#diverseinsertknet

You kneel between his long legs, hands folded neatly in front of you. “Touch,” he says, and you slip them up his calves, over his knees. The black leather under your palms creaks slightly as you rub his thighs. His eyes fall shut for a moment while you massage away the stressful day he’s had, working his body to the limit once again. 

The zipper yields easily to your deft fingers. There’s nothing underneath but him. You tug on the waistband of the pants and he lifts his hips just enough for you to slide them off. His cock springs free from the confines of the leather, head flushed dark from the bloodrush. He’s already hard for you. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you have this effect on him. Just the thought of your lips wrapped around him is enough. 

The warm almond and honey scent of his body wash floods your senses as you wait. Despite the evening breeze fluttering the curtains behind you, the air in the room feels hot and thick with anticipation. A beat of sweat trickles down his bare chest, rolls all the way to his Adonis belt before stopping. Your tongue is already licking your lips, ready for a taste, when he smirks, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“Go ahead, pet. Help yourself.” 

Gently, you hold him in your hand. His skin feels like silk, and you stroke lightly, smoothly rolling your wrist. When your thumb glides over his slit, Minho hums, deep in his chest. You repeat the action a few times, earning yourself more content rumbles. 

Those rumbles become a low groan as your tongue flicks out to coat the tip. Around and around you drag it, covering his head in your saliva, wetting it as best you can. It’s not enough, so you draw yourself up on your knees, lean over his lap, and spit. 

“Fuck,” Minho mutters. He’s still reclining, body looking completely relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, focused, observing your every movement. 

Satisfied with how slick his cock is now, you lower your head, taking him in your mouth. A heavenly sigh fills your ears, spurring you to go further, swallow him down more. He’s tickling the back of your throat when you stop, reversing your movement, pulling back to lavish more licks across his swollen head. In no time at all you’ve got a steady rhythm, bobbing up and down.

It’s a lax tempo you’ve set. You’re in no hurry, wanting to take your time with Minho. Drag out the pleasure for as long as you possibly can. You know he doesn’t mind by the way he keeps his hands behind his head, letting you set the pace. He moans again, and you glance up at him, finding him watching you with an intensity that has you desperate to be touched yourself. But you can be patient. This is about him. 

“So good, pet,” he whispers. No matter how many times he calls you that, it always feels like the first time, a torrent of desire rushing through you. 

Inhaling through your nose, you hollow your cheeks, making your mouth so snug around him that Minho growls. You ache terribly, needing him inside you, but you’re not done yet. His abs start to tremble as his breaths quicken. “More,” he demands. “Again.” 

Your mouth is full of saliva now, running over your lips and down his hard length as you suck again and again. Wanting to be good for him. Wanting to please him. Your hands roam, cupping his balls, tugging lightly, just enough to have him gasping. When his hips begin to buck, you know it won’t be long. 

His fingers come to rest on the back of your head. Immediately, you go still, ceding control. A strong press guides you down, as his thighs lift from the chair beneath him to meet you. 

“Gonna fuck your mouth. Be a good pet and hold still.” 

Nothing in the world could move you now. Minho starts easy, rolling his pelvis, cock gliding along your tongue, thick and salty as you swallow around him. Then he thrusts faster. The room fills with loud wet gagging noises that mingle with grunts and the filthy praise he utters as he comes undone.

“Just like that. Fuck, such a sweet mouth. Oh shit, yes, so tight, just like that!” 

As you choke down more saliva, Minho hisses, feeling your throat constrict, and it’s enough to push him over the edge. He spills then, hot and pulsing quick, and you keep swallowing until there’s nothing left in your mouth but him. 

With deep, steadying breaths, you recline on your heels, hands on your thighs. Minho’s chest rises and falls as he regains control. Finally, he sighs, reaching for you. 

“Your turn.” 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

Just this morning you cried over a crumpled note found in the back corner of your desk. Rereading your best friend’s well wishes about your new home!, a new start!, a fun adventure! made you realize you couldn’t remember the last time you had deliberately picked up the phone to dial their number.

The doorbell startles you from your thoughts as a rogue tear slips down your cheek. You swipe at it and a quick glance at your phone tells you your fourth take out order of the week isn’t supposed to be here yet. You relax back onto your couch and settle beneath your multicolored crocheted blanket, willing the cheese on your future pizza to melt just a little faster. 

Your stomach grumbles in protest at the thought and you join it, groaning when the doorbell rings a second time. Today’s packing-up-your-apartment uniform consisted of a set of well-loved pjs, with a few holes you are definitely ignoring, and tossing your unshowered hair into a top knot. In other words, you were not in the mood to chat up a solicitor. 

“I’ve already found God! Thank you!” you yell at the door from your fortress of comfort.

A familiar low chuckle paired with a rhythmic knock greets you this time, and recognition makes you roll your eyes and grin. You untangle yourself from your cozy nest of blankets before sprinting over to the door. Flinging it open, you see a familiar sight: Min Yoongi, phone in one hand, thermos in the other, and gummy smirk plastered across his features.

“I thought you were the delivery guy,” you mumble. “Why didn’t you just knock first?”

Yoongi shrugs and holds out the thermos for you to take, “This one is banana peanut butter with kale and…” he stops for a moment, shakes his head and continues, “something else, too, I don’t know. I promise it tastes good though.”

With suspicion only just hiding the smile in your eyes, you open the thermos and take a long gulp, sighing after you swallow. Oof. Had you actually eaten anything today? Yoongi, still in the doorway, laughs out loud, his expression circling between amusement and chagrin as he catches your eye.

“Cherries. It’s got cherries in it. And now your lips are very red.” He chuckles again with a sparkle in his eye and gaze lingering on your mouth for maybe a moment too long.

“Mhm” you wink at him and take an extra swig from the thermos for good measure, turning around to walk into your apartment. You freeze, suddenly seeing the disembodiment of your living room through his eyes and feel him run into your back with a soft ‘oof.’ 

“Um okay so um this doesn’t normally look like this, I–”

“Y/N, you’re moving”

“Yes, I know, but um there’s nowhere to sit and I can’t make you tea or anything, because the pot is packed, and I don’t have any food or snacks to offer, and–” 

Your word vomit dies down as you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, the slight pressure turning you around to face him. You’re sure he can see the panic in your eyes as he hums a short positive note.

“Do you want me to leave? I wanted to make sure you ate something with greens today and I think I’ve got that checked off the box,” he gestures toward your hands where you’re still clutching his thermos with a death grip. 

With your brain still catapulting headfirst into all of the ways you are currently failing at your people-are-over-must-be-a-perfect-host duties, you purse your lips and sigh, “Yeah, maybe.”

You see something unfamiliar pass across his features, but it morphs so quickly into a sweet smile you can’t decipher it fast enough. 

“Alrighty then.” He nods, “best of luck with the rest of your packing. Let me know if you need anything else, and I’ll see you later.” He turns and walks out the door, down your front steps and disappears around the corner. 

You push the door shut and rest your forehead on the cool wood for a moment, the slight chill relieving you of your hosting concerns when the next set of concerns sidle in. 

Wait, did he want to stay? Better question, did you want company? Being alone for the past three days had been making you feel stir-crazy, but there was still so much to do, and it was exhausting directing other people. But he’s not your normal ‘other people.’ Did he drive away yet? Maybe you can still catch him. Ah shit, did you even thank him for the smoothie? 

Your thoughts tumble and jumble with the force of a second spin cycle – UGH you also still have laundry to do. Pulling yourself from the door, you give up on trying to catch him and head back to the safety of your couch. You sip from his thermos and pull out your phone to text a quick thank you. 

A few minutes later, your phone pings with the notification that your pizza has been delivered. You open the app to double check the photo the driver sent as your doorbell rings. 

You break out into laughter as you pull open the door for a second time and show the grinning man on the other side the photo on your phone: Min fucking Yoongi outside your door holding two pizza boxes with a shit eating grin on his face and giving the camera a thumbs up. 

“Someone order pizza?” 

—

An hour later, you’re not sure who convinced who to stay, but you’ve both been fed and watered with cheesy nonsense and warm conversation. 

Remarkably, he wasn’t bothered by the stacks of boxes and piles of items yet to be packed. The other half of your brain reminds you that he’s seen your apartment – and you – through all levels of disarray, some messes 100% yours, like when laundry day lasts a week and takes over your bedroom, the living room, and somehow the bathroom. Other messes were more of a group effort, when you would join forces to make the biggest mess in your kitchen possible while learning a new cooking technique from your subscription meal kit boxes.

Paper plates thrown into a garbage bag and half a pizza wrapped up for tomorrow’s breakfast later, you plop yourself on your carpet, back leaning against your couch, and sigh. You had been trying your darndest to separate the mountain of boxes in front of you into “give away” and “keep” before Yoongi had knocked on your door the first time, and they had now snuck from the ignorable periphery back into your sight. 

All at once, the previously easy chatter catches in your throat and you feel yourself trail off, whatever you had just been laughing about suddenly dying on your lips. 

“Hey,” a soft voice pierces through the bubble of your thoughts.

“Where did you go, just now?”

You turn to see Yoongi sitting cross legged next to you. He cocks his head at you, his voiced question clear in his soft eyes and slight frown. You avoid his eyes by looking down at your hands in your lap, and realize you are clutching your nearly empty water glass as if it was a life preserver. Raising the cup to your lips, you shrug and gesture loosely at the boxes, the white walls, the furniture marked for people who had messaged you on Facebook Marketplace. 

This room would no longer be yours in less than a week, the items in it in even less time. It was more full than it had ever been and yet you felt the emptiness of each drawer and closet echoing with something akin to grief. 

“Can I touch you?”

You nod, and immediately feel a warm hand touching yours, gently prying the cup from your clutches and setting it aside. He stands and ignores your protests as he tugs you to your feet. He wraps your arms around his waist and encircles your shoulders with his, pulling you into his chest and squeezing gently. You turn your head to the side so your cheek presses against the soft fabric of his shirt. The pressure of his chin sitting on top of your head feels overwhelming and wholly correct at the same time. Tears prick your eyes for the umpteenth time, and the comforting weight of Yoongi’s hug can’t keep them at bay.

“I just…” the words fade as you sniffle. “I just don’t know how to do this and I feel like I’m doing it all kinds of wrong.”

He hums, and his arms squeeze you a little tighter. Melting into the hug, you allow yourself to bury yourself face first in his soft tee and inhale deeply. His gentle scent of freshly laundered clothing with a hint of citrus is all it takes for your breath to turn into shorter, shuddering sobs, wracking your body.

You feel him gently rub the small of your back. Wave after wave of emotion floods your system, ping ponging between frustration and sadness and anger and fear. Each time you let yourself recognize and validate one thought, another sneaks in, bringing a new wave of tears.

One thought in particular stands as a concrete tower above the rest: you had been its architect for the past few months, placing stone after stone higher than the last until it was magnificent in its largess and painful in its stability. Ignoring it had become normal practice until now, when you looked up and realized you had built the tower around yourself.

You were choosing to leave. You chose to move thousands of miles from your family, and now you were choosing again to move hundreds of miles away from the family you had found here. There was no one to blame, no mystical forces of nature to shift the attention to. It was all just you.

A small noise breaks the paralyzing stillness of your thoughts, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The sound blankets your spiral in a layer of sweet, comforting darkness. You grab at the tuneless melody like a rope and as the rumbling within his chest begins to center you back in your living room, safe in his arms again, you realize he was humming. You squeeze his waist a little tighter and as you release, his humming trickles off.

“If it’s any consolation, no one knows what they’re doing.” He whispers into your hair. “Especially when packing up a home they’ve lived in for a while. This place is stocked with things, yes, but also memories. You’ve grown and changed a whole lot since you moved in.”

“So then why am I leaving?” your voice cracks on the last word as you hiccup it into the void.

He shrugs, “We both know I can’t answer that for you. I do hope that whatever answer you decided on when you started this process is still true, and if it’s not, then this is just one choice. And you can make a new one in the future.”

You ‘hrumph’ back at him and take another deep breath.

Your breathing soon begins to match his small, rhythmic motions, inhaling and exhaling as your brain clears. You pull back from where you had smushed your face on his shirt, grimacing at the snot left on his shirt, and wiggling to escape his embrace in search of a tissue. He seems to have a different idea as his grip strengthens and you look up to see his concerned eyes searching for yours. Suddenly, a cat-like grin breaks out across his features and out of nowhere, the man laughs.

“How could someone look so beautiful after sobbing like the Titanic was sinking?”

You groan, for likely the fiftieth time today, and swat at his chest. With another smirk, he releases you from the hug. You shiver from the immediate loss of body heat and quickly look around the room for something resembling a tissue that had not been packed yet. You hear him clear his throat, and you look back to be met with a tissue dangling right in front of your face. 

“Thank you” your voice sounds small and gravely and you blot your eyes and nose before making eye contact with the spots on his shirt again. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry… your shirt…” your voice fades as you unconsciously reach out toward the stains, your only focus to assess the damage. He gently catches your wrist before your hand hits his chest, and places a butterfly light kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t worry about it. This is my designated moving t-shirt, eligible for dust, stains, and tears – bonus points if you get all three in one go,” he winks, fluidly moving his hand from your wrist to your fingers, and spins you around in circles until you can’t help but give him a watery grin. Pulling you in for another hug, he gently squeezes you once more before letting go and heading toward the kitchen. You hear the squeak of the faucet before he reappears proudly brandishing your glasses now full of water. 

You accept the glass he holds out and let your eyes scan the pile of things in front of you. The boxes in the corner pull your attention again and you start to feel the overwhelm teeter you back over the edge. Taking a deep breath, you sip at the water and move to sit on the couch, seeking the comfort of your blanket once again.

“Let’s do something easy tonight, okay? No thoughts, just blankets.” 

You nod, and he plugs in the TV that you had moved into a corner for ‘safe keeping’ while you sold the table it stood on. He settles next to you on the couch and you spy a slight knowing smile on his face as he navigates to your favorite show, the one you started over to watch with him, and the one that makes you happy cry every time.

He slides his hand into yours and it doesn’t leave for the entirety of the first, second, or third episode you watch. Neither does he when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You smiled to yourself. His brag that he shrugged off general anesthesia was apparently just one of many tall tales Mingi would embellish for your entertainment. At least it had been a little more likely than the boast he did not have veins, but still, apparently he was not one of those people with the ability to wake up right out of a procedure.

“Although just a dream, to feel desired by you was the greatest feeling in the world. It made me want to tell you the same, Mingi.” Hesitantly, you reached for his hair, and began to run your fingers through it gently as the nurse kindly focused on her phone rather than the latest post-procedure patient.

“I think I fell for you before we'd even met. Actually, I am sure of it. At the PC cafe I'd overhear you and Yunho encouraging each other as you played. It wasn't just your attractive voice, but how supportive you were. And then when Yunho would make you laugh, I just wanted to hear that sound forever. When I finally put a face to the name the day you asked about what game I was playing, I was a goner.”

Mingi's eyes snapped open and he abruptly sat up. “Are you trying to say you like me back?”

You almost stumbled back in surprise, but were lucky Mingi shot out a steadying arm. His reflexes were excellent for someone who had just been knocked out. In a strained voice you questioned, “You were awake? You weren't supposed to know.”

“I told you anesthetic wears off fast on me.” Still holding your arm, he pulled you in for a kiss.

Continuing to feel relaxed from being recently under, you gave into it without hesitation, while also recognizing Mingi must be feeling a little influenced himself to be so bold. Just as you were pulling away, the nurse intervened suggesting the two of you save it for later if you still felt interested when fully sober.

“Bye, Mingi,” you chirped adoringly while being shooed to the next room to sleep off the lingering effects. “I love my boyfriend so much,” you solemnly informed the nurse as she covered you with a blanket.

Unusually true to his word, Mingi did throw off the anesthetic like a champ and had followed you while the nurse protested he needed to lay down. As you fell back asleep you heard Mingi say, “I love you, and you love me too. I knew it!”

When you woke up from the procedure, you felt well rested. The nurse who heard you moving brought in your street clothes. As you changed, it felt like there was something important you were supposed to remember. After a momentary struggle to recall, you asked, “Is Mingi done with his endoscopy? Did he come out okay?”

She nodded understandingly, given how commonly memories were not retained while still under lingering effects of anesthetic. “You have already seen your boyfriend and he is well.”

“Oh, we're not dating, just friends.” Her smile at the denial made you wonder if you had mumbled something about your crush to her while under the influence, but you decided not to ask.

Now dressed, you spotted Mingi in the next room due to the partition left open. Asleep you could admire him in a way you never could while he was awake. Your unspoken romantic love for Mingi was something you expected to take to the grave since he had never given any indication he considered you a potential romantic partner. It was enough to be his dear friend, and you almost would have convinced yourself if not for the longing sigh you let out.

Groggily, Mingi opened his eyes at the sound. “You are up. Are we okay to leave?”

“We are cleared to leave once you are dressed. I already texted Yunho to pick us up.” Taking note of the odd way Mingi was looking at you, you thought to ask, “Is there drool on my face or something like that?”

“No, no, I was just trying to remember something. Probably was only a dream.” Mingi looked down at his hands, subdued. “I'll get my clothes on and meet you at the reception desk.”

By the time you left Mingi, Yunho was already in the waiting room laughing with the nurse. He was such a friendly guy that it did not seem odd at the time. Yunho was always making people smile or laugh, often complete strangers. After a short wait, Mingi appeared and you two were discharged with Yunho as the responsible party.

The elevator ride down from the doctor's practice felt tense. Although you could remember nothing, you had a nagging worry you had behaved inappropriately under the anesthetic. What could have made the nurse think Mingi was your boyfriend?

Deciding to be cautious with your still recovering bodies, Yunho jogged off to get the car while you waited with Mingi. The silence was finally broken once Yunho brought his car around to the building's entrance and met you with a huge grin. “So, you two are finally dating now? About time I'd say.”

The panic in your eyes was matched by Mingi as you stared at each other, completely lost by the conversation. Together you had the the same thought, “What?”

“You two lovebirds sit on the back seat together and I'll explain while I take each of you to your homes.”

Mingi gently helped you into Yunho's sedan then walked carefully around to the other side. He was still a little tipsy, so you helped him buckle the seat belt. Mingi visibly flushed as your hands met. Looking up, you caught Yunho's broad smile in the rear-view mirror before he began to speak.

“Mingi sent me a video message not too long ago. I believe it was intended for you though.” Handing his phone to the back seat before driving off, Yunho tried to hold in his laughter as he heard the video play in your trembling hands.

A sleepy looking Mingi was dressed in the gown from the procedure and recording in the room where he was supposed to be dozing off the last effects. “I can't wait for you to wake up, so I thought I'd tell you now how happy I am that you love me too. I'm going to be the best boyfriend ever and have a lot of plans for things we should do as a couple. First a cat cafe date and afterward a hot springs trip together.” Mingi then yawned, stretching his arms wide taking the phone along for the ride. The new angle brought a nurse into view in the background.

“Sir, you can't have the phone in here, it is supposed to stay in the locker until you have recovered. Who knows what you'll get up to.” The video ended abruptly at that point.

“Alas, I quickly realized he was not talking to me,” Yunho giggled from the driver's seat.

Mingi looked mortified as he turned your way. “I didn't know what I was saying. I am so sorry.”

You did not know what to say yourself. If Mingi liked you, it would be a dream come true, but he sounded apologetic now, leaving you to choke down a confession. Rescuing you in the moment, Yunho again piped up from the front seat.

“The nurse had an interesting story to tell. She said you each confessed love for the other. Mingi both before and after his procedure, and you when Mingi came out of his. I take it neither of you remember such important discussions? She even said there was kissing involved before she intervened.”

A hand flew to your lips as if attempting to feel the history there. This was definitely news to you. No wonder the nurse had called Mingi your boyfriend, and his forgotten recording made sense in that context. He really did love you too, but had been just as chicken about saying something.

Mingi reached for your hand. “I do remember confessing before I went under. You slept through it because I could not tell you when awake. The rest I can not recall, but it is true. I don't even remember having my phone out, so I had better check my email for purchases I don't know about.”

“Before you do, can we have another first kiss, Mingi? I want one to remember.”

“Not in my car,” Yunho pled, but he kept his eyes on the road and studiously ignored any sounds he might have heard. There may have been some halfhearted grumbling about how he should have waited to tell the nurse's story until after he had dropped you off, but you were too busy with your new boyfriend to listen.

“So, we really are dating now?” Mingi's incredulous voice went straight to your heart.

“I want you, and you want me, so that works out well.”

“Okay, good. I should ask if you are free next weekend. While I was loopy I apparently booked us a hot springs weekend. If you don't want to, I could always go with Yunho instead.”

Taking Mingi's hand and pressing it gently to your lips, you proudly announced, “Yunho can go with you another time. I'm going with my boyfriend Mingi.”

In the rear-view mirror Yunho could be seen smiling to himself, proud to have helped your romance along. That is, you would have noticed if you had been able to look anywhere but Mingi and his blissful grin that matched your own.

~

Mingi Masterlist

"Hi, baby," Jungkook grins, deflecting your question with the sweetness of his smile. His head rests on his tattooed forearm as he gazes at you. "Miss you."

The words make you sigh, releasing a tension you didn't even realize you were holding. Carrying your phone into your bedroom, you sink down onto the mattress of your childhood bed. "I miss you, too."

It's been over a week since you said goodbye at the airport. Eight days, six hours, and thirteen minutes, to be precise. Every tick of the clock sends that number higher and higher.

"I was just thinking about you. Wanted to check in. How're you feeling?"

You shrug, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I'm okay. Woke up late. Just killing some time before the appointment this afternoon."

He hums, nodding. Your boyfriend opens his mouth and then closes it again. You know what he wants to say, but he doesn't need to. You know he'd be here with you if he could.

This trip came up unexpectedly. But that's how it always goes when a parent gets sick. Everything's fine until it's not. It was easy enough for you to drop everything and fly halfway around the world, but Jungkook's just starting his career now, after a long period of false starts and dead ends. He didn't have the time banked and you weren't about to ask him to give up his job to come home with you.

Home. There's that word again. It's disorienting, being back in the place where you grew up, and feeling like you're somewhere new. So little has changed here, yet it feels completely unfamiliar. Home is now several time zones away.

Home is where he is.

Jungkook's voice pulls you back to the tiny device in your hand. "What time is it there?"

"Just past noon." You don't ask him what time it is, fully aware that it's the middle of the night there. "Why are you still up?"

"Eh, got home a while ago from drinks with Jin-hyung and was hungry, so I got fried chicken. Now I'm too full to sleep."

You give him a look. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can put some of that in the fridge? You don't need to eat it all in one sitting!"

Jungkook scrunches his nose in delight at your reaction. "I know I don't need to. I want to."

You just roll your eyes in defeat. It's not a new topic of discussion. Your boyfriend has a big appetite.

There's a gentle clicking sound from offscreen, nails tapping on hardwood, and then a big brown nose pops into frame as Bam puts his head on his dad's arm, wanting to know what he's looking at. Bam's technically your dog, too, since the two of you adopted him when you'd moved in together three months ago, but you're not a fool. He's Jungkook's baby.

"Bammy!" you coo, and Jungkook tilts the phone so Bam can see your face. His tail whips Jungkook's side in his frenzy. "Hi Bammy, I miss you!"

"Bam's been such a good boy, keeping me company while you're gone, haven't you?"

Jungkook buries his nose in Bam's face while planting kisses on the dog's snout, and you laugh when he sniffs the dog. Someone else might find it weird, but you're used to his sensitive nose. He's always sliding up behind you in the kitchen or bathroom and pressing his face against the back of your neck to inhale deeply. You stopped wearing perfume at his request, when he told you how much he loves your natural scent.

Right now, you'd give anything to feel his arms around you and hear that little snff snff up close. Your sigh is a little louder than you intend, because it draws Jungkook's focus away from his dog.

"You okay, baby?"

"I am. Really. I should… I should probably eat something." Food always helps. It's one of the things your father taught you. "Keep me company while I make lunch?"

Jungkook grins again, twirling something in his hand. "How about I do you one better?" he asks, and you realize he's holding his karaoke mic, and likely has been this whole time, just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. "Any requests?"

As you warm up your leftover takeout, Jungkook serenades you with a selection of your favorite songs. He incorporates little bits of choreo in some of the performances, like the risqué moves he does while crooning "Unholy" that make you choke on your rice. As always, his sweet tenor makes your heart flutter while he effortlessly riffs his way through a private little noraebang, just for you.

When your lunch is done, you sit in your father's old armchair, tucking your legs up on the sagging cushion. Jungkook's eyes are closed as he sings, and you know he's lost in the music. It's one of the things you love most about him, the way he gives his all to whatever he's doing. No matter what it is, he's always committed. Devoted.

You're so lucky to have him.

"Koo," you finally say when he pauses to pour himself a beer. "Baby. It's so late there. As much as I'm loving this concert, you should get some sleep." As a graphic designer, he works from home, so he doesn't have to wake early for a commute, but he's still human. He still needs sleep.

He fiddles with his frosted mug, pushing it back and forth on the table by where his phone is propped. "I know. I just… I don't like sleeping in our bed without you. It doesn't feel right." He frowns, dark brows knitting together in a look of anguish. "It doesn't feel like home when you're not here."

The last bit of tightness in your muscles dissipates as you melt at the heartache in his voice. "Oh, babe, I wish I could be home with you right now. Take you to bed, wrap my arms around you, and cuddle you to sleep."

"I wish you were here, too." The stars in his eyes seem dimmed by the sadness that hangs there. "And I'm - I'm sorry that I couldn't be ther-"

"I know, babe. I know." He falls silent at your gentle interruption. You've never hated the miles between you more than this very moment, wishing you could hold him close. Knowing he feels the same. "But this, you calling me like this to check in on me, singing to me - this means so much."

"Be better if I could hold you."

"Mmm. True." You smile playfully, chest warming when he smiles back just a little. "But don't worry. Even though you're there and I'm here, I still - I still feel your love." Of the two of you, he's the crier. But you find yourself swallowing thickly around your words. "So thank you."

Jungkook nods, letting his chin fall to his forearm again. "I'm always here, baby, any time you need some love. Time zones can't keep us apart."

"I know." You mirror Jungkook's position, watching his eyelashes flutter as exhaustion finally seems to hit him. "I love you, Koo."

"Love you too. Let me know how the appointment goes."

He yawns, and in the corner of the screen you see Bam curling up next to him on the couch. As soon as you end the call, you know they're going to fall asleep right there together.

"I will. Go get some sleep, babe."

He murmurs something that sounds like a very sleepy goodnight, and then the call disconnects. The screen fades to black, but in your mind you still see his soft smile.

Stretching, you peel yourself out of your father's chair. The appointment you have today is the one you've been dreading, but you'll be okay. In just a few more days, you'll be back home.

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"Pssh, getting older's not a problem when you're aging like a fine wine. You should try it," he retorts, squeaking with laughter when you knock your shoulder into his. His beer sloshes slightly. "Watch it, you almost committed a party foul."

Snorting, you scroll through the setup menu. For several minutes the two of you fall silent as you create your profiles, both of you lost in choices, only occasionally piping up to ask the other's opinions. Finally, a cute little chime fills Jin's apartment as your dating app electronically announces you're ready to find love.

"Annnnd we're off!" you sigh, tossing your phone down on the table. Jin's slides next to yours. You sit back, letting that familiar feeling of hope and dread settle over you. The hope that you'll find a match. The dread that you won't make it last.

Jin brings you another round of drinks as the two of you regale each other with tales of horror and glory (mostly the former for you and the latter for him) from your dating app history.

"What's the fastest you've ever gotten a match on one of these?" you ask.

Jin leans in beside you, humming thoughtfully. He picks up his phone, then puts it down. Repeats the movement a few times. 

“What are you doing?”

“Calculating how many seconds it takes to set a phone down.” "Fuck off," you gasp, smacking him in the stomach playfully. “You got a response in less than a minute?!”

"What? Is that fast?" Jin's ego can be seen from space, but damned if he usually can't back up. With his looks, his charm, his intelligence, and his kindness. But sometimes he's just too cocky, with his crooked smirk and gleaming eyes.

Your head gravitates towards his shoulder as his arm slips around yours. Cuddling with Jin is like breathing. Happens naturally.

"I guess it's pretty good for an old man."

Truthfully, neither of you are as young as you used to be, but he scowls anyway, hand reaching for your side to tickle you until you pinch him in retaliation. "Eek! Stop that."

You stop, your hand resting on his side as his hand lies on your hip. He mindlessly rubs small circles into the soft cotton of your shirt, lightly etching the skin beneath.

"What's the wildest opening line anyone's ever sent you?"

"Easy. 'I want to explore your body, if you'll let me.'" You laugh, remembering with a shudder.

"That's the first thing they said?!" Jin's pitch rises in surprise.

"Yep."

"Hmmm." He pauses. "And did it work?"

"What? No!" You cluck your tongue. "Are you insane?"

"What, you don't think that line could work?"

The two of you pull apart, both looking at each other incredulously. With a laugh, you shake your head.

"No, I do not."

"I'm telling you, the right person could make it work. Someone you find attractive - I'm guessing you didn't find him attractive enough."

"Well, I mean, he wasn't really my type, but he wasn't unattra- "

Before you can finish your sentence, Jin suddenly shifts, dipping you backwards. He holds you tightly, one hand cupping the back of your head as you stare up at him in shock. You’re very familiar with Jin’s face, but you’ve never been this close to it before. Have his lips always been so plush? Did his cheekbones get sharper?

"YN,” he murmurs, in a voice so deep that your entire body seems to vibrate. His thumb brushes your lips so lighty, so teasingly, that you strain your neck to tip forward and catch more of his touch. It’s an involuntary motion, as your head is currently completely devoid of any thoughts. "I want to explore your body. If you'll let me."

"Holy fuck," you whisper, wide-eyed, heart pounding.  

Jin laughs, not his usual honking chuckle but something else - a tiny exhalation of surprise. “Is that a yes?” 

“To you exploring my body?!”

Now he’s honking, shaking you with his laughter, but he doesn’t let go, and you don’t pull away.

“To my theory, that the line could work.” His eyes flit to your lips so many times that you feel dizzy tracking the movement. Or maybe you’re just light-headed from the nearness of him. His mouth is infinitesimally close…. 

“You know, I think maybe some exploration is in order, after all,” you mumble, chin tilting upwards, and you can feel Jin smiling as he presses his lips to yours. 

Before the night ends, you both delete the app.

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When he excuses himself and makes a beeline for the hallway, you excuse yourself as well. You watch with a heavy heart as he pokes his head into one of the bedrooms, finding it empty, and steps inside.

After a minute, you knock, slipping in before he can answer. He has one hand pressed against the windowsill, leaning his forehead on his forearm as he stares out into the night sky. He tips his face to look at you as you creep across the room.

"Hey, I just needed a sec- Oof!"

You practically knock the wind out of him as you latch your arms around him from behind, hugging him close. He jolts in surprise, but then after a beat, his body relaxes, melting into yours. Your breathing syncs, and time drifts.

He doesn't try to explain and you don't speak either. Sometimes, you can't argue with anxiety; so instead, you comfort him. With a gentle squeeze, you reassure him, letting Han know that he's not alone. He places a warm hand on your arm and squeezes back.

"Thanks," he finally whispers.

"Anytime."

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