#hodevent

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.  

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.  

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.  

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

.

.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.” He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

.

.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.  

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

.

.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.  

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.  

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

.

.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

.

.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

.

.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me—but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

.

.

1 year later.

Rain casts a veil over your sight as you stare deeply into the silhouette across the murky alleyway; the figure before you surveys the one-of-a-kind hextech rifle aiming right at their head. Glistening neon lights flood your peripherals, puddles reflecting fractions of radiance between the cracks of the split bricks under your very feet. The chill of cold water drenches your attire, even the cap resting on your head leaks streams down the sides of your face.

“How could you!” You choked out between your teeth; loud enough over the pounding rain, loud enough to cut the man in front of you as if your words are daggers.

The rifle that deemed you the best shot in the city has no comparison to your superior intellect. Your wits earned you the way through the rankings and nobody, no criminal or lawbreaker were foolish enough to cross your path. You are known as Vopamis City’s finest peacekeeper and your oath is embedded deep within your family roots.

You’re the sheriff of a thriving, escalating city where art, craftsmanship, trade, and metamorphosis were built and centered from. Vopamis is and forever will be a reinventing city where dreams are lived to the fullest extent and treasures are found around every corner. It sits on top of the distrusted city of Tapos, an undercity district – which used to be once united but now no more – buried deep within canyons weaved below.

You press your words and force the air to pass through your clutching windpipe, “Fuckin’ answer me you son of a bitch!”

The figure sighs with a step forward, rolling their head out of annoyance but once their eyes meet yours in the light you knew all breath escaped your chest.

“Hi, Y/n.”

The dangerous bright orange hair stands out like no other, just like the cocky grin that emits the same tone as his two-toned eyes does. One is dull brown with crystalized specks of white, the other a piercing topaz yellow; a hard contrast between his natural dark pupil – all of which made those eyes captivating.

You fear this moment every day ever since that terrible day. It haunts you; it scares you; it hurts you. Yet here you are, face to face with the man who solemnly swept the valuable, rich rug right out from under you and ran with it. With betrayal and pain coursing through your veins you sought out his existence every single day to get revenge on the one person you thought you truly once loved.

With your rifle adjusted point blank, with the help of the glowing red laser to the center of his forehead, you show no signs of backing down from your stance. The rain beats heavily though your heart pounds harder inside your chest.

He looks just how you remember him; black under-cut still very much unkempt, a piercing jabbed through one eyebrow and two into the cartilage on the same side of his nose. His oversized cryptic jacket hides his frame well, decorated in all sorts of patches, widgets, and spikes that have their own metallic shine to them. You swear you see the edgings of tattoos creeping up the sides of his neck, exactly how you recall them.

Those unforgiving thick soled boots kick up the water around his steps as he inches out of the shadows, “It’s been a while.”

You ignore him just like he ignores your first sentence, “How could you do this?!”

He shrugs with amusement dressing his face, “Why ask me questions you already have answers to, Y/n?”

With glares meeting another in a standoff stare he halts his walk five feet in front of you. Unphased by the downpour of smogged twilight rain, you twist your finger around the trigger of your trusty gun. “You stole for the black markets, betrayed your city and me, ran off to the unstable technologies and reckless constructions of the polluted and gangrenous Tapos. Why!?”

“You seem to be a bit vindictive.” He snickers, swiping a hand through his soaked locks. “I was bored.”

Bored.

Your grip tightens around your rifle, you can’t tell if you are shaking from the cold of the rain or the anger raging throughout your body. His words made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.. “Yoongi!” You hiss with a harsh tone, blood boiling under your very skin.

He steps again, hand clutching the barrel of your gun and aligning the end against his forehead. Yoongi looks at you with teasing eyes and a wide, wirily smile. He is testing you - taunting you. “I know you won’t do it. You won’t pull the trigger.” That blunt topaz eye drills back into yours, enticing and enchanting all at once. “How many times have you seen me in the streets? Stealing from this filthy, pathetic excuse of a renowned city? How many times did you watch me walk by doing whatever I damn well please? Why are you stopping me now? What changed?”

To what you believe you are holding out strong, insisting you have the upper hand and all control. But you are frozen, unpredictably iced in place from where you stand. Only to stare back at the man that your heart swells and aches for. Yoongi doesn’t wait for you to answer as he already knows every single move and step you have going for you.

“It’s only been two months.” He states with a soft smile, lowering and pushing aside the gun in your grasp. “One of the most determined and skilled investigators of all Vopamis. Filled with ferocity and a strong sense of justice and resolution. Falls right into the footsteps of each and every one of your family members. They reinforced their ideals of right and wrong on you so much that it’s practically branded across your forehead.”

Yoongi spits to the side, tilting his head to watch your face with all his rambling. He has proven himself in such a small-time frame of how impulsive he can be, going from a trusted high ranked officer of the law to a merciful criminal who now wreaks havoc without care. Buildings burn in his name as he always made sure to leave a massive trail of mayhem and panic in his wake, never seized to end his rampage with the biggest explosions – which soon became his signature.

You loved him ever since the day you two joined the academy together. Yoongi excelled in everything from hextech inventions to architectural research. Vopamis has become a magnet for the most skilled craftsmen from all over the world and the more restricted and dangerous ones fell into the toxic runoff of Tapos. Now, Yoongi’s schemes have inspired copycat crimes among the chem-punks, a movement in which he predicted after labeling righteous wordings on structures throughout both cities. Some followers have blindly followed his persona named ‘X’.  In a crafty way each successful heist has a small piece left for the police to find; a personable note that always says, “get jinxed.”

Standing helplessly at the mercy of your own heart your head drops, eyes casting to the drenched road. Everything in your righteous mind tells you to take him in, lock him up – it is your job and duty to do this as you are one with the law. But your poor, fragile heart is gapping open from the piece that was ripped away by Yoongi.

“You’re right.” You whisper softly.

“I know.”

All the times you allowed him to do what he continues to do because you didn’t have it in you to send him to jail. As you watch him become the criminal he is now, refusing to stop his acts even though the justice and pride within you screams for you to act on your instincts. “Everything you’re saying is right.”

Yoongi raises his hand, palm facing up and holding a chemtech explosive bullet that swirls a cobalt blue liquid inside. Instantaneously you knew exactly what the bullet is – the meaning behind it, and all of the precious memories came flooding back all at once.

The bullet was no longer than two inches and has a hole drilled through the piece to lace a chain through it. Yoongi wears it as a charm to his bracelet and even in the dark of the rainy night with neon lights flashing around you, you can still see the small etchings of both of your initials on the tip of the bullet. It was his first ever fully functional bullet he crafted back at the academy and he had dedicated that piece of craftsmanship to you.

“I still love you, you know.” Yoongi’s voice stills your breath, deep and stern. With all seriousness he openly speaks with a stony face as you look up to him. “I never stopped.”

You avert your eyes away from the nostalgic piece which lies in Yoongi’s palm and the heat of your breath fans out into the open cool air in a puff of smoke. It hurts your heart, all your pent-up revenge brought out a disgusting angry monster from within you. You’re blinded by the law and blinded by the admiration of love for Yoongi.

“You don’t.” You counter with a hiss.

Raindrops hide away the streams of tears that break down the brims of your eyes and you refuse to keep your eyes open in the slim chance of giving Yoongi the satisfaction of your glistening orbs filling with hurt. As much as you secretly hope and want – need – Yoongi to say those words, they still simmer a splitting pain inside of your delicate heart.

Yoongi’s tatted, calloused hand aimlessly raises to your face, his knuckles brushing against the curve of your cheek. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at the contrasting and unexpected warmth that’s responsible for heating up that side of your face. Instead you find yourself helplessly leaning into the contact, your shaking hand still holding your trusty gun at your side.

“It’s funny,” Yoongi scoffs, forcing your eyes to jolt in his direction of his action.

You burn a glare at him while he inspects your face, your blood boiling underneath all of your drenched clothes and cold skin. Yoongi sounds a quick ‘tsk’ as disapproval while his fingers glide down the column of your neck. “So funny that you question everything I say and do.”

The fact that he has your rendered frozen in place under the heavy weather and his intimidating presence only confirms his suspicions. He wasn’t lying to you and you knew that, right? You swallow thickly at the bright orange haired man in front of you, eyes casting down to shrink your frame.

You sneer back, “Can you blame me? You ruined your chances of being an officer – all that hard work you put in means nothing now. You destroyed all your chances of being a citizen of Vopamis. And all because you were bored.” In the back of your mind no matter how many hours you had pondered his reasonings to derail into a criminal, what hurt you the most wasn’t the fact he chose this path of being a high risk offender – it is the reality of him leaving you behind as if nothing about your relationship between another is important to him as it was to you.

Yoongi cocks an amused eyebrow, a smirk quick to follow. “Hm, yes. I wasn’t bored with you though, Y/n. Truthfully, knowing that you’ll be hot on my trail at all times – no matter where I went – made this new life even more fun. You enjoy chasing me?” He swipes his tongue through the small opening of his lips, two-toned eyes glare at the small line of tattoos up the back of your own ear. He tilts your jaw with his thumb, exposing more of your smooth damped skin.

Under Yoongi’s hand you feel like a marionette; damned against his ministrations and at how weak you feel towards him. You can see your vision blur around the edges, your sight honing on the glowing eye that stares at you with interest. Another puff of fog seeps out of your mouth from a released breath that you held in for far too long. You don’t acknowledge the way your limbs grew numb by the minute or the way your bottom lip trembles from your constant shivers. You are only focusing on the way the warmth of the pads of his fingers emits onto your skin and gives you a sliver of assurance.

“Have I ruined this too?” Yoongi questions in a whisper, eyes projecting down to your cold lips.

Everything in your mind tells you to scream at him, tell Yoongi ‘yes, you completely and utterly ruined every single aspect of my life,’ but the words cannot crawl their way up your throat and form the sounds you need. Instead your face reacts with pain, all of your walls and defenses breaking down around you and your rifle drops to the puddled ground underneath you.

He can read you like a book, study your features, and pull each intricate and thin string of your heart. He plays you like a fiddle with a crooked smile, a knowing look to his face where all his intuitions of you feeling something towards him are all riddled true. It’s dressed all over your face, your body leaning closer to his, the look to your eyes – glistening or not.

His thumb taps lightly against your bottom lip, popping it open from the stern line your mouth was creating. You gulp with anticipation, your surrounding areas become less and less in vision of your peripheral and your eyes can only bore straight back into Yoongi’s; pupils dilating rapidly.

“No…”

Your solo word shakes out with a heavy breath at the same time Yoongi’s other hand comes to grab your elbow and pull you closer to him. The heat radiating off of him is met between you with a strikingly fast kiss, but the kiss was tentative at best. Even reading all of your body gestures, the way your posture changes when it comes to his proximity invading your territories, Yoongi still approached with cocky confidence. He knows he has you around his finger, around his hand and more.

‘You weren’t ruined, yet,’ he thought. But Yoongi is all too excited to violate whatever purity of the law that is still laced within your morals.

He’s eager to shove his deadly tongue into the first parting of your mouth, a gasp of excitement releasing through a moan. You forget about the downpour of rain around the two of you, the chill of the air cutting through your clothes, even forgetting the blaring neon signs illuminating the paths around this alleyway. Your mind is intoxicated with the savvy orange haired, corrupted, and dangerous man who has swindled his way within the burrows of each city and the cavities of your heart.

A single tear traces down your cheek as your arms link around Yoongi’s neck, your body completely caving into the man before you. With the motion Yoongi backs the two of you up until you're hidden well enough in the darkness. His hand cocks your head to the side as he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses as he pushes you against the side of the building. His lips heat your skin up and send an involuntary chill of goosebumps down your body.

You breath out into the air while your senses adjust to the new sensations of want and need being applied to your form. “Yoongi –“

He hushes you with a hand, his teeth nipping eagerly around your clavicles. “Shh,” he warns with a devilish glint, “We’re in public, Y/n.” He chuckles, mouth coming back to kiss against your jaw.

You muffle a noise of acknowledgement, or a moan of pleasure from the sharp suck Yoongi plants against the sweet spot under your ear. Your arms grip him tighter, pulling him flush against your front to be as close as possible. Without hesitation your hands link up the back of his head, fingers carding through the disheveled drenched locks for a nice pull.

Both of your clothes stick to you like a second skin, suctioned to your own bodies and you desperately want them ripped off. Yoongi hisses at the yank of his head. Sensing your actions as an emergency he huffs a laugh your way, “Yeah? What do you want?” He removes the hand across your mouth only to shove his thumb into it, pressing down against your tongue. “Is this righteous mouth going to tell me something?”

You comply by action with the decision of closing your mouth around his finger and sucking it with delight. Yoongi praises you with words of assurance, biting down on the flesh of his own bottom lip. He leans into you, hips grinding instantly against your frontside. The uneven gyrating of wet fabrics causes a rough and uncomfortable friction, but it was something that helped direct attention toward your neglected core.

Yoongi lifts up your slicked shirt just enough to fondle around the waistband of your pants in search of unhinging your duty rig belt. “You’re going to be a good girl, right?” His eyes give you a knowing look as his thumb detaches from your trap. Nodding, you seek his mouth once more to savor the warmth between you two. “Vopamis’ finest,” he quotes in a mocked tone.

“I love you.”

Your confession halts Yoongi for a brief moment between kisses, his hand stalls as it breaches a few inches inside the front of your pants. He has you pinned against the rough brick of a building in the outskirts of the city with your freezing, aching body under his frame. Your mouth and legs so willing to open up for him.

This is the very first time he’s seen you so ‘not yourself’ in all the years he has known you, even when the fondness blossomed more between the two of you. Whichever relationship the two of you were in – it wasn’t exclusive but it surely is implied – has become completely manipulated to the public eye. Yoongi’s urgency falters for a moment, a flashback to a simpler time where the underlying love and sweetness emitting from the two of you has no boundaries. But as fast as that memory exposes itself, it was easily covered in his future thoughts. His enjoyment of being who he is now, what he wants to achieve, obtain, and take.

With your face plastering across all walls of his mind, he smirks excessively as if he is pleased with himself. He has everything he wants, and he’s greedy for more. No matter what Yoongi does with himself he knows he’ll have you regardless – and right now is proving that theory.

He leans forward to plant another kiss to your appetizing lips once more, “I know you do.”

Quickly, Yoongi flips you in your place in one quick motion, yanking down a portion of your pants once you catch yourself against the wall. Your eyes scan frantically to the opening of the alleyway, silently praying nobody stumbles upon the two of you in this indecency act – especially how your rifle lays still on the ground in the opening.

The air breezes across your now exposed cheeks, and with a firm hand Yoongi shoves against your lower back forcing you to bend forward enough to reveal your core. Gasping, you shudder under the sudden invasion of his cold clammy palm molding on top of your cunt. Your hands held you up against the wall, pants pulled only to your lower thighs preventing the spread your legs most desperately needed.

Slowly, Yoongi’s fingers prod along your slit, dipping directly between your folds the moment they come in contact with your dampness. He shushes you once again with the ruggedness of his voice while you hear the clinking of what you assume to be his belt buckle.

He wastes no time sinking a finger straight into your entrance, only after giving your clit a moments time of blissful pleasure – gone far too quick for your liking. His digit glides easily, enticing him with the next stroke to join a second. Your mouth hangs open with heated pants, your lower stomach jumping excitedly at the intimacy of your loved one, and your hips chase the stride of his fast pace.

“Shit, Yoongi!” you curse under your breath, feeling his free hand now snaking up your side under your shirt. His fingers alone create such friction that has your head lolling to the side and your inners clutching erratically. You don’t question your urgency, the impatient nature your body so willingly falls into, not when Yoongi is inches behind you lining up his engorged head to replace his fingers.

The two of you don’t care about the surrounding areas, too filled with lust. Too drunk on the idea of Yoongi coming back to you – and he is too excited knowing he has you in his clutches.

Heat courses throughout your core and abdomen, running down each of your limbs the moment his hips are pressed against your backside, dick submerged in one swift jolt forward. You lose your footing, falling further into the wall as your forearms plant into the building. A guttural moan leaks out of him the moment you yelp and squirm under him. His fingers desperately hold around your waist as he straightens his back, giving the next few experimental thrusts the slower motion your pussy needed from his harsh action.

Yoongi’s hip snaps back into you, bringing the flesh of your ass into the seat of his lap. He seethes through his teeth, “Fuckin’ hell!”

You’re restricted from widening your legs no thanks to your pants locking you in place, but this also gives a tighter sensation against his swollen cock. He doesn’t give you too much time to recuperate and catch your bearings, too honest with his mission and surging forward to bring the two of you to the brink.

“Stand,” he grunts with an arm circling around your waist. With his help you’re press flush against the wall and his chest, completely stuck between two hard places. Yoongi’s pace is rapid, the slaps of skin melt into the sounds of the fallen raindrops. It’s not long for his cock to jam pleasantly into the sweet spots within your silky walls, his thrusts determined to continue their gyrating motion deep inside you.

He chuckles at the lewd moans you release, head tilted back against his shoulder as you breath for air. “You really don’t care if someone hears you, huh? What do you think they’ll do, seeing the best shot in town being railed by a rogue criminal?”

Yoongi’s words course through your ear, his teeth coming to bite the flesh behind it. Your mind is too cloudy to think straight, not when he was inside of you both physically and emotionally. “T-they’ll hate me.”

“Is that so?”

You hum because that’s all you can do. The knot tightens in your stomach, the dull ache between your legs distorting itself into an electrifying spark has you cursing Yoongi’s name to go faster, harder. Yoongi feels you tightening around his prodding cock, only causing him to buck into you rougher.

Orange locks find their way between your fingers, tightening your grip on his hair the faster that band within you reaches towards its peak. “Yes! Yes, yes, please –“

The moment your body feels his inked fingers sneak their way to your clit, pinching it harshly, pulls a shriek of pleasure from your throat. Your body snaps under him – back arching as your walls clasp around his cock. “A-ah!” you shout while your orgasm rushes to all corners of your body, a tingly sensation vibrating through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi smirks as his pace doesn’t halt, now latching both of his hands to your hips he directs all movements. He enjoys your dispute of over-sensitivity, knowing how much you secretly like it from all the times in the past.

“One more, I know you have it in you. I’ve seen it before.” His voice is rough, any tang of sweetness swept away. “I’ll continue to fuck into this pussy until you cum again.”

Without stopping for a breather your body rushes into overdrive, it continues to squirm in his grasps and your legs shake dangerously underneath you. All thoughts of remaining quiet have gone out the window. Your second orgasm is set to fire, ready to be kicked off the edge into infinity, and with one quick shove of Yoongi’s cock that sinks all the way to ram into your cervix has you keening over and over.

Your pussy pulsates around his dick inconsistently, holding onto the appendage like a vice. It triggers his frenzy, his release spilling deep inside your well spent walls with dirty grunts. His arms hold around you tightly, helping you stand straight and to assist himself at the same time. Together both of your breathes are resounded, heated air escaping around the two of you in puffs of smoke.

You wince when his softening cock slips out of you, leaving gravity to aid in the way his cum drips casually out of your hole. Yoongi doesn’t allow you to turn and face him before he’s hoisting up your bottoms, the fabrics too annoyingly drenched to feel comfortable against your skin.

When you finally turn to speak to him he’s already readjusting his pants up along his hips, securing the button to his pants as he eyes you for a quick second. His hair is even more of a mess than before, no doubt you looked remotely better.

Dropping your mouth to talk, Yoongi averts his gaze to your rifle laying to the side. “Yoongi, I –“

“Don’t.”

His eyes narrow at the device that labels the reality of everything, where the two of you stand no matter how much you tango with another. A snort leaves him as he finishes off the buckle to his belt and you can tell by the way his facial features flicker than he’s having a complicated inner dialog going on inside his mind.

“Yoongi!” You press, grabbing hold of his shoulders to shake him slightly. “Yoongi please look at me, please don’t walk away from me.”

After a deep breath he exhales slowly, blank eyes now directed at you. There’s confusion painted over your face from the way you aren’t understanding why Yoongi suddenly steps even closer to place another kiss onto your lips, but it causes you to stop thinking momentarily. His lips, plump and plush, are the only things you can think about – until he’s pulling away too fast.

Back now facing you, he strides down the alley in which you found him. As if this heated interaction, and everything it consisted of, seized to exist anymore – the time has passed.

You take a wobbly step in his direction, hand reaching towards the figure that distances itself further from your grasp. “Yoongi, please!” You cry.

Behind you is your rifle, only feet away, and in front of you is the man you continuously chase. You’re torn between the two, the feeling of your mind splitting in half causing you to have a mental debacle with yourself. You scream with frustration; tears stream down your face at what your heart truly wants.

To stop the criminal at large or to join him?

You didn’t notice how Yoongi stops in his tracks, head tilted to look behind him with his piercing yellow eye standing out through the darkness. He watches you curiously, the environment around the two of you officially draws itself back into reality. Once he hears your scream of defeat he completely turns to face you with the widest grin smeared across his mouth.

“Hey, Y/n...” He pauses to wait until he knows you’re listening to him – and of course you immediately do so. Yoongi cocks his head to the side with a sense of arrogance radiating from the way his body stood. You desperately look at him with a plea, but your facial features harden at his next words. And they lace, deadly, within your mind.

Yoongi sighs, running one of his hands through his hair. Again, he knows he already has you, ruined you, and now he completely and absolutely owns you whether you like it or not. Yoongi playfully lifts his fingers to cross them together, a sign of a heart sent straight to you, “Get jinxed.”

Twenty-six. 

That was the age when your parents started to pressure you to have a decent life. According to them, one can call their life as a decent one, if they are married, but they were also okay with a short time engagement. And when you hit the age of twenty-six, they start to bother you, bombard you with their wills to be grandma and grandpa. 

Your mother's daring character even leads herself to offer you some pictures of the men she knows somehow. Lawyers, doctors, and of course the future CEOs of the very important companies. 

At the age of twenty-six, you thought they were going crazy or trying to make you go crazy. Of course, you vetoed every man she offered you, even though your mom can be very, very persistent, you handled the situation well. Avoiding them until they get sick of your stubborn attitudes, and they stop keeping their hopes high. Well, your little sister's marriage had helped you with the issue, but either because of this and that, they stopped forcing you. 

Even though your parents find it highly pathetic, you finally enjoyed winning the constant fight that was going on for years with them. In your single-roomed apartment, all by yourself, and no one there to heat your cold feet in the coldest days of winter. 

And at the age of thirty-two, you start to think a lot. Overworking, and overthinking yourself with the black space in your chest. 

The freedom you loved so much led you to stay single, one night stands, and the dates you go to a couple of times aside. Most days, it didn't bother you that much. Being alone and being all alone forever. Seriously, it didn't bother that much. Until you find yourself in the loop where you watch only romantic comedies, paying a great deal of money for the napkins, as you find yourself crying until your throat goes sore. 

That's how you found yourself dialing your sister's number, mumbling some bullshit over the phone. Throat sore, eyes puffy and red from all the crying, words falling from your lips, and Eunji finds it too hard to understand what you were talking about. She puts you on speaker, calls for her lovely husband he loves so much, and hoping Hoseok could understand what was going on with you. 

''... not wantin' that. Don' want to die alone,'' freshly married couple only manage to pull these words from your mouth, and couldn't clarify the thing you babbled. 

Does it sound completely pathetic? Well, if you have the authority, you can always blame the cherry martini. And if you have to be honest, despite you don't want to, it was more like lots of gin side with cherries. 

According to what you say to them-- you, of course, couldn't remember what you said. And how much they told your parents, you at the age of thirty-two found yourself in a first meeting. With the man you'll be married.

Arranged marriages weren't your thing, but seeing your friends getting married one by one, having children, and happily married in front of you, basically forced you for doing this. Thirty-two years old so-called modern advertiser gets sick of the loneliness she had and agrees to an arranged marriage. And this is no other person than you.  

When Eunji and Hoseok come to visit you and giving you the big news with a wide grin, you didn't think that they would find someone so quickly, but as the rumor says--rumor was no other than your sister--, the very charming neurosurgeon who is only thirty-five couldn't find himself a decent woman to marry. Not to your surprise, your parents get so hyped up with the news, and to your luck, the man--soon after you learn that his name was Yoongi. Min Yoongi-- happened to be the very best friends of Hoseok. 

Without wasting any more time, your parents meet with each other on the phone, both women burning with the desire for a grandchild, even though they already have. And the fathers, talking formally with each other, and saying how being single after the thirties is dangerous for one's career. Deciding the time and place for both of you two meet, and even your parents decide what you should wear. 

It all feels like you are the head actress in a movie, where your parents forced you to marry the rich man for your family's debt. In all reality, there was no debt or force. Maybe there is a little force, but in the end, you wanted them to find someone for you. When you keep thinking about it, guilt starts to creep towards your chest. Questions with unknown answers fill your mind. 

What if the man turns out as a psychopath? What if he has some weird kinks that you can't handle? The more you think everything scares the shit out of you. You cover your face with your palms, you groan while your head falls on the table. How could you be this stupid to agree on what your parents always wanted? Arranged marriage? What time is this? The late seventies? 

In the internet age, you really did agree on meeting with the man you probably were going to marry in a small coffee shop that your parents chose, wearing a blue dress that also your parents picked. 

Is it too late to go back? What if you leave before he gets here? Probably he doesn't know how you look--as you had no idea about his face or body image. A huge knot sits on your throat, making it hard to swallow your regrets. Not that you were giving lots of crap about someone's look, but what if he is not your type? Is it okay to leave after ten minutes of talk? What if--

''Ih-hım,'' before another ball of questions jerk into your mind, a fruity voice cuts you, ''L/N Y/N?'' while you taking your hands from your face and lifting your head from the table, the comforting fresh odor fills your nostrils even before you see the man. ''Y--yes,'' 

Between in your slight nods, twinkling your eyelashes while staring at the man in front of you. Thick blonde haired-man eyeing you above, a light smile hangs on his face, square glasses stand under the button nose. Contrary to your dismay, he is looking good. His smile gets wide, hangs his hand in the air, ''I'm Min Yoongi. It's nice to meet you,'' 

It takes a couple of minutes before you realize that you should greet him the way he did. Even though you try hard not to act like an idiot, you are flummoxed by his sudden appearance. The voice of the chair tumbling to the floor echoes in the shop, causing all the heads to turn towards you when you clumsily get up. ''Oh, I'm so.. sorry,'' you jabbered after your head bumps to the man's when both of you try to fix the chair. 

''I'm really sorry,'' you utter in agony and guilt. Probably you look like an idiot, rather than only feeling like it. He smiles and waves his hand like it's nothing after adjusting your chair. ''I'm not going to suffer from it, don't worry,'' he chuckles, eyes staring deeply. Even though he isn't much taller than you, his soft but scanning glares made you feel smaller. He put his hand in his pocket, flexing his shoulders while standing inches away from you. Before your mind works properly and offers him to sit, you keep watching his sight. Eyes wander, settles on the others without landing on you, glancing up to the ceiling. 

''Oh my--Please take a seat,'' you plead, gesturing the chair across from the table. His brows raise with your high pitched voice, but the soft smile takes its place without wasting time. He nods, taking his seat in front of you. The reason why you act like this is both caused by how attractive he is, and how nervous you are. Either way, you feel dump while sitting across from him. 

After you take your place, long silence arises between you two. So, you take the advance from this silence by scanning him. From head to toe. 

He is wearing a dark blue sweater, a black coat on top of it, with black pants. The only colorful thing was his blonde hair, and it surprises how he looks so good with it. One glance and anyone could understand how important he is and the job he does. He is intimidating, contrary to his small smile on the corner of his lips. When your stare meets with him, you understand that he is scanning you the same way you do. Were you looking good? Does the dress look stupid in this weather? Despite his coat and sweater, you were wearing a blue thin dress with black spots. You wonder if the cut on the dress is too low or not. Not that you can do anything about it. 

''So, you are a doctor?'' his eyebrows rise with your statement. It was stupid of you, but the bizarre silence only causes you to grow more anxious. Yoongi places his hands on the table, holding his laugh on the back of his throat. He feels how anxious you are, and he enjoys how your expression changes when you think you said something stupid. He finds it cute. He nods and smiles while your face goes pink. ''Neurosurgeon, yes.'' 

''Cool,'' blinking your lashes, you start to nod in small. You didn't know if he is interested in you or the opposite, so you didn't want to make, or say something weird and scare him away. So, when the waiter came and took your orders, you thanked him mentally. Because you were at the edge of asking how much money he makes, and looking like a total gold digger. Aish... why can't you act like a normal woman for a minute? 

''And you?'' the husky voice of the semi-stranger made your heart flinch and gathered all of your attention to himself. You tilt your head and he sees your glazed face. ''What you do for a living?'' he asks one more time. Rather than finding you oddly idiot, he likes the way your cheeks go pink. ''Ah. Work. You mean... my job,'' he nods, the smile bigger now. ''I-I'm working for an advertisement company... yes,'' normally you would find your job highly amusing and cool, but with him, you feel small. Like the job you have was nothing, as he touches brains every day. Oh... you feel like an idiot. A real idiot. 

''Oh. That's cool,'' he smiles, nodding his head the same way you did. And he enjoys the way your cheeks blushes after his little tease. 

And you couldn't understand why he was acting so... kind. Contrary to all the things you did, which they were very stupid, he didn't mind them. Rather, he looked like he enjoyed them, and this literally made you feel uneasy. It was strange. Yes... strange. 

''Really?'' you tilt your brow, ''You think that's cool? Or, are you trying to insult me?'' his eyes went round, blinking them a couple of times. 

''Did I sound like that?'' he lifts his hands up, fixing his posture to emphasize and look sincere to you. ''I didn't mean to sound like that. I'm sorry and of course, I am not trying to insult you nor the job you do.'' you nod, expecting his apology. It was your time to enjoy the way he looks dumbfounded. 

''Iced americano,'' when the waiter comes with your orders, you hear him release a long breath under his breath. The way he takes a sip from his cup, and not knowing where to look kinda warms your heart, and you feel bad for mocking him, but still, you were having fun with this. 

After a couple of minutes of silence, you decide it wasn't fun to mock with him. Instead, it killed the mood and now Yoongi wasn't talking, probably too scared to talk with a psycho like you as you just accused him something he didn't do like some hebete. And the way you found it funny, left its place to regret while you were playing with your mug, chewing inside of your mouth in guilt. 

''H-how did you met with... Hoseok?'' yes, you know it is a lame question to ask but the stupid awkwardness was eating you alive, and you want it come to an end.  

''College,'' he pressed his lips together, eyes carefully sizes you up as he doesn't want to say something to offend you. And you were sure that was going to be the last thing he said, and probably leave after drinking his coffee in rush. But he surprises you with the sudden giggle. ''In the first year of college, we decided to go to a Carnival and I still don't know why we decided to do it. But in the roller coaster, suddenly someone held my hand and never left it until it stopped--''

''Oh my... don't tell me it was Hoseok!'' you jerk your hand to your lips, very amused by the new information he gives. 

''Jackpot.'' he doesn't even try to hold his smile back, nodding his head cutely. ''I had to take care of him for the rest of the night. Because he was so frightened and needed someone.'' both of you start to laugh with the memory of him. Even though you would never think Hoseok would do that, somehow you could imagine him doing that. Somehow that suits him well. 

''Yoongi, you gave me the best card ever against him.'' you chuckled, wiping the tears from your eyelids. ''He will feel remorse over setting this meeting,'' your stomach starts to ache a little from the laugh you share with him. And you were glad that he didn't let go of this date and made you laugh like this. 

Yoongi waved his hand while leaning to take a sip from his cup, ''He will probably kill me for telling you this.'' the corners of his mouth turned up before he talked again. ''You should protect me from him as I share this with you.'' you exchange looks with him. The playfulness of him surprised you and how he changed the mood so smoothly. 

You nod with a smile on the corner of your lips, staring at his eyes. ''Of course. I will.'' 

After exchanging the memory of your mutual friend, the bleak mood left its place to a warmer one. There were a couple of good jokes, more questions to get to know each other better, and you almost forgot that this was the arranged date and you had so much fun rather than you assume. With the timid glances, leaning each other to hear better, and the way you two get closer in time felt like a real date. Not a date your parents arranged. 

Now you know about his love for music, and one could never doubt his passion for it. The way he talks about it causes your heart to hum, seeing how his eyes go all shiny while showing you his carefully made it playlist warmed your chest, you can't lie. Seeing someone getting this enthusiastic about the thing he loves brought the memories of how you liked to paint at one time. Getting all dirty while trying to achieve your goals, nose went numb because of the smell. You loved it. 

Somehow, the blonde man finds his way to your heart, and you had no objections to this. 

''Okay, tell me yes,'' you tear yourself off from the memories, and adjust your focus on him. Hands up in the air, eyes gleaming in anticipation. 

''I will,'' you said in a curious tone, seeing the corners of his mouth turning up, ''If, I know the reason,'' 

You giggle the way his eyes going round, he looks like you betrayed him. A thing about him always finds its way to make you feel relaxed around him, and it was like you knew him for more than three hours. ''After all the things we share, all the laughter and all these minutes. I thought you would say 'yes', but I guess I'm a fool,'' 

''Uh, if you are going to be this dramatic, then yes. For what is in your mind,'' you can't ignore the gasp that escaped his mouth, hand wraps his heart, shushing to fix the broken pieces of it. ''We were thinking about treating her with the best chicken wings in the country, but she decides to act rude. Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?'' he pouts, faking an attitude. 

''Oh. Pardon me and my bad mouth.'' you decide to continue the game he started. ''From now on, I won't have a second doubt about saying 'yes'. Promise.'' his mouth curved into a smile after you lifted your pinky finger in the air, and without wasting time, he wraps his around yours. 

''And tell me more about those chickens,'' you say, stealing a laugh from his chest. 

''Oh my--god.'' your hiccup interrupts you while laying yourself on the back of the booth. You lick the sweet chilly from your finger, having a food baby in your stomach never felt this good. It was the best chicken you ever eat, and you almost started to cry after tasting it the first time. The sweet chili sauce and the crispy cover on the chicken wings just blew your mind and took your mouth with it. If you could, you would eat a dozen of them. 

''Right!'' Yoongi voices with pleasure, takes another bite to fill his mouth, ''This brings heaven to your mouth. No less.'' your laugh cuts in the middle as a cramp finds its way to your stomach. You really ate too much. 

''You were right, but I guess I'm going to faint.'' opening the little packet, you start to clean your fingers with the wet wipe, the sharp smell immediately fills your nostrils. You did enjoy every bite, it wasn't a lie. But you could feel the heaviness on your stomach from all the eating and the drinking. You were over thirty and there was no point worrying about eating too much or drinking beer on the first date. 

To be honest, you would worry about this if the date was not with him. But with him, with Yoongi you don't feel the need for acting differently. You like the way you can do whatever you want to do. 

''What about another round?'' his eyes gleamed with a mischievous hint. It was triggering the ache in your stomach, and as every sensible human being, you should say no. But the sweet taste lingers on your teeth, numbs your tongue with its savor. 

''You are inviting me to sin.'' you wipe the corner of your mouth while trying to lean towards him, but the body feels like a ton. Despite the ache and the handicap on your way to breath, you reveal a big grin. How could you say no while he looks at you with those bright browns? You couldn't. ''And I'm happy to participate in this. Course you need to pay for my hospital expenses,'' 

He lets out a choked, husky laugh. Holding his stomach while serving you the best gummy smile, and looks deep into your eyes after adjusting his posture. ''Believe me,'' the way he licks his bottom lips just does something to you. Levitates your stomach, sticks your breath on your throat. If someone would ask you, you would gladly accept to watch him sit in front of you. That's something you are sure about. ''You won't regret eating too much of this. No one can.'' 

He holds his hand up after tearing his eyes from you, calling the waitress for the second round. A grin stuck on his lips, you stupidly believe him. You would believe if he said he is the president of the world, and that was stupid. But you didn't mind, as your heart never filled with this much joy for so long. 

With a wiggle in your stomach, you feel heavy on the heart. Overwhelmed by his actions, the way he affects you. The way he has the cutest, heartwarming smile made you angry as he had no right to look like this. With the blonde hair, smart-looking glasses, and the round button nose that you just wanted to boop your finger. 

It was enough to catch you on his spell but too much for your poor heart.

You know that you owe a big thanks to Hoseok for arranging this date-- you didn't know what this was, to be honest. Was it a date that he agreed just for fun and not calling you in the morning, or is he thinking this is more serious than a silly date? You didn't even know what or how to think about this. Yes, you agreed to an 'arranged marriage' thing with your parents, but were you going to marry the first man you date? Were you going to decide after one date? 

Whether deciding it after the first date, or the first man, you only know one thing. And that is the amount of joy and happiness you feel heavy on your chest. Only watching him while he is eating chicken wings in extreme delight was enough to change the speed of your heartbeats, so you had only one thought. Letting him decide. 

Your judgment wouldn't be clear or sensible, you know that as the heat on your chest won't stop growing minute by minute you spend with him. 

Letting him decide if this is just a one-time thing he just agreed for his friend's sake, or he would consider marrying you. You didn't know if handing the ball in his hands was being selfish or the contrary, but you just want to enjoy the moment and not overthink it. Or about him. 

No lie, you liked him. Maybe even too much for the first date, but screwing this up the last thing you want as you always do. Selfish or not, you choose not to make a decision. 

''Can I open my eyes, now?'' 

Everybody would like a little excitement in their life, as well as you. But you never imagine that excitement would be like this, taking somewhere on your first date with a blindfold. It was much more likely a napkin from the place you ate the chicken wings than a blindfold, but it didn't change the result. 

Yoongi decided to take you somewhere you could burn the calories you have been whining about. Probably you wouldn't come up with an idea about the place, but as you were almost walking for almost ten minutes, it should be close. Thinking and trying to guest the destination was useless, as you never came here before. 

One second you were worrying about marriage, but now, all that worry turns into losing your lungs. If you could stop being dramatic, you trust Yoongi enough that he wouldn't do such a thing, but would you ever stop? That is trickier than taking away by a blindfold. 

You hear Yoongi's sigh, very likely getting sick of your questions, as you never shut up asking questions. But how could you stop exactly? How could you expect him to hold you by the wrist, covering the napkin on your eyes after handling the check and saying he knows how to burn those calories. He is not resembling a creep, but who would do and say such a thing? It is suspicious. 

''Okay. You would probably slap me after finding out where we are, and the unnecessary act of cutting your sight,'' he pauses to let a giggle, hands of him leave your waist and wrist, ''Either way, prepare to defeat Y/N,'' 

Before his fingertips find the hem of the napkin and free your eyes, you collect the latest clues about the place and the thing he said. A couple of boy's voices reach your ears, shooting and directing each other. The very last hints you could get before the lights dazzle your eyes. 

''Ow,'' you whispered, covering your eyes to protect them from lights in a reflex. 

Yoongi stands there, waiting beside you while you blink your lashes in the cutest way possible, watching your eyes go between him and the basketball court. The corner of his mouth quirked up, enjoying way too much with how you look at him with wide eyes in awe. ''So?'' he holds his arms in the air, makes a circle with his body, and stops after turning his face to yours once again with a proud smile on his lips. 

''So?'' you repeat, tilting your brows. Seeing the three boys playing basketball on one of the hoops, the other one is empty, waiting for you two to play on there. There was another couple of people who were sitting on their portable chairs, drinking from their cups, and laughing. It was them and the boys who were too caught up with their game but even thinking to play in front of them made you nervous. It was duskily illuminated, but still, you had worries to play. 

''What, too scared to play with me?'' pale blond lifts an eyebrow, seeing the timid look on your eyes, he leans over, brushing his shoulder to yours, ''You know you can't beat me, don't you?'' a sheepish smile stands on his face to tease you. Yoongi didn't know about you too much, yet he could understand pushing your legs would pay. 

''Tch, please.'' just the way he thought, your ego beats your anxiety. ''I could crush you with my amazing triple shoots,'' you stick your tongue out, can't help but act like three years old while challenging him. The way you act, causes him to burst into a laugh. When he thinks you can't look cuter than before, you stand in front of him, sticking your tongue out. He must have done something so good to have you in return. 

''Well well, then you should show me those 'amazing' shoots,'' while you tilt your brows for the second time today, he leaves you in surprise, turning his back at you and starts to walk away. 

''We don't have a ball to play!'' you try to remind him, yelling at his back but he turns around, grin on his face. If he tries to look cool, you know he won't look his butt on the ground because walking backward isn't cool, or a sensible thing to do. ''You think?'' he shouts back, the mischievous glow could be seen from where you stand. 

What does 'you think' mean? You don't have a ball to play if he didn't plan this before and take one with himself but to your knowledge, you are not blind. Because one can see the orange ball-- You could go on the debate in your mind if he wasn't talking with the boys you notice before, taking their ball after having a small talk with them. 

Yoongi walks over you, bounces the ball, swirling it around his body. Basically showing off, trying to surprise you with the moves he made. You watch as the wind messes with his hair, how he grips the ball, and bounce it like a professional. He is good at what he does, and you could understand that with a glimpse of look, but also you can catch the way his eyes follow the ball, lips curled up with the delight he feels. 

You cheer for him when he passes the ball between his legs, without paying it much effort. You didn't know he was this good, as he never mentioned his interest in it, but seeing it with your bare eyes rather than just mentioning is way better. Well, little did he know you haven't shared the same interest with him. 

''Okay Jordan, pass me the ball,'' you wave your hand, directing him where to stand after he throws it. He giggles the name you call him, blessing your ears while waiting for you to make a shoot. 

It's only been a day, yet you feel like knowing him more than one day, way too comfy around him while talking, eating, or acting. You don't know if this is one of your dreams, where it affects your subconscious because all of the romantic movies you had watched too much in depression. Or simply, this man who makes you do stupid things like eating dozens of chicken wings is just a wizard. And you are affected by one of his spells, can't make proper decisions, and probably he isn't this good looking. It is all because of the spell he did. 

His eyes are not this bright, his cheeks are not that cute and tempting you to squeeze them. Or his lips are not that mesmerizing and you only want to taste them every time he smirks just because of the damn spell. You are old enough not to charm by a hair, yet all you want to do is bury your fingers in that velvety fuzz. 

''Are you gonna show me those shoots or too scared to move?'' his mouth twisted, pale skin peeking under his sweater and the coat he is wearing, glowing shamelessly. You nod, plastering a smile on your lips, can't get enough of his teasing. Even though you want to see his face after the shoot you are going to, retarding is more enjoyable. 

So when you throw the ball with a false effort, causing it to fall inches away from the hoop, you hear the squeaked laugh you never heard before. Apparently, it was too funny for him as he almost kneeled in front of you from laughing, holding his stomach while his shoulders shake. ''Well, we can say that wasn't the amazing one so far, huh?'' he teases while wiping his eyelids. You could offend by his actions if this isn't all an act, and in reality, he is the one who should laugh at. 

''Trying again? Okay, I can teach you the right way after that,'' you want to throw the ball to his head, his cockiness amazed you as you bite your lip to hold your laugh behind. The popular neurosurgeon was nowhere to be found when you eyed him. And you like the way he leaves the maturity aside, having fun with you and the time you two spend. You could easily say after spending enough time that he wasn't acting, the laugh that leaves his throat is real, as well as the shine in his eyes. Part of you doesn't want to wreck his mood or turn off the cocky light in his eyes but on the other hand, you desperately want to see his face after you stop acting and shoot a real basket. 

You bet the blonde prig won't be expecting you to take an oh so good shoot, and the cunning side of you wants to wipe that smile on his face. You want it so bad and can't help the way your body moves to the right corner, dividing your strength equally to your legs and arms before taking a shoot. With a light jump, you send the ball right into the basket, it takes two turns on the hoop before passing through it. It wasn't the best triple shoot, but you only played it in your free time with your family, yet you know that your body reveals that you played basketball very well. Much to his dismay, it was a perfect basket. You turn your head as you want to see his face, putting your hands on your waist and serving him a big grin. ''How about this one?'' the hint of your laughter can clearly be heard by him, not that you want to hide. 

He stares. 

And he stares for a long one minute, not talking nor giving you an idea with his expressions. After fixing your posture, your lips quirk in a pout, brows furrowed as you can't understand why he hasn't said anything or did. A knot sits on your stomach, you want to say something but your mouth goes dry with the uncertainty. While the deep silence takes over around you two, finally he shows a feeling on his face. 

A line appeared between his brows, a beam flash past in his eyes, and he started to walk over to you. 

Was he angry? Because you can throw a ball? Yes, you wanted some reaction, but anger wasn't the quite close expression you expect. With every step he takes, the hair on your body stands on end as you didn't know what to say. So you try to ease the nervousness you felt, ''Not so cocky after seeing this girl can play, huh?'' you mock, pointing yourself with your forefinger, wiggling your brows before he stands in front of you. 

Way... way too close. 

He stands so close that you could even see the little mole on the left side of his face, right beside his nose placed cutely on his cheek. The tiny whiteness on the same side of his lips, breaking the proportion but adding him another sweet flaw. You even pay attention to his facial line on the side of his nose, only to abstain from his eyes. Abstaining from capture by his lovely, velvety browns. And when he starts to speak, you can smell the chili sauces mixed with the beer he drank. 

''Can you wear my coat?'' with a mouth that slowly opens, you stare at him without blinking. He tilts his brows slightly, it was tiny and almost non-visible, but you catch the twitch on his jaw. 

''I'm sorry but, what?'' you baffled, obviously not expecting him asking that, and can not put it on logic. Under his bashful stare, you hear the sound when he takes a deep breath between his teeth. Cocking your head aside, you try to evaluate if you are cold or not, but you know that you haven't done anything for him to take as a hint that you are cold. Darting your eyes at him, your stomach flips over after realizing how good he looks under the slight street light that illuminated the court, the shadow of his eyelashes falling on his cheeks, mesmerizing with every blink. ''Y... you want me to wear your coat. And that's why? I'm not cold if this is what you think--'' 

''It's not. Not because you are cold,'' you watch him slipping his fingers on his hair, ruining the straight strands with a pout. Yoongi opens his mouth, but the weight of his words feels too much, he closes it again. He is thirty-five years old and should be mature enough to press this puberty feeling, and not want to cover you with his coat so no one can see the way your dress moves, expose the skin you covered with the same dress that betrayed you. And also, he knows he is not in the place to tell you what to do, or get jealous the way the others who size you up. But the first time after he gets mature enough, Yoongi can't find control over his emotions. ''I thought... thought that you could feel uncomfortable with the... dress,'' 

''Oh,'' you bite your bottom lip after getting caught off guard. Not that you are irritated or think it's possible, but is he just jealous, or is this just your mind playing games and causing you to think the impossible one? 

''But you don't have to. I mean if you are okay with your dress. You just don't... don't have to wear this.'' bubbles of laughter fills your throat as he stands stunned with wide eyes, 'o' shaped mouth is enough to melt your heart and spread heat to your chest. You bite harder your lip to hold your laugh, bend your head staring your shoes. ''Is it too distracting for you to beat me, Yoongi?'' darting over your eyes at him, you open them wide, rolling his name on your tongue only to tease him more. Getting even closer to his face, you talk in a pout. ''Do you think it's can affect others just the way it does to you?'' 

An almost unhearable whimper leaves his lips, shaky breath hits your cheek. A shade of embarrassment crept towards his cheekbones, increasing his cuteness. He stares speechless, you could only catch the loud gulp from his throat and you know it is enough of teasing him. 

''Okay, I'm admitting.'' taking a step back, you pat his shoulder. ''I'm a little cold, and it looks cozy.'' you lie while pinching his coat. His dull expression slowly fades, the corner of his lips tilt in the shape of a smile. Eye bags puffing up, face lines appear only to puss his soft cheeks on his cheekbones. 

You are not going to admit this to him, but the way your heart flinches under your chest, the way his soft smile cuts your breath, and the way your fingers physically pains to touch his cheeks just unbearable to hold on. At first, you only thought that his lips were in a good shape, can be even called cute but right now, they were just tempting. It was almost aching how your feet itch to take a step closer, and closer until your breaths can mix with each other, and the so imagined taste meets with your lips. 

''Here,'' he acts, taking his coat off of him swiftly to wrap it around you, and he does gently. Helping you to pass your arms in its sleeve, patting your shoulders after he links each button, as he looks way too pleased with the gummy smile that pinned to his face. ''Better now?'' he asks sincerely, wanting to make sure of your comfort, so you nod in appreciation. 

The heat immediately rushes over to your body, you thought you were joking before but after feeling the relaxation on your muscles, you surprise how cold you were. Wearing a dress in this weather without any coat was a big mistake, you noted. 

''So, if there is nothing you can object to, can we go on and play? Or, are you too scared?'' he scoffs at your playfulness, tilting a brow. Yoongi does not know how to react the way you wiggle your brows, the way you dare him with the buffoon smile. Luckily, he has another plan on his mind. ''So eager to taste the defeat, huh? All right then, I will give you a lesson.'' 

''Hah. Bring it on--''

''-But, before you get all moody, I want to do something.'' in return of his sparkling browns, your lips curl into a pout. Not expecting him to cut you off like this, even though he didn't do it without having any kindness. It only takes two seconds for you to realize what he was up to when his palms cover your cheek, timid touches of his fingertips on your skin. Is he going to kiss you in public? In your first time? Should you object? Between trying to ease the chaos on your mind, and understanding if you want this or not, hot breath already stands way too close to your lips. It was not a lie that you were thinking about kissing him a minute ago, but when this happened as a reality, you stand there like a deer in the headlights. 

Before you can choke yourself with overthinking, his whisper cuts it. ''Can I?'' he raises his brows, asking for your permission one more time before going for it, making sure of your emotions and thoughts about himself. Eyes of him scan yours pleadingly, as he was trying to emphasize his intentions. You were so nonplussed by what he was up to that you couldn't even move a muscle, only blink hard enough to capture the moment, face turning scarlet with the heat just crept towards. Feeling your heartbeats on your cheeks, under his fingertips. Every loud hammer brought your heart over your mouth, mouth dried completely. But you manage to voice, almost inaudible. 

''Please,'' 

When you met with his lips, it wasn't soft as you expected due to his dried lips, but soon after it changed. After you part your lips to capture his bottom lip between yours, a ball of warmness just explodes. Reaches till your fingertips from your chest, tiny mewl slides by you with the strong rhapsody you have inside. 

It was palm pulling, lips trying to deepen the kiss kind of keenness you both felt for learning, acknowledging each other. Soon after one of his hands left your cheek to pull you closer as your fingers weren't enough to do so. The others were long forgotten, it was just you and him. Everywhere was clouded, protecting your intimacy from others. 

You were only tasting, knowing, and capturing each other. 

When the kiss broke out as both of you needed fresh air in your burning lungs, you were shocked by the way you carried away by your desire. You, probably Yoongi too, was feeling the same way, find this very immature, unwisely but the thing you feel, and wish that he was feeling the same way you do was beyond your imagination. The attraction was between you from the first time you started to bond today, but you could never think that would be this euphoric. 

Between heavy breathing, and adjusting the moment you just shared cuts off by his hoarse voice. ''Was this highly good or is it just me?'' you snort at his silliness, slap him by the head before he can react. 

''You'll get your answer if you can beat me,'' tearing yourself apart, you take the ball despite his whines. But as he sees you won't step back, he sends hair-raising glares at you. 

Soon after, the contest loses its solemnity and turns into something where Yoongi chases you with the ball to throw at you. And you found yourself giggling, running away while screaming in tiny. With a glance at you two, and no one would believe you two for being over thirty but it felt so good to act without caring for anyone. You almost forget the feeling of happiness, cooing from joy, and having someone not minding your bullshits even on day one. 

Of course, you accept how the kiss felt 'highly good', holding your palms up in surrender, before laying on the grass. Not that you lost the game, more likely from winning the better prize. The blond neurosurgeon, at age thirty-five was your prize. To be honest, he is the best thing that happened to you in ages without any exaggeration. For all you know is that maybe arranged marriages were not that bad. 

Frankly, you wouldn't dare to lie and say you still object it while watching the man beside you. He gave you more than you expected. The comfort, happiness, and tickling bubbles on your chest. And you hope that would last long enough to the day you knew each other like an open book. As you wanted to know and more about him, every little detail, and every tiny mimic he makes. 

And you will see that day if you are lucky enough.

''We are out of rice!'' you flinch with the loud voice, take a big sigh at the view you see in the mirror. Lipstick extends along to your right cheek from your lips, as the outcome of hearing the thick voice without any warnings. ''And the last toilet paper just finished!'' tsking audibly, you take the wet tissue to clean the mess you made. While wiping the ruins of the lipstick, you hear the whining voice once more, closer this time. 

''We don't have any toothpaste, either. God, why don't we have anything? Aren't you supposed to take care of the grocery this time? It was your turn,'' the man is nothing but in black sweatpants and a white shirt appears, constant grumble on his mouth trying your patience. ''You have lipstick on your cheek,'' he points his face to address where the stain is as you lock your gaze on him by the mirror. 

''You don't say,'' lifting the brows you watch him narrowing his eyes, scoffing at your answer. ''And I was thinking why I have wet tissue on my hand. Thank you, babe.'' he rolls his eyes, sighs while ruining his hair. Black hair flies in the air, every pinch falling another direction and it warms your heart. Your husband dyed his hair black from blonde after having a white hair crisis and deciding to dye it for good. Not that you didn't like the blonde hair on him, but black was something different. It gave destructive charisma to him that you adore so much. 

It is the greatest thing since sliced bread. 

''When you say they'll bring Hoseong and Aera again?'' after finishing the cleaning, you turn to your husband who asks nonchalantly but the light in his eyes says he is happy. ''They'll be here any time soon. Why?'' 

He shrugs a shoulder, acting as he is not interested. ''Just curios. I'll adjust my appointments so,'' you nod, giggling as you decide to reach him. Leaving your bean bag chair, you take a two-step to wrap your arms around his neck. 

Brushing your nose to his, ''You love to hang out with them, don't you?'' you ask, mentioning your nephews. Even before he admits, you already knew that he adores them. Hoseong at nine and Aera at seven years old buck of happiness for Yoongi, and you can see it in his eyes. The way he plays with them, caring for them always puts a light serene in your heart, but you two never mentioned having a child. Soon after you are scared to open it as you are afraid that he doesn't want to have kids, but the love he had for your nephews always confused your mind and heart. 

''Well, they are fun to hang out,'' he tears his eyes from you but you catch the attempt to hide the smile he had. Lips forcefully stay flat but gaze full of bubbles. But when you tilt your brows, staring at him with a pout, you break him. ''Okay, okay... I love those chubby kiddos. You know how smart they are, don't you? Aera asked my opinion about Pluto, whether it's a planet or not. Can you believe it?'' 

''You are so whipped,'' you let out a laugh that wrinkles your eyelids. His enthusiasm over your nephews made your day, a bolt of laughter spilled by your lips over and over again until you managed to ease it. ''such a cute man,'' wiping your tears away from your face cut by his hands when he grabbed yours. 

''Y/N, did you... did you ever think about having a child? I know we never talked about this all these years, but I guess... No, I know I want one. Yes, I want us to have a child to raise together.'' his eyes burned with determination. It was enough for you to know he really serious about it. There was nothing for you to obligate it if you look. Both of you get paid well, had a nice home and big enough even for two kids, moreover, both of you love each other so much and you know that you two will love the exact same way if you have a child in this home. ''What do you think?'' 

Taking a deep breath to ease your thoughts you eyed the man you adored so much. His keenness sparkled in his eyes, waiting for your answer to be the happiest man alive. Even if you wouldn't want a kid in your life, you couldn't break his heart by saying no, but fortunately, you want this as much as him. 

''I would love to have a baby who has the same gummy smile you got on there,'' Yoongi, your husband coos after what you said, holding you by the waist and twirls your body with himself. He acts like you just said you are pregnant, but you laugh and kiss him back when his soft one finds your lips. He thanks, swears that he will be the greatest dad and husband for this family. 

The ring on the door cuts his words, tearing himself apart from you, he leaves to open the door wiggling his body in great joy. But you believe him. You would believe him even if he hadn't sworn and put his heart on it. He already was the best husband ever, and you had nothing to worry, frighten for. He will be the best dad in this world, as you know because he said so. Just like the time, he said you two will make a good couple after he took you home on your first date. As he said, you took his heart and his last name after four years. 

Never regretting for one second on agreeing to go on an arranged date. And you knew that you won't have any other regret in the future, either. Not with the sweetest neurosurgeon you love so much. 

GFX/Edits

MUSIC VIDEO LOOKS

Hobi Song Series: Part I, Part II, Part III by @namjoonia

Hope World Era: Airplane MV by @hobeemin​

Hope World Magazine: Peach Suit in Daydream MV by @seoulphiles

Outro: Ego x Hope World by @dee-ehn​

Shining Light Hobi by @cest-la-tae​

PHOTOSHOOT LOOKS

An Icon Living: Esquire Magazine by @seoulphiles​

Fan Fics/Writings

NSFW

Change of Plans by @joheun-saram

Seafoam Sheets by @jungkooksbroski

I Don’t Know What to Call This by @httphopewrld​

Ghost of You by @ressjeon​

Thank you to everyone that participated! Please keep an eye out for any new events we have.