gently back onto the desk.

“I’m saying that I’m not planning to run away.”

Yoongi’s brows raised right up into his hairline.

“Are you mad? They’ll kill us.”

No need to specify who “they” were. He had broken about fifteen laws in the last fifteen minutes and was halfway through violating a prophecy. “They” was a long list at this point. 

“They won’t.”

“They will!” His voice was a tad higher-pitched as a result of his disbelief and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

“I’ve mostly despoiled a sacred virgin! We’re actively defying a prophecy!” His common sense began to trickle back as the situation below his waist calmed down. “Saints what am I doing?!”

“We’re not defying the prophecy,” you huffed, leaning over to yank your cloak up from the floor. This was not a conversation you were prepared to have naked. “We’re fulfilling it.”

The prince drew back and blinked several times. Slowly.

“...Have you gotten into your father’s incense again? I heard about that thing with the cow and the fountain-”

“Oh my stars- that was one time - no. Just listen.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose - letting his eyes flutter closed. “Yes - of course - I’ll just...listen.”

“Tell me the first line prophecy-”

“I thought I was listening.”

“Are you serious right now!?”

Yoongi grinned. Gods you were a firebrand. 

He sighed deeply and began to recite the familiar words.

“A lady born of fire and light, within her blood runs holy might-”

“Yes - now - that refers to the astrological phenomenon at the hour of my birth and my bloodline - there’s no question of my identity. However, the next lines are far less clear.”

Yoongi was trying to follow along - he really was, but you were half naked and making absolutely no sense.

“In... what way?”

“She must forge her lover’s throne - that’s the next part. Those fools are so obtuse - they’ve had me learning blacksmith craft since my tenth year so I could literally forge Aurengi’s throne. I’m bloody terrible at it - honestly, any throne I forge -  it would be a miracle if it stood upright.”

“I’m afraid you cannot dismiss an entire prophecy because you’re a shite blacksmith.”

“I am profoundly aware of that.”

“And - you destroyed Aurengi’s first engagement. Our families had already exchanged betrothal stones with the royal family of Westarin. Your birth destroyed what once was set in stone by breaking his promise to their princess. Everyone knows that -”

“Everyone is wrong!” Your words rang with utter conviction and Yoongi found himself - reluctantly - beginning to question something he had taken for granted all his life.

“...In the Great Hall of Kings... there is stone pillar with hundreds of names on it-”

His mouth parted in absolute shock.

“Th-The Stone of Succession?”

“The name of every king and his heir are carved into that stone - not just literally, but metaphorically - the succession order has been set in stone.”

“And….if the prophecy does not refer to Aurengi-”

“- then it would destroy what once was set in stone by destroying the succession order. The prophecy cannot refer to Aurengi. After all - why specify a true king if there wasn’t also a false one?”

A faint ringing sound began to build in both his ears. His skin seemed to itch from the inside out as your words slowly sunk in. “Speak plainly. What are you saying?”

“I am saying that my choice - here and now - will forge your throne ...Because you are the true king.”

Yoongi was out of his seat and heading towards the window in less than an instant. The air was suddenly far too heavy to breathe properly.

“That’s not possible,” he coughed, “I have no desire to be anyone’s king, and even if I did - you cannot wish such things into existence-”

“I don’t need to make any wishes. The heir to the throne is the child born to the highest ranked of the king’s lovers - even if she is not his wife - that is our law.”

“It’s been centuries since a woman of higher birth than the queen produced an heir. And frankly that means nothing in this situation-”

“It means everything. Aurengi’s mother was a duchess - but yours was a princess.”

Yoongi whirled around to face you fully - his eyes wild with suspicion and shock.

“How - how could you possibly-”

“She told you didn’t she? She told you the truth before she died-”

“No! She was sick - delusional - the fever was already in her mind -”

“She wasn't delusional! It was true, Yoongi!”

He shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around what was unfolding.

“I don’t understand. There was no one in the room when she told me - she was minutes from the end - there’s no way-”

Gently you reached forward to cradle his face in your hands.  His pulse calmed instantly under your touch.

“Yoongi...last year a small vessel ran onto the rocks near our family estate. Cousin Lindy and I were out riding to check for damage from the storm when we found it. Lindy recognized the Eastrili design right away.”

Your fingers tentatively carded through his hair and he sighed out a quiet groan in response.

“If my father knew, he would have detained them as political prisoners, but they were only in Norlandria because the storm blew them off course... I didn’t have the heart to turn them in.”

Yoongi snorted softly.

“Do you ever do what’s expected of you?”

“Only if it makes sense.” 

He grinned.

“There were three men left alive in the wreckage. We dragged them to the groundskeeper’s cottage and hid them there till they were recovered... When I got word that they were well enough to receive visitors, I went to greet them. I intended to help them return to Eastril…”

Your fingers tightened on the veil covering your face and hair as the wind raged over the nearby sea. There was no viable reason for you to visit the groundskeeper in the dead of night. Hopefully the veil would be enough to conceal your identity from prying eyes.

You stumbled clumsily into the cottage and found yourself face to face with three of the most beautiful men you had ever laid eyes on.

Saints. They didn’t look like that when they were half-drowned and covered in sea mud.

Each of your guests had thick dark hair similar to Yoongi’s. Ink markings swirled over their necks in mesmerizing patterns. One even had what appeared to be runes drawn elegantly under his right eye. Silver piercings glinted from their brows, ears, lips, and noses.

They were utterly stunning. 

“My lady we owe you our gratitude,” the shortest of the trio bowed deeply. “I am Jimin and this,” he gestured to the two men behind him, “is Jungkook and Taeyhung.”’

“You are most welcome.” You offered a polite curtsy before reaching up to remove your veil. “It is my good fortune to cross your path.”

Jimin froze.

One of his companions gasped audibly, the other looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

Fear gripped your chest.

What is it? What’s wrong?

Taehyung spoke frantically in their native tongue and Jimin immediately raised his hands toward you in a gesture of peace.

“I am unarmed,” he whispered - his eyes strangely fixated on your face. “Please may I come closer?...I swear on my soul’s fire I will not hurt you.”

His gaze seemed desperate and oddly... hopeful.

“Y-yes. You may.”

As he drew forward, you realized that his focus was not on you - but on something that was revealed when you discarded your veil.

“Where did you get this earring, my lady?” 

The two behind him shifted anxiously.

“It was...” you were suddenly reluctant to disclose Yoongi’ identity, “- a man. He saved my life and gave it to me as a token.”

“May I?” 

His fingers reached out tentatively to touch the delicate chain in your ear.

For a moment you swore you could feel the metal heat against your skin.

Jimin’s nostrils flared. His eyes went black.

Well that was unexpected.

“Do you know... that in all the world there is only one pair of earrings like this?”

Yoongi drew back in confusion.

“They recognized my earring?”

“Jimin and his companions are royal mages. Their families have served the ruling house of Eastril for a thousand years. These,” your fingers brushed over Yoongi’s earring, “- were custom made for the Princess of Eastril by Jimin’s father. They still bear traces of his magic.”

“That proves nothing. My mother served with the princess. She could have taken them -” 

“She didn’t. You know that no Easrtili would remove another’s piercings - it's sacrilege. Your mother was the princess.”

His eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Why would a princess allow any of this to happen? She was a prisoner of war - the king’s lover. What you’re suggesting is madness...”

You bit your lip, considering how best to communicate the enormity of what you knew. Yoongi - despite being eyeball deep in a life altering identity crisis - was momentarily distracted by how much he wanted to bite your lip. 

“Jimin eventually took me into his confidence. It helped that he and Lindy became -” you searched for a polite way to say that they had defiled every surface in the groundskeeper’s cottage, “- close.” 

Yoongi's eyebrows raised.You cleared your throat awkwardly before continuing. 

“It was Jimin’s father - the high mage of Eastril - who helped your mother fake her death. They realized that without a catastrophic incident, our countries would tear each other apart. She was trying to buy time to look for a more permanent solution... But they lost contact with her when she was captured by your father.”

“I don’t understand. Eastrili mages have scry magic, they can find almost anyone.”

“But your father isn’t just anyone is he? No soul in Norlandria is more guarded than the king  - especially when it comes to foriegn magic. Defensive spells protecting the royal family are crafted by hundreds of our strongest priests.”

“Do they know that…” his eyes burned briefly with unwanted tears. “Did you tell them she’s gone?”

“They knew… Jimin said her flame burned for 12 years after the battle of Great Bay. They searched for her everyday until then… Now they search for her son.”

Yoongi's heart stuttered painfully in the wake of your words.

“...Her son?”

“They saw she had a child -  a new flame. Taehyung has seen glimpses of you in visions for years, but the wards protecting royalty - like you - were simply too strong to penetrate. The mages don’t have the power they once did. Their energy flows from the land and people of Eastril and since the Great Wars - both have suffered considerably.”

The chaos in Yoongi’s mind was deafening- immense, and the path ahead had never been more unclear.

“If this is true, then…”

“...Then you are not the child of a fateless Eastrili warrior - but of two ancient royal lines. Yours is the bluest blood in this castle. Not even the king can claim such a lineage.” 

After a moment, you reached back to remove your earring, offering it to the prince with an open palm.

“I owe you my life... And I know you’ve never wanted to be a king. There’s still time to take your token and disappear. I’ll never force you as I have been forced.”

The words are painful, but you must continue - even if it shattered your heart.

“Jimin is the high mage now. He plans to marry Lindy on the night of the Summer Solstice. They’ve arranged to smuggle her out of the country on a private fishing vessel in two days… and if you want- you can go with her.”

Carefully, you draw his hand to your heart, pressing the familiar silver ornament into it.

“Your mother’s earrings and his word is all it will take for you to assume your rightful place among them. Reclaim your token. You can wash your hands of this and I swear I’ll never reveal the truth of who you are...or-” 

“...Or?” 

His fingers closed over the token, weighing it along with your words and their inevitable consequences.

“Or stay,” you whisper - trying desperately not to plead with him. “Fight for your birthright. Lead our people. The light of Eastril is fading, but with the might of Norlandria at your disposal, you can bring it back... Claim your destiny.”

After a moment, your eyes met his with quiet trepidation... and a fierce spark of hope.

“...Claim me.”

His gaze never wavered from yours. The soft sound of metal shifting in his hands reached you even before you understood his intent.

Your heart pounded wildly as Yoongi threaded the familiar clasp through your ear. 

“You...are mine.” 

Then he crushed his mouth to yours.

This time there were no inhibitions, no distractions, no crippling guilt.  

The cloak went flying across the room as Yoongi swept you into his arms, moving forward till your back hit the plush surface of his bed.

“Years I wanted you - wished for you,” he whispered, dragging his mouth down your neck till he reached the sensitive hollow right above your collarbone. “And you’ve been mine all along.” 

His lips latched on to your skin, sucking a deep purple mark at your pulse point. The strange mixture of pain and pleasure had you whimpering helplessly. You needed more. More of this delicious pressure. More of him. 

Yoongi’s hand wrapped around your wrists, pinning your arms above your head. Your body was soft, ripe - irresistible -

Perfect simply because it was yours.

His breathing grew labored as he drank you in.

“Touch me,” you pleaded, “I’ve waited long enough.”

He grinned.

“Yes, my lady.”

The prince’s reputation for seductive debauchery was primarily the result of some overblown gossip surrounding a few (memorable but) isolated incidents in his wild youth.

However overblown they might be, you quickly discovered that the rumors were not - in fact - unfounded as Min Yoongi proceeded to thoroughly debauch you.

The brief speech your mother traumatized you with on your sixteenth birthday had not prepared you for the feeling of his mouth working over your heated core or the shattering ecstasy that shot through you when his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud nestled there.

Your nails clawed over his back as he explored and unraveled your body in ways you had never imagined. Every time you reached the edge of pleasure, he pushed you farther; praising and teasing you with filthy delicious words till you were mewling incoherently beneath him. 

Yet he was gentle as you finally took him in, filling and stretching you intimately with extraordinary patience (though he would later confess that going slow after wanting you for so long nearly killed him). 

When the pain faded, all that was left was indescribable pleasure. 

Release left you both sated and completely spent. You did not remember drifting to sleep, but you awoke several hours later to find Yoongi examining the results of your coupling with bemused curiosity. 

His eyes lingered on the flecks of red scattered over your thighs and the white sheets of his bed. 

“Her maidenhead shall be the sign...”

Primal satisfaction rose within him as he took in the marks he’d drawn over your body with his mouth. Marks you’d begged for. 

Perhaps he was a bit of a savage after all...

“That’s always been my absolute favorite line of the prophecy,” you muttered sleepily, letting your head drop into the pillow with an audible huff. 

“Having the entire kingdom routinely discuss my virginity over breakfast for the last several centuries was utterly delightful. Perhaps now they can finally talk about the weather.”

Yoongi laughed, untangling himself to retrieve a damp cloth from the basin on his dressing table.

“I doubt it.” 

His hands gently tended to your aching core and thighs, wiping them carefully with the cloth while you rested in comfortable silence.

“I truly never wanted power you know…” He laid aside the rag and drew you close once again. “Aside from being in your arms, this is not the path I would have chosen.”

You smiled, letting your fingers entwine with his,

“I think that’s probably why you are meant for it... You were the only one who looked past the prophecy and the power I represented and saw me. You read my letters, honored my choice...The saints tell us that ‘a man proves his greatness in the small moments’... You care for the people - not for the power of being king - and so you will be a great king.

Yoongi brushed a soft kiss against your head.

“You know they’ll fight us. Aurengi will not surrender easily - if at all. There will be violence - bloodshed.”

“...Yes,” you whispered.

“Are you afraid?”

“A little...but I’m also certain... Certain of this. Certain of us.” 

After a moment, you shifted slightly in his arms, leaning back until you were face to face.

“We have made our choice… Whatever is coming, we’ll defeat it together.”

His forehead lowered gently to rest against yours.

“Together,” he promised, letting his love for you burn away any lingering trace of fear.

• ▨ ▨ ▨ ▨ • ▨ ▨ ▨ ▨ •

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Masterlist: I got more where that came from... 

Your breathing’s labored. Your body trembled as you gripped the sheets so tightly your fingers ached. Jungkook didn’t care. His smirk had you clenching around the three tattooed fingers he was pumping in and out of you. His hair fell over his eyes as he hovered over your body, his face inches from yours. The necklace that hung from his neck swung back and forth over your chest, the cool metal grazing your heated flesh. 

“I can’t,” you whimpered, embarrassed at the obscene noises your pussy made as he fucked you with his fingers. He could feel the embarrassment radiating off your body, but Jungkook didn’t care. His tattooed knuckles filled you, pushed in, and curled to make you gasp. His lips met yours, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips. 

A stream of moans spilled from your lips, your thighs clenching shut as his thumb rubbed at your clit. Your body spasmed. Jungkook chuckled as he sat up to admire you as you admired the tattoos on his arms. You wanted to trace each one with your fingertips, watch him flex for you ‘cause he knew it turned you on. Something about his hands and arms aroused you, and he knew that; he used it to his advantage in times like these. His smirk grew larger. He shook his hair out of his beautiful doe eyes, the movement causing his black and silver earrings to shake, capturing your attention for a split second.  

Jungkook loved the lust-filled look you gave him, his movements speeding up. He could tell by the tremors of your body that you were nearing the edge, and he wanted to get you there; wanted to watch you come undone. He reveled in the dulcet sound of your voice, loved the way you arched for him, trying to get his fingers to fuck you deeper as you desperately tried to muffle your moans by biting your bottom lip, but it didn’t work.  

“Jungkook, please,” you begged, whimpering as he drew rigid circles on your clit, his lips meeting yours. You moaned against his lips, your hands lacing in his hair, tugging at the strands. Jungkook released a guttural groan, one that went directly to your cunt, it seemed. Jungkook chuckled, kissing your neck and nipping at the column of your throat, sweet moans and grunts escaping him as he ruts into the mattress for some relief.

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he encouraged, your arousal coating his fingers and his wrist. His cock throbbed in the confines of his boxers, aching to be released and sheathed inside your wet cunt.  

“If you want to take my cock, you need to come for me, love. Can you do that? Can you come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, growing wetter as your body felt like it was on fire. Pleasure courses through your veins, moans and delighted sighs filling the room as Jungkook continued his ministrations. He knew you were close. He could tell by the look in your eyes and the way your voice seemed to go up an octave. He had memorized all your tells after five years of dating.  

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he murmurs as he kisses your neck, nipping at the flesh to mark you as his. “Come if you want my cock.”

“Oh fuck, Jungkook!” You cry out, thighs quivering as tears roll down your eyes, your body finally giving in as you orgasm, squirting all over his hand and up to the tattoos on his forearm.  

“Fuck,” Jungkook rasps, his eyes on his soaked skin as he cautiously removes his fingers from your cunt. He licks his lips, admiring the fucked out look on your face. “Can you do that again?”

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Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

“I’d like to check out my tab please,” you finally say after you down your last drink and the bartender nods, going to the register and fixing your bill before he returns your credit card.

You grudgingly get out of your seat once you’ve tucked the card inside your purse, stumbling out the bar ever so clumsily, your vision letting you down as the things you would see in front of you appear to be doubled and swaying side by side. It makes you stagger a few times more, bumping into strangers who quite rudely push you away or some who are kind enough to help you stand still before carrying on with their business.

You’re not usually the type of person who depends on booze to make yourself better, in your defense. You’re actually the type to mop around and eat ice cream or any guilty pleasure dessert there is to exist; you like to cry and listen to songs with lyrics that will trigger your tears further. You aren’t typically this, really—you hated acting someone you were not—however the circumstances convinced you that maybe just for this one time, using alcohol to cope would be the right way to go about your pathetic and depressing feelings.

Phone ringing all of the sudden, you halt after just a few walks away from the bar, trying very hard to rummage through your purse to get the device. Once you do, you answer it without looking at the caller’s ID, a flat ‘hello?’ being spoken before you continue walking.

“____.” Seokjin’s stern voice echoes too loudly and you pull your ear away a little, marching forward once again. “Where the hell are you?”

Your stomach drops, the drinks you’ve taken earlier juggling around your system in abrupt anxiety at the realization of who was speaking.

He carries on when you fail to reply. “Are you in the restroom or something? The wedding planner told me she couldn’t find you and she needs to talk to you about the run through of the program after the meal.”

Fucker didn’t even notice I was gone, you think bitterly to yourself, which you also think is stupid in its own right as well since it isn’t like he was supposed to when he has a reception to be the center of.

“I’m somewhere… somewhere…” you trail, blinking hard, trying to get the right words out, “else, yeah, not there, definitely.”

“What?”

“Not there. Me is not. Wait, I mean—”

“____,” he cuts you off and hisses, causing your ear to tingle and your head to pound further, “are you drunk?”

You swallow hard and wince. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?” he repeats, disbelief evident in his tone. “Where are you?”

“I… not sure.”

“Do you see any signs?”

“Yeah.”

“What do they say? I’ll come and get you.”

“Get me?”

“Yes.”

“You?” You ask, sobering at his statement. “No, no, you aren’t—the fuck? You can’t—your wedding—it’s your wedding reception!”

He sounds exasperated as he tells you his next words. “You’re not in a familiar place, dumbass. You might get lost.”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to—”

“Where are you?”

“Don’t find me.”

“You can’t tell me that.”

“Why not?” You whine, stomping your foot even though you know the effort won’t be seen by him. “Just leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

“And you can’t just wait until you finish attending your best friend’s wedding, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

There’s a short pause and you can imagine him rolling his eyes, that perfect face of his visibly looking infuriated before you hear him click his tongue. “____, I’m serious, tell me where you are. I’ll come get you—or ask someone to get you or something if you don’t want me to.”

“No thanks. I told you I’m fine.”

Whatever he said afterwards (which consisted mostly of frustrated scolding), it didn’t manage to go through your head properly. All that’s running through it for the past minute or two instead is about him wanting to find you.

Well, he didn’t exactly word it like that, but your mind was convincing you otherwise and pointing out the fact that he was willing to actually leave his wedding reception just to get you back where you’re supposed to be. It reminds you once again how you’re such a fool for being cliché and falling in love with your best friend—your best friend who you got the chance to see exchange vows with his bride earlier; your best friend who you saw kiss her with so much love and passion; your best friend, who all your life, had you hoping that eventually it’ll be you and him in the end, only to realize it today that it has always been impossible to happen and you were just constantly stuck in your wistful fantasies.

“____, did you hear me? Tell me where you are and—”

“I’m sorry, Jin.” You sigh, sounding a bit more dejected now and just plain tired, the alcohol and your depressing thoughts getting the best of you. “I can’t do it. Can’t… can’t—fuck—pretend anymore that I’m okay.”

“What?”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning. Congratulations again.”

“____, what do you—”

You don’t bother hearing what he was going to reply to that but just hang up, almost dropping your phone as you let your hand fall back on your side harshly, fingers almost letting it slip as your feet drag you to nowhere in particular, just forward, hoping that you’ll just somehow find yourself back in the hotel after a few more strides.

Your heart is starting to ache again. Since the beginning of the day when you had to face Naeun, his now beautiful blooming wife, for a bunch of photo taking sessions with your fellow bridesmaids, it ached so bad, and yet you pretended to be okay, flashing smiles and making yourself appear to be the overly enthusiastic friend who was so happy to see Seokjin happy. But who are you kidding? You aren’t happy. The man that you’ve been in love with for several years just tied the knot with someone else. How is that supposed to make you happy?

“We were so beautiful; we were so tragic… no other magic, could ever compare.” A sweet-sounding melodic voice catches your attention, and you look sideways, seeing a young man singing by the sidewalk, sitting on a stool that’s placed in between two restaurants, holding a mic stand. “Lost myself, seventeen. Then you came, found me… no other magic could ever compare.”

You frown, drawing nearer to him and seeing his features clearer now. He’s a handsome man, about your age or possibly younger, wearing a dark blue button shirt tucked underneath black tight jeans. His hair is a little longer than the average, and from his hands up to his forearms which you manage to see because of his long sleeves being folded, various tattoos are inked on his skin.

You’re mesmerized quite frankly, not just by his appearance, but by how angelic his voice really is as each note just enters fluidly in your eardrums, that you can’t help but just stare at him, hugging your arms.

As his eyes scan the crowd, it abruptly lands on you, and you don’t look away, still utterly amazed.

“For as long as I live and as long as I love, I will never not think about you…” his eyes stay on you, “you… mmm, I will never not think about you.”

Throughout the whole time he sang, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, wanting to hear the rest of it and just understand the lyrics that felt like it was written to match what you were dealing with right now. You eventually find a seat close to the stage to sit on, eyes focused on the man who you notice would always glance back to you, his gaze staying longer than normal before he directs his attention back to the other people who are watching him like you are, his expression solemn and his voice just full of emotion.

You start thinking more about Seokjin involuntarily, just recalling the moments when you were almost sure it was going to be the moment he was finally going to realize that he too had feelings for you. But then he would make it apparent that all the sweet things he does to you, all the affection he shows you, all the time when you think he reciprocated your feelings—it’s just all out of love as a friend and as a ‘brother’. You start to think that maybe you should have just stayed away from him when you noticed that your crush for him was growing into something deeper, but you didn’t want to be unfair to Seokjin, who since you were kids, have been there to always pick you up on your feet. It seemed selfish to cut him off your life for a reason that only you faced consequences from.

When the song ends, you clap weakly along with the crowd who even whistled, the singer smiling and taking a short bow before you see him once again turning to you, and this time, he’s actually walking towards your way which makes you sit up properly from your position that had your elbows leaned on the table with your fist against your cheek. Now that he’s standing in front of you, he suddenly offers you something which you recognize as a handkerchief.

It was only then that you realize that you’ve been crying, your tears just flowing nonstop the moment you’ve taken a seat there. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand at the discovery, while he pushes the cloth towards you again, as if saying that you should take it, and you do, grabbing it gingerly and using it to wipe the tears that were still pretty much uncontrollably washing your face.

“Sorry,” you say, and you notice another busker coming up to his previous place, “it was just—you sang really good… uh…” you’re trying to figure out his name since you swear you heard one of the people who are watching as well shout it.

“Jeongguk,” he fills in for you with a chuckle. “And thanks…” He copies what you did, and you smile.

“____.” You look up as you tell him and he’s still looking at you, a curious look on his expression.

“Beautiful name.”

You chuckle. This isn’t supposed to be the right time to be flattered when being somehow hit on. “Thanks,” you meekly say. “Um, by the way, now that you’re here, I guess I should ask—what song was that?” you ask quickly. “I want to—I mean, I don’t think I ever heard it somewhere. It’d be good on my playlist.”

“Well, I don’t think you’d be finding it online or somewhere else even if I tell you. It’s an original composition.”

“Really?” You widen your eyes at him, lowering the handkerchief as you calm down. “You wrote that? And like make the melody and stuff?”

He nods slowly, a teasing smile on his lips. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“How?”

“How?” he repeats in confusion.

You blink. “Oh, sorry, that was a stupid question. But wow. You’re so talented.”

Jeongguk sniggers, your dumbfounded expression appearing kinda cute. “Thanks, again.”

“But what made you write such a sad song?”

The genuine interest in your voice amuses him.

To be honest, he wasn’t supposed to approach you just because you looked pretty in his eyes. He knows too well from past experiences that doing that might not end in good results. But then he had to see you wear a ridiculously pink cocktail dress when you emerged from the crowd as you take a seat by one of the tables near him, abruptly crying once he sang the chorus and never stopped until he finished singing. So, he just couldn’t resist it then, wanting to know what was making you sob this hard—and why you looked like you just attended a very confusingly 1950s themed party.

“It’s not an interesting story.” He shrugs. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to be bothered,” you say, smiling, a contrast to your tear-stricken face. “Just tell me. I’ve had a few drinks anyway—in case you didn’t notice that—so… like, if you want me to forget about this tomorrow, consider it done.”

He stares at you, a few seconds of just purely examining your face before he’s pulling the chair out across yours. “Alright. If you say so.”

You grin.

Jeongguk leans back on his seat. “But just a disclaimer, it’s nothing special really, just the usual love story wherein you were high school sweethearts and one had to go study in a university away from town.”

“Were you the one who left or…”

“She did.”

“Ah.”

“It really wasn’t supposed to be a big deal though,” he tells you. “I wasn’t the type to get worried about distance and stuff. But then she kinda—well, she did, not kinda—cheated on me, just when we were months away from graduating college. Wouldn’t have known it if I didn’t pay her a surprise visit outside the building where the dormitories are.”

“Wow, that… sucks.”

“It did.” He takes in a deep breath. “We’ve been in a relationship since sixteen? Yup. And she throws it away, just like that.”

“What happened when you caught her?”

“She apologized, said some shit about how she was just lonely and all that. Turns out that she’s been fooling around with the guy since sophomore year. I said that alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll let you do whatever the hell you want with your life, and just took the train back here in Busan.”

“That’s a really dramatic exit.” You joke and he chuckles.

“It kinda is, huh?”

“Still,” you smile warmly at him, red cheeks presenting itself accompanied by droopy eyelids that somehow made you look even more attractive, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Some people are just plain shitty.”

Jeongguk finds himself gazing at you too long again. “I’m alright now though.”

“Doesn’t seem like it, judging from the song.”

“Good point.” He chuckles. “But it’s been a long time since that happened, about three years.”

“And you still think about her?”

“She was my first love. I guess the song’s like a tribute at least—and some sort of goodbye note.”

“But…” you furrow your eyebrows, a smile now uncontrollably appearing on your mouth, “the lyrics clearly state that you can never not think about her.”

“____,” he says your name in a knowing and playful tone, something that just causes your heart to make an unnecessary jump inside your ribcage, “sometimes lyrics have some exaggerations to make it prettier, you know?”

You snort. “Guess so.”

“But what about you?” He brings up new topic, gesturing suddenly at your whole figure and you remember that you still had the ridiculous hot pink cocktail dress on in front of this handsome man. “What’s the story behind all of that?”

You lean on your chair, pulling at the ends of the dress as if presenting it to him. “I attended a wedding. My best friend’s wedding.”

He raises his eyebrows, curious and definitely more interested, leaning on the table slightly. “Let me guess… is this best friend of yours secretly the one you’ve been sobbing about?”

You nod with a loud laugh. “Bingo.”

“Damn.” Jeongguk chuckles. “Then that just makes us heartbreak veterans now, huh?”

“Basically.”

“What’s the tea?”

You have to laugh again at how he chooses his words, not expecting a macho looking man like him with a sleeved tattoo to be muttering such things. But you have been noticing that in contrast with his body, his face was really… how were you supposed to describe it… youthful perhaps? With just every grin he does, it reveals very boyish features that you can’t deny was making you grow more dazzled by him. You already know that before this night ends, his face is going to be one of the things you will never forget from this trip.

“Just the same old friendzoned drama.” You sigh. “We’ve been friends since kids. I started liking him. He never liked me that way. And he just got married earlier. I was even one of the bridesmaids—that’s why I’m wearing this stupid dress.”

“It’s not stupid,” he assures you, though he was biting his lower lip to suppress a grin. “Just really eye catching. I would have probably seen you like a street away from where I was singing.”

“I’ll take that to offense,” you joke, and he chuckles along with you.

“You still look pretty though, don’t worry.”

You blink rapidly, blood rushing to your cheeks quickly that you feel your face heat up in the next five seconds. “Really? I’ve been like… also ugly crying for the past hour. I probably look like a mess.”

“You still look fine to me,” he says with a careless shrug. “But as you were saying, about your best friend…”

“Oh, right,” you raise your eyebrow, surprised that he really is interested in what story you had to tell to ask again, “well, there’s not much to it other than that. I did kinda leave his wedding reception earlier though with the aim to get wasted. But I didn’t want to be too drunk because I figured… that’d be stupid so… I left the bar earlier than I planned too and then that’s when I heard you sing.”

“Did it feel like angels were calling?”

“Quite frankly, yeah.” You sincerely admit. “You have a very beautiful voice.”

“You know,” he leans on the table once more, “if you say that again, I might just think you’re only flattering me.”

“It’s true! I mean, I wouldn’t have been drawn if that wasn’t the case. Plus, your song really hit a spot. I wish you could’ve put it on Soundcloud or something.”

“Soundcloud, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re familiar with the site.”

“I am but… nah. I want my songs to be—how can I put it—rare, perhaps? Like, if you want to hear it, you’ll have to be here at the restobar.”

“That’s poetic.”

“Is it?”

“A little. Do you work at the restobar as a regular singer here outside?”

“This my family’s resto, actually, and yeah, you could say that.”

“This is yours?” You point at the entrance of the resto, a building which looks kinda higher class compared to the other ones, if that made sense, which is primarily the reason why when you passed by it earlier, you didn’t bother drinking there. “Your family owns this?”

“Yup.”

“You’re rich?”

“I wouldn’t use rich as a word to describe our financial situation but, I’ll take it.”

You snort. “Still though, you just made yourself appear dreamier. I mean, you’re handsome, you sing really well—like, I honestly can’t stress it enough—you turn out to be charming and nice too, and now you’re rich? Did God just shower you with all the good things when you were born?”

The compliments are so wholesome, unlike the usual things he would hear from the other girls he’d bother talking to in the past. And you even had a few drinks in this case, yet by the way you’re praising him right now is something that really strikes him, as it’s so focused on the talent he possessed and the personality he has rather than just how he looked. Not saying that he doesn’t like to be hit on from time to time because of his outer appearance, truth be told (his ego still got the best of him when triggered), but you’re undoubtedly a breath of fresh air from all the ones who always try too hard to find ways to sleep with him before they finish conversing.

“You wanna go inside?” he asks after a few seconds of blatantly gazing at you. “Are you up for more drinks, I mean? Just a few beers, my treat.”

“You’ll treat me?”

“Why not?”

You smile. “Well, I’m always up for more drinks. Plus, I might not pester you too much anyways since I already drank a considerably huge amount before this.”

“Is that a yes?” He stands up and looks at you, waiting.

“Sure.” You too stand up and when you do, he reaches for your hand but stops when he’s so close to holding it, instead keeping his palm in view and letting you decide if you wanted to take it or not.

But of course, you take it, without even missing a heartbeat, something that baffles your subconscious mind because you don’t remember being this comfortable with the people you just met. You’re always so reserved and is the type who definitely doesn’t do half of the things you just did tonight—but here you are, following him now inside the restobar which surprisingly doesn’t have a lot of people in, a soft R&B song playing in the background. You notice that the customers are mostly outside where it’s probably much more fun, not here where you aren’t allowed to make that much of noise or smoke, and that’s why the inside is practically empty.

“Where do you wanna sit?” he asks as he glances back at you.

You stop scanning the interior of the place, your eyes going back to him after admiring the ceiling designs, the various frames that hang on the walls, the bar counter and the alcohol display it has behind it. It’s a minimal look, just the right amount of aesthetics that is easy on the eyes.

“Anywhere,” you finally say, “take me to the best seat you know.”

Jeongguk laughs at that and pulls you to the lounge sofa that was at the right side of the bar, one of the few seats that doesn’t have any occupants. He lets you sit down first while he remains standing, a smile on his face still and you look up at him, expecting him to join you.

“I’ll just get the drinks. Do you want something else?” he asks.

“Fries with lots of cheese sauce, if you have it.”

“How long have you had that in mind? You didn’t even hesitate.”

You laugh. “I saw someone outside eating the same thing, that’s why I said it.”

“And your wish is my command. I’ll be back in a sec.” He winks before heading to the counter where he talks with a dimpled man who glances at your way then playfully punches Jeongguk’s shoulder, the two of them laughing.

You remain gazing at Jeongguk’s back, not meaning to but just appreciating the way his body is so proportioned and fit. He’s the right amount of tall, muscular—but not too muscular either, you aren’t a fan of men who has too big muscles—and also, you can’t help but notice how his thighs are definitely something else, or maybe it’s just those jeans he’s wearing that are really accentuating it a lot, along with his undeniably curvy ass.

Okay. Why are you even thinking about how his ass looks great?

All your life, you’ve only been focused on one man only, and that’s obviously always been Seokjin. Even though you had a fair share of boyfriends and flings over the years that passed by as you grew up, and even though you did love at least one or two of them genuinely with all of your heart, it was always still Seokjin that you’d end up thinking about the moment you’re single again. It’s like an endless cycle of you realizing you’re in love with him and then finding someone you think that can prove you otherwise—but the said someone breaks your heart and you’re back again from where you’re started.

You’re admittedly kind of afraid Jeongguk was going to end up like that too. Not that you’re positive something is going to happen before the night ends, but he appears just too good to be true, like a man who is positively written by a woman, and perhaps a man that isn’t destined to end up with someone like you once that book ends.

He comes back with two huge glasses of beers, one of them filled only halfway through, and hanging on his forearm now is a jean jacket that you don’t think you saw him getting because of you spacing out a little while after shamelessly admiring his bottom. He sits beside you quickly, your knees slightly bumping against each other under the table before he slides the glass—the half-full one—in front of you.

“The fries are going to take a few minutes.”

You slide your beer nearer to you. “No problem. I think I shouldn’t complain since I’m getting this for free.”

“Uh, take this too, by the way. It’s chilly here because of the A/C.”

You raise your eyebrows as he hands you the jean jacket. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”

“You literally have no sleeves on,” he says. “Just take it. Don’t worry, it smells okay.”

“Just okay?” you tease but accept his offer nonetheless, getting it from his hand and wearing it, a fragrant that smelled fresh and clean at the same time filling your nostrils that you subtly take another inhale just to get the scent in better, something that Jeongguk notices but doesn’t bring up, only smiling.

Once you’re done, you grab the glass of beer waiting for you again and take a long sip.

“You like it?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod, licking your lips before bringing it down. “It’s nice.”

“Just nice?”

You chuckle sheepishly. “Uh, delicious? Will that suffice?”

“I’ll take it.”

You two chuckle at each other once more.

“Anyways,” he drinks from his glass too, “been wanting to ask you. You’re not from around here, aren’t you?”

“Yup. I’m from Seoul. It’s Naeun who’s from here—she wanted the wedding to happen here so—”

“Naeun’s the best friend’s wife?”

“Yeah.” You’re slightly surprised again to realize that he was paying attention earlier.

“And what’s the best friend’s name?”

“Seokjin.” You laugh at how the conversation is flowing.

He flashes a similar grin, showcasing a smile that has you leaning on your elbow as you look at him sideways, swooning. “How long have they’ve been together?” he asks.

“About… um, maybe four years?”

“How long have you been in love with Seokjin?”

“Long time,” you state with a sigh, “I don’t even know exactly when. I just know it’s probably like… before high school.”

He raises his brows, now leaning on his elbow too like you. “You’ve been pining over him for a long time then.”

“Yeah… which is really stupid of me to do so. Seokjin always made it obvious that he didn’t see me that way, but I always hoped.”

“Nothing wrong with hoping. If I was in your shoes, I probably would have been the same thing.”

“You don’t peg me as the pining type though.”

Jeongguk snorts. “I was waiting for a girl to come home only during winter breaks. Of course, I’m the pining type.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you’re like… the one who should be pining over for.”

“Why? Because I’m handsome?”

“You’re starting to really love the compliments from me, huh?”

“Well,” he takes his glass of beer again, “can’t deny that compliments from a beautiful girl excites me.”

“Is it safe to assume that the beautiful girl you’re pertaining to is me?”

“I’m not talking to anyone else right now, am I?”

“Ah, and we’re flirting now too?” You grin. “But alright, we should probably make the most of it because you won’t see this side of me when sober.”

“So, we are seeing each other again after this?”

The both of you erupt in laughter, you taking your glass too to down the rest of your beer.

“Anyway, what do you do in Seoul?” he asks, starting another topic.

“Like my work?”

“Yeah.”

“Library. I work there.”

“You do?”

You chuckle. “I can tell you’re surprised.”

“You look more outgoing for a librarian.”

“I told you,” you force your eyes to open wider, “I’m usually a lot more boring when I’m alcohol free. Also, why do librarians always have to be old and boring people in your heads?”

He’s amused at the annoyance in your tone. “It’s not that—but alright, I’ll confess and say that I was expecting a much more exciting job from you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know… just not that.”

“I wanted to be a flight attendant at first,” you say. “But I don’t know shit about swimming and I’m afraid of like—doing all the basic stuff for emergencies.”

“You’d be the worst flight attendant with that attitude.”

“I know! I’ll probably get an award for it too.” You snicker. “You? If you weren’t a dreamy busker, what would you be?”

He likes the adjective you added before saying ‘busker’. “Professional gamer.”

“Online games?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a cliché.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Every guy I’ve known mentioned at least once in their life to want to be something related to doing games.”

“Well, are they good at it? Because I sure am.”

“I bet you are. I bet you’re good at a lot of things too—a jack of all trades, but like, really masters of everything.” You laugh.

Things are beginning to feel so easy with Jeongguk that it just makes you surprised all over again whenever you’ll get reminded that he is a stranger. It hasn’t been an hour even since you met though by how you’re bantering and telling things to each other, made it seem like he’s a long-lost friend that you’re only catching up with.

You like how his eyes stare through yours in interest in every word you say, even if the majority of them comes out as nonsense or just plain blabbering as the clock continues to tick—he still would pour effort to focus every piece of his attention on you despite turning a little tipsy the more he drinks and order another round of beer, asking you questions if he doesn’t understand a part or letting you repeat what you said if you spoke too fast or too gibberish.

Time appeared to fly so fast the more you converse with him that you don’t notice how you’ve already finished your beverage eventually, the fries you requested being eaten up and finished too, along with the people who have been coming and going throughout making the place practically empty. You don’t even think about how you’re still there wearing the cursed dress or that you bailed Seokjin’s wedding to escape more heartache—it’s suddenly just you and him in this restobar, nothing and no one else, jumping from one topic to another with such familiarity it was truly strange, but you sure as hell isn’t complaining.

***

God, it’s been what? Two hours now? It’s been two hours and you’re still here, still wanting to learn more about Jeongguk.

He still can’t get over the fact that you aren’t crawling on top of him like what he’s been imagining when you first started talking earlier, thinking that this might end up like one of his meaningless hookups. Though it isn’t like he was aiming to do that with you when he approached you earlier, he just isn’t expecting that you’ll be like this instead, not when you fit the exact criteria of what a general one-night stand material portrayed in movies would be: the vulnerable girl who fucks around with a guy she barely knows just to forget about the guy she really loves.

But you are starting to be more physically affectionate the more the night progresses, a little bit more intoxicated than before that you’ve gone sitting too close to him yet neither of you back away, hand going from caressing his own to his wrist and forearm, all the while you continue to stare at him fondly with tired eyelids. You might give your alcohol tolerance more credit for not throwing up or possibly humiliating yourself in front of him yet.

“When are you going home?” he asks as another topic ends, the question slipping out of him immediately when he couldn’t stop his curiosity from taking the lead.

The thought keeps jumping in his mind for a few minutes now. He didn’t reckon that he was going to enjoy your company like this, up the extend that he’s dreading the moment you’ll have to leave and he’ll perhaps have to inevitably get over you, because like all the girls who visited his family’s restobar in the past and who he happened to be interested in, he never got to see them again after a good night.

However, you aren’t quite like the girls he used to like, aren’t you?

Your lips form in a pout at what your answer is going to be. “Tomorrow.”

Jeongguk frowns at that. “Already?”

“Yeah… been here for… a week? Yeah.”

“Yet we had to meet today.”

You snort, agreeing, but then you focus your attention on his tattoos, obviously sidetracked. “What does this mean?” You hold his arm with soft hands, a finger pointed at a tattoo that has a flower blooming with written words behind it that you couldn’t read properly.

Jeongguk glances at it, the spot where you touched his arm sending a warm feeling inside him. “It’s my birth flower.”

“Which is?”

“A tiger flower.”

“Ah, the pattern! I see the tiger element.” You drag his arm forward to extend it and let your finger glide along his inked skin. “What does it say?”

“Please love me.”

You look up. “What?”

“The phrase, it’s ‘please love me’.” He smirks with a chuckle. “But you’re free to take that seriously too.”

“Hey, Jeonggukie—”

“Jeonggukie?” His face is dangerously close now. “Nickname bases now, huh?”

You grin. “You like it.”

“I do.”

You stare at him; you stare at his eyes and then at his lips and then back on his pupils. “You’re really pretty.”

He chuckles under his breath. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m okay.” You lean your side on the headrest, sighing. Even though Jeongguk does appear kinda hazy now, you’re still sure about what you told him of him being pretty. “I want to talk to you more.”

Jeongguk’s heart starts to feel weird—an unusual feeling that has his spine tingling.

“What are your other tattoos?” you ask him again, hand back to holding his and he begins playing with your fingers too, enjoying the gentleness and how small it was compared to his.

“I have some more along my shoulder, but it’s hard to show it to you now.”

“Show me when we meet again.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I just know it has to happen.”

“Sure thing.”

You smile sleepily. “I want to get a tattoo too, you know. Probably like,” you blink, thinking hard, “like those white ones. White inks, yeah. They’re nice.”

Jeongguk is getting more amused at your slurred speech. “They’ll look nice on you too.”

“You think?”

“I’m positive.”

You giggle. “I want your lyrics tattooed too.”

He raises his brows. “Yeah? Which one?”

“Can’t… can’t remember.” You laugh childishly. “But like—the one—uh… the first thing… tragic something…”

“‘We were so beautiful; we were so tragic’?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah! That’s it.” You abruptly let go of his hand to gesture behind your forearm. “Right—kinda in this spot—right here, yup. But with your… your handwriting.”

He likes the sound of that. “It’s a sad lyric though. Think you want that tattooed on your arm?”

“It’s a sad lyric but it spoke to me,” you explain before gazing at him, a lopsided smile on your lips. “You… actually, you spoke to me.”

Jeongguk blinks, speechless, and most definitely touched to hear someone say that about a line he wrote. Singing isn’t something he pursued seriously, but he likes to go back to it from time to time, motivated by the countless people who appreciate his voice and his performances whenever he busks outside their restaurant—yet you saying that to him right now, makes him want to take it more earnestly and with more dedication. The last time someone commended him like that, it was his mother who overheard him singing one of his own compositions in the living room.

“Shit,” he mutters, still blinking rapidly as he feels like the effect of alcohol in his system subsiding, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Yeah?”

“May I?” he whispers. “Or is that too fast?”

“I don’t know. How long have we met?” You laugh and he follows right after, seemingly not able to stop himself from always doing the same whenever you did it first. Your laugh gives him this sappy urge to write a song about it.

There’s a short silence of the both of you just gazing at each other, of him back to holding your hand, your fingers lacing and latching on the other tightly, as if you two were afraid that if you held it loosely, the person in front of you was going to vanish into thin air. And you ponder about it—if that’s to happen, if this ends up some kind of happy dream that you aren’t able to come back to in the future, then you should at least grant yourself the favor of not wanting to put yourself back for once.

“Jeongguk,” you murmur his name.

He hums in acknowledgment, head unconsciously drawing nearer.

“You… you can kiss me. If you still want.”

He smiles. Soon a fond and soft expression spreads on his handsome face.

The next time your eyes meet, it’s when he finishes kissing you, when your lips are no longer pressing against each other and the salty plus cheesy taste he has on his mouth because of the fries begin to fade. You gaze at him, surprised at how genuinely right it feels despite the odd circumstances that led you to him, and you weakly haul him back towards you, kissing him again, with more passion and intent, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips and kiss you sensually that a quiet moan manages to escape you.

Jeongguk exhales as you both let go, breathing for air. “Shit.”

You tilt your head to the side before it falls back on the sofa tiredly. “What? Was it that bad?”

“No,” he snorts, sneaking another kiss on your mouth that you blush at, “it’s just that I think I just made it harder for myself to get over you.”

You laugh again, a sound that echoes inside his ears gleefully and finishes too early. “I’m sure you’ll get past it quicker than you think.”

“Impossible. I’m even tempted to keep you with me until you fly back.”

“That sounds—” you yawn abruptly, the drowsiness no longer being hidden— “great… actually.”

He snickers in affection. “You think?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grins, brushing your hair away from your forehead and watching as you close your eyes, failing to open them again, suddenly falling asleep.

***

“How are you planning to take her home?”

Jeongguk glances at Namjoon, the man behind the bar who just approached your table upon being called. You’re passed out beside him on the sofa, snoring quietly with no sign of waking up anytime; Jeongguk already tried to shake you as gently as he could to bring you back to where you were staying at, but clearly, your stated deemed it hard for him to do so.

“I have no idea,” he says. “Do you know any place hosting a reception tonight?”

“There’s a lot of places hosting a reception or any type of reception tonight, Guk. Why don’t you just let her sleep at your place?”

“Can’t. She’s due to leave tomorrow.”

“Damn. Sucks for you then.” Namjoon chuckles, his tone not really apologetic but rather teasing. “Should I just call some hotels and ask? The one she’s staying at might not be that far if she’s here.”

“Yeah, that would be—”

A ring stops him mid-sentence and he quickly scans the area where you’re sitting on to find the source of the sound, spotting your purse beside you and opening it to see your cellphone ringing. Jeongguk sighs in relief, signaling to Namjoon that maybe he’s got it handled after all, and the latter nods before striding back to his post, attending to a customer that is waiting at the bar counter.

He reads the caller’s ID. Someone named ‘Sooyoung’ is calling you.

“Hello?” he greets.

A long pause. “This isn’t ____.” Another pause. “Did I get the wrong number or—”

“No, no, you didn’t get the wrong number. She’s, uh, she’s with me at the moment but she’s asleep, so I figured it’d be okay for me to answer. Can you pick her up?”

“____’s asleep?”

“She’s also very drunk.”

“Oh my god.”

“She’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Great, okay.” She sighs. “Can you tell me the address now? I’ll pick her up.”

Jeongguk dictates the address of the restobar, adding that even if she just tells the name to the cab she’ll be taking, they’ll know it anyway. ‘Sooyoung’ thanks him, apologizes too in case you caused him any convenience which Jeongguk smirks to, and hangs up.

The moment she does, and your phone goes back to its default lock screen, Jeongguk contemplates a little while before smirking once more to himself, opting to go to the accessible camera app and directing the front camera to both of your faces. You might be annoyed when you see this the next time you open your gallery, but he decides at least you’ll have a picture together from your phone as well (since he is planning to take one from his own cellphone too).

An hour later, a girl enters the restobar and introduces herself to be your friend, Sooyoung. She and Jeongguk shake hands, with Jeongguk explaining what happened as politely as he could to not make it seem like there was anything suspicious that happened between the both of you, and she apologizes again, saying that you aren’t usually like this and that you tend to know better than just go out and get drunk by yourself with no back-up plan.

Jeongguk wants to say that he understands why you did what you did, considering that you two just poured almost all of your life stories with one another, though he thinks that it’s wise if he would just grant you the opportunity to confess that bit to Sooyoung yourself, as he believes he’s not the kind of guy who likes to kiss and tell.

“Are you sure you can handle her on your own?” Jeongguk asks while gently placing you inside the cab that Sooyoung has standing by the entrance.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to burden you enough.” She smiles. “Oh, is this your jacket, by any chance?” She points at the one you’re wearing.

He nods. “Yeah. I can just pick it up tomorrow. What time are you guys leaving?”

She doesn’t mask her surprise to see that Jeongguk apparently knows you’re leaving tomorrow. “6 pm.”

“Then can you tell her I’ll stop by at maybe 2:30?”

She seems to hesitate, analyzing Jeongguk, until finally she shrugs. “Sure. I’ll tell her.

“Thanks.”

Jeongguk opens the door for her at the passenger’s seat and she mutters a ‘thanks’ too, the both of them exchanging friendly smiles before the vehicle drives away and he watches, refusing to leave his spot until it’s gone from his line of vision and he’s placing his hands inside his pockets, already thinking about seeing you again in less than 24 hours.

He knows a day will never feel so long in his life.

***

You wake up with your head aching so bad.

You’re aware of the fact that Sooyoung is practically shouting her lungs out, hence why your brain is having the risk of an explosion at the moment too, and when you officially open your eyes, you see that you’re in her hotel room and that she’s standing by the foot of the bed, talking to someone on the phone animatedly, looking frustrated and aggravated as she continues to talk.

“Ugh, I told you, Seokjin—I don’t know the guy!” She rolls her eyes. “He wasn’t—no, ____ wouldn’t be stupid to hook up with someone in that state of mind—”

You groan loudly and purposely, letting her know that you are now awake and that it’d be appreciated if she shuts up because of it as it isn’t helping this hangover you’re experiencing. It works immediately thank goodness, because Sooyoung stops talking once you do, snapping her head so quickly towards you and the instance your eyes connect, see absolute fury in her eyes, gritting her teeth together.

“Call you later. She’s awake.” She hangs up, a distorted voice yelling from the other line, and then a pillow gets thrown on your face.

“Soo!” You groan again, pushing the pillow to the side.

“____!” she repeats with an even angrier voice, the action causing a sledgehammer to pierce through your skull. “Are you nuts? You bailed Seokjin’s wedding reception—unable to be contacted throughout the whole fucking night—and then it’s 1 am and you finally answer my calls but turns out it’s a guy who’s using your phone, saying that I need to pick you up in a bar. Are you fucking nuts?” she exclaims.

You wince because of the further yelling, trying to think of a stupid excuse that isn’t going to reveal the true nature of why you bailed.

But at the mention of a guy, you suddenly remember him—Jeongguk, the ridiculously attractive man you met last night, and your cheeks start to flush, every moment just flashing back, including those lame attempts of flirting and you being way too touchy and clingy to him. It makes you moan out in annoyance, clutching your head both in embarrassment because of your own actions and because it still hurt like hell.

Though on top of that, you can’t deny how you recall being so comfortable with him and how he was so charming the whole time as well, that you wish that somehow you can see him again before you leave—if you still have the courage to face him after being a drunken idiot, that is.

“____!”

“What? Stop shouting.” You whine, your hands landing back on the bed in exasperation. “I can perfectly hear you.”

“Then why are you not explaining? Do you know how worried we were? Do you know how worried Seokjin was? He couldn’t even concentrate on the rest of his reception because of you.”

Bit by bit, your mind is starting to function right. “What?”

“He was obviously anxious for the rest of the program. Couldn’t even concentrate on the other guests’ speeches.”

You frown, certainly not aiming to do make Seokjin worry like that. Is it so bad that you were thinking of your own feelings for once that when you wanted to get away from the man you’ve been pining over for several years, you really did and even continued to bail on his wedding reception? Somehow even when you think you’re finally doing the right thing by doing that step, the universe just proves you otherwise and points you as a selfish person who thinks it’s okay to burden others for the sake of your own happiness.

Sooyoung notices how your eyes are watering, and she lets out a breathe. “Look, ____, we were just really worried, okay? You should have at least told me where you were so I wouldn’t have to be thinking all night where you could be.”

“I… I’m sorry. I, I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine.” She purses her lips, sitting beside you. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You are, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“____....”

“I’ll manage. I have to.” You give her a halfhearted smile. “But, uh, is Seokjin… where…”

“At the airport. They’re leaving for Hawaii in about an hour.”

“Oh.”

“He wanted to talk to you before you go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He was supposed to stop by this morning, but their schedule is packed, and of course, they were tired from last night—”

“I get it. No need to tell me any details.”

Sooyoung studies your face,  her lips curving downwards. “Are you really okay? I mean, you can tell me anything, you know.” She’s much calmer now and emphatic to your emotions, reminded of your feelings towards your best friend and at least using that to make herself understand you more.

“I know.” You look at her. “But I’m doing better than I expected. Thank you.”

“How about calling Seokjin? Don’t you want to talk to him?”

“No. I bet he’s disappointed and mad. I’ll let him enjoy things with Naeun.”

“Still, he really was worried sick.”

“Then just… tell him that I’m okay now,” you say. “Please, I think I crossed the line last night so… I rather not talk to him yet.”

“What do you mean?”

You gently massage your temples. “I can’t dwell on it now. I need to take a bath first—I stink. Were you the one who dressed me into this?” You gesture at the pajamas and top you’re wearing.

“Yeah, who else? Mr. Hottie?”

You widen your eyes, cheeks getting redder in an instant, the memory of how Jeongguk would smile at you and look at your eyes—and kiss you—flashing back. “You met Jeongguk?”

“Ah, so that’s his name. Forgot to ask him last before we left.” She grins teasingly. “I told you, he answered your phone and then wondered if I could pick you up. Of course, I met him—and oh! He said he’ll get his jacket sometime before we leave the hotel.”

“Jacket?”

“The jean jacket. You were still wearing it when we went back.”

“He’s going to go here?” You exclaim loudly.

“Yeah, actually he said about 2:30 which—”

You automatically scramble out of the bed, almost tripping on your own feet, ignoring your still aching head and now aching joints to get your purse that had your keycard inside, rushing the hallway to go to your room with the aim to take a bath and prepare since if what Sooyoung said is true, then it means Jeongguk is going to arrive in approximately forty minutes—and shit, you have to make yourself more presentable than yesterday for redemption.

***

“Jeongguk!”

He stops walking towards the entrance of the hotel and turns his head towards whoever called his name, seeing the familiar face of Yoongi walking up to him from a taxi. He’s a friend of his brother who eventually became his friend too once he got older because of their shared love for anything related to alcoholic really. Yoongi’s family owns a company that resells alcoholic beverages from its original manufacturers, supplying the restobar owned by Jeongguk’s family too and this hotel that the both of them are heading in.

“Yoongi.” He smiles.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Is the restaurant gonna invite you to sing for them again?” Yoongi asks first thing as he stops in front of him.

“Nope, just visiting someone.”

Yoongi squints his eyes at that and Jeongguk rolls his, knowing that he was going to be teased again.

“It’s not what you think it is,” he says immediately.

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“Well, you might have done so anyway because of your face.”

They laugh and when Jeongguk glances sideways for a split second, he thinks it’s you who he sees walking out from a corridor inside the hotel, his familiar jean jacket hanging on your forearm. Jeongguk takes a step backward to angle his position and get a clearer view because of that, Yoongi snapping his eyes to where Jeongguk’s looking at in curiosity as well.

“So sorry to cut this short, Yoongi, but I think I need to go. It was nice to see you again.” He pats Yoongi’s shoulder as farewell, his sentence honestly coming out as rushed however he could care less, too eager to meet you again that he doesn’t bother to wait for Yoongi’s response before he’s marching away.

Jeongguk jogs to the lobby where he sees Sooyoung, talking to you who looks different now that you aren’t wearing the eye-catching hot pink dress, instead dressed in faded blue jeans and a plain white V-neck top that hugs your figure in the right and flattering places. Your hair isn’t tied up in a bun anymore too, but laid down casually behind your shoulders, the make-up you had on simpler than last night now that there isn’t a special occasion anymore for you to attend to.

He doesn’t know how he should approach you as he trudges further, but it’s a good thing he doesn’t need to stress about it since you almost immediately look at him once he’s so close, your eyes straying elsewhere and stopping where he is before it widens and then you’re looking at Sooyoung, nudging her which makes her look at him too.

“Hey! It’s Jeongguk, right?” Sooyoung’s the one who enthusiastically greets him while you couldn’t bring yourself to flicker your gaze at him back again, your face just beginning to get entirely red because of his presence right here.

“Yeah.” He smiles politely before facing you and tilting his head. “____?”

You’re forced to look at him once he calls your name, and you smile. “Hey… Jeongguk.”

“Hi,” he repeats, grinning now that makes your stomach drop because despite your hazy memories about what exactly occurred at the bar yesterday, you can still remember how that grin right there makes your knees grow weak.

Not to mention those lips that you had the chance to kiss more than one time too.

“Hey,” you say again.

“I’ll give you two some privacy to talk,” Sooyoung pipes in before glancing at you. “Thirty minutes, alright? You still need to clean your room and pack up.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She waves at Jeongguk as goodbye and he gives her a nod, his eyes then turning back to you.

Now that you’re nowhere near drunk, you could confirm that the way you perceived him to be when you first met was totally right. He is indeed 100% dreamy—too pretty and out of your league. If you met him anywhere else, there was no way you would approach him, much less initiate a conversation like what you’ve been doing previously because there is also no way that someone like him could be interested in you, as what your head insists.

“So,” he steps closer to where you’re standing with a smirk, “my jacket?”

You’re clutching on the jacket so tightly because of how nervous you were. “Oh, yeah, here.” You hand it out to him, and he takes it. “Sorry I couldn’t wash it first, by the way. We’re leaving in less than four hours.”

“That quick?”

“Yeah.”

There’s an awkward silence that lasts roughly five seconds before Jeongguk chuckles, his stare still pretty much on you, making you break off into a breathless smile, your palms going to your face to hold your cheeks. Hundreds of scenarios already popped inside both of your thoughts earlier on how this second meeting is most likely going to go, however contrary to what you two believed, all that is left here are shy and timid smiles.

“I’m usually not this awkward, I swear,” you tell him after a few more seconds, “but I kinda embarrassed myself to you a lot so…”

“No, you didn’t.” He assures you. “You were extremely adorable, to be honest.”

“Oh, please, don’t.” You’re still holding your cheeks as you chuckle. “You’re going to make it worse for me.”

“You’re being cute right now too.”

“Jeongguk.” You whine.

He laughs, enjoying the way he’s making you flustered and his name slipping out of you again, but then his expression becomes serious as he takes a deep breath, clearly anxious as utters his following words to you. “Uh, actually, I’ve been meaning to give you something too. I didn’t just go here for my jacket, you know.”

“You’re gonna give me something?” You finally drop your hands.

“Yeah, and please, don’t cringe or make fun of it—because this is certainly the first time I’m doing it since you were so—”

“What is it?” you cut him off unintentionally, curious, and even peeking behind him where only now do you notice he keeps his hand hidden.

Jeongguk extends his arm towards you hesitantly upon the question and when you look at what he’s giving you, you see a CD. “I hope you have a CD player back at your house,” he says. “It has the, uh, you can say studio version of ‘Never Not’, as well as… other songs.”

Your jaw slightly drops before you take it from his possession, staring at it in bewilderment, blinking rapidly, just really puzzled and touched all at the same time for you didn’t think he would so such a gesture. You already think that he’s the kind of guy who’s naturally sweet and kind, but this is just icing on the cake. “You’re giving me a free copy of your songs?”

“I am.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to. You’re one of the people I want to always listen to my songs, ____.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” You frown in an endearing manner. “Wow, just—thank you for this. I… I wish I had something to give back to you.”

“Well, your number might be able to suffice.”

You laugh quickly at that, Jeongguk biting his lower lip to fight himself from doing the same because he truly was trying hard to be smooth about it.

“My number, huh? I don’t know, it’s kind of incomparable to your CD.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine.”

You can’t stop yourself from grinning wide, reaching for your phone in your pocket and handing it to him, asking that he puts in his number. Jeongguk does—he wonders too if you already saw the pictures he took with you last night—and calls his phone too to make sure he knows what your number is as well before giving it back to you.

“Thanks,” you say, “I’ll make sure to text you once I listen to this back in Seoul.” You lift the CD up.

He nods, slightly rocking back and forth. “I hope you do. Or else, I might go there myself to make sure you did. It is just two hours away by train.”

“It is.”

Now you’re just staring at each other, wanting to talk more again or laugh more about the ridiculous things you did last night. There is just something about each other’s presence that the both of you find so peculiar. Is it because you’re strangers who are yet to know each other? Is it because of this undeniable connection you two have formed conversing about heartbreaks and whatnot last night?

You guess that the lattermost fact alone is reason enough why you shouldn’t be afraid and maybe just give this a shot. You did tell yourself that by leaving the reception early, you would give yourself another chance—and as the universe perhaps planned, doing that led you to see Jeongguk singing a song that knew you so well, naturally drawing you to him.

You look at your watch. “I still have twenty minutes until I have to go pack. You think you wanna tell me more about this CD?” you ask.

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, surprised at the sudden straightforwardness from as you are now sober, but nods, another idea forming in his head. “Sure.”

You present your palm to him, and it’s reminiscent of how he did the same to you outside the restobar before bringing you inside the place, causing him to smirk and intertwine it with his without any second thoughts, letting you pull him along with you as you go towards the hotel’s café to order some coffee and talk.

Stopping by the line, Jeongguk gazes at you blatantly, both attempting to memorize every feature on your face and just admiring what he is seeing at this moment. You soon gaze back, raising your eyebrows at him, and before either of you notices the spontaneous magnetic pull of your heads towards each other, the two of you are kissing softly, just an innocent peck that drives your heart to skyrocket like last evening.

Jeongguk smirks slightly, attention on your lips still. “Too soon?”

Your cheeks heat up. “Not at all.”

With a grin, he bows down again and kisses you for the fifth time.

ending note (before editing). if you sTILL don’t know the reason why i wrote this fic, it's bc of jk posting the ‘never not’ cover on twitter 😔 so, i kinda portrayed that it was his original song in this story too. plus, regarding the title, i totally got it from the song ‘honey’ by kehlani which i am just nonstop listening to these days !!

i hope you like it as much as i loved writing this 🥺 feedback is always appreciated too !! ehehe 

Spring means spring showers. Usually that’s something Taehyung kind of enjoys, because it means the weather is getting warmer, and who doesn’t love curling up in bed on rainy mornings (or afternoons, or evenings)?

This spring, though, is different. The boys, after hearing Taehyung shamefully confess that he’d kicked you out, assuming that you’d head right over to one of them, had immediately torn into him for being an irresponsible owner. They were especially upset because he hadn’t told them the entire story, ashamed to let them know that he’d started a sexual relationship with his pet human and not ready to talk about the whole imprinting debacle. To them, he’d simply lost his cool over something petty and done something stupid.

Then they’d organized and strategized, planning to comb through Seoul to try and find you. It was a good thing that all of them were predator hybrids, with enhanced abilities to sniff you out. This rain, though… it was making things difficult, washing away your residual scent. It was bad enough that they were trying to track you two weeks after you’d gone missing, but it had been consistently raining this whole time, and that meant it would be next to impossible to track you down using your scent.

Spring showers meant another problem: no one was picnicking if it was raining. Well, it wasn’t like there were many anyway since it was still cold out – the boys assured you that during summer, they came in hordes – but between the tents and rented heaters, there were still people who came out sometimes, just to spend a little time outdoors once in a while. Hybrids were made sturdy, after all, and weren’t as susceptible to the cold as humans.

It was another week before Taehyung got to Hangang Park. A week of combing through every street, back alley and underground pass in the part of Seoul that he’d been assigned. At the very edge of Seoul, Hangang Park was one of the last places that they hadn’t looked and hope that they would find you was running low. You could be anywhere by now, perhaps having begged a ride or train ticket to another city even.

In the week that they’d been out looking for you, you’d been spending a lot of time inside with the boys. Since it was cold, all of you tended to huddle together in a puppy pile that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the big snuggle fests you’d enjoyed in the past with Taehyung and his bandmates. All the free time that all of you had meant that you spent a lot of time engaging in the only fun thing homeless poor people could afford, and you’d more than once thought sardonically that since you weren’t getting much food, it was a good thing you were getting so much protein.

After all that time spent apart, your reunion with Taehyung was almost anticlimactic. You’d squirmed free of Youngbae and Jiyong, who were currently napping, to go use the public restroom. When you were done, you were drying your hands on your shirt while walking out of the little hut that housed the toilets when you saw him. Or at least, someone who looked suspiciously like him from the back. He was wearing one of Taehyung’s favourite shirts, too, a long-sleeved silk button-down that you’d taken to and from the dry cleaners many times before.

For a second, it felt like time had stopped as you stared at the wide expanse of the man’s back. It took you back to a time that really wasn’t that long ago, but seemed like a different lifetime. So much had changed about you, and your life, and the way you lived.

Then the man started turning around and you realized that it was, indeed, Taehyung. Needless to say, you couldn’t leave quickly enough. You didn’t know why he was here, but you definitely didn’t want him seeing how low you’d sunk now. Swearing inwardly, you darted off, back to the tent behind a convenience store that was now your home.

When Taehyung first scented you, he almost thought he was hallucinating. It was just so unlikely to him that you would be here, of all places, when he’d all but lost hope of finding you ever again. It wasn’t until he turned around that he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a figure running away, and realized that it was, indeed, you. Immediately, he gave chase, yelling your name so you’d turn around.

Instead, you just ran faster, practically diving back into the tent where the other boys were and zipping it up tight. Daesung stirred, holding a hand out to you. “What’s up?” he slurred. You took his hand and cuddled close to his side, not sure how to explain things and just hoping that Taehyung would leave. Why was he here, anyway? He should be busy right now with promoting their comeback album; it wasn’t a good time for the band to be picnicking.

“Y/n!” Taehyung was standing right outside the tent now, and you closed your eyes stubbornly, tucking your face into Daesung’s chest. He’d been absently stroking your hair, but when he heard Taehyung, he propped himself up on his elbow.

“It sounds like someone’s looking for you,” he pointed out rather unnecessarily, raising a brow at you. You rolled your eyes at him in response.

“Y/n, please, let’s go home!” Taehyung continued, and you groaned, turning onto your belly and burying your face in your hands.

Jiyong, who was famously grouchy when he woke up, snarled as he unzipped the tent. “Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?!” he growled.

Taehyung blinked, slightly surprised at the hostility. “Uh, is Y/n-ssi here?” In the unexpected situation, his speech became polite.

Seunghyun came up behind Jiyong, frowning. He’d developed something of a soft spot for you – well, as much as was possible, anyway, when all of you were scrounging for survival. “What’s it to you?” he asked rudely.

“Uh, I’d like to speak to her, if possible?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you objected. You had no interest in anything he could say to you at this point. Was he here to scream at you again? That seemed like overkill, all things considered, but since there was nothing else you could imagine, it remained the most likely scenario in your mind. You didn’t want him seeing you like this, either. If he was going to hate you, you’d rather he at least remember you the way you’d been as a pet, not as a homeless stray.

“Y/n, please.” The tone of his voice gave you pause – it was weary and sad, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to comfort him. You'd spent half your life attuned to his every need and it was difficult to turn that off suddenly.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed past Jiyong and Seunghyun, who were blocking the entrance. "What is it?" you asked. You tried not to make eye contact with Taehyung - he'd always been perceptive, and you didn't want him staring into your soul again, afraid of what he might find there.

“Y/n… please come home,” Taehyung pleaded. With you standing in front of him, he could see properly the toll that the past three weeks had on you. You’d lost a lot of weight and your jawline was sharper than it had ever been, you looked tired and messy, your skin was starting to break out due to lack of proper nutrition and access to skincare products, and you smelled… not that great, which wasn’t a surprise since you’d had about two showers in the last three weeks.

Still, you crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and looked away. “I don’t want to,” you objected. You could still hear his harsh words ringing in your ears, but more than that, the shame you felt at encouraging your unusual relationship when you should have stopped it was weighing heavily on you, and you didn’t want to go back and face that.

“Y/n-ie, please? I know I was mean and awful, and I’m sorry about that. Please come home,” he tried again, but you refused to even look at him.

“Stop it, leave me alone,” you whispered, hugging yourself protectively.

Finally, his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t handle being the cause of your distress anymore, even if he did think that you would be better off back at home with him. “Okay,” he accepted, his voice quiet and dejected. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want, but you’re welcome to come home any time, okay?”

You nodded stiffly, waiting for him to leave.

When he turned away disappointedly and walked off, you turned back to the boys to find all four of them staring at you. “What?” you asked slightly defensively.

“Who was that, baby?” Youngbae asked.

“Uh, it was my previous owner.”

“And he wanted to take you home?”

“Uh, yeah?” More uncertainly this time, not sure where they were going with this.

“And you said no?” Jiyong butted in incredulously.

You shrank in on yourself at the volume and tone of his voice. “I don’t want to go back with him,” you almost whimpered, your hands bunching up the fabric of your shirt anxiously.

“Baby… why not?” Seunghyun asked.

Your mind stalled. You didn’t want to tell them the real reason, afraid that they would look at you differently or even kick you out of their group. “We… had a fight,” you said rather vaguely instead.

“And you’re still mad at him? Did he do something wrong?”

“Yes, he kicked me out,” you said pointedly. Wasn’t that enough?

“Baby… he clearly feels bad about that if he came to ask you to go home,” Daesung pointed out reasonably.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he kicked me out,” you grumbled petulantly. “What if he does it again? Then I’ll end up right back here.”

“And what if you do?” Seunghyun asked. “Even if he kicks you out again in a week, that’s a week that you get to spend with a roof over your head, and access to food and water.”

You blinked at Seunghyun. Out of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t really what you’d thought he would say, but it made sense somehow. Living on the streets was difficult. You hadn’t had a hot meal in three weeks, and even though the hunger pangs kept the nausea at bay, picking at hybrids’ half-eaten food wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

It must seem so shallow and ridiculous to these boys, who’d been living on the streets all their lives, that there was someone offering you a perfectly good home and you didn’t want it. Why? Because of your feelings? Ultimately, did that matter? You began to doubt yourself and your reasoning, wondering if you were being silly.

Still, your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the memories of Taehyung forcibly kicking you out of his house, and you gnawed on your lip uncertainly. Would it really be okay?

“Sweetie, it seems like there’s something more keeping you from wanting to go back.” Youngbae, ever the astute one, guessed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head slowly. It might seem tempting, but you didn’t know how they would react to hearing about your sexual relationship with your hybrid owner. You’d lost enough; you didn’t want to lose your new family too, especially when their protection was all that was keeping you from being out on the streets alone. The memory of the two nights you’d spent wandering around the streets of Seoul, lost and alone, were enough to keep your mouth shut out of caution and fear.

“That’s fair, but is it worth living like this?” he asked, gesturing towards the tent where the five of them had been living practically on top of each other.

“You live like this,” you objected. “We’ve been fine, haven’t we?” you continued, a little more uncertainly now. Were they just too polite to tell you that they were tired of you and wanted you to leave?

All of them exchanged glances, before turning back towards you, serious expressions on their faces. “Y/n… any blind fool can tell that you’re not made for this life,” Seunghyun began. “The rest of us were born on the streets and we know how to handle ourselves.”

“I know how to handle myself,” you protested, your hackles rising. Hadn’t you been doing your part to contribute to the group? Thinking about it too hard made you feel a little unsettled, like you were about to be booted out of another family, so you tilted your chin upwards in defiance.

Daesung stepped in, ever the peacemaker. “You’ve been doing really well, sweetie, but all of us can see how difficult this is for you,” he pointed out.

“What- what do you mean?”

“Well… your soft hands that have clearly never done heavy lifting, your fussiness about food, your general demeanor…” Jiyong started listing things that all of them had noticed over the past couple of weeks, only stopping when Seunghyun nudged him to be quiet.

“The point is… this life is clearly not suitable for you,” Seunghyun explained. “And even if things are bad between you and your owner right now, he’s willing to make an effort, and it seems like going back with him is the best thing for you.”

You bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I think if you have to eat any more cold ramen noodles you’ll kill yourself,” Jiyong said dryly, and your cheeks heated, remembering the day that all you had to eat was cold, congealed half-eaten instant noodles. You thought you’d covered up your distaste, but apparently not. In your defense, it had been a soup ramen and the noodles had absorbed all the soup and gotten bloated and soggy.

“Okay,” you finally accepted. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Unexpectedly, it was Jiyong that came to hug you goodbye. “If anything goes wrong, you’ll always be welcome here,” he whispered, and you nodded, hugging him back. Even though you were pretty sure it was just because they enjoyed the convenience of having pussy on tap, you were still touched, your eyes starting to sting with tears that you refused to shed. As accepting as they’d been of you, you’d tried your best to avoid appearing weak and needy, and that wasn’t about to change.

It didn’t take long for you to find Taehyung – he was standing right near the entrance of the convenience store, smoking a shame cigarette. It was a habit he’d picked up in the military and quit when he left, but when he was stressed or upset, he still craved it. Right now, he was all of that and more.

You watched from around the side of the small building as he blew smoke out and flicked the end of the cigarette with his thumb, causing the ash to fall into the ashtray on top of the bin. The cigarette smoke was all he could smell, so he didn’t know you were there.

“Taehyung-oppa?” you called hesitantly, taking a few steps forward.

The way he whipped around to look at you was almost comical. “Y/n…?” he breathed, like he could hardly believe it. Hastily, his free hand came up to wipe his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

You came a little closer, still a little skittish. “You shouldn’t be smoking,” you said instead of answering.

He smiled a little sadly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Well… probably not,” he agreed.

“It’s bad for your health,” you continued walking towards him as you chided him gently.

“It is,” he said, although his voice cracked on the second word. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, trying to stifle the sobs. If this was the last time he ever saw you, he didn’t want you to remember him as a sobbing mess. Dragging a deep, painful breath in through his lungs, he swallowed hard to compose himself.

“Taehyung-oppa…” When he next opened his eyes, you were standing right in front of him, in all your ethereal glory. Right now, it didn’t matter that you looked (and smelled) like you’d seen better days. He forced himself to drink in every feature, every bit of your essence and scent. If this was all he had for the rest of his life, it would be enough. When he’d adopted you, he made a promise that he would always take care of you. He’d failed once already, but if all he could do for you for the rest of his life was look out for you from afar, that would be enough.

The powers that be must be smiling down on him, though, because instead of disappearing, you plucked the cigarette from his hand and ground it out against the bin. “Let’s go home,” you said simply.

He didn’t know why or how you’d changed your mind, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nodding mutely, he held out his hand, and miraculously, you placed yours in it, letting him lead you back to his car.

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In the enclosed space of the car, Taehyung could pick apart all the unfamiliar notes of your scent, and it was driving him insane. The sour note of hunger and misery made the wolf in him want to whine and nose at your throat, bathe you and feed you and cuddle you until it all went away. The scent of unfamiliar men blanketing you inspired a very different reaction, though. It made him want to snarl, to tear the men who’d dared touch his mate apart, and make sure their scent was covered by his. He didn’t even want to think about how deep the scent of other men had sunk into you after three weeks. It had been his fault, anyway.

The part of him that was human tamped down ruthlessly on his baser, animalistic instincts, knowing that he couldn’t give in to them when they’d been engineered to manipulate him. Now, these instincts that had been bred into him were preventing him from being a good, responsible owner and that was unacceptable. Being here with you was throwing the conflict between his wolf and human sides into sharp relief, and he was silent as he mulled over it.

You didn’t have anything to say to him either, and your car ride home was quiet. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the side of the car, and whenever there was a red light, Taehyung would gaze upon your face silently until he had to drive again.

When you finally got home, you followed Taehyung silently up to the apartment, your head bowed. His heart clenched at how broken and sad you looked, and the thought that he was the cause of it made him want to clutch you to his chest and cry. He did none of that, however, merely opening the door and letting you step into the house before him. You hovered uncertainly in the entryway, not even toeing off your shoes, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt in a way he recognized as an anxious habit of yours.

He stepped into the apartment and held his hand out to you. “Come on,” he coaxed, much like the first time he’d brought you home. The parallel didn’t seem like it was lost on you, because the ghost of a smile played across your lips, but this time when you put your hand in his, it was stiff and tense. He didn’t say anything, though, closing his larger hand around yours and drawing you into the apartment. You were still hesitant, though, looking around nervously, and in that moment, if he could have given up his heart to make you feel better, he would have done it without any thought.

“Do you want to go take a shower while I get dinner ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded after a second, slipping off into your room to grab your clothes, then into the shower. When he heard the shower come on, he texted the boys to let them know he’d found you and they could call off the search. He didn’t add other details, not ready to share or even knowing what he should say to them, really.

With that done, he put his phone down on the counter, ignoring the way it vibrated over and over again, the boys undoubtedly bombarding him with questions. He figured you’d probably want a hot meal, and opened the fridge to see if he could cook anything. Seokjin would definitely be cooking up a storm for you and would load his car up with containers full of food tomorrow, but for tonight, he had to make do. There were a few threadbare ingredients that were left over from the last time you’d gone grocery shopping and he pulled them out hesitantly. It had honestly been too long since he’d cooked – when you were around, you usually took care of it and he’d been living off delivery food while you were gone.

Out of practice, he nevertheless gave it the good old college try, chopping up the onion and meat and attempting to make doenjang jjigae. He knew it was comforting for you, and it was for him too, especially after you’d made it for him during his heat. Unfortunately, when he tried to cook the stew, it turned into a mess somehow, with the onions burning and sticking to the pot, the doenjang starting to smoke, and the meat turning an unappetizing colour. Panicked, he started cursing while trying to scrape the food off the bottom of the pot.

The bathroom door swung open when you heard him, and you came out silently, nudging him aside to see what was happening. Without a word, you turned the stove off and started scraping burnt bits of food off the pan and into the bin. “Sorry,” Taehyung said, hovering awkwardly behind you. He’d never felt lower in his life. Could he do nothing right?

“It’s all right,” you murmured. “I’m not that hungry anyway. I might just turn in.”

His wolf whined in misery at the thought of you actually going to bed hungry, and he might have let a little noise slip, because your gaze snapped up towards him, before looking away. Your shirt was fisted in your hands again, and he forced himself to calm down. The fact that you were now afraid of him filled him with so much despair and hurt. He would genuinely throw himself off a bridge if it would make you smile again, just for a second.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll call delivery,” he said. He reached out to grab your hand, but thought better of it and snatched it back before making contact.

“Okay,” you agreed, your head still down. “Thank you, Taehyung-oppa.”

“Do you want to go sit down while I call them?” he asked, nodding towards the living room. You nodded and made your way to the couch where you perched on the very edge of the cushion, holding yourself stiffly with your hands in your lap.

Looking over sadly at you, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number for the restaurant that he knew was your favourite, ordering your food and his. He made sure to get additional side dishes, his wolf wanting nothing more than to provide for his mate.

When the food arrived, he busied himself taking it all out of the big basket and setting up the table as you drifted closer hesitantly. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at you, he watched carefully out of the corner of his eye as your lips turned up in a slight smile seeing your favourite black bean noodles, with sweet and sour pork on the side. It wasn’t much – before, you would have clapped your hands with glee and sit down eagerly – but to him, it felt like a victory anyway. Like maybe he could do this, take care of you and win back your affection.

You picked up your chopsticks and dug in, eating with a haste that he’d never seen before. You’d always been a bit of a slow eater, claiming you wanted to savour the food, but now you were wolfing it down like you didn’t know when you’d get to eat again, and it broke his heart all over again that you’d experienced hunger. You were his – his responsibility, his mate – and he’d failed you so miserably. The thought made his stomach flip unpleasantly and he found himself slowing down, losing his appetite at the thought of how much you’d undoubtedly suffered.

When you were done with your noodles – and most of the pork and side dishes – you started casting furtive glances over at his bowl of stew, and he pushed his bowl towards you without you having to ask. It was a striking reversal of the way you’d taken care of him during his pre-heat, and he was just now realizing how much responsibility you’d taken around the house since you came to live with him after his military service ended.

You hadn’t felt so full in weeks, and you sat back with a satisfied sigh when you’d drained Taehyung’s bowl as well. Your stomach hurt from how much you’d eaten, but it was a nice feeling, after the near-constant hunger pangs for the past three weeks. Moving sluggishly, you went to pack the empty bowls back into the bucket, but Taehyung stopped you. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Go get some rest, you look beat.”

Since you were exhausted, you didn’t argue with him, just getting up and heading to your bedroom. Taehyung watched, slightly wounded that you didn’t want to spend the night with him like you used to, but also not wanting to say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. “Good night,” he called, regretting it instantly when you leapt into the air at the sound of his voice.

“Good night,” you responded softly, and it was only his enhanced wolf hearing that allowed him to pick it up. Sighing, he finished cleaning up and put the basket back outside the door.

Being back in your bedroom felt almost surreal, after living on that streets and then in that tent. Everything was the same as it was before, when you were so different, it was like you didn’t fit in there anymore. The cute room with the cozy patterned bedspread, the overstuffed, oversized chair and reading nook… it was for another person, someone who didn’t exist anymore.

Still, you tried your best to block the thoughts out of your head as you pulled back the duvet to slide under it, fidgeting to try and get comfortable. Closing your eyes tight, you snuggled into the pillows, falling into the fitful, restless sleep that you’d gotten used to.

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Taehyung lay in the dark in his room, his eyes wide open. Having you in the next room over instead of in his bed next to him felt wrong, somehow, but even though he wanted nothing more than to slide into bed with you, or better yet, bring you to his room, his uncertainty and guilt kept him where he was.

He must have spent hours just lying there, listening to you toss and turn and whimper in your sleep, each sound twisting the knife. You’d always been such a deep, easy sleeper, knocking right out every night and sleeping peacefully till morning. It was his fault you’d changed, and he tortured himself all night imagining all the horrors you’d been through during the past few weeks.

When sunlight started shining through his curtains, he decided he’d had enough of lying there, and got out of bed. Still in his pajamas, he left his room and walked the small distance to yours to wake you up. Standing over your bed, he watched for a moment as you continued fussing in your sleep, a small frown etched into your features.

It had been a while since he’d done this, but years of waking you up meant that the muscle memory came back to him easy as he leaned over you and patted your side. “Hey… wake up,” he called softly.

You stirred and, clearly only half-awake, slurred, “Okay… you want a handjob?”

“I- what? Y/n…”

Your hand fought its way out of the covers and you held it out, palm up. “Come on…” you yawned.

“Y/n-ie… stop it.” Taehyung’s voice trembled as he saw the way you were holding your hand out, your fingers loosely curled. He put his hand in yours and placed it back onto the bed.

A little more awake now, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and squinted up at him. “Taehyung-oppa? Good morning,” you murmured in your soft, slightly scratchy morning voice. “Do you need breakfast?”

He hesitated. You looked so small and innocent in your bed now that he almost wondered if he’d hallucinated your earlier interaction. You continued looking at him, looking more alert, and he knew you were waiting for an answer.

“No,” he finally said. “Do you want to come to the studio with me today? We can grab some food on the way, and I’m sure the others are excited to see you too.”

You blinked and yawned again, before pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Okay,” you agreed. “Let me just get ready.” Sluggishly, you got out of bed, twisting your back to stretch while Taehyung made himself scarce, going to get dressed. When he was done, you ducked into the bathroom to do your thing, carrying your clothes in with you.

When you emerged, you looked fresh and adorable, in a simple white blouse and blue jeans, and anyone who wasn’t looking too closely or didn’t know you would have thought you were merely another pampered pet human. Taehyung, though, could see the way the clothes hung off you a little too loosely, the sharper edge of your jawline and cheekbones from weight loss, and most of all, could smell the scent of other men on you that even your shower last night hadn’t been able to get off.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast today?” he asked as you put your shoes on. He opened the front door and extended his other arm towards you, intending at first to usher you out with his hand on your lower back like he usually did, but he saw the way you stood a little more stiffly at the anticipation of his hands on you and dropped it awkwardly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been quite so surprised and hurt at your hesitance. If you wanted nothing more to do with him, it was still more than he deserved.

He took you to a little restaurant for porridge that was near the BigHit building, watching carefully as you downed the entire bowl in record-breaking time. Usually you were too busy chatting with him and telling him about your day, or random things you’d seen, or something you’d read in a book, but now you were silent, your head down as you shoveled food into your mouth. In an attempt to break the silence, Taehyung asked, “Did you sleep well?” even though he knew the answer to the question.

It didn’t work, anyway. You just looked up at him, wide-eyed, for a second, before nodding and returning to your food. Sighing in defeat, he lapsed into silence too. If this was the new normal, he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. At least you were eating well – it soothed his wolf slightly, to know that his mate was eating well.

When you were finished with your meal – even licking the spoon clean dramatically – he took you to the studio, where the boys, as anticipated, glomped you the moment you set foot in the door. Jimin was basically in tears as he hugged you and wouldn’t let go, even when the others came forth for their turn. Namjoon, however, hovered back, hesitant to greet you. In the heat of the moment, with Taehyung’s turmoil and misery in his face, it had been easy to justify his own role in the entire debacle, but now that he was looking straight at you, and seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on your body, the guilt sat uncomfortably in his chest.

Soon enough, you were back in your usual spot – on the couch, squished between Yoongi on one side and Jimin on the other, listening absently as they discussed their album and comeback with the managers and executives. Feeling warm and full from the porridge, your eyelids started to droop, and Yoongi, always alert and aware, gently took the book from your loose grasp and closed it, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

Taehyung, watching from the adjacent couch, frowned, barely paying attention to what Bang PD was saying. He knew you hadn’t slept well last night, and the more rational side of him was relieved that you were at least getting some rest, even if you didn’t seem that comfortable. If he had his way, you would be lying down on a couch somewhere in a dark room where you could get some proper sleep. His wolf wanted to tear Yoongi to shreds, snarling in jealousy at the older man. It should be his shoulder you were currently drooling all over, your face adorably smushed into the fabric of his shirt.

Reminding himself harshly that you weren’t comfortable around him anymore, and really, whose fault was that, he forced himself to look away, although his jaw remained clenched, an outward sign of his irritation. He’d never been good at keeping his emotions to himself, but he figured he’d better damn well get good at it now, if he was going to keep all his problematic emotions to himself and avoid making you feel even more unsafe around him.

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For almost a month, you and Taehyung danced around each other, trying to stay out of each other’s way. You didn’t want to do anything that might set him off again or remind him of why he’d kicked you out in the first place, and Taehyung was practically bending over backwards to give you the space he thought you needed to heal. As a result, the apartment was very quiet for most of the day, an oppressive silence that hung like a shroud over you.

Since you weren’t talking much to Taehyung, you were always happy to go with him to the studio, where the other boys were more than willing to entertain you. They’d realized quickly that you were a lot jumpier than before, which was understandable, so they tried not to do anything that would give you a fright. For the most part, you were all right with physical contact (other than with Taehyung, which upset him tremendously) but once in a while an innocent brush against you could remind you of the way Big Bang would touch you, and you’d leap into the air to get away from it.

It was Yoongi, who let you sit on the couch in his studio most days, who finally broached the topic after he tried to usher you into the studio with his hand on your back and you almost burst into tears. He sat you down on the couch and squatted in front of you, holding your hands and pleading for you to please tell him what was wrong for about half an hour before you caved and admitted that you might have some trauma from living on the streets. It was another twenty minutes of cajoling before you told him, in the smallest voice possible, that you’d had to use your body to survive.

“You… what?” Yoongi was so shocked by your confession that he lost his balance and fell, sitting ungracefully at your feet. Thinking he was reacting this way out of disgust, you covered your face with your hands and drew your shoulders in.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes. This was exactly what you hadn’t wanted; you’d thought you’d been doing well with hiding everything and dealing with it alone. Now that Yoongi knew, the rest of the boys would know that you were filthy, disgusting… you couldn’t stop the sob from tearing out of your chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, putting his shock and anger aside in the face of your clear distress. He wanted to flip a table, maybe set fire to something, but you were more important right now. His hands fluttered helplessly by your knees, wanting to comfort you but not sure how to. Your adverse reaction to the boys’ touch made so much sense now, and he didn’t want to accidentally trigger you again and upset you further.

In the end, he took your hand and placed it on top of his head, letting you stroke his soft, fluffy leopard ears. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe you, and you smiled a little past the tears as you scratched the base of them, just like he let you do when you were a child. He didn’t want to force you to speak, but slowly coaxed everything out of you. Once you started talking about your experiences, it was like the words fell out of you, so relieved to finally be able to tell someone after keeping it to yourself for weeks as you tried to pretend like you were the same innocent human you’d been before being cast out.

Eventually, Yoongi managed to get you to fall asleep for a much-needed nap on his couch after you’d cried yourself out. His heart broke as he looked at you lying on the couch on your side, so small and delicate. You looked almost breakable, and the thought of you having to use that precious body to survive because of Taehyung made his fists clench by his side in rage. Turning down the lights so you would be able to rest properly, he left his studio, making sure to close the door quietly to avoid waking you up even though he wanted to slam it in his rage.

Taehyung was sitting in a meeting room with Jungkook and Jimin, and when Yoongi burst through the entrance, all of them looked up. “Suga-hyung, what’s up?” Jimin greeted.

Ignoring him, Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, yanked him by the shirtfront out of his seat and decked him across the face. Shocked and unprepared for the hit, Taehyung sprawled on the floor, only to prop himself up by the elbow a second later, cradling his jaw with his hand and looking up at Yoongi with wide, hurt eyes.

“Suga-hyung, stop!” Jimin cried as Jungkook all but leapt across the table in the room to restrain the older man. The two bystanders exchanged panicked glances, not sure why Yoongi was suddenly attacking Taehyung. As irritable and snarky as the rapper was, it was almost impossible to get him truly angry, and he was clearly fuming right now.

Furious at the sudden attack, Taehyung surged up off the floor. “What the fuck was that for?!” he roared, pulling back to return Yoongi’s punch with one of his own. Jimin hurried over to pull Taehyung back before the situation descended into a brawl.

“You’re garbage,” Yoongi sneered. “Ask Y/n what it was for.” With that, he pulled himself out of Jungkook’s grasp, glared at Taehyung once more, and left the room, unable to stand being in the same room as him anymore.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Jimin fretted over his best friend, taking his chin in his hand and turning his face from one side to the other to see what the damage was. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he instructed, tugging on Taehyung’s hand so the wolf hybrid had no choice but to trail after Jimin, his ears drooping.

“What do you think that was about?” Jimin asked in the bathroom as he wetted a wad of paper towels in the sink.

Taehyung, leaning against the wall beside the sinks, shrugged, meeting Jimin’s eyes in the mirror. “Hell if I know,” he grumbled, still bitter. “I can’t believe hyung would do something like that,” he sulked.

Starting to dab at the busted lip to clean it up, Jimin ignored Taehyung’s hiss of pain and subsequent whines. “You know hyung isn’t the type to do something like that out of the blue… we can go talk to him later, okay? Find out what’s wrong.”

Taehyung started to protest, but Jimin’s glare and the way he pressed a little harder on the split lip he was tending to made him subside, pouting.

Since Taehyung could be a big baby and Jimin had an obsessive need to take care of everyone around him, it took a while before Taehyung was deemed patched up enough to go talk to Yoongi. As he made his way down the hallway to Yoongi’s studio, he fumed silently about his hyung’s weird behavior.

By the time he got to the door of Yoongi’s studio, he’d worked himself back up into a rage, and pounded on the door loudly to announce his presence. “Hyung, open up!” he yelled.

The racket he was making woke you up abruptly, and you jolted awake, gasping as you shot up into a sitting position. A quick glance over at Yoongi told you that he hadn’t heard Taehyung at all, since he was still working, with his giant expensive noise-cancelling headphones on. Since he was occupied, you went to open the door yourself to let Taehyung in.

Taehyung’s arm was still up, poised to knock, when you opened the door. He stared at you with wide eyes, not having expected you and feeling slightly abashed now that you’d seen his childish tantrum. “Ah, Y/n-ie… I didn’t know you were here,” he greeted, dropping his arm to his side.

You, on the other hand, had a far more dramatic reaction. Seeing his split lip, you gasped in horror, and in your panic, the artificial distance you’d been imposing for the past month slipped away. “Tae-oppa!” you cried, your hands flying to his face. “What happened to you?” With the pads of your fingers, you stroked gently over the reddened skin around the cut, wincing.

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him over to the couch and sat him down, continuing to fret over him. Taehyung, for his part, sat quietly and let you do what you wanted, just happy to have you near him again. All his anger evaporated as he smiled at you like a fool, ignoring the way it made his lip sting.

Yoongi, who’d turned around in his chair and slipped his headphones down around his neck, frowned at the sight that greeted him. You were kneeling on the couch next to Taehyung, leaning over him while he held your wrist in his hand, stroking gently along the soft skin on your inner wrist.

At the sound of Yoongi clearing his throat, you jumped, tearing your wrist out of Taehyung’s grasp, to look over at the rapper. The interruption was enough to startle you out of your frantic concern for him, and you sat down on the couch, your hands in your lap as you tried to make yourself smaller. “S-sorry,” you said to Taehyung, though it was directed at your hands. What would he think of you now? Getting all up in his personal space, even after he’d made it so clear that he didn’t want to be involved with you like that. You really needed to get a grip if you were going to remain his pet, you thought. No way in hell were you going back to being homeless.

“It’s all right,” Taehyung murmured, responding to you habitually. Now that you weren’t in his personal space anymore, though, his anger started coming back, and he trained his gaze on Yoongi, his jaw flexing with his irritation. Yoongi met his gaze with equal measure, neither of them backing down.

You were so consumed by your own thoughts that you didn’t realise the tension between them, asking Taehyung obliviously, “So what happened to your face, anyway?”

There was a beat of silence, then Yoongi replied smoothly, “He must have walked into a door.” As he said it, he pinned Taehyung with a warning gaze, as if daring him to disagree with his lie.

An awkward moment later, Taehyung agreed. “Yes… I was distracted,” he offered as an excuse.

Watching the way Yoongi looked at you, with a small frown knitting his brow, Taehyung remembered what Yoongi had said earlier, about asking you what the punch was for. He broke eye contact with Yoongi to look over at you instead, although you still refused to look up at him, preferring to focus instead on your lap, where your hands were folded politely.

“Anyway, Y/n-ie… I’m not needed for the rest of the day. Do you want to go home early?” Taehyung figured that whatever it was he was supposed to ask you about, it was probably best to do it in private. He didn’t have his own studio, so his apartment was the best bet.

“Sure,” you agreed immediately. You’d been doing that a lot lately, just going with whatever he wanted or suggested, unless you were protesting that he was spending too much time, money or effort on you. It was so completely different from the carefree girl who loved to go crazy with his credit cards and soaked up his affection that he’d known, and he hated himself again for causing you to withdraw like that. It had taken him so long to earn your trust back when you’d been a child and he adopted you, and now all of that was gone down the drain.

He stood up and you followed, trailing after him out of Yoongi’s studio with a smile and a wave that upset him all over again. He hadn’t had that cute, carefree smile directed at him for so long now, and again, he fucking knew it was his own fault, but that didn’t make it any easier. For now, he had to be satisfied with seeing that smile only when it was directed at other people. At least, he thought bitterly, he’d succeeded in providing a good support network for you.

When you got home, after yet another awkward car ride filled with stilted small talk, Taehyung sat you down on the couch, wanting to talk to you but unsure of how to bring it up. You looked at him inquiringly as he stuttered through several aborted attempts to start the conversation, stopping each time with a frown and a hum.

Finally, he managed to ask, in a tone he hoped was neutral, “Did you and Suga-hyung talk about anything interesting today?”

You visibly stiffened, and he wondered if it was his words or his failure to feign nonchalance. “Why do you ask?” you responded cautiously, and he could see your walls going up.

“Just something Suga-hyung said,” Taehyung waved his hand in the air.

You cursed Yoongi inwardly for selling you out, and so quickly, at that. “Uh, we just talked about some stuff that happened last month,” you said vaguely. Neither of you were necessarily comfortable talking about the time you’d spent on the streets, and you tried to tiptoe around it out of consideration for Taehyung, but he understood what you were trying to say anyway.

“Uh-huh, like what?” he prompted, undeterred.

Your shoulders hunched defensively around your ears. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, and started to get up to beat a hasty retreat to your room.

Taehyung reached out in a panic and grabbed your hand. “No, please, tell me what you told him,” he pleaded, looking up at you with that sad expression that you’d never been able to resist.

You sighed. “Why do you even want to know?” you asked, slumping back onto the couch in resignation.

Taehyung frowned. “Of course I want to know,” he countered immediately. “Why don’t you want to tell me?” he asked in concern now.

You shrugged. “I don’t like talking about it, and it’ll just upset you,” you explained in a small voice.

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s voice was filled with sadness. “Please, tell me about it.” He scooted slightly closer to you and took your hands in his.

“Taehyung-oppa…”

“I understand if you’re not ready to tell me,” he admitted. It stung to acknowledge the possibility that you were more comfortable talking to Yoongi about this than to Taehyung, when he’d always been your caretaker, the one you’d gone to for everything. “But if you’re willing to tell me, I really do want to know, so we can figure out the best way to help you.”

You swallowed. “All right,” you agreed hesitantly, then lapsed into silence as you thought about how you should explain what had happened. You didn’t want Taehyung to judge you, but then again, Yoongi hadn’t either, so maybe your fears about that had been overblown.

After a little more hemming and hawing as you tried to muster up the courage to talk about it, you finally said, “Do you remember the guys that I was living with?”

Taehyung nodded, slightly confused, but didn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to continue speaking when you were ready.

“Well, uh… they agreed to take me in and all, but it wasn’t for free,” you said, trying to skirt around the topic, hoping he would get it without you having to spell it out in so many words.

Of course, Taehyung just gave you a blank stare, as if waiting for you to finish your thought. You sighed. “They proposed, like, a trade,” you continued, willing him with your mind to just understand what you were trying to say already, damn it.

When his expression didn’t change, you gave up on hoping he would understand your hints. “I only had myself and didn’t have much to offer, so they, uh… theymademeusemybody,” you rushed out the last part of your sentence so softly it was almost like a whisper, but with Taehyung’s sharper hearing, courtesy of his hybrid senses, he picked it up perfectly.

Only, with what he’d heard, he wished he hadn’t. He stared at you imploringly, his ears folded down against his head, his eyes starting to fill with tears. “Wh-what?” His voice wobbled, unable to believe what he’d heard. You avoided his gaze by turning your face away, not wanting to see the expression on his face. You didn’t need his pity.

“Y/n…” Taehyung tightened his grasp on your hands. “I’m so sorry.” The emotion behind the simple words caught you off guard, and you turned back to look at him. He was staring straight at you, his eyes huge and filled with distress (and tears). A sob that he couldn’t quite hold back tore out of his chest and you watched, with some disbelief, as he completely broke down in front of you.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you murmured, trying to extricate one hand from his grasp. Panicked, he held on even tighter, unwilling to let you go and afraid that you would leave if he did. He was so upset it physically hurt all over. As an owner, he was distraught that his thoughtless actions had caused you to suffer like that. His baser instincts, however, prodded him to hunt down the humans who’d forced you into such a position. How dare they make such profane, disgusting, exploitative demands of you, his imprint, his mate?

And yet, wasn’t it all his fault? He was the one who’d kicked you out, so you had no other choice but to accept it. Everything that had happened to you while you were living on the streets had happened because of him, because he was a thoughtless, stupid, irresponsible, owner. It would serve him right if you left, although he couldn’t bear for you to. Clearly, he’d shown that he was an unfit owner.

He was so lost in his self-hatred that he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing your hands which were folded in his bigger ones until you made a quiet noise of discomfort, flexing your hands in his grasp. Horrified, he let go of them as if scalded, appalled that he was hurting you yet again.

Instead of immediately taking off, however, you reached up to cradle the side of his face, wiping his tears away with your thumb. As much as you’d resented him, you couldn’t see his sadness without wanting to comfort him. It was somewhat strange – you’d always seen him as the rock, the constant in your life. Always there for you, always in your corner. That was gone now. You knew firsthand how he could be, how much you suffered because of him. Yet there were still those memories that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop holding close to your heart. Of being tucked into bed by him, spoilt rotten and cuddled during what had to be the most pampered adolescence possible. Part of you was vindictively pleased that he was so upset, since it was what he deserved, but there was another part that didn’t like seeing him suffer.

When he felt your hand on his face, Taehyung felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment. It would have made more sense to him if you’d slapped or punched him, but this tender touch, after all you’d been through because of him… he didn’t deserve you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, as if saying the words could dispel the heavy guilt he felt.

Because you weren’t a saint after all, you couldn’t resist twisting the knife. You knew you should appreciate how apologetic he was now that he knew what had happened, but there was also a spark of irritation within you. Why did he get to cry and make a fuss, when you couldn’t? You were comforting him when all the things he was upset about had happened to you, because of him.

“If you were sorry,” you said quietly, “you wouldn’t have kicked me out to begin with.” There was no malice in your tone, which was quiet and neutral, but it was abundant in your words. This was all his doing, and he shouldn’t get to wail dramatically about it like he was the victim.

Taehyung swallowed. “You’re right,” he acknowledged immediately. “This is all my fault, I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it better for you,” he implored, his wide, tear-filled eyes looking at you earnestly.

“Tell me why you did it.” You never raised your voice, staying unmoved in the face of his clear anguish.

“Okay,” he agreed instantly, almost before the last word left your mouth. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just please… don’t leave.”

You folded your hands neatly in your lap and prepared to listen. To be honest, you’d thought you would be able to predict whatever he was going to say. He was furious about you coercing him into a sexual relationship when he wasn’t in his right frame of mind, he would confess, and after thinking about it, he’d gotten so angry that he acted impulsively. You could almost hear the words inside your head already – they were the same reasons you’d been repeating to yourself, over and over again.

“I was mad,” Taehyung admitted, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “And I acted rashly.” He hadn’t wanted to tell you about the imprint, hoping that he could deal with it by himself so he wouldn’t give you yet another thing to worry and stress over, but you’d asked, and he couldn’t reject your request. Not when he knew how much you’d suffered because of him. You nodded, like you’d expected him to say that.

What he said next, however, took you completely by surprise.

“Namjoon-hyung told me…” he stopped to swallow and gather himself, then started again. “I know you think that during my last heat –” you both flushed, thinking about what had happened then – “that was new, but it wasn’t.”

Your gaze sharpened and focused on him, listening more carefully to what he had to say now. “I’d been struggling since my discharge from the military,” he continued. Damn, this was hard to say. “Namjoon-hyung helped me look into it, and he found…”

He paused to muster some courage, running his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “He found what?” you prompted, leaning forward curiously. You hadn’t voluntarily come this close to him for a month, he noted. His wolf preened.

“Uh, he found evidence of… hybrid technology that he believes is the cause. He called it,” he coughed to delay it a little longer, “an imprint. It’s a genetic quirk that was created in predator hybrids to ensure that they could bond with their human owners.”

You blinked. “I’m not your owner,” you said dumbly. It was so much to take in, that bit was the only thing your mind could focus on and grasp.

“I know,” he nodded, “but because we spent so much time together in our adolescence the bond had a chance to form, and after spending two years apart, it kicked in because you’d reached…” He grimaced, not really wanting to say it, and waved his hand at you vaguely instead.

You understood well enough what he was trying to say and blanched. “Gross…” you muttered under your breath, but Taehyung heard it and his shoulders slumped further. Of course you were horrified and disgusted at him – you should be. For the first time, he wondered if you would have been better off on the streets – at least then you wouldn’t have to deal with him and this genetic abnormality. He’d forced you into every difficult situation you’d faced since coming back to him after his military service, and it was only natural that you were appalled by his revelation.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He was saying that a lot, but no matter how many times he uttered the words, they were never enough to convey the depth of his remorse and sorrow over what he’d done to you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” his head fell into your lap as he cried.

You started stroking his head and ears, the habit you’d developed from years of being around him making you move your hand automatically to soothe him as you tried to sort out your thoughts. Hybrid technology… a genetic quirk… that meant humans had been responsible for what Taehyung was going through. You were more educated than most humans, which meant you understood very well the history between humans and hybrids. Humans had created hybrids and enslaved them, treating them as chattel – pets, workhorses, you name it.

And now, you were continuing to be the source of a hybrid’s pain and suffering. Had humans not done enough? Their destructive legacy continued to live on in the bodies of the hybrids they’d created, and while Taehyung had been struggling with it by himself, you’d been living in blissful ignorance, resenting him for what he’d done.

Taehyung cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore, then he just lay with his head in your lap, the occasional hiccup making him jerk slightly. After a while, you turned your head to look out the window – the sun was setting, you noted.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you called softly, shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up. “You should get to bed.”

He stirred slightly, then tried to go back to sleep, but you pushed him back into a sitting position. “Come on, Tae-oppa,” you said, standing up and tugging on his hand. He followed you as you led him to his room, but wouldn’t let go of your hand once you’d gotten him settled in bed.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he croaked.

You eyed him dubiously for a second, not sure if it was a good idea, especially in light of what you’d just learned. But with his sad expression, the dejected slump of his shoulders and the way his ears flopped over his head, you couldn’t say no to anything he asked. Especially not with the newfound guilt you were carrying around.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Just let me wash up and I’ll come back.”

When you tiptoed back into Taehyung’s room, scrubbed down and in your pajamas, you thought he was asleep from the way he was curled up under the sheets. You quietly pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and got in slowly, trying not to jostle him awake, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, since the moment you were settled into the mattress he squirmed closer to you, wrapping his arms and legs around you and pressing his face into your neck.

With a small sigh, you settled into his hold.

---------------------------------------------

“Y/n… I don’t understand.” Namjoon’s brow was furrowed as he looked up at you, standing in his studio.

“Namjoon-oppa… I know you know about the imprint, and you told Taehyung-oppa about it,” you told him.

“Right… but I don’t know why you’re asking me this.”

“It’s not complicated – I just want to know if there’s a way to break the imprint.”

Namjoon hesitated. It was something he’d been looking into nonstop as well, hoping to find something that would set both you and Taehyung free. It didn’t seem to be possible, though – the genetic bond was not designed to be broken, especially since hybrids had been considered so disposable. If anything went wrong, euthanasia of hybrids had been just as commonly accepted as euthanasia of regular pets.

“There isn’t,” he admitted. “The only cases where a hybrid was able to move on from the imprint…” he gulped, not sure whether he should tell you.

“What is it?” you asked impatiently. “Namjoon-oppa, please. I’m trying to help Taehyung-oppa, just like you are,” you pleaded. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Stop asking!” Backed into a corner now, he snarled at you, his ears pressed back against his head. “There’s nothing you can do, okay? Just drop it.”

“Namjoon-oppa, please. I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it. I’ll do anything it takes to help Taehyung-oppa break his imprint.”

That got his attention. “Anything?” This was crazy… it was way too much to ask of you.

“Anything,” you confirmed resolutely. He could see your determination in the set of your jaw and the way your gaze met his unwaveringly.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Ah, this is crazy…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

You can't remember the last time you've gone a week without fighting.

There is always a new problem that arises. A new argument that is sparked from the depths of trivial problems. Then Yoongi stops talking to you for a day (or days if the fight is serious) and sleeps downstairs on the couch until he wants to crawl back to you and apologize. Other times, you're the one who has to drag yourself to your boyfriend's study with a plate of his favorite fruit and an apology in your head.

But it seems like the fighting never ends.

Now the bed feels cold. It is empty. Just like you.

You know that Yoongi's downstairs, either working with his new client (through the dead of the night) or already sleeping on the small couch. Though you're supposed to be mad at him, you worry. The couch isn't good for his already deteriorating posture. But you can't nag at him now. It'll result in more arguments.

When was the last time you and Yoongi didn't fight, though?

The correct answer is never.

From day one, you and Yoongi were destined enemies.

"Hi." You're a proud little child, standing up straight with your hands on your hips. A bit chubby and round in the middle but you flaunt the extra weight. "My mommy says I need to make friends before kindergarten starts."

"My mommy says not to talk to strangers." The young boy peeks at you through his shaggy black hair. He rocks the paint-nicked seesaw by himself, kicking his feet off the ground only to come back down with a light oof.

"I'm not a stranger," you scoff, crossing your hands over your chest. "Let me play on the seesaw!"

Yoongi doesn't even have time to answer because you're crawling up on the opposite side already. "H-Hey!" he yells but he's too late. The moment you innocently perch upon the seesaw, you’re slammed to the ground and Yoongi's lifted up high in the air.

Ah, the weight difference.

"GET ME OFF!" Yoongi screams. "GET ME OFF!!"

Your eyes turn wide. You hadn't meant to scare the boy. You thought everyone wanted to fly up in the air, and you were just granting the little boy's wish. In your head, you didn't even think of the possibility that Yoongi is afraid of heights. (Which was stupid of him to even try playing on the seesaw in the first place.)

"GET OFF!" Yoongi yells viciously at you. His face has turned a bright shade of pink and purple.

You think he looks like he's about to suffocate.

"I'M SORRY!" you shriek as you dive off the seesaw.

Yoongi lets out a high-pitched, ear-piercing scream as he subsequently flings off the seesaw. He lands on his butt several centimeters away from the rusty playground equipment and bursts out crying.

You gasp. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad. So you do the first thing that comes to your head: run away.

The boy's cries become louder and louder as you sprint in the opposite direction, but you grit your teeth and dash on. Eventually, your guilt for throwing off a boy from the playground seesaw dissipates when your mother buys you ice cream for lunch. Food is always the solution.

You have no idea that day you accidentally made a little boy cry was the day you met your future boyfriend. You just thought you met a crybaby coward.

And he thought he met the devil. If the devil was a chubby little girl with chipmunk cheeks and rolls on her arms.

You two had no idea you would meet again.

So far, the first day of kindergarten isn't going so great. All the other girls brought their barbies to class. You brought your stuffed animal snake—Mr. Slithers.

And now the other girls don't really like you. Because "snakes are icky!" Their words, not yours.

If they only knew this week was a rainforest theme in your head. Every day of the week, you would prepare to bring a new stuffed animal that lived in the rainforest. Today would be the green snake, then tomorrow, the tree frog and so on. But no one applauds your genius planning skills.

So you mope around for half of the day. The girls are playing princesses with their stupid barbies and they won't let you join because a snake cannot wear a ball gown.

You end up poking at the seesaw in the kindergarten playground. It's boring when there's no one else to sit on the other side. Mr. Slithers isn't heavy enough to seesaw with you either. You want your mommy.

"You!" a high-pitched voice shrieks.

Jumping, you whip your head around to see the little boy. No. The same little boy who you accidentally flung backward on the seesaw.

"Are you gonna throw me off the seesaw again?" he yells. For such a skinny little boy he has quite a loud voice.

"I didn't mean it!" you yell back.

"You need to apologize to me!"

"No!"

You run away again.

And just like a real big stupidhead, Yoongi tattletales on you to the kindergarten teacher, Mr. Kim. In your defense, you didn't even do anything to Yoongi at kindergarten, so Mr. Kim can't make you apologize to stupid Min Yoongi.

Mr. Kim agrees with your defense. But he doesn't approve of you using the word, stupid, so you have to apologize to Yoongi anyways. While you're positively livid, Yoongi is triumphant.

That is only the start of the rivalry.

In first grade, Yoongi calls you fat.

You aren't normally one to waste your time tattling to the adults, but Yoongi did it to you in kindergarten so it only feels right to get revenge. But apparently calling someone fat is much worse than calling someone stupid. Yoongi has to apologize to you and he has to sit in the time out corner. He also gets a call home so his parents are notified of his bad behavior.

In second grade, you start losing weight. Not because Yoongi called you fat. But because you figured you should start exercising to be as healthy as your gym rat parents. When you tell the second-grade class you want to become a football star and you've planned out your whole athletic pathway, Yoongi is the first one to rudely laugh at you. So you make sure to boo his presentation when he brags about writing a whole book by himself (it's called Dot Goes to School—pretty mediocre stuff). Both of you have your recess privileges taken away.

Staying in for recess with someone you absolutely despise is not worth the satisfaction you got from teasing them. So you and Yoongi become more discreet in your never-ending ways to spite each other.

In third grade, Yoongi calls you a stick during recess. He makes sure to say it loud enough so you can hear his insult but not as loud so the playground monitor doesn't hear. Sneaky brat. You turn to him with flashing eyes and tell him very upfrontly, "Says you."

The rivalry still exists in fourth grade, when both of you feel like you're too old to play on the playground. The seesaw incident is still ingrained in the backs of both of your heads, though. So even when you and Yoongi have your separate groups of friends, you still manage to be mean to each other.

For instance, the day before the annual fourth-grade square dance, you and your new group of friends spread a rumor that Yoongi has cooties. As a result, no one wants to be his partner the next day.

But then your partner, that brat, Park Jimin calls in sick on D-Day and so your plan backfires in your face. You dance with Yoongi. And now you have cooties too.

In fifth grade, girls are starting to talk about boys during recess. When the shy, cute Gayoung confesses her crush on Min Yoongi, you have to excuse yourself from the friend group. Instead, you go out on the fields to play soccer with the guys. Thankfully, cooties are 'for babies' in fifth grade, so you have free reign with the boys.

Park Jimin confesses he likes you in sixth grade. He tells you that you are pretty. But his confession was definitely not in your schedule. You're supposed to go to swim practice in five minutes. So you wave him off. Not because you hate him. But let's face it. The boy ditched you in fourth grade and you had to dance with Yoongi. Plus, now Jimin's Yoongi's friend. There is no way in hell you are going to butt noses with Yoongi's friend.

The whole grade goes in an uproar when they find out you rejected Jimin. You couldn't care less.

Seventh grade is weird. You finally get your period. And the new sex-ed class collectively makes everyone embarrassed. It also starts the influx of period jokes from yours truly, the boys. Whenever a girl is in a bad mood, the boys yell, "YOU MUST BE ON YOUR PERIOD!" You make note of every guy who says this. Then the second time they yell that to a poor girl, you hold up a tampon with ketchup on it. It shuts them up so well that all the girls in your grade start to carry around tampons and ketchup packets.

Surprisingly enough, Yoongi isn't part of the rowdy group of boys who make insulting period jokes. He's gotten much quieter over the years (middle school must've brought some sort of maturity on him), but he still finds ways to make your life miserable.

When there are rumors that Jimin will ask you out to the Halloween dance, you actually prepare to accept—maybe just to spite Yoongi. But turns out the whole rumor was a lie made up by the boy you despise. So you're rendered embarrassed.

In eighth grade, to your surprise, Gayoung asks Yoongi out. Of course, Yoongi would say yes. He knows you hate Gayoung. She had grown ample boobs and fit in with the popular girls who talked about boy bands and got dress-coded every day. You have no idea why such a popular girl would ask out a nerdy, rat-faced boy. But apparently, Yoongi is conventionally handsome. What a load of bullcrap.

It irks you even more when they become a revolutionary couple—the first time a girl has asked out a boy.

You make a bet with your friends that the couple won't last a week. Your wallet cries that year. You lose nearly ₩30,000.

By tenth grade, they are still dating.

You're starting to wonder if Yoongi somehow got his grubby hands on a love potion. There's just no way that whiny asshole can keep a girlfriend for that long. But according to your friend who is friends with the friends of the friends of Gayoung's friends, Yoongi is a good boyfriend. You want to gut yourself after hearing that.

Gayoung is always bragging about how Yoongi buys her flowers before class, and she makes sure everyone knows of this by posting pictures of the aromatic bouquets on Instagram. Yoongi often writes her little love poems and short stories, and though you're 100% sure Gayoung doesn't read them, she posts those online too. God, she is so annoying that you unfollow her. (You've blocked Yoongi's account a long time ago.)

For the most part, though, when hating Yoongi is not on your mind, your life is pretty normal. And you're definitely content. You and a sporty transfer student from America, Jungkook, have hit it off. It's fun taking him around everywhere to taste test all the convenience stores in Korea.

Until the day you catch Jimin and Gayoung lip-locking behind your favorite kimbap store. You and Jungkook look at each other with wide eyes. Before Jungkook can stop you, you snap a quick picture of the action and run away, tugging your friend along with you.

"Dude, you should delete that picture," Jungkook says for the billionth time.

"No can do," you tell him. "I'm sending it to Yoongi."

"To spite him?"

"Duh."

"Aren't you helping him by telling him his girlfriend is a cheater?" Jungkook challenges.

You squint. "You're actually right, Kook. Then I won't tell him."

"Isn't that a little bit too mean?"

"What??"

"I mean, they've been dating since eighth grade. It's been nearly two years, right?" Jungkook points out. "I think Yoongi deserves to know."

"Don't you dare!" you gasp.

"Sorry, Y/N," Jungkook shrugs. "It's just the right thing to do."

Two days later, Gayoung comes to school wearing not the school uniform but a short skirt and tight shirt. Her arm slings around Jimin, her apparent new boyfriend. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

Rumor travels around fast. And they're all accurate for the most part.

But it's not very satisfying to see Yoongi missing from all the action. The whole school day, you wonder where the fuck the boy is. Maybe he's crying his guts out. You've never experienced heartbreak before, so you're not sure if you have the right to say Yoongi necessarily deserves it. You can say though, that he had it coming. After all, all those years he teased you, he hadn't felt a single bit of remorse.

Sucks for him.

It's dark by the time you begin to walk home from school. You'd stayed late to brush up on your horrible chemistry skills so you wouldn't completely fail the final test. On the walk back, you notice the familiar playground. You'd grown up with that thing. But it's been a while since you've cared enough to stare at it.

Usually, the rusty old playground is empty. But today, a figure sits in the shadows. More specifically on the seesaw.

It brings back memories. That had been the same seesaw that had started your rivalry with Min Yoongi. And someone's sitting on it.

You squint, your curiosity getting the better of you as you creep towards the figure. Oh god. Once you see the outline of the person, you know this isn't going to be a very fun experience. Ew, you think. Gross.

But that's until it occurs to you that the person is crying.

Holding your breath, you walk closer to the crying boy. He's shaking, hands covering his face. The other side of the seesaw is up in the air.

He's crying about Gayoung, you realize.

You breathe out. "Need someone to sit down to fling you out again?"

Yoongi jumps. He hiccups. Then he quickly wipes away the tears streaming down his face. "Shut up."

You grin, sitting down on the other side of the seesaw. And this time, neither of you fling off. It is completely balanced.

"What are you doing here?" Yoongi croaks when he realizes you're not going to be leaving any time soon. He sniffles, but for the most part, he hides the fact that he'd been crying very expertly.

"I dunno." You shrug. "What are you doing here?" When there's a pause, you add, "I didn't see you in school."

"Oh, didn't know you cared."

"I don't."

"Figured."

"Did you break up with Gayoung?"

Yoongi laughs scornfully. "No. She broke up with me."

"Yikes, really?"

"What is your deal, Y/N?" Yoongi sighs. "Are you going to laugh in my face? Tell me I deserve this?"

"Not anymore..." you grumble. "Because now there's no element of surprise."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I reckon you spread the rumor?"

"...The rumor?"

"Yeah, the fucking rumor!" Yoongi shouts, throwing up his hands. "You're the one who told everyone Gayoung was cheating on me!"

"Woah, there! I didn't say anything about it!" you yell. "It's not my fault your ex decided to hook up with Jimin!"

"What??"

"Here! I have the fucking receipts!" You whip out your phone, aggressively swiping through your photos before landing on the exact one you were looking for. When you show Yoongi, his eyes turn wide but his posture deflates. He looks defeated.

"She actually cheated...?"

The way he says it with wide eyes and a slumped attitude makes you feel a tiny bit of pity. But the habit of being mean to Yoongi sticks.

"I'm not even surprised."

Yoongi glares at you.

"I mean," you say with an innocent shrug, "she's been eyeing other guys since you started dating her."

"I know..."

You are not about to show sympathy to Min Yoongi. You are not going to let down your guard. You are going to stay cold and emotionless—

"I'm... uh... I... er, I guess I'm sorry."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well, it just seemed like you really liked her—"

"Nah."

"Oh?"

"This is going to sound very stupid."

"Try me." You grin. "In my eyes, you always sound stupid. Remember? I got in trouble for calling you stupid in kindergarten."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "How could I forget?" He grips the seesaw handles. "I don't think I've ever really liked Gayoung."

"Damn, this is tea," you gasp. "Why bother dating her for so long, then?"

"Ha!" Yoongi laughs. "Good question, Y/N. I don't know," he says sarcastically. "I was probably trying to piss you off. Didn't think it'd last that long."

"Oh??" You raise your eyebrows. "But didn't I just see you cry over Gayoung?"

"Er—"

You definitely caught him in a lie. Though it's dark, you can imagine Yoongi flushing a bright shade of pink—he does that when he's guilty. Not that you cared enough to notice over the years.

"It's okay she's with Jimin now. Not your problem."

"Is this your half-assed attempt of trying to solace me?"

"No?" You make a face. "Why on earth would you think I'm trying to solace you, Yoongi? You called me fat in first grade."

"I see you still hold grudges."

"Oh, that's really my only talent," you snort.

"Aren't you a really good planner?"

"Me?" Is this a compliment you hear?—and from the Min Yoongi?

"Yeah, you're going to plan the graduation ceremony, right? They hand-picked you from the student council, didn't they?"

"Well, uh, yeah." You raise your eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. "Didn't think you'd care."

"I don't."

Of course.

"Okay, fine by me."

"Why are you even here again?"

You pause. Actually, why are you here? You could've just simply walked away and never had this conversation with Yoongi. But you'd stopped. And now you're talking with him. You answer him truthfully. "I really have no idea."

Another pause.

"Are you gonna ask me to leave?"

"... No."

"Oh." You cock your head. "Okay."

The two of you stare at each other. A staring game commences.

But Yoongi blinks first, claiming you the victor of the little contest. "You can stay if you want."

You scoff. "Excuse me, I didn't know I needed your permission."

Yoongi throws his hands up in the air. "Do you always have to fucking pick a fight?"

"You're the one who starts them!"

"I didn't even say anything mildly rude."

Okay, he might kind of have a point. Maybe all those years of hating him have ingrained permanent hatred in your head, so whatever comes out of Yoongi's mouth seems like an insult that you have to respond to with equal rudeness by reflex.

"Where did we even go wrong?" you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Yoongi snorts. "Literally right here. On this seesaw."

"You're right," you laugh. This is probably the first time you and Yoongi have agreed on something; it's a foreign feeling that doesn't quite settle right in your stomach.

"Remember when Jimin had a crush on you?"

"Oh stop—" Just one single sentence brings back so many memories.

"Now he's downgraded to girls like Gayoung," Yoongi snorts.

"Oh?" A wide smile stretches across your lips. "Are you saying I'm an upgrade compared to that vile girl?"

"When you put it that way, I'm not so sure."

In any other circumstance, you'd think Yoongi's attacking you again, putting up another unnecessary fight. But right now, it's obvious he's just teasing you.

"Let's face it, Yoongi. I'm better than your ex, aren't I?" you tease right back.

"Barely," he grumbles, but he mumbles under his breath, "but yes."

Thankfully, your owl ears pick up the last part and you grin haughtily. "That's all I needed to hear." Just by habit, you glance down at your watch, frowning when it reads a little past 10 p.m. You're definitely behind schedule right now. Strangely, though, it's kind of worth it, talking to your self-proclaimed nemesis without ripping each other apart with moderately hurtful words.

Yoongi takes notice of you checking the time. Always the same, he thinks. He can't remember the last time he saw you without a watch.

"Anyways... it's getting kind of late..." you say. But you're careful not to stand up from the seesaw—just in case you'll accidentally fling Yoongi off again.

Yoongi nods in agreement. "Yeah." But what he hears next is beyond what he would've ever thought would come out of your mouth next.

"Wanna get some cup ramen? I know a good convenience store nearby."

"With me??" The words slip out of Yoongi's mouth before he can maintain his stoic, chilled composure.

"Why not?" You shrug. "Maybe tonight's the night we can finally stop fighting and act civil for once."

"I am getting tired of the back and forth bickering," Yoongi admits. "Not a bad idea, Y/N."

"I come up with genius ideas once in a while." You flip your hair back and grin. "We just can't stay out before 12 because I need to plan my friend's birthday party before 1."

"I'll get you home by then."

"You're going to walk me home? How boyfriendly."

"It's a habit," Yoongi grumbles.

"A good habit. Keep it up, Min," you laugh. "Then you'll get a new girl in no time."

The two of you count to three before carefully getting off the seesaw together. There are no accidents this time. Everything seems... balanced.

The most what the fuck moment in your life comes when you wake up one morning and realize the person you text and hang out the most is, indeed, Yoongi. Months ago, the thought of him made your blood boil. Now, he's just a friend—a very close friend, too.

Entering eleventh grade with Yoongi by your side is weird. Every other school year, the two of you tried to stay away from each other as much as possible. Yet this year, it's the complete opposite. The two of you solace each other. Even if that involves heavy teasing and harsh verbal exchanges.

"You idiot!" Yoongi shrieks. "And you just let her get away with it?"

"Why yes, why yes I did!" you scream in your shrill voice that makes Yoongi almost flinch back. "What was I supposed to do? Yell at her and tell her I deserved to be class president and not her? Tell her to her face that she cheated the votes?"

"Yes?!"

"Well, I didn't have the guts!"

"Why do you always run away from your fucking problems?"

Yoongi's words pierce through your heart and suck up your anger, replacing it with regret. He’s right though. When something doesn't go the way you planned, you have a habit of ditching. You're afraid of the consequences that will follow when you freestyle everything. And Yoongi knows this.

"I-I... I just... It's easier," you sigh, slumping over your desk seat. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Fight back maybe?" Yoongi's tone is softer after he sees you become dispirited. "I mean, hey, you win some, you lose some."

"I know... I just feel like I'm always losing these days."

"It's okay," Yoongi says. His big hands awkwardly pat at your back. And as funny as it is that he's attempting to comfort you, you're actually well comforted. "Doesn't matter whether you win or lose. What matters is the experience."

"Wise words."

"Well, I'm a wise person." Yoongi gives you a shit-eating grin.

"Oh god."

Sometimes, Yoongi's the one who breaks down, though it's not as often as you do. But once the storm comes, it's hard to make it leave.

"Please don't talk to me right now."

"But Yoongi," you plead, knocking on the door to his room. "I had to practically beg your parents to let me in!" you whisper angrily. "Come on, open the damn door!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you want me to break the door down??"

Silence follows and a small click indicates that the locked door is now open. You carefully turn the knob and push. Yoongi faces you immediately and the way his eyes are red and his cheeks are wet is indicative of a beforehand hysterical crying session.

"Oh, Yoongi..."

"I said I don't want to talk about it," he mutters. But you know he's just saying that because talking about it will make him cry again. You know him too well.

You pull him into a hug. "Maybe music isn't for you," you say. "It's okay if you failed that path. There are many more to take."

He's silent, squeezing you tightly. But you don't mind the silence at all. It's more peaceful that way, and you know he's actually listening to you when he's not talking.

"You're good at writing aren't you?" you whisper, patting his back. "Maybe that's your path. And if it isn't, so what? Poke at every pathway until you find one that's just right for you."

It's advice for yourself as well. Yoongi's upset that he was rejected from a music audition he was preparing to pass for years; he knew he wanted to pursue music and he did it, though it might not have been very successful. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you want to do in the future.

"I guess we both have to start on new paths now, right?"

By twelfth grade, you and Yoongi are beginning to bicker like a married couple. At least, that's what Jungkook says.

"For the last time, we do not sound married!"

Jungkook rests his head on the palm of his hand. "Sure. Sure."

"The thought of even being romantically interested in Y/N gives me goosebumps," Yoongi snorts.

"But the good kind of goosebumps if you know what I'm talking about," Jungkook says. He wiggles his eyebrows in such a suggestive way that you mock vomit.

"Okay, gross," you groan. "The day I catch feelings for Yoongi is the day the whole world will end."

"Um, right back at you," Yoongi frowns. "Don't worry," he says, giving you a cocky grin. "I'm very repulsive. You'll never catch feelings for me."

"We'll see about that," Jungkook snickers.

Every year, Yoongi writes you a birthday letter. Even now, in college, he manages to find time to make the same effort he's made for the past two years. Every year, he somehow makes you cry with his elaborate words. And every year, Yoongi films it because he's a little shit.

This year though, the tone of the letter is much, much sweeter than you expected. Almost as if it's a love serenade and not a platonic letter to your best friend. The writing is elaborately flourished and fluffed up to the point it sounds like a love poem. And you swear Yoongi spritzed perfume on the envelope because the letter smells (shockingly) amazing. The message itself doesn't make you cry. Instead, after you finish reading it, you stare up at Yoongi's camera in shock, jaw dropped open but no words coming out of your mouth. Yoongi seems to like that reaction a lot, and he even zooms up on your dumbstruck face to make fun of it later.

He'd written ten things he loves about you. And it drove you crazy that you didn't know whether it was platonic or romantic.

Love, Yoongi. He'd signed the letter. Not the usual, From your bestest motherfucking greatest friend, Yoongi.

What the fuck did 'Love, Yoongi' even mean??

And it happens so that the two of you fight about it later on.

"This year's birthday video is the best one yet," Yoongi laughs as he tries to turn the camera around to show you the screen.

You jerk away, frowning. "That is not funny."

"Why? Didn't like my letter this year?" He's teasing you but you're annoyed.

"It was different."

"A good different?" Yoongi nudges your shoulder, a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Literally, please, stop. Before I wipe that smirk off your face."

"Okay, okay," Yoongi sighs, raising up his hands in defense. "I bet you're just salty you can't name ten things you love about me."

"You're right, right now, I can name zero things," you scoff.

"Liar. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for this long if you didn't love me."

The fact that he's right makes it more irritating.

"Fine. One. You're an asshole—"

"Come on, is that really a reason?" Yoongi laughs. "This isn't ten things you hate about me, you know."

"Hear me out. You're a certain species of asshole that I find slightly more bearable than any other asshole," you say. "I think you're a tolerable asshole. It's a compliment."

"Thanks?"

"Two. You're an idiot—"

"Is this how the rest of the reasons gonna go?" Yoongi scoffs incredulously. "My letter was heartfelt at least!"

"No, but you're a bearable idiot. The kind that irks your strings just enough to make you pissed but not enough to make you explode. No idiot is tolerable but at least once in a million years you give good advice." You shrug as Yoongi shakes his head in denial.

"I always give good advice."

You roll your eyes. "Three. You're not very good looking—"

"I shouldn't even have asked," Yoongi grumbles. "Why did I fucking bother?"

"No, but you're not ugly. Isn't that good news?" you giggle as Yoongi just shakes his head at you. "It's perfect! That way, you attract people with your personality and not your looks! It's a compliment," you add when Yoongi glares at you.

"Whatever," he says.

"Four!" you say triumphantly. "You are drama-free. Except with me. But I'm an exception because I'm special."

"You got that right," Yoongi mutters underneath his breath. "What about five?" Compared to a minute ago, he looks more interested in your list now.

"Five? Well, you're genuine," you say nodding your head. "You wouldn't let me walk around with an eyelash on my face or spinach stuck between my teeth."

"Yeah 'cause you'd embarrass me too because you'd be by my side," Yoongi protests.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"Fine. Six?"

"Six... hm..." you hum. "You have pretty eyes."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Thanks, I guess."

"Seven... let's see... hm..." You rub your chin thoughtfully. "Well, you put the toilet seat down for me."

"My mother didn't raise a hooligan."

"I actually agree with you on that one," you say, laughing. "For eight, I want to just say you're a good friend."

"You stole my number 8 on my letter to you!"

"Yoongi, you should just be glad I even repeated it back to you," you giggle. "Wanna hear nine before I forget?"

Your friend sighs but he nods.

"You're a very good writer. And I'm not just saying that to boost your already enormous ego or anything, but I genuinely think you can write," you say. "And I love that because then I get these good ass letters on special occasions. It's weird how you can choose each word so carefully that all of the meanings fit in this gigantic well-flowing story. And you'd think you'd use all these hard vocabulary words to throw me off, but your writing's easy to read and comprehend. It makes it more impactful." You quirk your brow at your friend who finally looks satisfied. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, now that's more like it!" Yoongi grins. "Butter up my ego a bit more, won't you?"

"Can't. I don't have a number ten for you." You shrug. "Sorry."

"C'mon, you can only think of nine reasons why you love me?" Yoongi leans into you, poking your cheek. "I thought of eleven but I had to take one off. This isn't very fair."

"Oh? What was the eleventh?"

"It was more of a joke so you don't need to know."

"Excuse me? I love jokes—even though I don't take them very well."

"Yeah, well, I especially don't want you to take this a bad way," Yoongi says.

"Was it something mean about me??"

"Kind of."

You frown, scrunching your nose. "Try me."

Yoongi shrugs. "Fine, then. I called you oblivious. Happy?"

You lean back from your friend, giving him a disgraceful look. "Me? Oblivious? First of all, no. And second of all, why would you love that about me?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're so oblivious you can't even tell that I like you??"

One look at Yoongi and you can tell he's dead serious. "Woah," you breathe. You want to ask him to repeat what he just said to see if you heard him correctly the first time. But he's already looking a little impatient at your delayed answer. So you gape at him, muttering a soft, "Like? As in...?" You can't finish the sentence.

"As in love?" Yoongi finishes for you. "Sure."

"Bro..."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I thought the letter made it obvious, Y/N."

"Well, I thought you were joking." You fidget with your hands. "Damn, Yoongi, now what the fuck am I supposed to say?"

"Do whatever you want with that information," he says, shrugging so nonchalantly that you wonder if this man even has feelings.

"Broo..."

"And if that means you're gonna keep saying 'bro,' then I guess that's fine too." He gives you a shit-eating grin.

"No, it's just that... wow. Since when??"

"Like, a year ago? Bit after Jungkook called us a married couple," Yoongi says. "But I'm so dead inside I hid it pretty fucking well. I kept thinking it'd go away too, but man, I still like you now, so I guess the feelings aren't going away anytime soon."

"But what are you proposing??" You run your hands through your hair. "That we go out??"

"Okay, you said it, not me."

You huff. It's weird. This dynamic you have with Yoongi. One moment you're bickering and the next, Yoongi's confessing his feelings for you. Strangely, though, you're not as turned off as you expected.

"One date."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "One date?"

"You can buy me dinner, and if it goes horribly, we're going right back to friends," you bargain. "In the case that it goes well, then, uh, you tell me."

Yoongi laughs. "Oh, I'll be the one to tell you, all right."

And unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the way you look at it), he's right. Four days later, your relationship with Yoongi becomes official. It irks your strings that none of your friends are even the slightest bit surprised about your newfound romantic relationship with the man you'd known for way more than half of your life.

"We all saw it coming, Y/N," they tell you. "We're actually surprised you two didn't date sooner."

But Yoongi is actually a good boyfriend, so there are no regrets. Aside from the small bickering here and there (the married couple kind of arguing), your relationship with him is sound. And the fact that not much has changed in the way you treat each other since you began dating makes you wonder if you were technically in love with Yoongi this whole time but you were way too blinded by your stupid senses and habitual, platonic teasing that you didn't think you actually liked him romantically. It doesn't really matter now, though. Because you're with him anyway.

Yoongi's love language is quality time and coincidentally, so is yours. College becomes a blast. When you're not studying, you're with Yoongi and when you're not with Yoongi, you're 'studying,' but really thinking of your boyfriend.

Yoongi has a way of plaguing your mind. It's been like that since you were little, too.

Once out of college, things become more difficult. Marriage matures into a serious question that neither you nor Yoongi is ready for. So both of you put it off.

As soon as you secure a job as an event planner and Yoongi becomes a professional grant writer, the honeymoon phase of the relationship plummets to the ground.

For nearly eighteen years you were a victim of Yoongi's 'teasing.' His judgmental remarks. But there is a time and place to be a critique.

"Oh, come on, the food isn't even that bad, Yoongi. Just a little bland. That's it."

"There was a hair in my soup," your boyfriend complains. "I'm asking for another bowl."

"Okay, fine, but don't ask for the manager like last time."

"Last time, the waitress called me a tightwad!! What was I supposed to do?"

"Just let it slide? You yelled at her for bringing you bad food when she didn't even cook it! Can you please stop acting so above everybody?"

"Whatever." Yoongi sets down his silverware. "I'm gonna Uber home." He tosses you his credit card and it slides across the wooden table and stops right in front of your dish. "And I'm going to write a Yelp review of this shitty place."

"You're not a fucking entitled writer! Stop acting like one!" you call out to him as he turns his back to you and storms away.

You end up eating dinner at a restaurant by yourself. Yoongi's right, the place is shitty, and the food is bland, but it's not downright intolerable.

Often, these days, it feels like your relationship with Yoongi is spiraling downward. The two of you cannot seem to agree on anything. It reminds you when you'd hated him in your younger years. But you can't hate him now; you live with him.

He's unavoidable.

Usually, Yoongi drives. The car feels foreign to you only because you normally don't sit in the driver's seat. The short mixtape of songs Yoongi wrote and produced for you plays the moment you turn on the engine. He'd gifted that to you a few months ago, after one of your bigger fights. You let the soft serenades play as you drive home.

No matter how many times you and Yoongi fight, the two of you make it up to each other somehow. There is no fight without a resolution. Yoongi will be waiting for you when you get home.

And he is. He's waiting with a blueberry yogurt cake from Paris Baguette sitting on the kitchen island and a letter in his hand. A written apology. Because Yoongi thinks he conveys his feelings better in writing than with spoken words.

"I'm sorry for storming off..." he says almost shyly. The man is nearly twenty-five years old but he sounds and looks like a guilty child with his lips pulled out in a pout and his eyes glancing nervously at your face to see if you weren't going to yell at him. "I, uh... didn't write the Yelp review."

How can you stay mad at that?

"And I wrote you an apology..."

You walk closer to your boyfriend and hug him. "Thank you..."

"Yeah," he says. "And good news, the cake will be really flavorful compared to what you had for dinner."

You smile. "Good thinking."

After a storm, there is always a rainbow. When there is a down, there is an up. And vice versa.

"Can we please stop planning every single fucking second of our lives?" Yoongi says exasperatedly. He flings away the brochure you had handed him that detailed the week's trip to Hawaii down to the last minute. "We're going on vacation. This makes me feel like I'm going to a stupid summer camp."

"If we're going to Hawaii, we shouldn't just relax around in the hotel all day, Yoongi," you scoff, gathering the abandoned brochure and tugging it to your chest. "There's stuff to see on the islands. We need to try everything my friends did! Why would we even go to Hawaii if we're not going to do these fun activities?"

"Come on. 7 o'clock breakfast? 8 o'clock hiking up to the falls? 10 o'clock scuba diving in the ocean? 12 o'clock lunch at the top of a big ass hill that we have to climb up ourselves? 1 o'clock zip-lining meters in the air? 2 o'clock festival? I could go on, but isn't that too much? When can we breathe?" Yoongi shakes his head. "No way. And all of that's just in one day. And the second day is even worse. Y/N, I want to go there to rest."

"If you wanted to rest, then you can do it at home," you argue. "Why go to Hawaii to rest?"

"There are different types of resting," Yoongi sighs. "What's a better way to fall asleep than in front of the ocean? We get to relax in a hotel, which means we won't have to make our beds or cook our meals or even do the dishes. That's relaxing for me."

"Well, it's not relaxing enough for me."

"Come on, Y/N. We went to Banff and you planned every single second of the trip there. I thought it was miserable. Can we please relax just once? For literally one trip?"

"But I already booked everything..."

Yoongi curses. "Why are you always four steps ahead of everything? It's unnecessary!"

"Maybe I'm not four steps ahead and you're just four steps behind!"

"Oh, so you're telling me that everyone else in the world plans their days down to the last second." Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Bullshit, Y/N."

"It's not my fault you're so—so, fucking lazy!"

"I'm not lazy!" Yoongi's eyes flash as he slams the dinner table. "You're just too high maintenance! Fucking nobody can keep up with you!" Before you can react or even yell back, he pushes his chair away and stands up, stomping away in a fury. You can hear him enter his study. There's that familiar door slam again. And the click of the lock means you won't be getting in that room anytime soon.

You're left by yourself, clutching the Hawaii brochure to your chest. A little angry at yourself but a lot madder at your boyfriend. With a bitter scream, you toss the brochure in the trash and curl up in a ball at the side of the couch.

But the thing about you and Yoongi is that with time and space, you recognize each other's perspectives. The rest is history.

Three hours just crying out your pent-up anger gets the irritation out of your system. By the time you're done though, you're a little hungry and guilty. You make a few phone calls and switch things around.

"Hey." You knock on the door of Yoongi's study. You're too afraid to turn the knob yourself. "I know you're in there."

No answer.

"I canceled the excessive activities..." you whisper against the door. "We can plan the trip together... I mean, better yet, we don't even have to plan anything at all... We can be..."—it pains you to say but—"spontaneous."

"Go away. I'm trying to work."

Sometimes Yoongi takes a bit longer than you to come around.

But by dinnertime, he's crept out of his study and has already ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant. The steaming pile of white rice and perfect side dishes lie on the dinner table, waiting for you. He waits for you too.

"I got a new client," he says, looking down at his hands. "And I got your favorite food." You notice that he's holding the Hawaii brochure you'd thrown away. It's a little wet on the sides. Maybe because Yoongi had to wipe off the remnants of the leftovers in the trash that had stuck onto the paper. Your boyfriend finally looks up at you. Shyly. Almost cautiously. "Wanna compromise?"

"Compromise?"

"We plan half of the trip and wing the rest of it," he offers. Yoongi slides you the brochure. "See, so I was thinking..."

You've always hated roller coasters. They are almost always unpredictable with head-jerking twists and turns that bring you closer to vomiting the contents of your stomach rather than pure bliss. There are one too many ups and downs.

Yoongi likes to joke that your relationship with him is a roller coaster. Only because there are too many dips that rocket up to the sky only to plummet down again. You disagree. Because, eventually, no matter how shitty the ride is, roller coasters do end. Your relationship with Yoongi is not over.

You like to compare your relationship with Yoongi like the ocean waves. But during a tsunami. The ups are great; the towering waves give you a beautiful vantage point. And it's all fun and games until the waves crash down on everything you once loved, destroying them. And the process repeats so much that in the end, there is nothing left.

That's what you feel now. Empty.

Alone in the bed with Yoongi downstairs and nowhere to be seen near you.

After a while, even the highs of the relationship makes you feel numb. The lows wreck you past your breaking point. It takes more time to find resolutions—the fights go on for longer than days, even weeks.

When you were younger, fighting with Yoongi was irritating at most. Now, they leave you sobbing and drinking alone in the corner of the bathroom. But it's so late in the game.

You've known Yoongi for over eighteen years of your life, since kindergarten. You keep telling yourself that he's the only one in the world who could understand you; and you're the only one in the world who can understand him. But other than that, you can't find another reason why you're with him.

Sometimes, you listen back to the mixtape he made you years ago. The lyrics don't apply to you now. And this year, for your birthday, he half-assed a letter for you last-minutely because he was 'busy.' Busy drinking with his friends the night before. You've stopped planning your dates for months.

Actually, when was the last time you went on a date with him?

You can't recall.

Maybe the back and forth arguing you and Yoongi had gone through in the majority of your relationship was a sign—a bad sign. If only you hadn't met him on the seesaw that day. Then maybe none of this would've happened.

You might be dating someone you have things in common with. Maybe someone you don't argue with as much.

Falling asleep with tears in your eyes that keep the pillow wet until morning is an occurrence that you're too familiar with. It is an occurrence you want to stop. When Yoongi isn't downstairs by morning, you're thrown into further misery. He usually works from home... He must be really angry to leave without saying anything.

You eat breakfast by yourself. Lunch consists of ramen. And dinner... Yoongi's still not home so you skip the meal altogether.

By 9 p.m., you look at your phone. You don't want to be the first person to break—the first person to apologize—but you worry. Will he hang up on you? Tell you to go away? The possibilities seem endless.

So much thinking hurts your head. Some fresh air might do the trick. Before you know it, you're wandering around a familiar rusty playground again. It brings back childhood memories. When your hand trails across the paint-chipped monkey bars, you're brought back to when you were only six years old. The towering obstacle had looked so big when you were little. Now, you could easily cross the bars by simply walking.

It's strange to see the once-bustling playground be completely empty and in the dark. You hear that they're going to tear down this place to construct a little convenience store so no one must've visited this playground in a very long time. You'll miss it when it's gone. You had a lot of fun around here.

Just as that thought passes through your head, your eye catches sight of the seesaw.

Ah, the start of everything.

Slowly, you walk towards it. Each step makes your feet sink further in the smoothed over gravel but you manage to sit at the very edge of the seesaw. Immediately, the other side flings up in the air. It reminds you of when you flung Yoongi in the air. A pretty funny memory. But not right now. Thinking about Yoongi now hurts.

You hate it when you start to contemplate the worst-case scenario. A breakup. Moving out. Stress. Tears.

You run your fingers across the rusty handle of the seesaw. Hopefully, things don't come to that. But how much longer can you handle the arguments? They seem to be elongating as time passes. What if one day, the argument lasts a month? Several months? A year?

If there is one thing in your life that you strive to achieve, it's predictability. With Yoongi, there is none of that. He makes last-minute plans out of nowhere and doesn't tell you until the last second. Then you have to go on a frenzy to reschedule everything. It is a cycle that you've become sick of. And he's sick of you planning everything.

That has been the issue of the last ten fights.

The same issue.

And it's unfixable.

You and Yoongi are rock bottom on the very floor of the Mariana Trench. The back and forth game of banter has turned into something more serious, and it just isn't as light-hearted and funny anymore.

"Hey."

You nearly fall off the seesaw at the sound of Yoongi's voice. He's got his hands shoved in his pockets and he looks like he was awake for more than 24 hours.

"H-Hey," you say.

"The seesaw, huh?"

"Yeah." You nod. "The seesaw."

Yoongi smiles but it's not a very happy one. Even now, you don't think either one of you wants to apologize for the fight.

"I've been thinking," Yoongi sighs. He doesn't spare you another glance before he sits on the other side of the seesaw. You're suddenly jerked up in the air. There used to be a balance but it seems like Yoongi's gained some weight—or you've lost a lot. "Remember when I said our relationship is like a rollercoaster?"

"And I said I disagreed."

"Right." Yoongi sighs. "I take that back. We're not like a rollercoaster. We're in a game."

"A game?"

Yoongi gestures at the seesaw. "This is our game."

"...The seesaw?" You raise an eyebrow at the man but Yoongi doesn't budge.

"Yes. Look." Yoongi pushes off the gravel with his feet, putting himself in the air while sinking you to the ground. "And when you push..." Following his words, you launch yourself back in the air. Yoongi looks up at you as he sighs. "We're always on opposite sides, opposite places."

"Even when we try to balance," he continues, trying to lift his body to bring you down to the same level as him, "we fail." He ends up higher than you now and you look up at him.

"Some game this is..." you mutter.

"It's a game of ups and downs," Yoongi tells you. "It's tiring, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"And like all games... there is an end."

You raise both eyebrows. "Oh."

"From day one, you know... we weren't really supposed to get along," Yoongi says. "But somehow seeing each other every day, bickering with each other... all of that let us be in closer proximity with each other. And then we thought we were meant to be."

"You're analyzing our relationship?" you scoff.

"Don't act like you haven't done the same, Y/N."

You're silent.

"It doesn't matter whether we love each other at this point, Y/N... Does it? Love or not, I don't think I can live like this."

It's ridiculous. You're having a grown-up discussion possibly leading to a breakup on a fucking seesaw of all places.

"You want to separate?" Your voice comes out smaller than you expected. When it becomes a reality, it's much harder to digest.

"You've been thinking about it too, right?" Yoongi sighs. "I mean, I heard you call your mom the other day. And it didn't sound too good."

Guilty. "Well, yeah, I've been thinking about it... Just... I just didn't think it'd become a reality so soon." And you always thought you would have initiated the breakup, not the other way around.

"Yeah... I felt bad you always took initiative with things so I decided to save you the stress and do it myself."

"Wow. Thanks." You shake your head. "Real thoughtful."

"Right?" Yoongi grins. "I don't think a lot will change if we break up. We've always hated each other a little."

You let out a wry laugh. "I'll never forgive you for calling me fat."

"And I'll never forgive you for calling me stupid."

"Looks like we're even."

"Yeah, for once." Yoongi shrugs. "I guess we can be platonic roommates until I find another apartment."

"Sounds good to me." You ignore the tears welling up in your eyes as you try to smile. "Let's get off this seesaw to seal the deal then."

"The end of the game." Yoongi's voice shakes just enough for you to know he's crying.

And as the two of you walk back to your shared apartment with tears streaming down your faces, you realize you wouldn't have it any other way. A breakup any later would be regretful—even wasteful of time. A breakup any earlier would've left you to separate forever. A breakup now is perfect.

You're acquainted enough to still possibly be friends. But not bound by marriage to make the procedure worse and more complicated.

Of course, you love Yoongi. But sometimes, you love the wrong people—the people you don't belong with, the people who won't make you happy. You're just glad you didn't run away in the beginning. Yoongi taught you a difficult rivalry, a difficult friendship, a difficult relationship. But you don't always have to go the hard way.

When a relationship becomes like a game—repetitive with the addition of wins and losses—that's when you know you can stop.

You'll be on the easy route now and find someone who is as crazy about planning as you.

You look up at Yoongi. His cheeks are wet with tears but he doesn't necessarily look sad. Instead, he looks hopeful. Like he'll find somebody who can appreciate his love for leaving sarcastic Yelp reviews or somebody who loves spontaneity as much as he does.

And when he finds that special somebody, you'll be happy for Yoongi. But, of course, not before you tease the living shit out of him first.

—masterpost

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered lowly, crossing your arms across your chest. Motioning for the idiot to pick up the call, he finally swiped to answer it, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Hello, IU-sunbaenim!” Jungkook immediately greeted, his face instantly brightening up as she greeted him back on the other end.

You weren’t able to hear much of what IU said but you did see the way Jungkook’s eyes glistened with every word she said, his head quickly nodding in agreement, while his brows furrowed together deep in thought before replying to whatever she had to say.

Looking down at the ground, you sighed softly to yourself. You started to feel a bit bad for the things you said earlier—after all, IU was Jungkook’s dream girl ever since he was a young teenager. Who were you to shatter his hopes? You were just the girl who hopelessly fell for the person you knew you couldn’t have...

Standing there awkwardly until the phone call finally ended, you saw Jungkook hastily shove his phone back into his pocket before he looking back up at you again. His eyes slowly scanned your face, your gaze that stared down at your shoes, your lips that pursed into a tight line as your eyebrows scrunched together. 

Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, was there something you had to say to me?”

Looking back up, your lips parted as you thought of all the things you had wanted to say earlier. All the things you were confident enough to tell him because you didn’t want your own heart broken by the thought of anything happening between him and IU. All the selfish things that now tasted bitter on your own tongue.

However, you quickly shook your head and instead plastered a smile on your face, one you hoped he would believe, “Actually, I just wanted to say I was sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

Blinking in surprise, Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Wait...what? That’s what you wanted to say?”

Chuckling humorlessly, you simply replied with a nod, “Yea, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

Avoiding his suspicious gaze, you turned around before quickly adding, “I have to go back now. I’ll see you around Jungkook.”

“Y/N...w-wait—” you heard him start to say, but you continued to walk away. 

You knew nothing was set in stone yet here you were, acting like they both confessed their love for each other already. But knowing yourself, you knew you had to prepare yourself for anything that would happen. Because if it were to, and you were still hopelessly in love with him, you would be absolutely broken without repair.

Watching the recent episode of Haikyuu on his phone, Jungkook sat sprawled across the couch when he felt someone shove his legs, “Hey, this couch is for all of us, you ass”.

Pausing the video, Jungkook popped an earphone out as he met Jin’s gaze, grinning cheekily at the older member. Waiting for him to sit down, Jungkook instantly swung his legs back up, this time onto Jin’s lap.

Scowling, Jin shoved Jungkook’s feet away before groaning, “Get your stinky feet away from me!”

“Hyungggggg~” Jungkook whined playfully, earning another glare from Jin before finally huffing in resignation, allowing Jungkook’s feet to rest over his lap as he grabbed the TV remote, mindlessly switching through the different channels.

Smirking to himself in victory, Jungkook went back to watching the episode when a familiar voice filled the room. Looking up, Jungkook noticed that Jin had landed on KBS2, which was broadcasting Music Bank at the time. Watching the stage slowly illuminate, revealing a small, petite figure standing alone, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile.

“She sure is amazing.” he heard Jin comment, to which Jungkook hummed in agreement, “You could say that again.”

This whole thing was like a dream to him; from the moment IU had asked him to collaborate with her to the Skype session they had yesterday, it all just felt like a really really long dream, one that Jungkook hoped he would never wake up from.

Swaying his head to the soft tune, Jungkook’s eyes were glued to IU’s comeback performance when a slight snicker grabbed his attention. Turning his head to the side, he watched Jin hyung tsk at him before chuckling again, “Oh, you are too cute you know that?”

Taken aback, Jungkook retorted, “What are you laughing at?”

“The face you make whenever you see, hear or speak about anything IU-related” Jin laughed. Widening his eyes, Jin parted his lips slightly, imitating a look of awe before he pointed to his face, “This. This is how you look. Every, single time.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook grumbled, “I do not,” even though his cheeks flushed, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. 

“Although, you actually look like that a lot whenever you’re around Y/N.”

Snapping his head up in surprise, Jungkook suddenly choked on his own spit, quickly falling into a fit of coughs. Blinking innocently, Jin looked at the younger boy in alarm.

“Hey, you alright there?”

Witnessing his blush deepen, Jin saw Jungkook rub his chest in circles before stammering, “W-What do you mean by that?”

Jin’s concern quickly washed over as a small smirk replaced it. Sending Jungkook a pointed look, he said teasingly, “I don’t know, what do you think I mean?”

Frowning, Jungkook stammered, “I-I don’t know what you’re implying. We’re  just friends...”

Humming softly, Jin turned his attention back towards the TV when he finally said, “Mm, I’ll believe that for now.”

“Hyung!”

Groaning in frustration, a flush-faced Jungkook grabbed his phone from the couch before getting up and leaving the room, muttering a couple of things under his breath that Jin couldn’t hear.

As Jungkook walked out, a confused-looking Jimin entered the room, watching as the youngest member left the room with a flustered look on his face.

“What was that all about?” Jimin asked, popping a chip from Jin’s bowl into his mouth as he went to go sit next to him.

Looking to his side, Jin gave him a knowing look, “Oh what else? I brought up Y/N and he immediately got all flustered.”

Raising a brow, Jimin said with a slight chuckle, “Is that so?”

Turning his attention to the TV screen, Jimin shook his head in amusement, “I wonder when the two of them will finally realize how stupidly in love they are with each other.”

Jin snorted in response. It had been a while since many of the members had caught on to the fact that there was something between you and Jungkook. Not only was it because the two of you were always stuck to each other by the waist, but it was also in the way you both looked at each other, like there was nobody else in the world as special as the other.

“Maybe in a million years they will. It amazes me how blind they are to each other's feelings when all of us can see it so clearly.” Jin finally said with a dramatic sigh. 

“Hmm, I guess they’re just that typical rom-com couple you see in every show these days.” Jimin simply hummed before reaching out to grab another chip from Jin’s bowl, just to be met with a smack to his hand.

Shooting him a glare, Jin scowled, “I let you off the first time but not again!”

Putting on the best aegyo-face he could, he fluttered his lashes and pouted his lips as he tried to grab another chip just for Jin to smack it again, “No! Go get your own, you thief!”

“Pa pa pa PA! That’s it!” Hoseok cheered, clapping his hands together.

It was late at night yet you were sitting on the floor of the dance studio, watching some of the boys practice their choreographies for their tour performances. After helping the other stylists and coordinators organize the boys’ outfits and the order in which they would change into them, you felt too tired to leave so you decided to just stick around and head home when you were ready to.

Sitting on the side of the room, you watched as Hoseok instructed Jimin and Jungkook with his ever-famous “pa pa pa”s. You felt yourself smile in pride as you saw each of them working their hardest, focusing and executing with so much precision, it was like they were actually performing.

Letting out a quiet yawn, you stretched your arms upward releasing a soft moan as you felt the release of the slight ache within your tight muscles.

“Y/N, what are you still doing here?”

Looking up, you gave Jiho a lopsided smile before motioning for him to sit down next to you. Sighing, he shook his head as he sat beside you.

“Why haven’t you left yet? I saw everyone leaving like an hour ago.” Jiho asked again.

Shrugging, you said nonchalantly, “I don’t know, I was just too tired to walk all the way to the bus station I guess.

Poking your forehead, Jiho chuckled softly, “Of course. Of all people, you would be the only one to stay at her workplace even when she’s done with work.”

Yawning again, you naturally let your head rest on Jiho’s shoulder as you snuggled closer into his side, “Let me just take a quick nap, and then I’ll leave with you, hmm? It’s always so boring to walk alone.” 

Stiffening lightly, Jiho looked to his side as he saw your eyes slowly flutter close. Oh, Y/N...Jiho thought to himself as he sighed inwardly, you really do have to make things so difficult for me, don’t you?

As a couple minutes passed, your breathing slightly evened out as he could feel your chest rise and fall with every breath. Finding himself smiling softly at the peaceful look on your usually tired face, he let out a small sigh of content before turning back to look at the boys practicing. 

Yet as he did, his gaze met Jungkook’s as the younger boy stared at Jiho with an unknown look in his eyes.

Realizing he had been caught, Jungkook quickly flashed Jiho an awkward smile before turning his attention back to Hoseok hyung. However, he couldn’t help but find his gaze falling back on your sleeping figure, the feeling of his stomach dropping when he saw whose shoulders you were sleeping upon, shoulders that weren’t his. 

“Jungkook!”

“Hey, Jungkook! What are you doing?” 

Tearing his gaze away from you, Jungkook looked up at Jimin and Hoseok with wide eyes as the two dancers looked at him in suspicion, both of them sharing looks between each other.  

“Why are you just standing there, it’s already late! We need to get this done if you want to go back to the dorms at a reasonable time.” Hoseok sighed impatiently. 

Quickly nodding his head, he muttered a quiet apology before getting back into position, waiting for the music to start again.

What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like him to act this way, yet recently he couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation within himself whenever he saw you with Jiho. Or with anyone else for that matter. Even when he would catch you mid conservation with Jin hyung about the latest recipe you had tried out, or when he would find you and Namjoon hyung obsessing over some book he couldn’t even pronounce, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was something he hated, for he knew your friendship wasn’t something that was solely his. After all, you had known the rest of the members as long as you had known Jungkook, and Jiho even longer. 

Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of the thoughts that had been swarming his brain the last couple months when suddenly a yell echoed through the hallway outside the dance studio. 

“JEON JUNGKOOK!” 

Tripping on his own feet, Jungkook fell to the floor with a thud as a flustered-looking Taehyung burst through the doors. 

“W-What’s happening?” you jumped as you woke up with a start, rubbing your eyes gently while they adjusted to the bright lights that filled the room. Gaze falling on Jungkook on the floor, his face wincing in slight pain, you found yourself immediately pushing yourself off the ground, automatically moving towards him. 

“J-Jungkook! You alright?” 

Giving you a slight nod, you gave him your hand as you helped pull him back up to his feet when the both of you looked up to meet a sheepish-looking Taehyung. 

“Jesus, what is it Taehyung? You scared the shit out of us!” Jimin exclaimed as he walked over to Jungkook, giving the younger boy a quick once-over, making sure he was okay. 

Not before flashing you all an apologetic smile, Taehyung excitedly pointed to his iPhone screen, “You will not believe what I just found.” 

As he shoved the device into Jungkook’s hands, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jiho all crowded around you and Jungkook as you all watched Jungkook press the play button on the screen. The black screen quickly illuminated as the title of the video appeared first. 

“IU talks about her single featuring one of BTS’s hottest members, Jeon Jungkook!” 

“Mmm, fast forward to about 3:30 mark,″ Taehyung pointed out, as Jungkook forwarded the video. 

 “IU-ssi. We have to ask you how the collaboration with BTS’s Jeon Jungkook is going!”

Chuckling softly, the sound of her laugh itself like music, IU responded, “I have to say I can’t say much now, but things are going amazing. Jungkook-ssi is a very talented individual, as I’m sure you all know.” 

Jungkook found his heart swelling with happiness as he heard his idol praise him, that too on live television. 

“Yes, of course! One of the best singers in the industry for sure. How has the process been going in all? With BTS currently being on tour and all.” 

“There have been times where it has been difficult for sure, but Jungkook-ssi is very dedicated and our meetings have been very efficient, so we are getting a lot of work done,” IU replied with an appreciative smile. 

“That’s good to hear! So do tell us, IU-ssi. Did you know that you are Jeon Jungkook’s ideal type?!” 

“Ha!” Jimin snickered, wagging his fingers teasingly at Jungkook, “I knew all your interview confessions would one day lead to this.” 

However, for a split second, IU looked slightly taken aback, almost as if she hadn’t known this. But just as quickly, the singer composed herself before laughing warmly, “No, I hadn’t heard of that. That is very sweet of him.”

“Well, what about you IU-ssi? After all, you’ve been talking to Jungkook-ssi for a while now! Would you say the BTS member is somewhat like your ideal type too?” 

As the interviewer dropped the question, the entire room suddenly went silent. Turning to look at Jungkook, you saw his face go white, the color draining from it as he stared intently at the screen in front of him, his gaze unwavering. 

This time IU was evidently flustered, the question clearly catching her off guard as she laughed nervously, “Ah, I haven’t known him for very long you see—” 

“Oh, I’m sure you could still gather enough at this point, don’t you think?” 

Nodding slowly, IU smiled tightly until she finally responded, “I-Yes, he’s a handsome individual and also very determined and passionate about music, which is very nice to see—”

“Wonderful! There you have it folks, IU reveals her ideal type to be no other than BTS’s Jeon Jungkook! I wonder if this collaboration will be the start of a blooming romance between the two amazing singers! Stay tuned for more, after the break!” 

And with that, the video cut off. 

Swallowing the lump that appeared in your throat, you found yourself staring at the blank phone screen, afraid to even look at Jungkook and his reaction to the video.

“Wow.” was all Hoseok could say, “That just happened.”

Nodding slowly, Jungkook handed the iPhone back to Taehyung who looked at him expectantly. Meanwhile, as you slowly lifted your gaze you found Jungkook already looking at you, his gaze unreadable. 

“Jungkook! Why aren’t you freaking out?! IU basically said she thinks of you as her ideal type!” Taehyung exclaimed as he grabbed Jungkook’s shoulders, shaking them vigorously. 

Snapping himself from your own confused gaze, he couldn’t help but think back to the words you said in the dressing room.

“...a little childish...” you had said, your words feeling like a slap to his face, yet he knew there was truth to your words. It would’ve been absolutely crazy to think IU would ever like him in that manner. 

But this? He suddenly didn’t know how to feel. 

“I don’t know...” he started to say, a hint of uncertainty laced within his voice as his brows together. Finally, he let out a sigh before adding, “I just... that interviewer pretty much manipulated her into saying that and she didn’t even finish her thoughts before he cut her off.” 

Blinking, you found yourself slowly taking in Jungkook’s words before looking at him in surprise.

However, it seemed that you weren’t the only one. 

The rest of the boys around you all had a similar expression as they stared at Jungkook in slight shock until Taehyung finally said, “Wait what? So, you’re like not phased by this interview?” 

Scanning all of your faces and the looks of absolute confusion etched upon them, Jungkook found himself chuckling before he nodded, “Not really? Like I said, IU-sunbaenim looked really uncomfortable and was basically forced to answer the question.” 

This time you piped up, not knowing what exactly made you do so, “But you never know right?! Like, she could’ve been flustered for other reasons.” 

“Yea! Exactly!” Taehyung exclaimed, pointing at you, “Y/N has a point!”

This time, it was Jungkook’s turn to look completely confused before he recalled, “Weren’t you the one who told me it was “childish” for me to think IU-sunbaenim could ever like me? Hmm?” 

Flushing deeply, you rubbed the sides of your arms as you stuttered out an apology, “I-I know I’m sorry about that—”

Quickly shaking his hands in front of him, he grinned, “I’m just messing with you. I didn’t mean it like that Y/N. Honestly, I kind of understand what you meant after thinking about it. You’re not wrong, you know?” 

Biting down on your lip, you simply stood there, unsure of how to exactly respond to that. 

“Well, I agree with Jungkook.” Jimin piped up, “We all know how interviewers tend to ask risky questions and then manipulate our answers to make news out of them.”

Frowning slightly, Taehyung scratched the back of his head, “Yea. I suppose that makes sense too.” 

Hitting his arm gently, Hoseok scolded Taehyung, “And there you came, screaming and scaring us while we were mid-practice.” earning an apologetic grin from the younger member. 

At that point, the boys decided to call it a day and head back to the dorm as it was way late into the night and they had a pretty packed schedule tomorrow. Deciding to pack your stuff up as well, you looked towards Jiho, who stood by the doorway waiting for you. 

“We better hurry if you wanna catch the last bus,” Jiho said, checking the bus schedule on his phone. You and Jiho lived fairly near each other and therefore often rode the bus home together after work. Jiho had even joked about letting you move in with him when his roommate had moved out, and honestly, you would’ve but you knew your mother would kill you if she found out you were rooming with a guy, even if he was just your best friend. 

Swinging your backpack across your shoulder, you waved goodbye to the rest of the boys before leaving with Jiho.

“God, it’s cold.” you said as a shiver ran through your body. Pulling your long sleeves over your frozen hands, you bit your lip as the cold, night breeze brushed past you, making you only shiver more. 

Giving you a bemused look, Jiho said, “You never dress appropriately for the weather, you know that?” 

Shooting him a glare, you frowned as you dug your face into your the neck of your hoodie, “Yea yea I know. You’ve only told me that maybe like a million times before.” 

“You would think after a million times, someone would finally listen.” 

Opening your mouth to protest, you resorted to muttering a couple less-than-nice words under your breath, to which Jiho laughed aloud, the sound ringing loudly through the silent night sky. 

Before you knew it, Jiho moved so that he stood in front of you, causing you to abruptly stop in place as you looked up at him in confusion. Just then, he shrugged off his jacket before draping it around your shoulder, “Here, wear this dummy.”

“Jiho, what about you—” you said as you started to remove the jacket, but Jiho simply shook his head, stopping your hands and instead helped you put it back on, “I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, have the immune system of a baby.” 

Accepting defeat, you slipped your arms through the jacket’s sleeves, allowing the oversized piece of clothing to completely drown you yet giving you a feeling of warmth you oh-so-needed.

A sigh of content slipping past your lips, you snuggled further into the soft material before finally breathing, “Thanks Jiho.” 

Ruffling your hair slightly, he replied with a small smile, “Yea, don’t mention it.” 

Watching you from the side of his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel his heart beat a bit faster. Drowning in his jacket, you looked so small and absolutely adorable; meanwhile, your cheeks and nose were a soft red from the cold weather, giving you a naturally flushed appearance. 

At that moment, Jiho felt like he would do anything to be able to just hold your face in his warm hands, pull you close to him, and just feel your lips against his. Instead, he quickly stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his sweatshirt before he could do anything he knew he would regret. 

“Shit!” 

Snapping him out of his thought, Jiho turned to look at you in concern, “What? What’s wrong?” 

Crying in frustration, you groaned as you slapped your forehead, “I’m such an idiot! I left my wallet back at the studio.” 

“Well, can’t you just wait till tomorrow to get it?” Jiho asked as you quickly shook your head, “I need it now, it has my bus pass in it.”

Sighing, Jiho turned back around and started walking in the opposite direction, “Alright, let’s go then.”

Shaking your hands, you quickly blurted, “No! You should get home, you’ll miss the bus! I’ll go get it and if I get back fast enough, I’ll join you. If not, I’ll just call a taxi.”

“Y/N...” Jiho trailed off, his lips forming a frown as he stared at you with worried eyes. 

Patting his chest softly, you said reassuringly, sensing Jiho’s concern, “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you once I get home, okay? You should go though, it’s getting late and I know it’s already way past your bedtime, grandpa.” 

Lips parting to retort back, Jiho backed down knowing nothing he said would make you listen to him. So instead, he simply nodded. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thanks for the jacket again!” you exclaimed with a grin, before turning around and slowly jogging back to the company building. 

Making it there sooner than you expected, you quickly typed in the building passcode and made your way up towards the dance studio, hoping it was where you thought you had left it. 

Walking down the hallway, your ears picked up the soft sound of music playing from the direction of the dance studio. Peeking your head through the door, the figure your eyes fell on confirmed your suspicions. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still here,” you said with a soft smile,  leaning against the door frame. 

Startled, Jungkook froze in place before quickly turning towards the sound, his face evidently relaxing when he realized who it was. 

“Oh, it’s just you..” he breathed, his chest heaving as he walked towards his phone which laid on the ground, pressing the pause button. 

“What are you doing back? I thought you were already late to catch your bus,” he said as he slightly dabbed away the sweat that dripped from his hair with a hand towel. 

Walking past him, you moved towards where you remembered placing your stuff, your eyes scanning for your wallet, “I left my wallet and it has my bus pass in it.” 

“Is this it?” you heard him say, causing you to turn around to see him holding up a tan-colored wallet.

“Ah, yes that’s the one!” you grinned as you walked towards him, but instead of giving it to you, he raised it higher up in the air, shaking it teasingly above you. 

“Oh, come on, don’t be a brat. You’re not that taller than me,” you huffed before stretching your hand up in the air, your fingers slightly grazing his wrist. 

“Jungkook~” you whined softly, this time standing on the tips of your toes, as you tried reaching for it once again, but still failing nevertheless as you endlessly grabbed at the air above you. 

“Fuck you,” you muttered in annoyance causing Jungkook to laugh at the irritation that clouded your face. At that moment, an idea struck your mind and before you could think any further, your body reacted first. Karate-chopping his stomach with one hand, Jungkook yelped in surprise, allowing you to take advantage of it and quickly grab your wallet from his hands. 

Grinning devilishly, you placed a hand on your hip before sticking your tongue out, “That’s what you get for trying to mess with THE Y/N L/N.”

Throwing both hands up in the air in surrender, he replied mockingly, “Oh dear, remind me to never mess with you again.” 

Dramatically whipping your hair behind you, you lifted your backpack from the ground and zipped it open. Carefully placing your wallet inside it, you looked up in surprise when you heard the sound of music resume around you. 

“Jungkook...” you trailed off, as he turned to look at you mid-step, “It’s getting late, you should head back.” 

“Yea I know, but I have to get this last bit down.” he simply replied before going back to dancing again. You knew better than anyone that Jungkook was doing well enough, but being the perfectionist he was, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he himself was satisfied. Which unfortunately usually happened after a lot, and a lot of practice.

Resting your back against the wall, you stood there as you saw Jungkook stare at himself through the mirror, his concentration unbreakable as he repeated the same dance move a number of times, each time at a different speed and with a different amount of power. 

Finally, turning to look at you, he asked slightly breathless, “Y/N could you do me a favor?” 

Nodding in response, he walked over and handed you his phone, “Here, can you play this bit of the song, from 2:45-3:20, and I’ll dance it twice and can you tell me what looks better?” 

Eyes quickly glancing at the clock in the room, Jungkook’s gaze followed yours before quickly saying, his hands moving back towards his phone, “Nevermind, I shouldn’t keep you here—” 

Shaking your head softly, you said, “It’s alright. The buses are all gone by now anyway, so it doesn’t matter anymore.” Ushering him to go back to his position, you waited for him to give you a thumbs-up before pressing down the play button. 

Performing the choreography for you the first time, you restarted the section once it reached the 3:20 mark and watched him perform it again, his movements not drastically different but enough for you to see the difference in the execution. 

“I think, I liked the first one better.” you finally said after a bit of thinking. Walking up to him, you turned to face the mirror as you showed him the specific step you were thinking of, “But I think when you do this step, doing it the second way looked better. So maybe combing those together?” 

Looking at him through the mirror, you saw him raise a brow before giving you a teasing smile, “Well, someone just went from stylist to a dance teacher real fast.” 

Punching his arm softly, you replied with a shy smile, “I just wanted to give you some helpful critique is all. Obviously, you can do whatever you want, for I cannot dance to save my life.” 

Tilting his head to the side, he smirked, “Now, that can’t be completely true.” 

Scoffing, you said, “Oh trust me. When I was younger, my mom put me in ballet lessons, and every time I would do a lil twirl I would fall on the ground because I got too dizzy.”

Waiting for you to tell him you were joking, Jungkook looked at you expectantly  until he finally said, “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Stifling a laugh, Jungkook stared at you until you sighed, causing him to burst into laughter. Standing on his toes, he tried to imitate your elementary-school self as he twirled, before dramatically falling onto the ground. Mimicking a child’s voice, he said, “Oh I’m so dizzy, someone help me.”

Frowning, you kicked him softly as he continued to laugh harder, his hands holding his stomach. A couple seconds passed before his laughs began to die down, “Wow, I really needed that today.” 

Getting back up on his feet, Jungkook took the phone from your hand as you saw him scroll through his music library. Eyes brightening, he clicked on a song and pressed the play button, the slow pop track with a slight R&B beat to it, filling the room instantly. 

Just then, Jungkook offered his hand to you. Raising a brow in confusion, you simply stared at him until he sighed and moved towards you himself, slowly grabbing your hand in his. 

“Dance with me.” 

Eyes widening, your breath hitched in your throat as you began to stutter, “D-dance?” 

“It’ll be fun,” Jungkook chuckled softly, squeezing your hand. Pulling you to the center of the room, Jungkook looked down at you and almost laughed as you continued to stare at him in absolute horror. 

“Jungkook, I don’t know if you have short-term memory but I just told you I can’t dance.” 

“You’ll be fine.” he assured you as he let his other hand rest loosely on your waist. Body moving closer towards you, you started to feel your heart rate spike when he whispered softly into your ear, “Just follow my lead.” 

As the song slowly began to reach the chorus, you let Jungkook slowly guide you through the floor, showing you fairly simple steps that you attempted to follow under his guidance. As the chorus rolled into the second verse, you found your body relaxing into Jungkook’s touch, the nerves dissipating as you allowed yourself to succumb to the music. 

You could feel Jungkook’s touch everywhere; his hands that guided your waist with every turn, his fingers that traveled down your back before reaching the length of your arms, his touch soft and supportive as they sent warm tingles down your body. Yet, you didn’t feel nervous. Instead, you found yourself only falling more, the familiarity of his skin feeling comfortable against your own. 

With every stumble, every falter, every accidental step on each others’ feet, apologies would spew from your mouth only to be quickly replaced with soft giggles and laughter. Jungkook would simply grin in amusement and laugh, as he made the two of you move in exaggerated manners: spinning you around, dipping you towards the ground, and finally pulling you up. 

Slowly, the song came to an end as Jungkook pulled you in towards him, his face mere centimeters away; his arms rested on the curves of your hips as yours had found its way around his neck. The two of you were slightly breathless, your breaths mingling as soft waves of laughter spilled past the both of your lips. 

As a soft silence hung over the two of you, you looked up into his eyes, noticing Jungkook’s playful gaze had slowly softened. There was something in the way he looked at you; his deep brown eyes were suddenly unreadable and completely unknown to you. Just then you saw Jungkook’s gaze flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze once again, the subtle movement causing your cheeks to flare in response. 

As his forehead gently fell against yours, your eyes fluttered instinctively to a close as you felt his nose softly brush yours, the subtle touch electrifying. 

Suddenly, you felt Jungkook’s grip on your waist loosen; opening your eyes, you saw Jungkook pull away as he looked down at you with a soft yet nervous smile. Your lips parted slightly, yet no words came out; instead, you found yourself flushing, cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

Clearing your throat, you gently removed yourself from his grip before giving him an awkward smile. 

“I’m s-sorry—”

“I—” 

Speaking at the same time, you both chuckled nervously, neither of your gazes meeting each other. 

Running his hands through his hair, he gave you a small smile, one that still managed to make your heart beat erratically in your chest as your brain could only find itself replaying the last couple minutes in your head. 

“Y/N? Did you hear what I said?”

"Huh?” you asked dumbfounded, blinking at him until you saw his mouth twitched into an amused smile, “I said we should get going, it’s pretty late.” 

Nodding quickly, you walked over to where you laid all your stuff down and grabbed them before moving towards the door. However, even then the two of you had managed to walk at the same time, as your shoulder bumped into his. 

“S-sorry!” you squeaked, cheeks turning pink as you quickly brushed past him, clutching your backpack close to you. 

Glancing at you, Jungkook let out an airy chuckle before you felt him ruffle your hair softly, “Let’s get you a cab, okay?” 

// 

“Jungkook—” you said with a start as your hands moved towards your wallet, but the boy before you shook his head. 

“Please, don’t. After all, I owe you for staying back and helping me out.” Jungkook said with a small smile.

Biting down on your lip, you started to stay something when Jungkook interrupted, “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Motioning for you to go inside with his hands, he added, “You should get inside, it’s really cold.” 

Giving you a small wave from inside the cab, you pulled Jiho’s jacket closer around you as you watched as the car drove away, becoming smaller and smaller until you weren’t able to see it anymore. 

// 

Resting a hand against his chest, Jungkook felt his heart hammering against it. Letting out a shaky breath, he tried staring out the window and focusing on the world outside but instead, his subconscious kept pulling him back to you. His mind was filled with images of your face as he had danced with you tonight; the way you laughed, the way you stared at him with wide eyes, and the way your eyes fluttered close in anticipation as Jungkook had almost kissed you. 

He almost kissed you. 

And you didn’t move away. 

Shaking his head in utter disbelief, he found himself chuckling softly; your conversations, your hugs, your warm touches, your laughs and jokes, your everything. 

You were simply everything. 

He didn’t know why it took him so long to figure it out, after all, it was what his heart had been telling him all this time, yet his mind has been rejecting it because he was afraid. Afraid you wouldn’t feel the same, afraid you’d reject him, afraid he’d lose someone so important to him because of his foolishness. 

But today, everything changed. 

Today, he knew, he wouldn’t be afraid anymore.