Taehyung was reading, his wired earbuds dangling from his ears as he turned the page, the tiny booklight overhead illuminating his golden caramel-brown hair. He looked so cute: the contrast between his youthful new hair colour and his muscled, defined arms in his tank top was enough to make you shuffle in your seat.

He noticed the movement from your seat and glanced up at you, his eyes lighting up a little at the realization that you were awake.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he murmured with a smile, his hand coming over the armrest to give your leg a squeeze. "It's still the middle of the night, we don't land for several more hours, baby, go back to sleep."

You fussed with the blanket that was draped over your legs, checking your phone.

3:13 AM.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" You rubbed some residual sleep from your eyes.

"I have to be up early the day after we land, so I'm trying to beat the jet lag by staying up for a bit before we land in Spain in the evening."

The tour has been going on since April, and the shows in Madrid were the first you were able to join him for due to your work schedule. This wasn't the original plan at first, but seeing Taehyung again in Seoul after being on the road away for a little over a month, after being able to see him almost every day since military discharge, had both of you unreasonably clingy to one another again.

"Come, baby," Taehyung pressed the recline button on your armrest, your seat lowering itself underneath you to a more comfortable position. "Head back to sleep."

"Lie with me," you murmured, lifting the glossy, polished armrest that separated you two.

He smiled before tugging his earbuds out, abandoning them and his book on his side table before reclining his seat as well, joining you. He turned to press the button that closed the sliding privacy door, shielding the two of you from the rest of the cabin.

First class was really something.

Taehyung shuffled next to you, the two dropped seats coming together to basically make a bed. You lifted the blanket to throw it over him, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulled you in a little closer.

"This what you want?" Taehyung chuckled softly into your hair. You nodded a little, shuffling your body back into him, his big spoon to your little one. He splayed his large hand across your stomach, holding you against him as he pulled himself a little closer to you, your back and bum pressed innocently against his abdomen and sweatpants. He lifted his head up next to your face, pressing a soft, sweet kiss on your cheek.

"This is a work trip," he murmured into your ear as he trailed his lips across your cheek, lowering himself closer towards your neck. You let out a little sigh as he kissed down your jawline, his grip on your waist getting a little tighter, firmer, the way he did when he wanted to mess around. "And I'm not thinking about work."

You looped your hand behind his neck, encouraging him to kiss you a little harder, and he chuckled into your skin, nipping his teeth gently on your skin by your collarbone.

"The rest of the guys are right across the aisle, and you're here, making me lie next to you like this," he licked a little teasing stripe up your neck and you let out a whine.

"Shh, shh, baby. They may be asleep, but first class can still hear you, hm?" Taehyung was smiling into your neck, kissing and suckling on your skin with increased pressure, trying to coax another pretty sound from your mouth.

"Tae," you whimpered, turning your head to face him a little better. Under the cover of the dark cabin, you could tell the way he looked at you was more than just affection. His eyes had shifted from his typical sweet round stare into the half-lidded gaze that he only ever gave you when he wanted to get his dick wet.

"So pretty, even in your sweatpants," he groaned into your ear, pressing his growing hard-on into your bum. "I've never gotten to creampie you on an airplane yet, hm angel?"

Your stomach twisted at his filthy words, your underwear starting to cling to your growing arousal. Taehyung never hesitated to tell you what he wanted and how, and especially when he was back on tour, it was like his flirting and forwardness increased tenfold.

"Tae," you breathed. "Is that what you want right now?"

Taehyung dipped a lingering hand into the waistband of your sweatpants, his middle and index finger pressing teasingly into your wet fold, covered just barely by the already soaking fabric of your panties. You let out a strangled whimper, his fingertip gently kissing your throbbing clit as he tested your waters.

"Mm, I think that's what you want," he whispered, bringing his hand out of your pants just so he could pull them down and off your hips, your bare skin exposed under the airline-issued blanket.

His other arm gripped your waist firmly in place for him as he returned his hand to your trembling heat, tugging your underwear to one side for immediate access. You whined at the crude motion, the air-conditioned, barely-there breeze of the cabin cool against your wetness.

Taehyung could tell you were fighting to hold yourself together, and his tongue poked in his cheek as he tugged his own sweats down a little, just enough to free himself from his boxers. He pumped himself once or twice, the head of his cock still poking erotically against your bare bum. With a guided hand, he slipped his cock right between the squishy warmth of your bare thighs, nestled between the flesh of your upper thighs and the bare, warm wet slick of your aching pussy. Your arousal coated the top of his cock, and he groaned at the slick, warm sensation.

"My pretty girl," he groaned into your ear before he started to move his hips. His cock fucked gently between the flesh of your thighs, your arousal acting as the perfect slip as he humped his needy cock up against your pussy, the head of his cock knocking gently against your swollen clit. "Like my own little toy, to do whatever I want with, whenever I want."

You whimpered at the sensation of Taehyung using your legs to get himself off, the wetness painted all over your inner thighs. You brought your hand down between your legs, bringing your fingers to meet the tip of his cock as his flushed head peeked in and out from between your legs with every roll of his hips.

"Fuck, even your legs feel so good against me, angel," he groaned into your ear, his hips humping up against your ass like a horny college kid. "I could cum just fucking your thighs like this. But that's not what you want, is it?"

And with his teasing words, Taehyung rounded his hand to your front, pressing a few possessive, addictive circles to your clit, before he pushed the tip of his cock into your pussy, the size of him stretching you out so deliciously, especially with how pressed together your thighs were.

"Holy shit," he moaned into your ear. "Forgot how well your legs and ass squeeze me when I'm too impatient to spread your legs wide open. Your body's so good to me."

You clenched yourself around your boyfriend's cock that threatened to push a few more inches into you, slowly and purposefully as he studied all your reactions. He was grinning at you, tongue poking his cheek cockily as he watched your squirm, desperate to stay quiet as he filled you up with him completely.

"Tae-hyu-" you let out a strangled moan, your hand coming up to desperately silence your string of erotic noises that fell carelessly from your mouth. Taehyung hissed as he began to fuck his hips into you, the sensation of your body sleeving his cock so well making him cuss under his breath.

"Gonna fuck you until I make a mess in you, if that's alright with you," he growled against your skin, the feverous knock of his cock against your cervix squeezing a desperate whine out of you with every thrust.

There was suddenly a shuffling on the other side of your privacy door, and Taehyung froze his movements immediately, adjusting the blanket so that you two were hidden perfectly under the covers. His hand came over the blanket, pulling you into him protectively as he kept his cock sheathed inside of you.

A sleepy Jimin suddenly stood up, his head peeking out from over the wall. He glanced over at the two of you, his headphones still on his ears. Taehyung lifted his head casually, giving his friend a quick nod as you nestled your face into the blanket, hiding your expression from the world.

"I can't sleep, Jungkook keeps knocking my arm off my armrest," Jimin said with a sleepy grumble, his eyes barely open. He looked over the wall at how intimately cuddled up you two were, and he let out a chuckle.

"Get a room, you two. Not all of us have a girlfriend to bring with us to Spain."

Taehyung grinned. "This is our room," he gestured to the privacy wall.

Jimin laughed before shuffling down the aisle towards the bathroom.

As soon as the coast was clear, Taehyung licked a wet stripe right under your ear, his hips moving teasingly against you again. His fingers immediately found their way back to your clit, kneading your sensitive bud gently and with expert precision.

"Oh-," you whined, the feeling of your boyfriend using you, wearing you like a toy on the plane, made your head roll back against his chest. Your build-up resumed, the push of your boyfriend's cock against your fluttering walls bringing you embarrassingly close to a climax already.

"You have to learn how to keep quiet when I want to fuck you in public, sweetheart," he growled into your ear, his fingers still maintaining the torturous firm pressure on your swollen clit as he continued fucking his cock deep and slow into your aching heat. "How can I make the best of your time on tour with me if you're always so needy for attention?"

You struggled to contain your desperate whines and pants.

"I'm sorry, baby," you said through your hums. "Can't help it, you feel so fucking good."

Taehyung grinned at your sweet words, his thrusting getting a little faster.

"Yeah, hm? You like the way I make you feel, angel? You like getting free-used up here in the sky with me?"

You nodded, your knot in your stomach already painfully tight, threatening to snap. Taehyung's fingers on you were relentless, rubbing your clit so perfectly, groaning at the reactions your body gave him.

"You're-so tight around me-fuck," he hissed into your ear. "Already so close for me."

His rhythm grew erratic, a sign that his climax was taking over him soon. His lips were pinched between his teeth, brows furrowed as he chased his high deep inside of you. The pace of his fingers on your clit picked up, every nerve in your body burning as your orgasm took over you.

"I'm cumming, Tae, I'm fucking-"

You interrupted yourself with a definitely a little too loud moan, and Taehyung's large hand came up from your hip to cover your mouth.

"Not too loud, dove, we don't want to have to stop before it's over."

Your cries were silenced into your boyfriend's large hand as your peak shook through your whole body, like a shockwave coursing through your veins from his touch until you were left trembling, twitching, and panting.

Taehyung grinned at your erotic afterglow, his hands returning to your hip as he fucked you through your throes of pleasure.

"Gonna ruin this fucking pussy right here, baby," he groaned. "Wanna feel myself drip out of you with Namjoon-hyung asleep right behind us."

You nodded desperately; the filth of his words was enough to make you clench around him uncontrollably. Taehyung's fingers tightened their grip on your hip as he knocked himself harder into you, sheathing himself all the way down to the bone of his hips until his head dropped forward onto your shoulder.

"Take it, baby."

His warm, desperate spurts filled you up in hot, needy pulses. You bit your lip to muffle your cries as he whimpered into your ear, fucking his own seed deeper into you with every movement.

"Hnng, love breeding this fucking cunt," he hissed into your ear, his slew of dirty talk along with the sensation of being filled up by him sending stars to your eyes, and you dropped your head desperately against your boyfriend's chest.

He dropped his head forward, resting his chin on the top of your head as you two came down from your highs together, quietly and in the secrecy of your little first-class chamber. Taehyung pressed a kiss to your shoulder before readjusting the blanket, draping it over your shoulders now.

His length still remained buried in you, twitching and bouncing with the flex of his abdomen, like a little reminder of how much he craved you. Taehyung nudged himself into you a little further, a sleepy stir of remaining arousal and love swirling in your chest.

"Let's get at least another hour or two of sleep in," he murmured, his hand coming up to pet your hair, soothing you to sleep. "And we'll deal with our mess later."

Jimin appeared again in the aisle, the view of you and Taehyung snuggled up so closely, making him let out a little sigh.

"Taehyung-ah, you act like you're in a hotel room already," he whispered as he sat back down in his seat.

Taehyung just looked up at him and gave him a little nod and a wink, his arm tightening around your waist.

"Get some sleep, Jimin."

Jimin nodded with half-open eyes before disappearing behind the other side of the wall again.

Taehyung reached forward into the seat pocket and fished out his eye mask, slipping it sweetly onto your head.

"Sleep tight, angel," he cooed, pulling you into his chest again. "Thanks for coming to Madrid."

"Always," you murmured, the sleep already taking over your body.

Only the two of you knew the warm, loving mess between you under the blanket, and you were going to keep it that way.

────୨ৎ────

my nervousness around flying has suddenly evaporated

————

𝐣𝐢𝐧

he is clingy in the most dramatically adorable way possible, turning every little moment of separation into a full theatrical performance that somehow melts your heart instead of annoying you. Seokjin doesn’t just want your attention — he needs it like oxygen, and he’s not afraid to be extra about it. He complains constantly that you don’t give him enough love, even though he’s the one blowing up your phone and showing up unannounced like a lovesick prince who can’t survive without his favorite person.

“Baby, you haven’t looked at me in ten whole minutes,” he whines dramatically, flopping onto the couch beside you with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead like he’s fainting. “I’m dying here. Actually dying. Is your phone more interesting than Worldwide Handsome? Be honest.” He says it with that signature pout, lips pushed forward, eyes wide and sparkling with mischief, but underneath it all there’s real longing. He craves your eyes on him, only him.

when you take more than five minutes to reply to his texts, he sends the most extra selfies. A photo of him making the biggest, saddest bico (pout) imaginable, maybe with a hand on his chest like his heart is breaking. “I’ve been waiting for 7 minutes and 42 seconds… are you ignoring me now? After everything we’ve been through?” The next message is usually a voice note in his dramatic voice: “Jin is very sad right now. Jin needs attention. Please come save Jin.” He knows it’s ridiculous. He does it anyway because your laugh when you finally reply makes everything worth it.

he appears out of nowhere just because he misses you. You’ll be in your room working, focused on something, when the door slowly opens and there he is, leaning against the frame with a dramatic sigh. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt this… emptiness. Like part of my soul was missing.” He walks over, wraps his arms around you from behind and buries his face in your neck. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me? Say it. Say it like you mean it.” Even if you saw each other two hours ago.

he makes full-blown drama about everything. “You like your laptop more than me. I can see it in your eyes,” he declares while dramatically throwing himself across your bed. “I cooked your favorite meal, I sent you memes, I even did the aegyo you like… and still you choose the screen over me? This is betrayal. Pure betrayal.” But the second you look at him and give him attention, his whole face lights up, dimples deep and eyes turning into happy crescents as he pulls you into his arms.

his clinginess is loud, proud, and impossibly cute. In the dorm, he’ll sit right next to you on the couch, thigh pressed against yours, arm around your shoulders, playing with your hair while complaining, “The members get more of your laughs than I do. This is unfair. I’m the funniest one here.” If someone else talks to you for too long, he starts fake-crying. “She’s forgetting me… my girlfriend is leaving me for Jungkook’s bunny smile. I should just go eat alone and cry into my ramyeon.”

he constantly pulls you into his lap, no matter where you are. “Come here, I need my daily dose of you,” he says, grabbing your waist and settling you against his chest. Once you’re there, he wraps his arms around you tightly and sighs happily, resting his chin on your shoulder. If you try to get up, he whines loudly, “Nooo, five more minutes! I’m recharging. You’re my charger.”

when you’re busy with work or studying, he sits nearby doing his own thing… but not really. Every few minutes he glances over, sighs loudly, and says things like “I’m dying of loneliness over here” or “My handsome face is going to waste because no one is looking at it.” He sends you selfies from two meters away. Selfies with captions like “Notice me senpai~” or “Your boyfriend is feeling neglected.”

at night he becomes even more dramatic. He pulls you close under the blankets, legs tangled with yours, arms locked around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear while he sleeps. “Don’t leave me even in your dreams, okay?” he whispers, pressing soft kisses all over your face. If you move even slightly, he wakes up immediately. “Where are you going? The bed is cold now. Come back and love me.”

he’s the king of guilt-tripping in the cutest way. “I made you lunch and you didn’t even send me a heart emoji… I see how it is.” Or “You replied to the group chat faster than to me. I’m going to cry. Actually, I’m already crying. Look at these tears.” (There are no tears, just the biggest pout you’ve ever seen.)

but underneath all the drama and loud complaints is the softest, most sincere love. When he says “Look at me. Only at me,” it’s because you’re his favorite person in the world and he genuinely feels happier, brighter, and more complete when your attention is on him. He shows up unannounced because being away from you for too long feels wrong. He sends pouty photos because making you smile is his favorite thing. He clings to you so tightly because he nevebr wants to let go.

Seokjin’s clingy love is loud, theatrical, and overflowing with affection. He may complain that you don’t give him enough attention, but he’s the one who keeps coming back for more, again and again, with dramatic sighs, adorable pouts, surprise visits, and endless “I missed you”

Because in his world, there’s nothing better than having your eyes on him, your arms around him, and your laughter filling the space between his silly complaints. And he’ll keep being the most dramatically clingy boyfriend in the world… as long as you keep looking at him like he’s your whole universe too.

————

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚

he’s clingy in the most silent, heavy, and intense way possible. Yoongi doesn’t need many words — his love shows up in quiet presence, heavy stares, and an almost gravitational pull toward you. He pretends to be indifferent, the cool, low-energy genius who doesn’t need anyone too close. But with you, that facade is paper-thin. He hates being away from you, even when he acts like he doesn’t care. His clinginess is quiet, but it runs deep, like a current you can feel under still water.

he watches you all the time. Not in an obvious, dramatic way — just constant, quiet observation. In the studio, while he’s working on a beat, his eyes drift to you every few minutes. When you’re in the same room, he tracks your movements without saying anything. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you bite your lip when focused, the small sigh you make when you’re tired. He notices everything. Sometimes you catch him staring and he just looks away slowly, like it’s no big deal, but the intensity in his gaze lingers.

he leans on you like it’s automatic, like his body needs yours to stay grounded. On the couch, his shoulder presses against yours. In the car, his hand rests on your thigh without thinking. When you’re standing together, he leans his head lightly against your arm or back, breathing quietly like your presence alone recharges him. He never asks for permission — it just happens. If you move even slightly, he follows without a word, seeking that contact again.

if you leave his side, he becomes too quiet. The moment you get up to grab water or go to another room, the energy in the space shifts. He doesn’t complain or call after you. He just goes completely silent. Headphones on, staring at his screen, but not really working. The members notice how his typing slows down or how he keeps glancing toward the door. When you come back, he doesn’t say anything, but his body relaxes instantly and he pulls you back close again — a hand reaching for yours, an arm around your waist, a soft sigh of relief only you can hear.

his messages are short and dry, but heavy with worry. “Where are you?” at 9:47 pm when you’re out later than usual. “You okay?” when you haven’t replied in a while. No emojis, no long paragraphs. Just those few words that carry everything he doesn’t say out loud. If you take too long to answer, he doesn’t spam you — he just gets quieter in person later, pulling you into his lap or against his chest like he needs to reassure himself you’re really there.

he pretends he doesn’t mind the distance, but he hates it. “Go ahead, I’m fine,” he says in that low, raspy voice when you mention going out with friends or having a busy day. He acts unbothered, maybe even gives you a small smirk. But the second you’re gone, the studio feels too big, the bed too empty, and his thoughts keep circling back to you. He works more intensely when you’re not around, like he’s trying to fill the space you left, but it never quite works.

he shows his clinginess through small, heavy actions. When you sit together, he pulls your legs over his lap without asking. At night, he wraps himself around you completely — chest pressed to your back, arm locked around your waist, face buried in your neck. He holds you like he’s afraid the night might take you away. If you try to move, his grip tightens just a little, followed by a sleepy mumble: “Stay.”

in public, his clinginess is more subtle but still intense. His hand finds yours in crowded places, fingers laced tightly. At events, he stays close, shoulder brushing yours, eyes scanning the room but always returning to you. He doesn’t say much, but the way he positions himself between you and the crowd speaks volumes.

he gets especially quiet and intense when he’s missed you. After long schedules or days apart, he doesn’t run to you with dramatic hugs. He just appears beside you, pulls you close, and stays there. No big words. Just his warmth, his steady breathing, and that heavy, comforting presence that says everything. Sometimes he’ll rest his forehead against yours and close his eyes, like he’s soaking you in.

That’s his vibe in its purest form. He doesn’t need to explain how much he needs you. He shows it by being there — always watching, always touching, always pulling you back into his orbit the moment there’s any distance. His love is silent but incredibly heavy, the kind that wraps around you and doesn’t let go.

Yoongi may act like he’s fine on his own, like the independent, cool Agust D who doesn’t get attached. But with you, he becomes someone who quietly hates every second you’re not beside him. He observes you like you’re his favorite melody, leans into you like you’re his safe place, and holds you like he never wants to let go.

Because even in complete silence, his clingy, intense love is loud in every small touch, every quiet stare, and every dry message that really means “I need you here with me.” And he’ll keep being that silently clingy version of himself — as long as you let him stay close.

————

𝐣-𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞

he is clingy in the most energetic, bright, and almost desperate way possible — like his love for you is a sun that never stops shining and refuses to let even a single cloud come between you two. Hoseok’s affection is loud, warm, and overflowing with energy. He doesn’t just want you close… he needs you close, like you’re the main source of his sunshine. And when you’re not around, everyone can tell — his usual bright aura dims, his smile becomes a little smaller, and the dance studio feels strangely quieter.

he calls you all the time, inventing the smallest excuses just to hear your voice or see your face. “Jagiya, come here really quick! I need your opinion on this new choreography,”excessive attachment, jealousy, soft obsession,he says excitedly on the phone, even though he already knows what he wants to do. You show up thinking it’ll be fifteen minutes… and suddenly three hours have passed. He pulls you into the practice room, plays the song, dances while holding your hands, laughs loudly, and keeps finding new reasons to make you stay. “Wait, wait — now tell me if this part looks better like this or like that.” Anything to keep you there a little longer.

when you’re not near him, he loses his energy. The usually hyper, sunshine Hoseok becomes quieter, less talkative, his movements slower. The members notice immediately. “Hyung, you’ve been staring at your phone for twenty minutes without moving,” Jimin teases. Hoseok just laughs softly and says “I’m fine,” but his leg keeps bouncing and he keeps checking the time, waiting for the moment he can call you again. Your presence is literally his battery — without it, the light dims.

he hugs you like he’s trying to keep you forever. His arms wrap around you tightly, almost desperately, squeezing you against his chest as if he could merge you two into one person. He lifts you off the ground sometimes, spinning you around while laughing brightly, then buries his face in your neck and holds you there for long seconds. “Don’t go yet,” he whispers against your skin, voice still cheerful but with a hint of real need. His hugs feel like safety, warmth, and a silent promise that he never wants to let go.

he smiles so much when you’re with him — that big, beautiful, eye-smiling smile that lights up entire rooms. He laughs at everything you say, even when it’s not that funny. He takes hundreds of photos of you (and selfies of both of you) because “I need to save this moment forever.” But the second you say you have to leave, that smile falters. It doesn’t disappear completely — he’s still Hoseok — but it becomes softer, a little sad, almost pleading. “Already? But we were having so much fun…”

That’s his mantra. He says it while holding your hand, while pulling you back to the couch, while hugging you at the door. Five more minutes turns into thirty. Thirty turns into an hour. He’ll follow you to the elevator, still holding your hand, still smiling but with those slightly sad eyes. “Just until the car arrives, okay? I’ll miss you too much.”

he gets adorably dramatic when you have to go. “My sunshine is leaving me… how am I supposed to dance now? How am I supposed to smile?” He pouts cutely, doing aegyo on purpose to make you stay longer, then laughs at himself and pulls you into another bone-crushing hug. When you finally leave, he stands at the window or door watching you go, waving enthusiastically until you’re out of sight. Then he sighs, the bright energy dropping again until the next time he can call you.

even at night his clinginess doesn’t stop. He video calls you before bed just to say goodnight, but the call lasts an hour because he keeps finding new topics. When you’re together, he cuddles impossibly close — legs tangled, arms locked around you, face pressed against your chest or neck. “Stay with me until I fall asleep?” he asks softly, even though he knows he’ll try to keep you awake as long as possible.

he’s desperate in the sweetest way. Desperate for your laugh, your touch, your attention. If you’re busy for a whole day, he sends messages every couple of hours: funny memes, videos of him dancing, voice notes saying “I miss my favorite person.” When you finally meet again, he runs to you, picks you up and spins you around, hugging you so tightly you can barely breathe. “Never leave me for that long again, okay? My heart gets sad.”

Hoseok’s clingy love is pure sunshine mixed with a deep, almost desperate need to keep you by his side. He may be the brightest member, the one who lifts everyone’s mood, but you are his personal source of light. Without you, the world feels a little less colorful. So he calls, he hugs, he smiles, he begs for “just a little more time” — because every second with you makes his heart feel full in a way nothing else can.

And even when he’s waving goodbye with that brave smile, you know he’s already counting the minutes until he can say "Come here quickly"  again… because for J-Hope, “a little more” is never really enough when it comes to you. He wants all of your time, all of your presence, and all of your love — and he’ll give you every drop of his sunshine in return.

————

𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧

he’s clingy in the most emotional, intense, sweet, and almost dependent way imaginable. Jimin doesn’t just want to be close to you — he needs you like air. His love is soft on the surface but carries a deep emotional weight, like his heart is quietly terrified that one day you might slip away. He follows you around the house without even realizing he’s doing it, always a few steps behind, like a little puppy who can’t bear any distance between you two.

he touches you constantly, as if his body needs constant reassurance that you’re real and you’re his. His hand finds yours without thinking, fingers intertwining naturally. When you’re sitting together, his head rests on your shoulder, or his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. Even when you’re cooking, he’ll come up behind you, chin on your shoulder, arms around your middle, swaying gently while humming. It’s never overwhelming, just constant, warm, and full of quiet affection. If there’s any space between you, he closes it immediately, like it physically hurts him.

he follows you everywhere. You get up to grab a glass of water? He’s right behind you. You go to the bedroom to change? He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with those big, sparkling eyes. “I just wanted to be with you,” he says softly when you notice, smiling like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He doesn’t even realize how attached he is — it’s pure instinct.

he gets incredibly needy when you talk to other people. If you’re laughing with one of the members or giving attention to someone else, Jimin becomes quiet, a little pout forming on his lips. He doesn’t interrupt, but he’ll move closer, resting his head on your arm or slipping his hand into yours, silently asking for your focus again. Later, when you’re alone, he’ll use that soft, tiny voice: "Are you mad at me?"  even when you’re not. He asks it so cutely, eyes wide and slightly anxious, because the thought of you being upset with him breaks his heart a little.

his emotional side comes out strongly at night. Jimin loves sleeping close to you — extremely close. He curls up against your body like he was made to fit there perfectly. Legs tangled with yours, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, face buried in your neck. He falls asleep breathing you in, but even in his sleep his grip doesn’t loosen. If you move even a little, he wakes up halfway, mumbling sleepily “Don’t go… stay with me” and pulls you back tighter. He needs the warmth, the closeness, the feeling of your heartbeat against him.

when you have to leave, even for a few hours, his clinginess becomes more obvious. He holds you at the door for longer than necessary, face hidden in your neck, squeezing you like he’s trying to memorize how you feel. “Just five more minutes…” he whispers, even though you both know it’ll turn into ten, fifteen. When you finally pull away, he stands there watching you go with that beautiful but slightly sad smile, waving until you disappear. Then he sighs, already counting the minutes until you come back.

he sends the softest messages when you’re apart. Voice notes in that gentle, sweet tone: “I miss you already… when are you coming back?” or “Can you send me a photo? I want to see your face.” If you take a while to reply, he doesn’t get dramatic — he just gets quieter, a little more emotional, waiting patiently but with his heart feeling heavy.

he’s intensely dependent on your affection. A single hug from you can fix his whole day. When he’s tired after practice, he seeks you out immediately, melting into your arms with a soft sigh of relief. “You make everything better,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and full of feeling. He looks at you like you hold his entire world in your hands, because in his heart, you really do.

sometimes his clinginess makes him vulnerable. He’ll look at you with those expressive eyes and say quietly, “I know I’m a lot sometimes… but I can’t help it. When you’re not here, it feels like something is missing.” He gets shy after admitting it, hiding his face in your chest, but the honesty is so pure and raw that it makes you fall for him even harder.

That’s exactly how he feels. Every time you leave, it’s like you’re taking a piece of him with you. So he clings — emotionally, physically, desperately but sweetly. He follows you, touches you, needs you, loves you with every fiber of his being in the most tender and intense way.

Jimin’s clingy love is like a warm blanket you never want to take off. Soft, emotional, and so full of devotion that it wraps around your heart and refuses to let go. He may be the sweetest, most affectionate person in the world, but with you he becomes even softer — a man who just wants to stay close, stay loved, and stay yours forever.

Because for him, the best place in the world is right beside you, touching you, breathing the same air as you. And he’ll keep following you, holding you, and whispering “don’t go” with that beautiful, loving gaze… for as long as you’ll let him.

————

𝐯

he’s clingy in the strangest, most artistic, and breathtakingly beautiful way possible. Taehyung doesn’t love you in ordinary ways. His affection is poetic, surreal, and deeply intense — like he sees the entire universe inside you and wants to capture every second of your existence. He doesn’t just want you close… he wants to experience you, observe you, turn moments with you into living art. His clinginess is quiet, unexpected, and full of wonder.

he looks at you like you’re his greatest masterpiece. Those deep, expressive eyes stay on you for long moments, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face, every shade in your eyes, every small movement of your lips. Sometimes you catch him staring and he doesn’t look away. He just tilts his head slightly, a soft, dreamy smile forming, like he’s seeing colors and light no one else can. “You’re so beautiful… like a painting that moves,” he whispers once, voice low and sincere, before going quiet again, still watching.

he takes secret photos of you all the time. Not in a creepy way — in a reverent, artistic way. You’ll be reading a book, looking out the window, or simply laughing at something and he’ll quietly raise his phone, capturing the moment like it’s sacred. Later, you find them in his gallery: candid shots with golden hour lighting, black and white filters, or edited with his own drawings and notes in the corners. “I couldn’t help it,” he says softly when you discover them. “You looked like poetry.”

he holds your hand without any warning. In the middle of walking, while you’re cooking, even when you’re both scrolling on your phones — his long fingers suddenly slide between yours, gripping gently but firmly, like he needs the connection to stay grounded in reality. Sometimes he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles while looking at you, saying nothing. Other times he just holds it against his chest so you can feel his heartbeat, steady and warm.

he keeps calling you for the most random, whimsical things just to keep you near. “Jagiya, come here for a second. I need your opinion on this cloud,” he says, pulling you to the window. Or “Let’s listen to this song together right now — I think it was written for your eyes.” What starts as “five minutes” becomes hours of him playing piano for you, showing you his new drawings, or lying on the floor together staring at the ceiling while he talks about dreams and galaxies. He always finds new excuses. He needs your presence like an artist needs his muse.

sometimes he becomes completely quiet, just watching you breathe. He’ll lie beside you in bed, propped up on one elbow, eyes tracing the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelashes flutter, the peace on your face. No words. Just pure, intense observation. If you ask what he’s doing, he answers in that deep, velvet voice: “I’m studying you. I want to remember how life looks when it’s inside you.” Then he leans in and presses the softest kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he’s sealing the moment forever.

his clinginess is artistic and unpredictable. He’ll suddenly pull you into his lap while he’s painting, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can work with you close. He takes you on spontaneous midnight drives just to watch the city lights reflect in your eyes. He writes your name in the condensation on the bathroom mirror after you shower. He collects small things that remind him of you — a flower petal, a ticket stub, a strand of your hair he keeps between pages of his favorite book.

when you have to leave, even for a short time, his artistic soul feels the absence deeply. He doesn’t whine loudly like Jin. Instead, he gets softer, more melancholic. He hugs you at the door for a long time, arms wrapped around you, breathing you in like he’s trying to store your scent for later. “Come back soon,” he murmurs against your hair. “The colors feel wrong when you’re gone.”

he sends you the most beautiful, random messages. Photos of sunsets with captions like “This reminded me of the way you smile.” Voice notes of him humming songs he wrote thinking about your hands. Sometimes he just sends a single heart emoji at 3 a.m. because he woke up and missed the sound of your breathing beside him.

he’s emotionally and artistically dependent on your presence. You are his favorite color, his favorite melody, his favorite form of art. When you’re together, the world feels more vivid to him. He becomes more inspired, more alive. And when you’re apart, he carries pieces of you in his art, in his thoughts, in the way he touches everything with the same gentleness he touches you.

That’s exactly how Taehyung loves you. Not casually. Not simply. He loves you like an artist loves his eternal muse — with quiet intensity, with stolen photographs, with long silences filled with admiration, with sudden hand-holding and random invitations to exist together. He doesn’t just cling to your body. He clings to your soul, to your light, to every small detail that makes you who you are.

Because to Kim Taehyung, you aren’t just the person he loves.

You are living art. 

You are poetry in human form. 

And he will keep observing, capturing, and holding onto you in the most beautiful, strange, and devoted way possible — for as long as you let him stay by your side, quietly creating masterpieces out of every shared breath.

————

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

he’s clingy in the most intense, competitive, and protective way possible. Jungkook doesn’t do anything halfway — especially not when it comes to you. You are his favorite person, his favorite routine, his safe place, and he wants to be part of every single second of your day. He tries to play it cool, calling it “just looking out for you,” but everyone can see it’s pure, deep, unstoppable clinginess mixed with that golden maknae competitiveness and his strong instinct to protect what he loves.

he wants to be near you all the time. Literally always. If you’re in the living room, he’s there. If you move to the kitchen, he follows two steps behind like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’ll be brushing your teeth and suddenly see him leaning against the bathroom door, arms crossed, watching you with that soft but intense gaze. “What? I was just passing by,” he says with a shy smile, but he stays right there until you’re done. He follows you around the house so naturally that it feels like you two are magnetically connected.

he touches you constantly. His hand finds your waist when you’re standing, pulling you gently against his side. His shoulder brushes yours when you walk together. He rests his chin on top of your head when you’re cooking, arms wrapped around you from behind. Even when you’re sitting on the couch, his leg is pressed against yours, or his fingers are playing with the hem of your shirt. The touches are warm, firm, and almost possessive — like he needs the physical reminder that you’re really there with him.

he gets adorably sulky when you give attention to others. It’s subtle at first — a small pout, a little frown, his bunny teeth disappearing as his lips press together. If you’re laughing with Jimin or talking too long with Taehyung, Jungkook suddenly becomes extra competitive. He’ll start showing off: doing push-ups in the living room, singing loudly, or coming over and wrapping his arms around you from behind while saying casually, “Baby, come help me with something.” He doesn’t get angry, but that little jealous pout appears and only goes away when you give him your full attention again.

he’s extremely protective, even in small things. “Wear this hoodie, it’s colder today,” he says, already putting it over your shoulders. If you’re going out, he checks the weather, makes sure you ate, and texts you “let me know when you get there, okay?” He says it’s just him being responsible, but the truth is he worries the second you’re not under his watch. When you’re together in public, he walks on the side closer to the street, keeps a hand on your lower back, and scans the surroundings like he’s ready to fight anyone who looks at you the wrong way.

"I'm just looking out for you,"  he repeats often, with that sincere, slightly shy look. But you both know it’s more than that. It’s carência. It’s the way his chest feels lighter when you’re close. It’s how he sleeps best when you’re curled up against him, his arm locked around your waist like an anchor. At night he pulls you as close as physically possible, chest pressed to your back, nose buried in your hair, legs tangled with yours. If you try to move away even a little, he makes a small, sleepy sound and tightens his hold.

he turns everyday moments into his favorite routine. Morning workouts? He wants you there watching or working out with him. Gaming session? He pulls you onto his lap so you can play together. Cooking? He’s hugging you from behind the entire time. Even when he’s focused on his own projects — music, workouts, drawing — he keeps stealing glances at you and eventually gives up, coming over to rest his head on your lap or pull you into his arms. “I work better when you’re near,” he admits quietly.

his competitiveness shows even in his clinginess. If one of the members hugs you for too long, Jungkook is suddenly there, lifting you up in his strong arms and carrying you away while laughing. “My turn,” he says playfully, but there’s a real edge of “she’s mine” in his eyes. He loves winning your attention, your laughs, your time. He wants to be your favorite person just as much as you are his.

when you have to leave, even for a few hours, he becomes extra intense. He walks you to the door, hugs you tightly, buries his face in your neck and sighs deeply. “Come back soon, okay? The house feels empty without you.” He texts you throughout the day — not too much, but enough. Photos of his food, videos of him working out, random “I miss you” messages with that cute pout selfie. When you finally return, he lights up completely, picking you up and spinning you around before carrying you straight to the couch to cuddle.

he’s intense about the little things too. He remembers exactly how you like your coffee, what makes you laugh the most, which side of the bed you prefer. He competes with himself to be better for you every day — stronger, sweeter, more present. Because to Jungkook, loving you is a full-time commitment, and he throws his whole heart into it.

"You are my favorite routine."

That’s the deepest truth. His days feel better when they start and end with you. He loves the ordinary moments — brushing teeth together, sharing snacks, quiet evenings where he can hold you close while playing games. You’re not just someone he loves. You’re his peace, his motivation, his favorite part of every single day.

Jungkook’s clingy love is intense, protective, and beautifully devoted. He follows you, touches you, watches over you, and gets a little sulky when your attention strays because you’ve become the center of his world. He may say he’s “just taking care of you,” but the way he holds you like you might disappear, the way his eyes soften when you’re near, and the way he smiles the brightest when you’re in his arms… it all says the same thing.

You are his favorite routine. 

And he never wants to break it.

© stlllle — 2O26

They were.

Though now, he looks like nothing more than a neutered puppy. The man's whimpering certainly doesn’t help with the picture either. It almost makes Seokjin want to laugh.

Namjoon is crouched on the other side of the body– body because that is simply what this man is, if he doesn’t start to give them answers. He doesn’t have much of a face left now anyway, so he might as well be.

The pack alpha’s hand is fisted into the betas hair, the tendon in his arms twitching from the effort of forcing the man's head into the ground over, and over, and over again. Slamming his head into the cold hardwood floor of the office, other bodies scattered around their forms. 

The pool of red is still growing.

The pack alpha is huffing, there is a glorious fire in his eyes. Seokjin thinks he looks beautiful. 

“Should I ask you again?” Seokjin questions, head tilting to the side. A small, placid smile dotting the corner of his lips, condescension radiating from his entire being as Namjoon pulls the man's head up just high enough once more.

What an ugly thing he has become. Maybe he’s the unlucky one, the lucky ones are probably the corpses scattered across the floor. At least they didn’t have to undergo their combined fury. 

He should have just given Seokjin the answers he wanted already. 

Seokjin sighs once more, looking up at Namjoon, “It doesn’t seem like he wants to, does it?”

Seokjin registers the opening of the office door. Huh, he really did not think anyone else was in the house today. Not that it matters much, Seokjin will deal with them the exact same way. 

He sighs, closing his eyes as he stands. His arms feel tight in his suit, but he raises one anyway. Cresting it on the same side of his neck where Namjoon had left his bite, using its force to aid him in cracking his neck. 

Seokjin doesn’t have time to dilly dally. He’ll be sure to make this quick. 

The intruder relieves a sharp gasp from his lungs, the lazy drawl of Seokjin’s lids to draw upwards, taking him in for the very first time.

Soft, perfectly cut straight brown hair. Large doe eyes. Perfectly sculpted nose with little moles dotting around his face in constallations.

Seokjin’s recognition of him is instantaneous. 

Jeon Jeongguk. 23. Important. 

The Jeon pack alpha’s only child. The last progeny remaining in their all-alpha familial line. 

Well damn, Seokjin was sure he wasn’t here. From the information Seokjin gathered before setting out to the groups's territory, the kid was practically treated as royalty. Spoiled rotten, coddled. There were even rumours he had never gone outside before. 

Seokjin didn’t believe them, of course not, that would be a rather auspicious thing to do. But with how much he had heard about Jeongguk’s treatment, he didn't think they would just let the kid wander around on his own in a clan meeting house like this. He doubted Jeongguk would be involved in territorial conflicts at all. He was a member of the familial pack, not the territorial one like Seokjin… interogates… now. The distinction is clear as clear as day. 

Looks like his intel may have been wrong. 

Not only is he here and involved with them, he looks like a deer in headlights. His cheeks are turning a bright shade of red. It looks as though there are sparkles in his eyes. To be honest, Seokjin is taken aback. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but not something so… passionate. Something so devoted. 

Is…. is this kid staring at  Namjoon with… admiration…? While Namjoon has Jeongguk’s mom’s right hand is in a bloodied heap on the floor?

Huh. Well, this is certainly a surprising change of tune.

“S-Sir! Please leave! Don’t get yourself involved with this!” Huh, so the body still did have a voice. He was sure Namjoon had squeezed it out of him by now. Regardless, the words have Seokjin turning his head back towards the mess on the floor, back towards his alpha. 

Oh. Seokjin’s eyes go wide. 

Namjoon is staring right back at Jeongguk, that same star-crossed lovers expression on his face. Looking at him like the universe just changed for the better. 

Turning back towards the younger, Seokjin confirms it– they are simply enamoured with one another.

When he makes the motion, when all the attention in the room is directly only at Jeongguk, it is clear the kid notices. His posture straightens, his chest puffing out just slightly. The most determined look that Seokjin has ever seen is as obvious as ever written across his features. 

One of his arms raises up– certainly not the arms of someone who has had experience fighting– a single finger pointing towards both Seokjin and Namjoon. A cocksure smile on the pure alphas lips. 

The world spins. This is nothing like Seokjin had been expecting out of the day. 

“I want you.” He pauses, the determined smile blooming brighter. Seokjin doesn’t know how the kid could be so positive in such a thing– Seokjin needs time to fall, he guesses Jeongguk doesn’t. “Both of you.”

A sickening crack sounds throughout the room, the betas death as clear as day, though no one really pays attention. Instead, everything revolves around Namjoon rising to a stand right next to Seokjin, a similar smile on his own face.

“I feel like there are a few questions you should be asking instead of just saying something so bold.” All the rage Namjoon spoke with before the entry of Jeongguk is gone, a similar confident air in his tone. “Like who are we, why are we in your office. Why we just killed your clans beta.” 

“I don’t care.” Jeongguk, though Seokjin just met him, looks like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “I didn’t like him anyway. He was shitty at taking care of me.” 

Spoiled. 

Namjoon hums, “Shouldn’t you be worried we’re going to kill you, too?”

Jeongguk thinks for a second, eyes looking up at the ceiling as he considers. “No. You want me.” 

Maybe not spoiled. Maybe just sheltered if he thinks that simply about such things.  

“You’ll have to deal with a few more than just us.” Namjoon leans forward a bit, the air around him bending to his will. Haughty. Attractive. “We have 4 other mates.” 

Oh. Jeongguk now looks as though he is simply vibrating with delight. His teeth– ones Seokjin notices look like a bunnies– make an appearance, biting his lower lip. 

“I want them, too.” 

Well, Seokjin’s dealings are certain to become a lot more smooth from this point onwards. 

NOW.

Jeongguk hasn’t slept. 

Well, okay, to be honest, he’s not sure he remembers the last time he actually had a full nights rest. 

Wait– no, that isn’t true either. The last night he did it was the night after he saw you for the first time, he remembers it clearly, actually. He would rather die than forget it. He would never in a million years forget dreaming of you. 

He was in the woods, you were there too, obviously. Scampering between trees, looking so cute and playful. God, you were so fucking adorable– calling out to him, asking him to chase you. 

Fuck, who was he to say no? He simply he complied. He would be an idiot to deny you of anything ever. 

When he caught you? It felt like the last of his dreams had finally come true. 

You were giggling underneath him, his body pinning you down by your shoulders. Your eyes in the prettiest little crests that he kissed over and over again. 

He remembers the end, where you made him promise to find you when he woke up, too. 

…Yeah.

He hasn’t had a full night's rest since then. But especially last night, last night he didn’t get a wink. Not even the half-hearted nap he usually gets by on. 

How was he supposed to sleep after Joon broke the news that they would be going to your house the very next day? The house that he knows belongs to you now, all thanks to Yoongi. The house where– where–

Jeongguk clenches his fist, lets his nails dig into the skin of his palms as a way to manage the putrid smell that was already beginning to leak from his pores. In the tight confines of the armoured truck, he knows everyone else will be able to smell it. 

Should he really care? Probably not. But he doesn’t want the second– first?--  time you smell him to be so… so unpleasant. He wants you to smell the real him. The alpha who your heart and soul belong to, the one you’ll build a future with. The one that can provide for you, that can take you out of whatever hell you’ve been keeping yourself in–

How long would it take before you let him give you a bite? How long will it take for you to give one to him?

Soon, hopefully. God, he can’t even count how many times he’s stroked his cock to the thought of your cute little fangs piercing the skin of his neck. How blown out your eyes would be with pretty red dotting your mouth. Do you even know that he saved the left side of his neck for you? Waited so many years just for his perfect omega to leave tangible evidence on his skin of your simple belonging to one another. 

… Well, he hasn’t thought about it in awhile, but the point still stands. He hasn’t been able to, not since your face began to retain the essence of a shadowless blob whenever you appear in his mind, when you appear in front of him. Just…just out of reach. 

Fucking had been in reach for over two weeks. 

His top lip curls at the thought. He reminds himself to stop thinking such shitty things. 

It doesn’t work.

He just needs to see you, and then everything will be right again. He’ll be able to protect you. His pack will be complete. The last piece of his soul, the part that felt like it has been missing will finally click into place. 

Everything will be perfect. 

You’ll be perfect.

Jeongguk forces his head back into reality as the wheels of the vehicle roll to a stop. His neck cocking to the side, deep eyes locking on Seokjin in the driver's seat. The clicking of metal registers in his ears, his hand clenching around the barrel of his semi-automatic a little tighter, the gun propped up against the floor, muzzle facing the sky.

“We're here.” Seokjin hums, completely carefree. Jeongguk isn’t sure how, to be honest. “We have a bit of a hike, if Jimin’s map is right.” 

Today determines the rest of his future… do they not get that? Of course they don’t. They don’t understand what you and him have, no matter how much they might try to. They don’t understand the levels at which his entirety calls out to you. 

He’s already reaching for the handle of the door, his entire body itching to leave, when another voice stops him– Joons’, “Gguk-ah, do a scan for us.”

His nose scrunches up while a little wrinkle finds itself between his brows, “Huh? Why me?” 

That isn’t his job. He’s not good at that sort of thing. 

At that, Joon only shrugs, handing the binoculars back behind him, “I trust you more to do it.” 

Heat washes over Jeongguk instantly. The simple words have an even simpler effect on his body– his ears and eyes perk up a bit more, right alone with his chest swelling. No matter how much he just wants to get moving, that line has Jeongguk already hauling his upper half through the sunroof of the armoured vehicle, eyes scanning the distance. 

From the top of the hill the pack has managed to find themself on, looking off into the distance is an easy task. Any subtle clearing is discovered, especially the very one they think contains your cabin. 

Jeongguk sees it easily, mentally comparing it to the map he had been studying the entire ride over– the piece of paper that Jimin and Taehyung marked your approximate location on. Seems like they were paying enough attention to get that right, at least. Even if they might have messed up your potential first meeting. 

No. As much as Jeongguk is angry at them, he’s even more upset with Yoongi. At least Jimin and Tae could plead ignorance. What they did was only a reaction to Yoongi.

What Yoongi did to him was straight malice. 

Hiding you. Keeping you after he found out you were an omega. Only confirming it after Jeongguk was on the verge of a breakdown because he couldn’t fucking remember–

He takes another deep breath, centering himself. He’s lucky he’s been practicing the breathing exercises Seokjin-hyung has been prescribing and that the thought of meeting you soon is somewhat settling.

“Yeah. House is where Jimin said.” Jeongguk states, plain as day. Giving one final sweep before getting ready to hop down. Nothing much falling along the dense forest tree line. 

Lucky that autumn was on their side– if it was any warmer out, the tree leafs may have kept you covered. 

“It looks–” Wait, what was that? 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of light in the distance. Too solid to be a solar flare, too obvious to be a trick of the mind. Twisting the lens to make it focus, something different comes into view.

A truck, hardly hidden at all against the trees. Standing out so loudly it might as well be a homing beacon to anyone who wanted to discover its presence. 

“Wait, hyung, I think–” Jeongguk scrunches his eyes, the hard plastic of the binoculars digging into his skin as he pushes his face into them deeper, like that will help him see better. “I think there's a truck over there?” 

“Mm.” He hears the shifting of guns, probably Joon following the direction of his pointed finger from where the first car had already unloaded onto the ground. “About the same distance away as the house?” 

Fuck if he knows, Jeongguk has always been shit with distances. It’s normally Yoongi’s job to take note of the perimeters like this– he still doesn’t know why he’s been put on the case instead. Why has he been given a job when all he wants to do is think about you. It's annoying. 

He doesn’t need to be managed. He doesn’t need to be distracted. 

“Yeah, looks like it.” Jeongguk pulls the binoculars from his face before taking a second to inhale, tasting the scent of the wind on his tongue. He won’t make the same mistake again. 

He pulls himself the rest of the way out of the sunroof, heavy gun clattering against his shoulder as he jumps to the ground with a practiced ease only gained from experience. His form landing with a thud, both feet on the ground as he squats, one balled hand taking the brunt of the force not received by his knees. 

He stands, eyes glued into the distance. 

“We didn’t see any cars out here before.” Jimin’s voice is in his ears, but he half ignores it. He’s not focused on the conversation of his mates right now, all he can think about is the alpha in his head. The one telling him that these are your woods. 

“Tracks.” Taehyung is supplying his mate, just like he always does. 

“Yeah, there were tire tracks, but they didn’t lead to a car or anything.” 

“Hm.” Joon is too analytical. Seokjin, too. 

“Does it really matter?” Hoseok groans out the words– Jeongguk hears him cracking his knuckles, “We don’t have all fucking day, and if these two don’t stop laying it on thick there won’t be hiding from the little doe.” 

Jeongguk knows Hoseok is referring to the pheromones he’s releasing, but he really doesn’t give a shit. At least the alpha is speeding the whole thing up– Jeongguk can feel his muscles burning. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves and just goes to get you himself. 

His patience is a tether that is not withstanding gale force winds. 

“We're triangled right between them.” Jeongguk’s eyes roll, unable to stop himself at the sound of Yoongi’s gruff voice chiming in. He guesses at some point he set up shop looking out of the top of the other car with his sniper. “About 750 meters that way is the car, 875 to the house. 1000 between ‘em, too.” 

Soon, Jeongguk hears the footfalls of Yoongi jumping, followed by the scribbling of a pen on a map. He’s starting to get frustrated with all these semantics. These alleged important parts of the job. 

He still doesn’t understand why they have to be so careful about this. 

You’re his soulmate, you’ll understand even if you are a little scared at first. 

“It would be worth it to check it out, at least.” Seokjin’s voice is there– one of Jeongguk’s only hyungs along with Joon that seems to care about how hungry Jeongguk is to have you already. “If Jimin and Taehyung wrecked her house, she could be staying there for cover.” 

What? Jeongguk’s alpha is howling in pain. How could he let his omega live inside of a car?! Even if it’s just for the night, that’s too much for you to go through. It’s just too much. 

You deserve to be in a nice big house, bundled up in his clothes– not anyone elses right now– relaxing in his big bed, the softest blankets surrounding you while he feeds you the meat he’s hunted.

Joon nods his head, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, you go to the truck. Radio us with what you see.”

. . . Jeongguk blinks. 

He blinks again. 

He’s not half listening to the conversation anymore. 

“What?!” His head snaps before his brain can process the words, eyes finally leaving the distant trees you resided in for so long. So long, all alone. So long without him. 

…You missed him, right? Don’t worry, you won’t have to for much longer. 

They want him to go with them to the fucking car?! To the fucking car instead of your house?! They’re insane. Fucking insane. The growl is already in his tone before he can manage to stop it. “No.”

Hoseok’s expression is bored, Namjoon’s is blank, Seokjin’s is sympathetic. Jeongguk couldn’t give any less of a shit. 

“Gguk-ah…” Seokjin is using that tone of voice he always does when Jeongguk gets riled up like this, the one that means he’s treating him like a pup. Sometimes he likes it. Today is not one of those days. “We need Yoongi with us at the main house…”

Wrong thing to say. 

Jeongguk scoffs, “So he gets to see her before me? Are you joking?” 

His bonds pang– the internal urge of half of him wanting to soothe the others displeasure combating with his temperament still burning from the night before. The rest are lucky Hoseok managed to calm him down before he took off on his own last night. 

“No.” There could be something more to it, something they’re not telling him. They never tell him things. Or maybe they do– either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s pissed right now. All he can feel is that. “We just…” 

“They don’t want you to see what the others did and freak out.” Jeongguk has never been more thankful for Hoseok’s blunt tone– at least someone will tell it to him like it is, even when he is worked up like this. 

“Thats…” He would like to argue against their stance– that he totally would not blow up and pounce seeing what Jimin and Tae had done– but the words die on his tongue. He knows it's more than likely, so… he chooses a different route to argue his case. 

He stands a little taller, “I just want to see. I should get to know how my mates been living.” 

“You can see that after, can’t you?” Jimin grumbles, finally merging himself back into the main conversation from where Taehyung had him dragged away before. 

Oh, of course, it would be Jimin saying that very thing. The one who wants to avoid Jeongguk seeing whatever state they left his soulmate's den in. 

“Jimin, be quiet.” Seokjin sighs, trying once again to be the mediator. Jeongguk normally thinks it’s an incredible skill to have. He respects Seokjin a lot for him stepping up as second in command of the pack, but he’s having trouble retaining any of that sense now as he feels the biting breeze against his cheeks. As he feels the woods trying to speak to him. 

“We need you to take the lead here, okay? Manage these 2 and direct them if she’s at the truck instead of the house.” 

He feels like he’s going to scream. 

See, the issue here is that Gguk doesn’t give a shit about pack dynamics. 

He feels like a broken record due to how often he repeats it, but all he cares about is you. 

He doesn’t give a shit that more people are needed to case a house than a truck. He doesn’t care that Jimin and Yoongi can’t be in a group together out of fear of them fighting. Doesn’t care that he can’t be with Yoongi either due to the fact he will definitely be fighting him. 

Hell, it doesn’t bother him that Hoseok doesn’t see the point in getting you, or that Seokjin is only following along because of Joon’s lead. Sure, he’s frustrated by the way Yoongi’s eyes light up whenever you are discussed, and by the way that Tae shrinks away at the same mention. He didn’t even argue last night when he was excluded from Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin’s meeting last night while they were plotting today out.

He doesn’t care that the groups split makes the most logical sense– that the packs 3 highest in command should all be at the larger site. He doesn’t even care that the rest of them probably don’t even realise that he understands all of it– that he accounts for every minor detail, too.

He doesn’t give a shit about fucking anything other than getting to you and it feels like the others just aren’t listening to how his wolf howls for you. 

He feels like he’s going in circles. 

His head certainly is. 

He should just go. He should just start listening to his instincts just like everyone else does. He should– 

Namjoon’s solid hand comes down on his shoulder, his frame leaning down just slightly to look in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Gguk-ah. I’m counting on you. If you find her, you’ll catch her.” 

Fuck. Jeongguk does care about that. 

Cares about Joon. About the other pure-alphas approval. 

As his heart begins to beat a little faster, he takes a step back while tossing the strap of his gun over his shoulder. His boots crunch against the solid soil as he turns his back to the rest of the pack, making sure his face is hidden before any sort of blush tries to rise to his cheeks. 

Joon always makes fun of him for that.

“Whatever.” He grunts out, trying to keep it a secret how affected by his pack alpha he is. He’s not the pack’s pup anymore. He shouldn’t get so worked up over little things. “Let’s go.”

“If you see anything, radio.” Hoseok reminds, a slight strain in his voice from what Jeongguk can only imagine is another stretch. Another part of the generals routine. “Kill anything you see, infected people or alive ones. Doesn’t matter to me.” 

As if Jeongguk doesn’t know that already. 

He grunts, marching off down the unbeaten path with his two elder packmates in tow. His brain tuning out the words of the other four as his brain already moves onto the next thing. As the woods start to feel more and more familiar the deeper he finds himself going inside.

…He’s going to make sure the promise he made to the you in his dreams stays alive and well.

Yoongi's pace meanders a few behind the rest of the group, the heavy metal of his favourite gun thunking against his back with every step he takes. The smell of the damp forest floor invades his nostrils with every small pant he takes, the morning dew making the floor wet as mud decides to cling to his boots. 

He never thought he would be out in the woods again. 

His head tilts towards the sky as he thinks, lets his mind wander away from the sounds of birds while he has a moment to do so. His body instinctively following the guidance of the rest of his mates without having to put any conscious effort into doing so, something in him knowing they would keep him safe even if he got a little distracted. 

The last time Yoongi stepped foot into the forest… into any woods like these… it had to be at least 10 years ago.

He doesn’t know how you live in them. How you survive it.

He knows the crushing weight of the trees.  

He’s been trying to figure out how since last night, to be honest. Ever since Jimin mapped out roughly where you had been staying, he’s been wondering why you forced yourself out here. How long you’ve been managing.

The woods are so tall, how do you fight against them all on your own? 

Yoongi couldn’t. Still can’t, probably. 

Logically, he has to remind himself, something dense like this is probably safer from intruders– not safe enough, if Jimin and Taehyung were able to find you–  and zombies. There were far less out here than there were constantly battering against the walls of their compound. Hoseok had only managed to spot 2 on their hike so far, both are double-dead now. So comes safety from others in isolation, he guesses. Maybe that’s how you view it. He almost wishes he could, too. 

Still not safe enough. 

Yeah, for once Yoongi has to agree with his inner alpha. You’re not safe enough. Not if two of his pack mates were able to track you down. Not if what they say is true about you having been out here alone for who knows how long. 

As much as he hates the idea of taking that decision away from you, he hates the idea of you dying even more. He hates the idea of not being able to keep you safe from pain, from letting you rot out here.

That’s all forests do. They infest your brain with rot. 

Yoongi can’t stand the idea of stumbling upon you, fungus covering your skin. 

He can give you back other freedoms later. It’s what he’s promised himself. You’ll– okay, you probably won’t like his pack at first. He would be the first person to admit that, regardless of how much he cares for them. But… but eventually you might come around. You might like hi–

Yoongi shakes his head, forcing himself away from the train of thought his alpha keeps forcing him down. 

He’s coming to get you, to protect you as a friend. Someone he considers a friend, even if it was only one night spent together under fictional stars. Even if he did just plan to let it all blur away.

He’s not coming to you as an alpha with a prerogative. He just… he wants you to be okay. Especially after what Jimin and Taehyung did. He just wants to make sure that you're safe. That you’re not spiralling like he would be under the same circumstances. 

Yoongi hates the woods. 

…Yoongi wants Jeongguk to forgive him. 

He probably won’t. 

He should probably stop worrying himself over it. He has more pressing matters to deal with– ones that are only a few meters away, not in an entirely different group, heading to another location. 

The guilty part of him hopes Jeongguk will find you first, but the selfish part of him, the ever present one that seems intertwined with his wolf, hopes that he will get the honour.

It isn’t good for you to be alone. You shouldn’t have to suffer through it.

Yoongi is projecting, he knows it. He also can’t stop it, and honestly, doesn’t want to. He wants to feel connected to you. Maybe he’s being selfish again by allowing himself to do so.

…Well, he is the only one who’s actually met you. He’s the one you felt– feel safe with.

 His fingers twitch, he wants to just hurry up with it all, already. He wants to get you out of here, bring you to the house. Comfort you, if you’d let him.

…Would you let him? 

His heart starts beating a little bit faster. That can’t be good. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Hoseoks’s hushed voice makes its way into his muddled mind, a broad shoulder bumping into his unsteady frame. 

Yoongi’s eyes slowly draw back from the sky, instead finding their place upon Hoseoks’s handsome face instead. Too handsome. It looks like it was carved by one of the greats. It isn’t fair. 

“That’s rich coming from you.” Yoongi deadpans like he definitely wasn’t just admiring the pack's chief of combat. 

He totally wasn’t. “You never think when Namjoons’ ‘round.”

God, they’ve been together how many years and Yoongi still pretends to be coy. He knows Hoseok sees through it, though, so there’s really no harm. Not like when the Jeongguk first joined the pack and became acquainted with Yoongi’s sharp, unrelenting tongue. Yoongi will never forget the complete embarrassment of having to explain what Jimin dubbed his ‘cuteness aggression.’ 

Bleh.

It was the most embarrassing day of his life. 

Thankfully, Hoseok likes it when Yoongi gets mean. Says it ‘gets him going’. 

Hmph. 

“Yeah, well it’s their job. I’m not on the clock right now.” Hoseok smiles, both of his arms raising up to hold the back of his head up. “Let Seokjin deal with it. Looks like he has a stick up his ass, anyway.”

Yeah, Yoongi guesses that’s true. Hoseok isn’t leading the pack’s recruits on any kind of clearing mission, nor is he leading anyone into war. Still, he doesn’t know how he is just so relaxed about everything when Yoongi feels like he’s dying inside. 

Still, he doesn’t think he agrees with the idea of it being anyone else's job, especially not Seokjins’.

Yoongi hazards at the body next to the pack alphas. He still doesn’t understand why Seokjin acts like a saint. Their rooms are next to each other, he’s heard the elder’s rants. Yoongi’s one of the few other than the pack alpha that knows his position. 

Huh, maybe Seokjin never realised how thin the walls are. 

“Bullshit. You’re a control freak.” Yoongi grunts, “If Namjoon didn’t force you out of taking the lead, you’d be up there instead.” 

Hoseok simply hums, acknowledging Yoongi. Probably agreeing that it's true in his head.

“Jin!” Hoseok calls up ahead, pulling Seokjin back towards the tail end rather than the front. Yoongi watches as he turns, as he lets his footsteps slow to allow for Yoongi and Hoseok to catch up. 

Yoongi feels Hoseok’s hands on his shoulders, forcing him up in front, a big heart-shaped smile on his lips, “This one’s thinking too much. Calm him down.”  

“Yah. Stop it.” Yoongi tries to shrug off the younger, but fails miserably. Hoseok’s grip is tight, his fists massaging the flesh, “That’s not his job.”

The conversation feels easy. Too easy, for the current conditions. Zfor the way Yoongi is feeling. He doesn’t fully feel like he deserves their care.

“Aish! What are you talking about! It’s what I was recruited for!” Seokjin huffs, a fake glare directed at Namjoon’s back steady across his features.  

“Receuited?” Yoongi almost wants to laugh, “Not the story I heard.” 

As much as Yoongi likes to feign disinterest, he certainly does not miss the colouring of red rising to Seokjin’s ears. The corners of his hips curl, already completely aware the elder is going to go on one of his tirades. 

Cute. Seokjin is cute. 

“Yah!” The elders whisper raises a hair, his lips pouting out a bit more as his words increase in pace. “That brat wouldn’t leave me alone— what did you expect me to do?! He wasn’t even in my department—“

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes staring at the ground. Yoongi doesn’t even try to deny the expression is out of fondness. “You trying to let the whole forest know we’re here?”

“I—“ Seokjin pauses, eyes going wide as he realises just how loud he was getting. His ears get just a bit darker, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, the eldest in the pack just clears his throat, standing a bit straighter. “What were we discussing?” 

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirks, “How Namjoon pursued you for years before you gave into him.”

“Other than that.” 

He shrugs, not really remembering. He wasn’t paying much attention, more so looking for a distraction. 

“Ah,” The weight of Seokjin’s arm is dropped over Yoongi’s shoulder, his head shaking along with the addition. “That’s right. You were thinking too hard. Is it being out here?” There's a slight pause before Seokjin continues, “You don’t need to think about back then anymore.” 

He wishes it was that easy. 

Hoseok’s echo of the past blinks fresh in his mind— ‘Live in the moment with me.’ That’s what Hoseok had said back then. 

Seokjin’s smile feels warm when it’s directed just at Yoongi, “Just let hyung take care of it, okay? We’ll be home soon.” 

Now he is sure his heart is moving at a faster pace than before. 

Hyung.

Yoongi never used those sort of honorifics with Seokjin— it just wasn’t in the nature of their relationship. The elder never outwardly seemed to care, anyway, other than in half-assed jokes. It’s only in times like these that it felt like it mattered. 

Suddenly, Seokjin’s face loses all sense of peace, a cold mask of stone falling over it at the exact same time his body freezes in place, the hike coming to a close. Namjoon’s hand in the air being the direct cause. 

Well, it was nice while it lasted. It is time for action now. 

Namjoon's fingertips curl towards his palm in a silent instruction to lower their frames closer to the ground. The slow, controlled approach to the house already having been planned out since the night before.

Namjoon sends a glance towards the pack’s general, signalling the change of power between them, Hoseok taking over direction.

Yoongi follows it silently without question, waiting for Hoseok’s motion to continue the pursuit forward. He’s always been in awe of the way Hoseok is able to direct everything, to make the motions of a unit seem fluid and conjoined rather than just heaping bodies following orders.

It only takes a glance from Hoseok before Namjoon is moving– the pack alpha gliding through the underbrush as he makes his way around the back of the cabin where he is meant to be stationed in case you try to make a quick exit from the rear. 

Yoongi’s job is a lot more simple than the rest of theirs, he is only meant to be a lookout. Honestly, he’s thankful for it. He’s not sure he could manage much more upon seeing you again. Upon seeing the new conditions of your home.

A few seconds pass, a soft cooing whistle from Hoseok along with the tilt of his head telling Yoongi it’s his turn to move. He does as ordered, moving up from his squat, though certainly not returning to full height as he takes a light jog through the underbrush. Only settling himself down when he finds the angle he was looking for. 

Checking left, checking right– yeah, here will do just fine. He can see your front door, as well as both sides of your house. He’ll be able to spot you if you try to make it through a window. With fewer guys, it might be a little more difficult to catch you, but Yoongi knows Hoseok enjoys the chase.

… He hopes it doesn’t come down to that, but if he does, he’ll try his best to comfort you even if he isn’t the best at it. 

Carefully, Yoongi lowers himself down to the forest floor, pulling the gun off his shoulder right along with the action. He clicks the legs of it down, lowering himself to his stomach to check the view. 

Just as he suspected, it’s perfect. He can see everything. Will definitely be able to spot you if you try to move. 

Fucking hell. Those goddamn assholes broke most of your windows– he can only assume they weren’t like that before. 

It isn’t long before Hoseok and Seokjin come into view, their bodies doing similar low jogs to the ones Yoongi just performed himself. Though their angle was towards the door– if you were here, they were going to get to you first.

Yoongi shakes his head, forcing the jealousy out of his gut. It’s fucking stupid. There isn’t any guarantee you’re still here, anyway. Yoongi knows he would have cleared out first thing if it was hi–

His  breath stops in his throat, his head raising from his site. Pupils darting around the scene in front of him. 

Fuck. Fuck. No, no no. Why is this happening now? Why?

Everything should be fine. Everything is going smoothly. Namjoon should be positioned around the rear of the building by now, Hoseok and Seokjin are counting down in front of your door, ready to make their move. Yoongi is keeping an eye out as he lays against the forest as Hoseok’s hand raises, starting from 5. There are no zombies around, nor other people that Yoongi can smell.

So why why why why why is this happening right now?

Why is something wrong?

That same sensation that settled over him yesterday has returned at a ten-fold. 

Yoongi feels an overwhelming sense of dread in his gut. Worse than he’s felt in a decade. 

Panic starts to take over before he’s able to calm it down, his body rising to a stand. Something shakes against his thigh, but he can’t comprehend it. Not when he knows something is about to go wrong, but he doesn’t know what yet.

The universe had to curse him with the ability to know, but not with the ability to do anything about it before it’s too late.

His legs are moving before his mind can catch up, his body rushing towards the door to stop them. He can’t breathe, he can’t think. Words are willing themselves to leave him. They have to regroup, they would understand. They trust him. They trust his judgment. 

Just a little bit further. A little bit further.

He should have said something. 

The last of Hoseok’s fingers fall, Seokjin’s shoulder slams into the door, breaking it from its hinges. He thinks another figure swoops in, but he isn't really sure. 

The entire world has just become red. 

Yoongi, he can’t move. He can’t do anything. The world stops rotating on its axis, everything moves to a standstill right along with Yoongi’s form. He’s positive things are happening around him, but he can’t process a single one. He can’t.

One second, everything is red. The next, it’s white.

He can’t hear anything, he can only feel red hot pain blossoming in his gut as something hits him. As he is tossed backwards several feet. 

The trees quake due to the force.

Boom.

It doesn’t take Jeongguk long to get to the truck– or maybe it does. He doesn’t remember half of the journey. 

He remembers splitting off from the pack, Jimin and Taehyung trailing behind him. He remembers hearing something reminiscent to a giggle beyond that was similar to the ones in his dreams. Remembers deciding that they meant he was on the right track to find you, that his alpha would never steer him wrong.

He didn’t talk at all the entire journey there, staying focused on the prize. There isn’t time for  any distractions. He needs to see if you’re at the truck, then rush over to the cabin in case you’re there instead. He needs to hold you, tell you that you’re safe now, and bring you home.

Simple enough. There isn’t really much to do but actually do it. He can stop fantasizing about you once you’re actually in his arms. Maybe then the wolf inside of him will finally settle.

He just wants to breathe you in. For you to build a nest in his room.

He promises he won’t go in it! Not until you give him permission to. But just knowing you feel safe enough around him, safe enough around his scent, shit he wants it more than anything else. 

He even has the perfect corner picked out for you already, he’s cleared out space in his closet, too, if you’d rather go there. Sure, he did that forever ago when he still remembered your face, but he’s been keeping it open ever since. He’ll keep it open forever waiting for–

A large hand tugs at the back of his shirt, halting him in his advance forward. The heat of it is almost blinding, but Jeongguk doesn’t let himself get distracted. Of course not, he’s an alpha on a mission.

A haphazard glance over his shoulder is the only thing he offers, finding Taehyung standing there, Jimin still quite a ways away, keeping himself separated. Hm. He’s been like that since yesterday, keeping himself a bit more closed off. 

Good. He should feel bad, even if it was a mistake. Even if Jimin didn’t know you were his.  

Another tug and Jeongguk is brought back to the moment again, a grunt signalling from his throat as a question meant to ask Taehyung what he wants. 

Taehyung’s tongue comes out to lick at his bottom lip lazily, his eyes moving from their stare on Jeongguk to farther ahead on the path. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Taehyung wants him to look, too.

His head turns back to the main trail, vision narrowing. 

Fuck. He didn’t notice that.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Jeongguk’s heart swells, hope filling him to the very brim. Butterflies already dancing in his gut as his eyes go wide, as he feels a gentle heat curve into his cheeks. 

Footprints. There are footprints on the same path they’re following now. 

If Taehyung’s insistence is anything to go by, shit, it means your scent still dots the trees, too. Means that recently you followed the same path Jeongguk trails now. That you might just be living in the very truck Jeongguk is called towards now. 

You– are you really waiting at the truck for him? 

God, his entire being in inflating. His alpha is howling at him to go get you– that something as perfect as you shouldn’t be living out here. You shouldn’t be subjected to living in your truck because of what his idiot mates did. 

Jeongguk’s legs are moving faster than before– he doesn’t really know when his pace picked up, but he knows the others are close to follow. 3 pairs of heavy thuds are marking up the forest floor, along with the sound of clanging guns against shoulders. 

Within a few minutes he’s there. He’s standing in front of something you call your own. 

It takes his breath away. Of course his omega would drive something cute like this– it makes perfect sense for you. Even if he doesn’t know you well yet, he’s sure of it. Oh, or wait… maybe you only use this one cause it’s convenient? Maybe another vehicle style suits you better? He’ll get you a hundred cars, if you want. That way you can know what all of them feel like. It’ll feel so good to provide for you. 

He moves in without really thinking, stalking towards the car, his noise unable to stop itself from the constant sniffing, attempting to weed out your scent from the rest of the woods. It’s difficult for him to, if he’s being honest. He always gets overwhelmed when so many different odours surround him, but he tries for you anyways. 

He thinks he gets some of it, something that smells like beta– he knows better, he knows that even if you smell wrong, you’re still an omega– with hints of eucalyptus. Like some kind of herb used for healing, if he were to guess. 

He frowns. 

Now, standing only a few feet away from your truck, away from the source, he can tell it’s at least a day old. There isn’t anything that smells more fresh, there’s no sign of life within the cabin even with how forgetful he was at the volume of his approach.

It isn’t his fault though! He knows he was supposed to be quiet just in case but you distracted him. It doesn’t look like it matters anyway, you’re clearly nowhere to be found. 

Jeongguk’s shoulders drop– all that hope that had been welling up drifts out. A laboured sigh from Jimin behind him, along with a kick to something– when Jeongguk turns his head, he identifies it as a fishing net with brush interlaced with the rope– signals that the others are sure of the same thing. 

“She’s not here.” Even though Jeongguk is on better terms with Jimin than Yoongi, he still would rather not hear him talk right now. It’s not really any fault of his own, but stating the obvious when it’s clear Jeongguk is already irritated? When he can clearly see that you’re not here? It just makes Jeongguk’s teeth clench together a little tighter.

“I can see that.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, one hand closing around the passenger cabin handle. The muscle in his arm straining in preparation for it to resist the movement, for the door to jerk back. 

It doesn’t. It’s unlocked. 

Jeongguk grunts as he stumbles just slightly, not enough to cause worry or for him to actually fall, but enough for his eyes to go wide. One hand reaching to steady himself on the top of the interior doorframe. His shoulders hunching just slightly while a small, growled ‘fuck’ slips from the back of his throat. 

Thank god you aren’t here. That would’ve looked totally uncool.

He grunts, forcing himself to stand straight and only give half checks to his right and left to re-confirm your absence. Even if he wants to see you, he doesn’t want to look so lame. “We’re still checking. Maybe she left something to say where she’s going.”

“Or maybe she’s at her house.” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, the back of his throat itching with a warning growl that wants to be let through. Didn’t Jimin hear Joon? Jeongguk is in charge, he shouldn’t be–

Jeongguk hears a sniffing sound right next to his ear, distracting him. It’s Taehyung taking the chance to scent the inside of the cabin, he guesses. Doesn’t really know what the other is looking for though. All he can smell is a slightly distressed undercurrent to your beta– it’s okay, he knows what you actually are, even if your scent is trying to lie to him– scent, most significantly clinging to the bag lying right across the passenger seat in a heap.

His frown deepens. Probably those two that made you smell like that. Made you scared with no one around to comfort you. There is a 0% chance Jeongguk is going to feel less bitter about it any time soon.

In the back of his head, Jeongguk realises the sniffing has stopped 

He doesn’t offer Jimin any kind of response, instead focusing on the bag. Maybe you had left a map in there? Some supplies? Maybe just anything that would make him feel closer to you?

He should take it, right? That way, when you come home, you won’t be missing whatever's inside. 

His lips purse just slightly, head nodding in agreement as his hand reaches out to grab it. 

Well, he was grabbing it. Now, he’s on the forest floor, his head banging against the surface. Taehyung on top of him, his head pressed into Jeongguk’s throat, not even thinking about letting him up. 

The growls begin to leave Jeongguk instantly, a second nature swelling up to the top. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Get off of me!” He still won’t let up. He’s keeping Jeongguk pinned with everything he has. Jeongguk can’t see Jimin either. Can only feel the pounding in his head and shoulders from being throttled to the ground. 

Is this a fucking coup or something? Were they just waiting to get Jeongguk alone so he wouldn’t be there to protect you anymore? 

Jeongguk’s growls increase in volume, his limbs thrashing to try and get out from underneath Taehyung. He can’t believe this. He can’t believe they would fucking try something like this.

“Bomb.” Taehyung’s panicked baritone sends a lightning bolt through Jeongguk’s spine. He’s not fighting anymore. “Bomb inside. Bomb in bag. Don’t touch. Don’t touch! Can smell it! Intentional! Bomb! Don’t touch! Don’t!”

There’s…? You left a…? 

Jeongguk looks back towards the car, his entire face morphing into that of complete disbelief.  

You were trying to protect yourself… did you…? They said they didn’t see your car yesterday.. The covering was pulled off to the side, making the truck noticeable. Your footprints were in a clear line in the mud when you could just have easily veered off the beaten path, covered up your trail.

This was on purpose. You were trying to protect yourself if Jimin and Taehyung came– 

What would have happened if Taehyung wasn’t there?

Jeongguk’s blood runs cold. 

Joon doesn’t have a Taehyung at the house. 

His mates can’t smell if the same trap has been laid just beyond the door.

Jeongguk shoves Taehyung off of him, adrenaline pumping through his veins. A newfound strength adorning his features as he manages to rattle the big puppy off. His frame rolling onto its stomach, reaching for the radio in his belt loop as he looks towards the direction of your cottage, his pupils shaky. 

“Joon– Joon! There was a bomb in the truck! Abort the pursuit! Abort it!” His voice is yelling, crackling as it bounces through the radio. 

Time feels like it’s extending itself, 30 seconds morphing into half an hour as he waits for a response. 

There is none.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Shit! SHIT! 

Jeongguk bolts upright, forgetting about the car, leaving it in the past while his mates are in danger in the present. “Fuck! Go! We have to go now!” 

His pheromones, the same ones Joon used last night are unintentionally leaking from his pores, his body already beginning to rush through the tense trees. His head is spinning– he doesn’t know if the others followed. Only that he has to get to the rest of his mates before, before–

The sound rattles the trees, a deep ball of red rising above them. 

Jeongguk freezes, his mind blank as he stares towards the distance in awe. 

If it wasn’t his mates you were targeting, he would think you’re incredible. But right now, you’re not a thought in his mind. He’ll be upset with himself later over that fact. The fact of the matter, he knows where his bonds lie. He knows how much they’re in pain.  

You didn’t know it was them. You don’t know it’s your soulmates. You’re just so scared, just so… everything hurts. His body is on fire. 4 spots across his form are radiating a pain he’s never felt before. 

It hurts so bad. 

So bad. 

He wants to crumple to the floor. He wants to sob. He doesn’t know what to do. 

“Get a fucking hold of yourself!!” Oh, Jimin’s screaming at him. He wonders when that started. When the shorter of the two grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him, when the look in his eyes became so deadly that they lost all of their spark.

The slap to his face stings, but he’s thankful for it. It finally brings him back to the moment, finally forces him to do what he needs to do. 

“Stupid purebred! Fucking move! You’re useless to them if you can’t even do that!” Jimin’s shouting should sting, but it doesn’t in the slightest. He knows the words are true. 

Jeongguk is running again, faster than he thinks he’s run in his entire life. He doesn’t really remember the rest of the interaction with Jimin, his memories feel jumbled. He knows at one point Jimin began dragging him towards the house, then he remembers overtaking Taehyung on his own while running. 

The sight he sees when he finally reaches the cabin is one he’ll never forget. 

He’s so lucky he’s never had the experience of his mates being in abject danger before. He doesn’t know if he could ever take feeling like this again.

The house, what's left of it, is up in flames. Wood panels have been blown off the side, half of the covered porch has caved in upon itself. 

His chest heaves as he finally spots his pack. His soulmates. The ones he loves the most in the world. Namjoon’s form is on top of Seokjin and Hoseok’s bodies, looking like he pushed them out of the way just in time. Wood scattered debris lays around them still burning bright, though none directly on top.

A whizz of air passes by Jeongguk, Jimin’s shorter form running past him in the direction of Yoongi.

Yoongi. 

Jimin is hauling a piece of burning wood off Yoongi’s stomach, his hands shaking his shoulders. His voice is yelling, but Jeongguk can’t really hear it. At some point he began to move, too. His body acting for him while his mind remains scattered. 

His arms haul Namjoon off of the others, it’s clear all of them are injured– they’ll need to get medical attention when they get home. Seokjin, as much as he wants to, likely won’t be in the state to provide it. Jeongguk will yell at him if he tries.

Taehyung frame finally joins Joengguk too, following his lead in grabbing Seokjin instead, propping his body up rather than continuing to let him lay against the forest floor. From Jeongguk’s extremely limited medical knowledge, he knows his knee looks bad. But so does Hoseok’s shoulder. And god, Jeongguk has never been more thankful for the fire-resistant lining of the gear they wore today. He can’t imagine what the state of Namjoon’s back would be without it. 

“Hyung! Hyung!” Jeongguk hears his voice, but he doesn’t remember willing it to sound. He finds himself in the same place as Jimin, his hands shaking the pack alpha's shoulders, trying to wake him from his passed out state.

Fuck. If only he was faster getting to the truck, if only Taehyung was able to tell him sooner none of this would have happened! He would have been able to tell them and, and, and– 

“”M fine.” Jeongguk feels air enter him for the first time at the sound of Joon’s voice, even if it does sound a little weak. When Joon wheezes, his heart still pangs, “‘M fine. No one died. Take care of the others, they need it more.” 

Jeongguk has never wanted to sob more in his life from relief. 

The relief is short-lived when his eyes shift towards Seokjin being coddled by Taehyung.

Hoseok has propped himself up, too. He’s looking off in the distance. 

He’s smiling. 

You know, when Hoseok said he wasn’t interested in having an omega, you didn’t have to go and be such a fucking brat about it. 

Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever. He was going to let his packmates have their new little toy until they got bored of it– he didn’t mind. Pretty pussy is pretty pussy, and alphas have their urges. Hoseok has never minded sharing a beta between a few of them for a night in the past, though that stopped when Jimin joined and started killing them. 

Hoseok still didn’t really care. 

He didn’t have any loyalties to them. Didn’t wanna bite them. They were just for fun.

If the youngest wanted a new pet, he wouldn’t deny him. He bets he would look cute staring at you like you were the world. Teetering after you while Hoseok had his.. Fun. 

He wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of playing with you, too. Again, pretty pussy. 

And sure, Hoseok never really cared much for the second gender that seems so– his upper lip wants to curl– mystifying, almost like mythical creatures with their decline. He remembers even back in school when he was learning about them, being bored out of his mind. 

Everything about them just seemed so boring.

Helpless. 

Culling. 

Too much work for what? Something that just likes to sit around the house all day pretty? God, sounds like his fucking nightmare.

Hoseok has always thrived on the exciting. On whatever could get his blood pumping the fastest. 

It’s what Namjoon promised him. The alpha never did disappoint. 

Months ago, when Namjoon first came to him about the idea of getting an omega, Hoseok thought that it might be the first time he would. He never expected a desire so… simple, baseline… traditional, from the pack alpha. He agreed, sure, but he didn’t expect anything from it. Thought that the alpha might finally be becoming boring. 

He should be admonishing his past self for ever doubting him, but his present self feels high as a kite. 

This is certainly a motherfucking treat.

Even with the pain radiating from his shoulder socket– it’s definitely popped out– he doesn’t deny it. His tongue, despite its pain from biting through the meaty flesh during the blast, runs over his teeth. Copper tang in every breath he breathes. 

Awwwww, and you planned it all yourself, huh? Laid out a little bomb to catch the wolves in a trap? What an adorable little doe, thinking you could be big. 

He raises himself up on his forearms, flinching a little at the weight put onto his shoulder. He should be screaming from it now, right? That’s what anyone else would do. His cock is hard.

“Hyung! Hyung!” Shit. He really can’t hear now. Most of it just rings. Call it love the way he was still able to hear Jeongguk through it. Whatever. It’ll come back soon. He’s got other things to focus on. 

His eyes continue to scan the tree line, looking for something. He’s not sure what. 

He’ll find out soon. 

Ha, you really did a number on all of them, huh? Did alllllllll of this just for them? Wow, you must really care. You must really want Hoseok to think you’re worth it, huh? That you’re better than all those other little omegas out there?

You want him? That's the message you were trying to send, huh? That you want a chase? 

You’re fucking lucky Hoseok loves them. You want him to love you, too? Are you ready for something like that? You really think so?

His lips crack open, a splash of red coating the inside edge. Another trail of blood running down his cheek from where he nosedived into the dirt. 

You wanted his attention? That’s why you pulled this bratty little stunt? Well now you have it. 

He sees a glint of light in the distance, way beyond the trees. Light reflecting off of glass. Binoculars, huh? Cute. 

His smile grows, blood on his teeth. The taste of copper still coming through on his punctured tongue. His canines have never been more excited to bite. 

Found you, baby. 

Let’s play red riding hood. 

“Boom.” 

Your voice is soft, cusping just on the edge of the wind. Certainly nowhere near as loud as the sound that just permeated the forest, but felt as though it was even greater than it. A beautiful, radiating fire lighting the trees in the distance, a new glow.

On your face rests a satisfied, self serving smile. 

You, and your predictions, had been right. They came back. 

Now, there was no way you could be certain it was the same alphas that came to destroy you yesterday, of course not. It would be silly to completely presume but… it was nice to think it was, anyway. Had your legs feeling lighter as they rest against the wooden edge of the fire escape, your body slumped against the high-back stool that you just so happened to find in the fire tower. 

Ha. Fire tower. Ironic. 

Either way, you knew they would be back, and now they knew the consequences of doing such a thing, even if it is a pity the second bomb hadn’t gone off alongside the first.

The corner of your lips quirk a little higher, hand finally reaching to grab the binoculars from their place hanging against the chair. The cool metal raising to your eyes, allowing you to see even more of the beauty you had just created. 

Mmm, the view isn’t too much better– you suppose you did walk pretty far– but still. The act of seeing everything is divine. Your house, the place you had crafted for years, may now be in shambles, but so are the alphas. Poor things. 

Well, you’ll build your life back better, anyway. Every new start has become more and more easy. Lessons have taught you the proper steps, especially the steps to properly disappear. That everyone should have the tools and the knowledge to make an out if need be. 

Your bottom lip perks out in a bit of a mocking pout, head tilting to the side as the fire begins to grow. It won’t make it far, you know that. The conditions aren’t great for it to actually spiral, but it feels prophetic almost. It feels perfect.

Leave no witnesses.

Mhm, and after they saw your nest, you knew you had to. Fixed up the house to make it look like you were planning on trying to stay, left your car uncovered as a second honeypot. Disabled your trip wires to make it seem like you didn’t know what you were doing. Packed all the suppressants you could. Made sure to leave a little trail to each. 

Agitated clucking sounds from your left, drawing you out of your thoughts. The binoculars leaving your eyes as your head twists down towards her, instead. 

Ah. Of course, there was Cheryl, too. 

To be honest, you tried to leave her. To let her go back to the woods and live with the wild flock but… she wouldn’t stop following you.

Pack has to stick together, you suppose.

“Shhhh, shhh shh…” Your fingers slowly stroke down Cheryl's back, her plumage puffed up from the noise that rang throughout the forest. “You gotta be quiet. They could be watching us back.” 

You stand from your spot, moving back towards the interior of the little fire tower. One hand scooping up Cheryl from her tummy, the other slinging your pack over your shoulder. A continued soft hushing leaving as you walk. 

You have no plans of unpacking, you’d be leaving this location soon enough. 

A small buzzing sensation runs through your entire being, the aftereffects of your successful plan still migrating through every one of your nerves, lighting each up like little stars in little galaxies. 

Your lips curl once again, little sharpened canines hanging from below your upper lip, the corner of your smile tweaking upwards. “Well, if they’re still alive, that is.”

chapter 4 <- index -> chapter 6

⌬ : notes:

"oh, these weren't homemade. they were made in a factory. a bomb factory."

🧍‍♀️

ha..haha.. right guys?

*a tomato is thrown at me*

DAMN! Fine! Lemme just pack my shit and--- lmaooooo I'm joking!! Seriously though, I am desperate to hear what you guys think about this chapter. What I have been teasing for awhile has finally kicked off!! Like i said, reader still had a few things up her sleeve. She's crafty, huh? Either way, it isn't too much longer before she meets the guys!! it should be happening next chapter, isn't that exciting? It is to me!!

I am desperate to hear all of your thoughts on this chapter-- it really is my favourite one that I've written so far. Especially now that we have 6/8 povs unlocked for the main cast... mwahahah, hoseok is certainly a treat, isn't he? I have full confidence you will either hate him, or think he is entirely too hot (i am of the later group lmao, I know what I am) (a freak, if that wasn't clear LMAO)

Jeongguk too, with how desperate he is to have you :'< poor guy. Plus a look into the way he joined thep pack ?! Either way!! As always, please let me know any and all of your thoughts, I absolutely love hearing them!! Everything coming together, and the objects set in motion are rolling super fast now, even if it doesn't totally seem like it yet.

Ahhh, anyway, this is entirely too long! As always, thank you for reading and falling into the story of summer rain just like I have!!! We have officially hit 100 pages in my google doc! See you guys when the next chapter finishes out!! MWAH!!!

Jin

Lowkey a big deal to him

Not in a way where he'll constantly remind you of that or something

Just in a way that this is always on the back of his mind

He's aware that he's the oldest and he wants to act like it

So he's doing his best to be the responsible figure, someone you can lean on, someone dependable

Yes he'll baby you sometimes for funsies

But overall he tries to be more serious

Because he takes it seriously and he wants you to know that

He wants you to trust him

Suga

Overthinks it at first

You are very mature and emotionally intelligent as well

But he has a hard time accepting the age gap at first

He doesn't wanna make a wrong move

You probably did the biggest part of the chasing because he truly didn't like the difference in age at first

After the relationship begun, he's more confident

But sometimes doubt still creeps into him

He's terrified of being inappropriate for a second

Also tries his best to be the dependable and reliable person in the relationship

But it all gets very easy after a while

You're constantly surprising him and showing him the gap is not that big of a deal

So he relaxes a bit eventually, just be patient

Jhope

The complete opposite of the last two

The baby treatment is coming strong for you

"Oh but I'm on my twenties"

But you're soooo adorable so cute so-

You get it right

He truly finds you the cutest person ever who could never do no wrong

So be prepared for that lmao

You also get a lot of privileges because of that

So enjoy as well

Jungkook is lokwey jealous because not once did he ever get that much privilege for being younger 😭

Namjoon

Another one to not mind the age gap that much

Actually, he even forgets it for most of the time

You're extremely mature, smart and simply the whole package

Those are actually the qualities that made him fall in love at first

So yeah, there is an age difference going on

But he truly doesn't notice it that much

Your relationship feels safe and you're both equals on it

He thinks this is what matters the most yk

So he's just chilling

Jimin

A bit self conscious too

But instead of pushing you away, like suga

He simply tries to compensate it

Because he's older, he feels like he has more responsibilities

And he wants to be ready for it

So he tries to be stronger, more mature, more prepared, more everything

Sometimes you see he's trying too hard and falls into this rabbit hole of overthinking

But he's doing it with good intentions

He just wants to be the best for you

Comments of outsiders on it can have bad effects on him though

He will defend you but sometimes he can't defend himself

So this might be a sensitive topic in your relationship for a while

Taehyung

Also overthinks it at first lmao 😭

He does that before getting together with you tho

He wonders if he's doing the right thing by wanting to be with you

Once the relationship begins tho?

Every doubt gets thrown away immediately

Now he's just enjoying this

He knows he can love you right and he knows you want this too

So why even overthink it

Also babies you a bit

Can be a bit annoying but it's with love lmao

Jungkook

Doesn't care

Didn't care before the relationship, doesn't care after it

He's so chill with it

You're not his "younger partner"

You're his partner

That's it

It just happens that you are younger, but that's not what defines you

And it's not what defines the relationship either

There's so much more to it

So he thinks the age gap is not something to worry about so much

Masterlist | you'll probably like: with a taller s/o

Daily click

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120 @enhacolor @jjuniebinnie

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto | images 1, 2 and 3

The wedding had been beautiful.

Too beautiful.

White roses lined the aisle like a dream you weren’t sure belonged to you. Silk dresses, soft music, champagne that sparkled under chandelier lights, the kind of luxury you only ever saw in magazines. Everyone had smiled and whispered that the two of you looked perfect together, their voices sugary sweet.

You’d smiled too. But your palms were sweating inside Taehyung’s warm, steady grip.

Arranged marriages weren’t supposed to feel like this.

Not like a fairytale.

Not like falling into something soft and terrifying all at once.

But Taehyung leaned in that day, his breath brushing your cheek, eyes wide and earnest like he was promising you the world.

“I won’t ever touch you until you ask me to. Until you want it.” he murmured, voice low enough for only you. “I promise.”

Your breath caught.

You’d managed a tiny nod. A whispered “okay” that came out more like a sob.

And two months later… that promise still stood. A quiet barrier between you—warm, gentle… maddening.

He kept it in the sweetest, most devastating ways.

Every morning he kissed your forehead before leaving for work, a soft “Morning, sweetheart,” whispered against your skin, leaving you blinking up at him like a flustered fool.

He back-hugged you while you brushed your teeth, chin heavy on your head, humming half-asleep into your hair. “Mm… you smell nice,” he’d mumble, not even realizing he was killing you slowly.

He carried all the grocery bags with one hand, veins bulging, T-shirt stretching over his shoulders.

You’d stare.

He’d catch you staring.

And instead of teasing, he’d just smile. “You okay, baby?”

He let you fall asleep on his chest during movie nights, fingers absent-mindedly threading through your hair until you were drooling on his hoodie. “You’re so cute when you sleep,” he’d whisper, brushing your bangs back.

And every night, every single night, he’d pull you close under the covers, strong arms locking around your waist, body warm behind yours — and whisper into your neck, “Goodnight, wifey.”

You were drowning in him. Completely, helplessly drowning.

And he didn’t even know.

Because lately… your body had started betraying you.

The way he smelled when he came home, it made heat curl low in your belly. His deep voice when he said “baby or sweetheart or wifey” made you choke on your own air. The way his T-shirt clung to his back after a workout left your pulse hammering in places you didn’t admit.

You wanted him. God, you wanted him so badly.

But you were shy. Painfully, frustratingly shy.

So you did the only logical thing your shy, horny, newlywed brain could produce. You stole his clothes.

At first it was innocent.

An oversized white button-up you found in the laundry basket. You wore it while making tea, sleeves brushing your thighs, and felt… safe.

Wrapped in him.

Then it was one of his gray hoodies — so big it almost reached your knees. You curled up on the couch, tugging the sleeves over your hands, whispering into the collar, “Ugh… why do you smell so good?”

Then came the black crewneck. The one you knew he loved. The one that still smelled like his cologne even after washing. You wore it while working on your laptop, fingers brushing the fabric whenever you missed him, which was embarrassingly often.

You wore them when he wasn’t home.

Always when he wasn’t home.

Curled on the couch… On the bed… Sometimes standing in front of the mirror, pretending his arms were wrapped around your waist instead of fabric and imagination.

It was ridiculous. It was addictive. It was comfort. It was want.

And today… today you’d gone too far.

You finished your remote work early, shut your laptop with a satisfied sigh, and padded to the bathroom. A hot shower sounded like heaven, steam curling around you, loosening your muscles, making you feel warm and soft and reckless.

You stepped out wrapped in a towel, droplets sliding down your skin, hair dripping over your shoulders. You padded into the bedroom, humming under your breath, still flushed from the heat.

Your eyes landed on his shirt.

Not just any shirt, the oversized black one he always wore on lazy Sundays. Soft, worn-out cotton. Smelled like him even from across the room.

You stared at it.

Then at the towel barely staying on your body.

Then back at the shirt.

Your pulse stuttered.

“…Screw it,” you whispered.

The towel dropped to the floor.

You slipped the shirt on.

The sleeves swallowed your arms completely, the hem brushing mid-thigh. One shoulder slid down no matter how many times you tugged it up.

You looked tiny. Drowned. His.

It felt like he was wrapping himself around you.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, flushed cheeks, wet hair, bare legs peeking out beneath his shirt... and your breath hitched.

You held it against your chest, whispering to no one, “…Is it bad if I love this more than my clothes?”

You whispered, breath shaky. “Tae… what are you doing to me?”

You twirled in front of the mirror like a happy idiot, lifting your arms so the loose fabric floated around you. Then you hugged yourself tight, burying your face in the collar, breathing him in.

“Ugh... Why does this feel better than my own clothes?” you groaned into the fabric. “God… he’d laugh at me so hard if he saw me doing this.”

You were too busy cuddling his shirt to notice anything else.

Not the front door unlocking. Not his footsteps in the hall. Not the soft crinkle of the bouquet he’d brought to surprise you.

You only heard the quiet creak of the bedroom door.

And then, “Oh... My... God...”

The flowers slipped from his hand and hit the carpet.

You spun around so fast you almost tripped.

Taehyung stood in the doorway, completely stunned. Still in his work clothes —white button-up rolled up his arms, slacks hugging his thighs, hair a little messy like he’d rushed home.

His eyes dragged down your body slowly.

Too slowly. Taking in the sight.

His shirt. Your bare legs. Your flushed cheeks.

“Taehyung—!” you squeaked, trying to cover yourself even though his shirt already hung past mid-thigh. “You… you’re early!”

He didn’t answer. For a moment he didn’t even breathe.

Then he shut the door behind him, leaning against it, arms crossing over his chest. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips.

“…Having fun without me?”

Your soul left your body.

“I... I was just...” you stammered, voice going embarrassingly high. “I thought it would be… fun? Maybe? A little? I just... I don’t know!”

He pushed off the door, walking toward you with lazy, confident steps like a man who already owned the room and your heartbeat.

“Fun,” he repeated, voice dropping into that deep honey tone that always made your knees weak. “Baby… you’re wearing my shirt, looking like that… and you call it fun?”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d see me…”

He stopped inches away, towering over you, and slid both hands around your waist, fingers splaying possessively over the fabric of his own shirt on your body. His breath was warm against your neck as he leaned in.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You can have my whole closet if this is how you look in my clothes.”

His thumb lifted your chin, forcing your shy gaze to meet his dark one.

“Have you tried on my shirts before?” he asked softly.

You froze. Then nodded slowly.

“Yeah?” he breathed, eyes darkening instantly. “How many times?”

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “A few. Maybe more.”

Taehyung let out a low, hungry sound that made your stomach flip.

“You should’ve told me, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. “I would’ve helped you undress… and helped you try every single one… slow and careful.”

A tiny whimper escaped your throat.

He smiled, loving it.

With gentle pressure on your waist, he walked you backward step by step until the back of your knees hit the mattress. His body stayed close, heat radiating through the shirt you stole.

He ran his hand down your thigh, stopping at the hem of the shirt. His fingers brushed your bare skin, making you gasp.

“My shy little thief,” he murmured, kissing your cheek, then your jaw. “Stealing my clothes… stealing my scent… stealing my sanity... stealing my self-control…”

You trembled in his hands.

“And you know the worst part?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “I don’t want any of it back.”

You were shaking in his arms, cheeks burning hot, voice barely above a whisper. “I like how you smell…” you admitted, burying your face against his chest. “It… it makes me feel close to you.”

Taehyung froze. His breath hitched, like your words had punched the air out of his lungs. For a single heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Messy. Hungry. Desperate.

He pressed his lips to yours, tongue sliding against yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you whimpered into his mouth. One hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head exactly where he wanted it. The other gripped your waist, holding you as if you could disappear.

He broke away for just a second, growling against your lips, “Two months of waiting… baby... and you say that now?”

Before you could answer, he kissed you again, flipping you until his knees hit the bed. He sank onto it first, pulling you down so you straddled his lap, thighs pressed against either side of him.

The oversized shirt rode up immediately, pooling around your hips. You tried to tug it down, embarrassed, but he caught your wrists with his one hand, holding them gently behind your back with one hand.

“No more hiding,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Let me look at you.”

His free hand slid under the shirt, palm gliding over your waist, thumb brushing against the underside of your breast. You gasped when his fingers circled your hardening nipples, teasing slowly.

You arched into his touch, shivering at the sensation.

You moved instinctively, trying to ease the ache in your core. The friction of your bare heat against his rigid pants made both of you freeze.

Taehyung groaned low, hips jerking up slightly. You felt him... thick, impossibly hard... beneath you. Your chest tightened with the knowledge that you had already made him like this.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly.

You rocked again, tiny and hesitant.

“Baby…” he warned, forehead pressing to yours, voice rough. “If you keep moving like that—”

You tested him again, slower this time, watching his face twist with pleasure and restraint. His grip tightened on your wrists, almost bruising.

“Wearing my clothes is cute…” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, hot breath against your skin. “But sitting here… without panties?”

He released your wrists to cup your ass, spreading you slightly. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, as your next movement ground against the hard length of him.

He growled into your neck, teeth grazing the tender skin.

“…that’s going to be a problem, sweetheart.”

You felt how soaked you already were, sliding over him effortlessly. The fabric of his slacks now dark and ruined where you’re pressed together. Every tiny movement sent sparks shooting up your spine.

“Taehyung...” you whimpered, unsure if you were begging or warning.

“I know,” he breathed, guiding your hips in a slow, filthy grind. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

He let you move against him, letting you find the rhythm, swallowing your moans with his mouth. “You feel so good like this…” he murmured, voice rough, teeth grazing your jaw.

“Taehyung… I... oh—I can’t…” you gasped, pressing closer, thighs trembling.

“Can’t what, baby?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

“Tell me… do you want me?”

“Yes… please…” you breathed, rocking a little harder. “I want… I need you… so bad.”

He groaned, gripping your hips tighter. “Damn, you’re so wet for me… all for me…”

“I—fuck...” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. “Tae… it feels so good…”

“You’re mine, baby,” he rasped, voice low and possessive. “Mine for wearing my shirt, mine for wanting me…”

Your body shivered, burning hotter with every word. Every teasing murmur from him made you ache more, and your thighs trembled uncontrollably against him.

Then he flipped you gently onto your back, crawling over you. His eyes burned black with want.

“Enough teasing,” he rasped, sliding the shirt higher. “Now… I’m going to take care of you properly.”

He lowered his lips, teeth, and hands, leaving a trail over every inch of skin the shirt exposed. His mouth pressed to your throat first, biting gently, making you gasp and whimper.

“Taehyung… ah—” you moaned, chest rising and falling.

He growled, sliding down to your collarbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, leaving dark, messy marks. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as he nipped and sucked, pulling low groans from his chest.

“Fuck… you feel so good, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing below your jaw.

You shivered, tilting your head back. “Tae… more… please...”

His hands cupped your waist, thumbs teasing over your bare skin, keeping you pressed to him. Each bite, each kiss made you tremble and moan, your heat sliding over him with every tiny movement.

“God, I can't believe... you’re mine,” he groaned, lips leaving one last hickey below your jaw before capturing your mouth in another hungry kiss.

You clung to him, breathless, every moan spilling between you both, tangled, desperate, and entirely his.

When he reached the tops of your thighs, he paused, hands sliding under them, thumbs stroking the sensitive edge where leg met hip. He looked up at you, eyes dark, reverent, almost pleading.

You tried to close your legs out of pure reflex.

He didn’t let you.

“Let me see you,” he whispered again, voice cracking with awe. “Please, baby. I’ve dreamed about this.”

His big, warm palms spread you open so gently it made tears prick your eyes. The shirt had ridden up to your waist; cool air kissed your soaked core and you whimpered.

Taehyung’s breath stuttered.

“Fuck… look at you,” he breathed, voice trembling. “So pretty. So fucking perfect for me.”

He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your left thigh, then your right, lingering, inhaling like he was addicted to the scent of your skin.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about this,” he murmured against you, lips brushing your folds with every word. “How many times I’ve jerked off imagining your taste of you on my tongue.”

A broken sound escaped your throat. He smiled, slow and filthy, then dragged his tongue up your centre in one long, deliberate lick.

You cried out, hips jerking.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he soothed, pinning your thighs wider with his shoulders. “Let me take care of you.”

The second lick was slower, parting you, savouring. The third circled your clit with his tongue and you saw stars.

“Tae—”

“Shh, I know,” he hummed, the vibration making you clench around nothing. “You taste like heaven, baby. Sweeter than I dreamed.”

He licked into you like a man starved, tongue sliding deep, curling, fucking you open while his nose nudged your clit on every stroke.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging hard.

He moaned into you, loud and shameless.

“That’s it, pull harder. Use me.”

He sucked your clit between his lips, gentle at first, then harder, flicking the tip of his tongue in quick, ruthless circles until your thighs started shaking uncontrollably.

“Taehyung, please...”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny, eyes glazed with lust. “Please stop? Or please make you fall apart on my face?”

You couldn’t answer, only sobbed his name.

He dove back in, merciless.

Two thick fingers slid inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.

“Look at you,” he groaned, pumping slowly, tongue still swirling. “Taking my fingers so well. Gonna take my cock just like this, aren’t you? Gonna let me ruin this pretty little pussy while you wear my shirt?”

The dirty praise sent you spiralling.

He felt it, felt you tightening, and doubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard while his fingers fucked you faster, palm grinding against you with every thrust.

“Come for me, baby,” he growled against your folds. “Come on my tongue. Want to drink every drop.”

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, thighs clamping around his head, hips grinding helplessly against his mouth and fingers as pleasure tore through you in violent, endless waves.

He didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, gentler now, lapping softly, coaxing every aftershock until you were a trembling, sobbing mess.

Only then did he pull back, pressing one last reverent kiss to your swollen clit that made you jolt.

He crawled up your body, face glistening, eyes wild with love and hunger.

“You okay, my love?” he whispered, voice hoarse, brushing tears from your cheeks you hadn’t realized had fallen.

You could only nod, boneless, chest heaving.

He smiled, soft and proud and utterly wrecked.

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing you slow and deep, letting you taste how completely you’d undone him. “Because I’m nowhere near done worshipping you.”

His lips were swollen, his chest rising hard, breath shaky. You were still trembling from the orgasm he had just pulled out of you, thighs messy, his shirt bunched beneath your ribs like a reminder of everything you had just shared.

Taehyung hovered above you, braced on his forearms, and simply stared.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice completely ruined. “My pretty baby… wearing my shirt… shaking because of me.”

You tried to hide your face in the pillow, flustered. He didn’t let you.

His fingers caught your chin gently, but firmly enough to keep you with him. “No hiding,” he whispered. “Not tonight… not from me.”

His nose brushed yours, soft and warm and intimate. “You okay? Still right here with me?”

You nodded, though your throat felt tight. “I’m okay. I… I want you. All of you.”

His eyes fluttered shut like the words physically hit him. “God,” he breathed, voice cracking. “You can’t say things like that when I’m trying to stay gentle.”

He kissed you softly, slow presses of his mouth that made your chest ache. Then deeper... warm tongue, soft teeth, hungry breath, until your head spun.

You felt him hard against your thigh, thick and hot through his slacks. Your hips moved without thinking.

He broke the kiss with a shaky hiss. “Baby… wait, I need to—”

He reached for the drawer, one hand still cupping your cheek like you were fragile. The condom packet trembled between his fingers. Seeing him nervous, made your heart squeeze.

You sat up a bit, fingers curling into the open fabric of his shirt. “Let me see you too.”

He let you push the shirt down his arms. Golden skin... Sharp collarbones... V-line peeking out under his belt. You followed that faint line with your fingertip. He shivered.

“Cold?” you teased softly.

“No,” he breathed out a tiny, shy laugh. “Just trying not to lose it before I’m even inside you.”

He stood only long enough to shove his pants and briefs down, kicking them aside carelessly.

Your breath caught.

He was beautiful. Thick, flushed, already leaking for you.

He rolled the condom on with slightly clumsy fingers, muttering a soft “shit” when it snagged.

Then he was back over you... warm, solid, settling between your open thighs like he had always belonged there.

“Tell me again,” he whispered against your lips. “Tell me you are ready. Tell me you want this.”

“I want you, Taehyung. Please.”

He exhaled your name like a prayer and lined himself up, dragging the head slowly through your wetness, coating himself.

Your hips jerked on instinct.

“Easy,” he soothed, kissing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

He pushed in... slow, so slow, never looking away from your eyes.

The stretch burned. It burned and bloomed at the same time. You felt full, overwhelmed, breathless. A whimper escaped you, nails digging into his shoulders.

He froze instantly. “Too much? Want me to pull out?”

“No,” you gasped, half-laughing, half-moan, “just… big.”

A shaky laugh escaped him, his forehead resting on yours. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”

He pushed deeper inch by inch, letting you feel everything, until he was fully inside and both of you were trembling.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice cracking. “You’re so tight… so perfect around me.”

He stayed still, letting your body relax, kissing your eyelids, the tip of your nose, anything he could reach.

“You feel that?” he whispered, rolling his hips just a tiny bit. “That’s me inside you. I’m yours. All yours.”

You clenched without meaning to. His hips stuttered. “Fuck... Don’t do that unless you want me gone in ten seconds.”

You laughed through the haze, breath shaky. He laughed too, forehead against yours. It made everything warm, soft, safe.

He started moving... slow, deep strokes that touched every sensitive place inside you. The shirt you wore... his shirt — rode up with every thrust, exposing your stomach, ribs, the curve of your breasts.

“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes dark with emotion and heat. “So small in my clothes… taking me so well… my perfect girl... my wife.”

He kissed down your throat, sucking new marks beside the ones he had left earlier, kissing the sting after each one.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispered against your skin. “Knowing you wear my things… think about me… get wet for me…”

Your back arched, a soft desperate sound leaving your throat.

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers pressing against your slick heat while he thrust inside you, hard and slow at first, then faster as he lost control. His thumb found your clit instantly, pressing and circling like he knew every nerve, every sensitive spot that made you shiver.

“Oh… Tae—” you moaned, head falling back against the pillow, body arching into him. “Ah… harder… please…”

He groaned, low and rough, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Fuck… you feel so good, baby… so tight, so wet…” His hips jerked violently, driving deep into you as his thumb worked magic against your clit.

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Taehyung… I’m—oh! I’m—”

“Come for me again... baby,” he coaxed, voice soft but intense. “I want to feel it… want to feel you fall apart on me while you’re wearing my shirt.”

Everything hit you at once — his voice, his words, his body.

Your body trembled uncontrollably.

His thumb flicked faster, harder, keeping you on the edge while his thrusts became punishing, relentless. You couldn’t hold it in anymore... a shuddering gasp tore from your lips, and your slickness spurted over his fingers.

“Ohh... fuck! Taehyung! I’m... ahhhh! I’m cumming!”

He groaned, thrusting through your orgasm like he wanted to match you. “Shit… baby, look at you… so wet… so perfect…”

He groaned, his rhythm breaking. “That’s it… fuck, baby… that’s my girl…” His thrusts grew rougher, desperate, chasing the edge. “Close… baby, I’m so close—”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, and whispered, “Come for me, Tae. I want to feel you.”

He broke.

A raw, broken moan fell from his lips as he buried himself deep, hips jerking helplessly through his orgasm, your name spilling out of his mouth like a promise.

He stayed there, chest pressed to yours, breathing hard, the room quiet except for your mixed breaths and the soft rustle of fabric against sweaty skin.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just kissed you — slow, lazy, gentle, like he wanted to taste every emotion on your tongue. “My beautiful wife… My shy little thief… I love you so much it scares me…”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he kissed your tears away.

Taehyung didn’t move at first.

He stayed inside you, holding you like he feared you might disappear if he let go. His arms wrapped around your shaking body, pulling you tight to his chest.

He pressed slow kisses everywhere his lips could reach... your shoulder, your temple, the corner of your lips — gentle, soft, almost shy, like he thanked your skin for letting him touch you.

When he finally slipped out, he did it carefully, his voice low and warm. “Easy, baby… I’ve got you.”

He rolled you onto his chest, settling you there like that was exactly where you belonged.

One big hand stroked your spine, steady and grounding, bringing you back from the haze. The other cupped the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair like he tried to comfort you after a nightmare.

He slowly took off the stretched, ruined black shirt from your body, like it was something delicate and, set it aside. Then he disappeared for only a moment and returned with a warm cloth. He knelt between your thighs again, cleaning you with soft, almost trembling touches.

Every time you flinched, he whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart… if I was rough... I’m right here.”

He kissed the inside of your knee when you whimpered, trying to make you smile even through the soreness.

He brought you water next, held the glass to your lips. When you pouted for another sip, he gave it to you right away, wiping the tiny drop from your lip with his thumb, smiling like he fell deeper for you.

Your thighs ached, and he noticed instantly.

His hands... those gentle, patient hands, started massaging the sore muscles, slow circles, warm pressure. “I’m sorry if I was too much,” he murmured every time your breath caught.

But his voice stayed soft, full of pride and love.

He fixed your hair next, tucked it behind your ear, and kissed your cheek with an affection so pure it made your chest tighten.

Then he pulled one of his softest hoodies over your head, the one that smelled like him. It slipped to your thighs, the sleeves covering your hands entirely.

“Perfect,” he said softly, admiring you like you were his entire world wrapped in his clothes.

You hid in the hood.

He giggled — that warm, breathy little sound, and gently pulled your hands away so he could pepper your cheeks with kisses. He tucked you both under the blanket, arranging you exactly how he wanted, your leg over his hip, your cheek on his chest, his arm under your head.

Your place. Your home.

He was about to say something sweet when your stomach growled.

Loud.

You froze. Then mumbled into his chest, “Shit… I didn’t prepare anything for dinner. Now I’m hungry…”

Taehyung laughed... that deep, golden laugh that melted your heart.

“Sweetheart… you think I came home early without planning anything?”

He suddenly remembered the flowers near the door. “Oh— wait!” He stood up and grabbed them.

He held them out to you like they were precious, before again settling beside you. “I even brought flowers for you.”

Your eyes softened instantly, warmth gathering in your chest.

“And I booked a restaurant. Wanted to take you out for a date.”

You buried your face in his chest, whining softly. “I can’t walk anywhere… I’m sore…”

He kissed your forehead, smiling like he adored every bit of you.

“I know. That’s why I cancelled.” He tapped your nose gently. “And told them to send takeout instead.”

You smiled, slow and sleepy. “You spoil me…”

He pulled you closer, his voice warm and full of love. “Of course I do. You’re my wife. Now rest until the food arrives.”

You curled into him, feeling safe, loved, and treasured.

He whispered into your hair, voice low and deep, “Wear my clothes every day. And if you ever want me again… just tell me, princess. I’ll always come to you.”

You lasted a total of forty-three minutes in there.

Now, you're on the rooftop with a drink containing a shameful amount of alcohol, watching Paris light up for people who came prepared to enjoy it.

A woman near the railing keeps asking her boyfriend to take the photograph again while he crouches lower each time, trying to fit the tower behind her. Three tables away, another couple argues over a plate of oysters while a waiter in the far corner nurses the same cigarette, taking so long between drags that it seems less like smoking than an excuse not to go back inside.

You watch the ember brighten between his fingers and briefly envy him—inhale something poisonous, feel better for thirty seconds, repeat. 

The tower stops sparkling, phones finally lowering and conversations resuming.

You take another sip and try to think of a silver lining.

The venue returned most of the deposit after another couple took your date. Your dress is with a bridal reseller and the florist only kept the booking fee, which you hope she spends on something irresponsible.

There isn't a silver lining—not when you spent nine thousand pounds on a honeymoon. Flights, suite, reservations, private transfers and several upgrades purchased by a version of you who thought refundable bookings were for pessimists.

In hindsight, pessimists have excellent financial instincts. 

The waiter passes and glances at your glass. “Encore, madame?”

You nod, then remember you are also capable of words. “Yes, please. Merci.”

“Same?”

You look down at the drink. It’s pink, unnecessarily smoky and tastes slightly of grapefruit peel. “Something stronger,” you say.

He smiles in a professional manner. “Of course.”

You have also been telling yourself those two words a lot lately. Of course you’re devastated. Of course you still love him. Of course it feels as though the last eight years have been ripped out by the roots and left a hole large enough for your entire twenties to fall through.

Nobody wants to acknowledge any of that.

Instead, they tell you Tom isn’t a bad person and remind you that feelings change. Your sister says it’s better to find out now than after the wedding. Your aunt says you're lucky it happened before children were involved. Your mother uses the word divorce as though this was mercy.

At least he told you. At least he didn’t cheat. At least you’re still young. 

At least, at least, at fucking least.

The waiter returns with a short glass containing something brown.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Armagnac.”

You take a mouthful. It burns all the way down your throat and makes your eyes water. “Perfect, merci.”

He leaves the bottle within reach—a reckless decision, although you respect him for it.

The chair beside you scrapes across the stone. “Tough day?” The question comes from your right in English.

You turn with the glass already raised.

The man taking the neighbouring seat is dressed for an expensive funeral. His suit is charcoal-black, worn over a dark shirt and a tie scattered with tiny pale dots. A silver pin sits at his collar. The jacket fits across broad shoulders before drawing close at his waist, trousers barely creasing when he crosses one leg over the other.

His hair is black, parted loosely through the middle, with a few pieces falling near his temple. There is a small mole high on one cheek and another beneath his eye. He rests two fingers against his mouth while looking out over the city, leaving you to decide whether the question was genuine or merely neighbourly.

He turns when you don’t answer, face more striking from the front.

Sober, you might have invented an answer that would end the conversation, one that would be socially acceptable—bad day, long story, I’m fine. The Armagnac has made every lie tedious. 

“My fiancé left me two months before our wedding,” you say, “and I’m currently on our honeymoon.”

He lowers his hand.

The Eiffel Tower starts sparkling again behind him with obnoxious timing. You haven’t had much luck with timing recently—not with the wedding, and certainly not with this conversation. 

“You’re on your honeymoon?” He glances towards the empty chair opposite you, then towards the terrace entrance. “And your fiancé?”

“Excellent listening skills,” you say sarcastically. 

“You said fiancé, not ex-fiancé,” he shrugs.

“Do you want the story or do you want to audit my terminology?”

His gaze returns to you, eyes dark brown, almost black beneath the terrace lights. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t decided whether to throw myself off the roof.”

He looks towards the rails. “You’d land on an awning.”

You follow his line of sight. Several floors below, the hotel entrance is protected by a wide cream canopy. “Fucking Paris. Can’t even kill yourself without hitting fancy upholstery.”

He laughs, surprising you. For a second, he looks less severe as he reaches for the drink waiting at his place.

Your waiter passes again, sees the gentleman beside you and changes direction without being called. “Bonsoir, Monsieur Taehyung. Another?”

The man lifts his glass slightly; the waiter takes it and leaves.

You look at him with a raised brow. “They know your name?”

“I’m staying here.”

“So am I,” you reply.

“Shame they haven’t gotten your name yet.” His fingers drum against the table.

“Excuse you, they call me Madame alcoholic.”

He smiles into his glass.

The waiter returns with his drink and sets down a plate of olives you didn’t order. You take one without asking.

The man watches you. “Those are mine.”

“Sharing is caring,” you muse. “We’re sharing the table, and now your olives.”

He drops his head, smiling despite himself, and pushes the plate closer to you. 

A group of tourists drift past behind you, arguing over directions in loud American English. One of them stops beside the glass and points his phone towards the skyline, flash going off.

“Oh, brilliant,” you mutter. “That’s one way to ruin the perfect Eiffel Tower picture.”

The man next to you looks over. “Should tell him then.”

You purse your lips. “Nah, you can though.”

“You’re the one who seems bothered.”

“I’m a photographer. It’s harder to ignore when you know exactly why it’s bad.”

He almost smiles again. “You’re quite unpleasant.”

“Hey, you chose to sit here.”

“That was before I knew how unpleasant you are.”

“And now?”

He picks up his drink. His fingers are long, nails clean, and there’s no wedding ring on either hand. The fact that you check makes you take another sip of your drink.

“I haven’t decided,” he repeats. “What do you photograph?”

“People, mostly. Portraits. Editorial, events, cultural work when anyone can find the funding. Weddings when rent needs paying, though not lately.”

His attention moves briefly to your left hand. You took the engagement ring off at the airport, after spending twenty minutes in the toilets convincing yourself that removing it wouldn’t make the breakup any less official than Tom already had.

He is sensible enough not to comment.

You pick up the bottle of Armagnac and pour yourself another glass.

The man next to you says, “Is that your first one?”

“Fourth. The first three were cocktails. This is medicinal.”

“For what?”

“The nine thousand pounds Paris charged me. Partially my fault for booking a business class flight from London though,” you huff.

For the first time, he looks openly amused.

“Ugh, I know already, don’t say anything.”

“That flight is barely an hour.”

“I was in love.”

“Stupidly, it appears,” he teases.

“Fuck off.” You roll your eyes, but feel a warmth flicker in your chest at the unexpected encounter.

He laughs again and you steal another olive.

You expect him to leave after that. He has his drink, his expensive suit and whatever arrangement causes hotel staff to greet him by name. There must be somewhere else on this roof he would rather sit.

Instead, he stays even after the waiter replaces the small candle between you after the first one burns out. 

“What do you do?” you ask.

“Investments.”

You internally groan as he tells you how his company invests in museums, archives, galleries and the properties housing them.

You study his suit again. “So you put your name on walls and turn paintings into tax arrangements for rich people.”

“Sometimes.” He continues, “You photograph weddings for money.”

“People need pictures of their weddings.”

“Rich people also need tax arrangements.”

“That sentence alone should get you arrested.”

His smile stays and the mole beneath his eye creases.

“Kim Taehyung,” he says, hand extended out to yours. “My name.”

You give him your first name too and nothing else when you take his hand. He repeats it once, slower than you did, careful with each sound. Most people ask you to say it again—he doesn’t, and you remain acutely aware of his fingers around yours for a second longer than necessary. 

“Paris for work?” you ask.

“A dinner.”

“You wore that for dinner?”

He glances down at himself. “I was informed it was formal.”

“You look like you’re about to purchase somebody’s ancestral home.”

“I already declined the proposition.”

You stare at him, unable to tell whether he is joking. He ignores your puzzled face and takes another drink.

A breeze reaches the terrace and lifts the paper napkin beneath the olives. Taehyung catches it before it can escape, trapping one corner beneath the plate and causing his tie to shift against his shirt. He has loosened the knot at some point; though, you didn’t see him do it.

You look away before he catches you watching.

The Eiffel Tower has gone dark again, romance ushered out without the sparkles to welcome its usual industrial features of a mere iron planted above a city determined to merchandise it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you say.

Taehyung’s brow raises.

“The honeymoon. Tom knew we were going somewhere, but he didn’t know it was Paris. When I told him about it after the breakup, he offered to repay me half.”

“Did you take it?”

“Told him I didn’t want his money.”

“And do you regret that?”

“Obviously, but I’d rather lose four and a half thousand pounds than ask him.”

“That’s a very expensive pride.”

“So are you when you have dinner.”

He inclines his glass in acknowledgement.

You drink again. The Armagnac has improved, which either means the alcohol is working or your tolerance has acclimated. 

Taehyung doesn’t ask for the rest of the story, or tell you that everything happens for a reason. 

You appreciate that, so you keep going. “I don’t understand how you fall out of love with someone after eight years,” you say. “Where does it all go?”

Taehyung looks towards the tower. “I don’t know.”

It’s not something, but it’s also the first answer anyone has given you that doesn’t arrive wrapped in advice or pity.

You rub your thumb over the pale mark on your finger. “He says he didn’t know when it happened and he’d been wondering for months, apparently.”

“Yet he still proposed?”

“Thought marriage might fix how he felt.”

He doesn’t say anything to that and instead he takes one of the olives you have been stealing from him.

Around you, the rooftop is thinning. People leave in pairs, collecting handbags from chair backs and forcing down  wine they no longer wanted. 

“My family keeps saying he did the right thing,” you continue. “They think it’s better than finding out after the wedding, having children and then being divorced.”

“Yeah? And what do you think?”

“I think there should be a legal limit on the number of times people can say at least to someone before they’re allowed to punch them.”

“That would be a difficult law to enforce.”

“You invest in things. Fix it with all that money,” you joke.

“I’ll raise it at the next meeting.”

You start picking at the damp label on the Armagnac bottle and sigh. “I keep trying to make him the bad person.”

“Is he?”

“No. That’s the fucking problem.”

You lean back and look at the sky. Paris never becomes properly dark in summer, a bruise of blue always remains behind the buildings, thinning above the city while streetlights take over below.

“The worst part is that everyone liked him,” you say. “My mum still likes him. My sister cried when he called her. His parents sent flowers.”

“To you?”

“Yes. With a card that said ‘we will always consider you family.’”

“Well, that’s patronising.”

He has understood the assignment better than most people who actually know you. In the past two months, all you have needed is someone that listens. Not advice and at leasts. 

You laugh, then press your hand over your face because grief has apparently decided to become funny after enough alcohol. Taehyung watches without asking whether you are okay.

You lower your hand. “I still love him.” The words come out plainly and you don’t feel better for saying them.

Taehyung takes another drink.

“That was usually where people start telling me I’ll move on,” you say.

“I don’t know if you will.”

You turn to him.

“You probably will,” he says to remedy his previous words. “But I can’t say that because I don’t know you.”

“That’s a terrible attempt at comfort.”

“I wasn’t attempting comfort.”

You examine his face for cruelty and find none. He isn’t trying to reassure you because he doesn’t know whether reassurance would be genuine. The honesty should be depressing. Instead, it removes one small obligation from the evening—you don’t have to pretend to believe him.

“Would you take him back?” he asks.

You consider lying and choose not to, alcohol making you disgustingly honest. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

Taehyung nods and leaves the answer alone.

The tower begins sparkling for the third time. You look at Taehyung instead. “How old are you?” you ask.

“Thirty-eight.”

“Fuck. You look younger.”

His eyebrows lift.

“I’m twenty-six, before you ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

You lean towards him, narrowing your eyes as if proximity will produce more information.

His face is unfair at this distance. Straight nose, dark brows, a pretty mole beneath his eye. His hair has fallen farther across his forehead. He smells clean and expensive, although you cannot identify anything beyond wood and whatever he drank before arriving.

“You’re staring now.” He chuckles, the sound drifting away in the air when you reach towards his tie, stopping before you touch it. 

“May I?” you ask.

He looks at your hand. “Why?”

“It’s crooked.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is from here.”

He lifts his chin slightly. You take the narrow end of the tie and straighten something that didn’t need straightening. The fabric is silk, sliding smoothly from between your fingers.

Taehyung watches you as your hand stays there longer than necessary.

“You lied,” he says.

“I wanted to touch it.”

His gaze drops to your fingers, you let the silk slide from your fingers. Neither of you moves back immediately.

“Are you married?” you ask.

“No.”

“Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Secret family?”

“None,” he says. “You’re remarkably curious for someone who gave me their first name only.”

“I spent the last hour telling you about my broken engagement, my family and the worst financial decision of my life. I think you know plenty.”

“And yet, I still don’t know your surname.” 

“You can always leave.”

“I know.” Taehyung says, though he remains in the chair.

The heat in your face no longer comes entirely from alcohol. You turn your glass by the rim and watch the ice rotate. “Why did you sit here?”

Taehyung looks towards the city. “It has the best view.”

“There are four empty tables with the same view.”

“You looked interesting.”

You look down before he can see you smile.

The terrace staff have begun gathering menus from the unoccupied tables, chairs shifting against stone and Paris continuing below, indifferent to closing hours.

You should go back to the suite.

You picture opening the door to the champagne, the robes, Tom’s name glowing politely from the television. You picture taking off your dress alone and climbing into the centre of a bed booked for two people who no longer exist.

Taehyung finishes his drink.

He rests two fingers near his mouth again as he looks out across the rooftops. The suit, the dark shirt, the tie you had no business touching. He's twelve years older, far too composed and looks wealthy enough to make nine thousand pounds sound amusing.

You have known him for less than two hours and this is definitely a bad idea, but you're also exhausted by the good ones.

“Would you like to see my room?” you ask. “I paid nine thousand pounds for it.”

The key card rejects you three times. On the fourth try, Taehyung reaches past your shoulder and turns it the other way up.

“I knew that,” you say as the light changes from red to green.

“Clearly.”

“You can go back downstairs.”

“You invited me here.”

“I can revoke invitations.”

“Can you open doors?”

You push the handle down and walk into the suite without dignifying him with a response.

It has somehow become worse in the few hours you’ve been gone. The lamps have been lowered for the evening and the curtains drawn except for a narrow gap, reducing Paris to a strip of lit windows beyond the glass. Two chocolates wait on the pillows.

The champagne still sits in its bucket with the melted ice, and the television still welcomes Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Hale to Paris.

Taehyung comes in behind you and the door shuts with a small electronic click.

You stand there with your handbag sliding down your arm and become abruptly aware that you have brought a stranger upstairs. A very sober-looking stranger, despite the whisky. He hasn’t touched you yet. His suit remains fastened, his tie merely loosened, and the severe dark suit seems ridiculous beside the rose petals scattered across the duvet.

He reads the television screen. “Thomas Hale, so that’s his name.”

You find the remote beneath the honeymoon itinerary and press the power button hard enough to make your thumbnail hurt. The screen goes black, taking Tom’s name with it.

When you turn around, Taehyung watches you from beside the door. He puts a hand into his trouser pocket. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Less than you.” 

“Congratulations.”

“I’m not looking for congratulations.”

“What are you looking for?”

His gaze runs over you once, with none of the discretion he used on the roof. “An honest answer.”

You drop your handbag onto the desk, it lands partly on the honeymoon itinerary and knocks the congratulation card onto the carpet. “I asked you upstairs to have sex.”

“I understood that part.” His mouth threatens a smile, though he doesn’t let the distraction last. “Would you have asked me if you were sober?”

“Probably not.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Are you going to regret it?”

“Almost certainly.”

Taehyung considers this, then unbuttons his jacket. “That isn’t the same as not wanting it.” He takes two steps into the room. 

You take the third, catching his tie in your fist and kissing him. His hand wraps around the back of your neck and his mouth opens under yours, he tastes of whisky and the olives you stole from him. 

He walks you backwards until your hip meets the desk, causing the ice bucket to shift behind you with a wet scrape. Your hands go to his jacket, his go to the zip at the back of your dress, finding the top and stopping.

“Yes,” you say.

“I didn’t ask yet.”

“You talk too much.”

“You’ve talked about this Thomas for—”

You bite his lower lip and the rest of the sentence disappears. 

His fingers tighten briefly at your nape, and when he kisses you again there is enough force behind it to push the edge of the itinerary into your spine.

You drag his blazer from his shoulders. Taehyung catches it before it reaches the floor and throws it over the back of a chair.

“Seriously?” you ask. “I’m trying to undress you.”

“You can do that without destroying the tailoring.”

“Ghastly,” you scoff, but your fingers have already found his tie.

The knot gives more easily than it did upstairs. You pull the silk free and toss it towards the same chair, though it misses and slips to the carpet.

Taehyung looks at it.

“Pick it up and I’m calling security.”

“They know my name better than yours.”

“Bastard.”

He laughs against your mouth while he lowers the zip of your dress.

The fabric loosens. You shrug one strap down, then the other, impatient enough that your elbow catches the empty champagne glass beside you. Taehyung grabs it before it topples from the desk.

“Do you always require this much supervision?”

“I’ve survived twenty-six years.”

“Have you?”

“Take your shirt off.”

He sets the glass safely aside. You expect him to obey with the same irritating composure he has applied to everything else, but the first button catches. He swears under his breath and tries again.

“You’re ruining the competent older man fantasy.”

He gets the button open and looks at you. “You haven’t seen me without the shirt yet.”

That shuts you up for several seconds.

His shirt joins the jacket. The dark silk made him appear narrower on the roof; without it, there is no disguising the breadth of his shoulders or the muscle across his chest. More moles mark his skin, one near his collarbone and another lower on his ribs. His hair has fallen over his forehead, you push it back to see his face just for it to drop forward again immediately. 

“Still disappointed?” he asks.

“Devastated.”

“I can tell.”

Your dress reaches the carpet. Getting out of it would be more effective if one heel didn’t catch in the lining. You kick once, lose your balance and grab Taehyung’s bare arm.

He looks down at the mess around your ankles. “Elegant.”

“If you mention this after, I’ll deny meeting you.”

“After? So there’s a next time?”

You free your shoe and straighten. “Don’t make it weird. I can put the dress back on.”

His eyes move over your bra, your underwear and the stockings held up at your thighs. “I would prefer if you didn’t.”

You watch him unfasten one cuff, then the other, placing the little silver links onto the desk rather than the chair or the floor, because apparently there are limits to how reckless Taehyung is prepared to become tonight.

You reach for his belt. 

He catches your wrist, not to remove it but to hold your hand there. “Tell me again,” he says.

You curl your fingers around the buckle. “I want to have sex with you, in the room I paid nine thousand pounds for, and I want you to stop asking questions before I change my mind.”

“Better.”

“Arsehole.”

He kisses you before you can say anything else. The bedroom is six steps away and you only make it to four before Taehyung sits you on the arm of the sofa and crouches to unfasten the thin straps around your ankles, hair falling into his eyes as he works. One shoe comes off, then the other, placed beside each other on the rug with maddening neatness.

“You’re ruining the spontaneity,” you tell him

His hand slides from your ankle to the inside of your knee. “Is this ruining it too?”

You spread your legs. “No.”

The humour leaves his face, although it stays in yours until he presses his mouth to the top of your stocking.

You watch him work his way up your thigh, kissing skin above the lace while his hand moves beneath the edge of your panties. He looks wrong on his knees in front of you—shirtless, expensive trousers still fastened, the gold watch on his wrist catching light from the desk. You put your hand in his hair because you need somewhere to put it.

Taehyung looks up as he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs. Once freed, he holds them up between two fingers.

“If you fold those, I’ll kick you,” you say with all seriousness. 

Thankfully, Taehyung throws them over his shoulder. 

He puts your knee over his shoulder and kisses the inside of your thigh, mouth travelling higher with each peck. The sofa arm presses into the underside of your thighs, forcing your hips towards the edge, and Taehyung catches you around the waist before you slide off entirely.

His eyes lift to yours as the first drag of his tongue runs from your entrance to your clit, broad and wet enough to empty your head. You grip the sofa cushion with one hand and his shoulder with the other.

“Oh, fuck.”

Taehyung does it again.

He doesn’t tease for long, hand closing around your thigh and holding you open while he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. The movements are infuriatingly precise, and every time your hips lift he follows instead of forcing you back down.

You look towards the ceiling because looking at him is becoming a problem, until he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you stop caring.

“T-Taehyung,” you moan.

He groans into you and the vibration makes your stomach contract. His free hand moves between your legs, one finger pressing into you while his tongue keeps working over your clit.

“Yes, f-fuck, do that again.” 

He curls his finger.

“Yes, yes. There.”

Taehyung’s lips are wet when you glance down, the small mole beneath his eye partly hidden by his hair. After two hours of him sitting in an immaculate suit and studying you over the rim of a whisky glass, this view is extremely satisfying.

You put your hand in his hair and pull. His eyes close, a rough sound leaving him, mouth pressing harder against you.

You let go immediately. “Sorry.”

Taehyung stops and raises his head. “For what?”

“Pulling your hair." The Armagnac has stripped you of whatever instinct usually prevents you from mentioning an ex while another man is fucking you with his mouth. “Tom hated that.”

Taehyung looks at you, finger still buried inside your pussy. “I’m not Tom.”

“I know.”

“Then do it again.” He lowers his mouth back to your cunt.

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull harder, causing Taehyung to groan against you.

“O-oh.” Your thighs tighten around his head. “You really do like it.”

He answers by adding a second finger.

The stretch makes you moan louder. He gives you a few strokes to adjust, tongue drawing shorter circles over your clit while your grip remains fixed in his hair. 

You feel him smiling when you tug again and the smugness irritates you, so you use your hold to drag his mouth exactly where you need it.

His fingers work inside you, curling upon every inward stroke while he sucks your clit. The pressure builds quickly, helped by the obscene wet sounds his tongue is making between your legs and the sight of his face when you force yourself to look down again.

His eyes stay on yours when your orgasm takes you. Your hips jerk against his mouth, pussy clenching around his fingers. You swear at him, lose the next word somewhere in your throat and scrape your other palm uselessly across the cushion. 

He holds the identical rhythm until the contractions begin to ease, then he withdraws his fingers and sits back on his heels, looking far too pleased with himself.

You are still trying to recover enough oxygen to insult him properly.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You nearly ripped my hair off my scalp.”

“Complain again and I'll put my clothes back on.”

“Do not.” Taehyung gets to his feet, trousers still immaculate, although his hair sticks up where you pulled it.

You catch him by the waistband and pull him between your knees. “Take your trousers off,” you say, although you’re currently reaching for his belt.

This time he lets you open it, buckle landing against the carpet. His trousers follow, folded once over the arm of the sofa only because he intercepts them before you can kick them away.

“I cannot believe I’m about to sleep with someone who folds his trousers midway through sex.”

“They crease.”

“I hope they do.”

“You’re vindictive.” He steps out of them and the argument becomes difficult to maintain.

He pushes his boxers down, and your attempt at a clever remark vanishes. Taehyung is thick enough that your fingers don’t meet when you close your hand around him.

“Oh,” you say.

His eyebrows lift. “Do you need a moment?” he asks, smug. 

You tighten your grip and his mouth opens. “I’m fine.”

You stroke him once from base to tip, taking your time. He is already hard, heavy in your hand, a bead of precum gathering where your thumb passes over the head. Taehyung’s fingers flex against the back of the sofa, so you do it again.

“You look worried,” he says.

You glance down at his cock. “I’m assessing the logistics.”

His laugh is short and strained. “You're the one that invited me upstairs.”

“I didn’t have all the relevant information.”

“Do you want a refund?”

You don't answer; instead, you slide from the sofa onto your knees.

Taehyung stops talking.

You settle between his legs, one hand on his thigh and the other still working his cock. Up close, the size of him is even less reasonable. You lick the precum from the tip and hear his breath leave in a rough rush above you.

“Any further comments?” you ask.

“No.”

“Good.” You take the head into your mouth.

He is too thick to take carelessly, so your lips stretch around him, and even with your hand wrapped around the base there is more left than you can fit.

You circle your tongue beneath the ridge, using the pressure Tom always liked. The habit reaches your mouth before his name reaches your head, and for one ugly second you consider stopping.

Taehyung’s thigh tightens beneath your hand and a rough breath leaves him—nothing like the quiet approval you remember. You repeat the movement anyways, changing the angle until he grunts again.

You spit into your palm and stroke him, wetting the length you can’t comfortably take. His cock is obscene against your hand, flushed dark at the head and wet from your mouth. Taehyung watches you spread the spit with your thumb, his thighs shifting farther apart.

You use your other hand to cup his balls.

Taehyung swears in Korean as he looks down at you with his hair falling over his forehead and his chest rising faster than it did a minute ago. 

You look up at him and take another inch.

“Shit.” His fingers tighten. His head falls back, throat moving when he swallows. His breathing is uneven, knees spreading around you while you kneel between his legs with spit on your chin.

You drag your mouth up his cock and flick your tongue over the tip.

Taehyung catches your chin and bends over you. “Open.”

As you do, he presses his thumb onto your tongue, gathering the saliva there before dragging it down your lower lip. His cock twitches in your hand when you suck his thumb clean.

His control lasts approximately two seconds.

He pulls his hand away, takes your face between both palms and kisses you. It’s a filthy kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth while you keep stroking him. His knee hits the fallen sofa cushions when he leans down, and he mutters another Korean curse against your lips.

“Get up,” he tells you.

“That sounds commanding,” you say as you start to rise, only to discover that one leg has gone numb and you nearly tip sideways. 

Taehyung catches you beneath the arms and hauls you upright, laughing despite the state of him.

He kisses you again, backing you towards the bedroom while your hand remains wrapped around his cock. You give him one last stroke, and his grip tightens around your wrist.

“If you continue,” he says, “this ends here.”

“That was the idea.”

“I have a better one,” he says as his eyes move towards the bed.

You look at the rose petals, the turned-down sheets and the chocolates waiting on both pillows. Then you look at Taehyung, flushed, dishevelled and still hard enough to make the coming logistics seem questionable.

“Condom,” he says, the word roughened at the edges.

You look towards the bedroom. “I don’t have any.”

Taehyung reaches for his trousers.

“If you pull out your wallet, I’m going to reconsider several assumptions I’ve made about you.”

“They’re in my wash bag upstairs.”

“You have a wash bag full of condoms?”

“That isn’t what I said.”

You open the drawer beneath the minibar. Half bottles, salted almonds, a sewing kit, two toothbrushes and a black box marked INTIMACY in discreet gold lettering. You hold it up. “Nine thousand pounds well spent.”

“That’s what convinced you?”

“The free toothbrushes also helped.”

The box contains three condoms and a sachet of lubricant that looks designed by the same person who chose the wedding stationery. You throw one at him, before making your way to the bed.

Taehyung follows you through. The mattress is high enough that your first attempt to sit on it becomes an undignified little hop. Taehyung catches your waist, laughing, and you drag him onto the bed before he can comment.

He catches himself on one forearm, his knee landing between yours. The wrapper tears near your ear and you watch him roll the condom on.

“That looks ambitious,” you say.

Taehyung glances up. “Do you want me to apologise for my body anatomy?”

“I want you to do something useful with it.”

His attention drops to your chest. The scramble onto the bed has left your bra crooked, one strap hanging near your elbow. He hooks a finger beneath the centre of your bra and pulls you up far enough to reach the clasp. 

It takes him two attempts.  You start laughing after the first. “The competent older man continues to struggle.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“With what?”

The clasp opens, he removes the bra and throws it over his shoulder without looking. 

“My tits?”

Taehyung pushes you onto your back. “Mostly your mouth.”

He covers it with his, kissing you until the chuckling becomes difficult to maintain. One hand wraps around your breast, his palm warm and rougher than you expected. He squeezes, watching your face when his thumb passes over your nipple.

His mouth moves down your neck and across your chest. He takes your other nipple between his lips, sucking hard enough to pull a moan from you while his hand continues working the first breast.

Taehyung’s tongue circles the tight point before he sucks it deeper into his mouth. His fingers pinch the other nipple at the same time.

“F-fuck.” You arch your chest farther into his mouth, and his hand slides down between your legs.

You’re soaking wet. His fingers move through your folds once, spreading you before he lifts his head from your chest.

“Please,” you say.

Taehyung shifts between your thighs. He rubs the head of his cock over your pussy, coating the condom, then catches your leg and opens you wider.

The first push stretches more than you are prepared for, Taehyung stops with the head inside you to give you time to adjust. As the sting eases, you pull him closer by the shoulder.  

Taehyung presses in another inch.

Your grip tightens. He feeds his cock into you in short movements until his hips finally meet the backs of your thighs. The fullness is almost too much. You can feel your body contracting around him, unable to decide whether to resist or drag him inward.

“A-ah, yes Taehyung.”

His eyes stay on your face. “Still ambitious?”

You pause, teeth biting the insides of your cheeks to suppress a moan. “Shut up and move.”

He fucks you with one forearm planted beside your head, the other hand gripping your breast while his mouth moves between your nipples. Every movement of his hips drags his cock against the tight front wall of your pussy, every thrust fills you until you feel it low in your stomach.

Taehyung pulls out and the sudden emptiness makes you clench.

He catches your waist and rolls you onto your stomach, but your knee lands on the torn wrapper.

“Wait.” You reach beneath you, peel it from your skin and fling it towards the bedside table. It falls short. “Continue.”

“Elegant.”

“Fuck me.”

Taehyung’s smile disappears.

You get onto your knees and lower your chest to the mattress. Taehyung’s hand runs over your arse, squeezing one cheek before his palm comes down with a sharp crack.

You look back at him with a raised brow.

“Do you want another?” he asks, smirking.

“I want you inside me.”

He grips his cock and guides it between your legs, pushing in with one long stroke that makes your arms give beneath you, your cheek hitting the duvet among the rose petals.

“Fuck.”

Taehyung fucks you from behind with his fingers burrowing into your hips, pulling you onto his cock as he drives forwards. The mattress shudders under your knees and your tits move against the sheets with every thrust, nipples still tender from his mouth, the friction making you wetter around him.

“This what you wanted?” Taehyung asks.

“You’ll need to be more specific,” you whimper.

He thrusts deep and holds you there. “When you touched my tie.”

You turn your face enough to see him over your shoulder. His hair is wrecked, his chest damp and his mouth red from yours. There is nothing left of the expensive funeral except the trousers folded over the sofa in the next room.

“I wanted to ruin your suit.”

“You failed.”

“Night’s not over.”

Taehyung pulls almost completely out and drives back into you, your answer getting lost against the duvet. He uses his grip on your hips to keep the pace, rough enough now that the headboard knocks against the wall. 

You drop your head and see the congratulation card on the carpet.

It lies face-up beside the desk, one corner bent beneath your handbag. Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Hale.

For an instant, you see Tom at your kitchen table, hunched over the guest list and asking whether his cousins can fit at table seven. Your own laptop is open to this suite behind the seating chart, hidden whenever he glances over. You tell him it will all be worth it. He says he knows.

Taehyung thrusts again. You don’t push back.

His hand slows between your legs and the next thrust never comes. He remains inside you, both hands resting on your hips. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Do you need a minute?”

“No.” The answer comes too quickly, but you don’t correct it. You look at the card once more, then reach behind you and touch his thigh. “Roll over.”

Taehyung pulls out and lies back without trying to discuss Tom while naked.

You turn around and climb over him.

His cock rests against his stomach, the condom slick and still secure. You take him in your hand, position him beneath you and lower yourself onto the head.

The stretch burns again, but you keep going.

Taehyung’s hands settle on your thighs, he starts to help and you push one away.

“Let me.”

He leaves his hands where you can see them.

You sink lower, taking him inch by inch until your arse meets his thighs. From above, you control how deep he goes and how long you stay there. You lift and drop onto him once, testing the angle, then do it again because it is exactly what you need.

Taehyung’s hands return to your hips when you begin to ride him in earnest and you don’t remove them this time. 

“Fuck,” he says, grip tightening. “Look at you.”

“Don’t start talking now.” Your brows furrow, mouth dropping agape.

Taehyung thrusts up into you and you meet him, dropping as his hips drive upwards. The impact makes your tits bounce, nipples hard and sore. Taehyung cups one, squeezing as you ride him, and you cover his hand with yours to make him press harder.

The card hangs at the edge of your vision. You turn your head away from it and ride Taehyung harder, driving him into you until the strain burns through your thighs. Tom remains where he is in your head and you refuse to stop for him.

“Touch me,” you say.

Taehyung moves his hand from your breast to your clit.

You brace both hands on his chest and fuck yourself on him. Taehyung watches where your bodies meet, his thumb working your clit while his other hand grips your hip hard enough to leave marks. 

“Yes,” you scream while you dig your nails into his chest. “D-don’t stop.”

Your orgasm catches in the middle of the next stroke. Your pussy clamps around him, hips stuttering as the pleasure runs through you. You keep moving because stopping is impossible, each downward grind dragging it out until your arms start to shake.

Taehyung swears and takes over. Both hands seize your hips, holding you down while he thrusts up into you. His control lasts three strokes and on the fourth, his face twists and his cock jerks inside the condom.

You feel each beat through the tight grip of your pussy. He gives one final, uneven thrust and drops back against the pillows.

Your knees slide apart. You fold forwards over his chest, his hands still fixed around your hips and both of you breathing too hard to speak.

For several seconds afterwards, neither of you does anything useful. You are lying across Taehyung’s chest with your face near his shoulder. His skin is damp beneath your cheek.  

You roll off him onto the bed.

Taehyung sits up and moves to the bathroom, probably to dispose of the condom. You expect the tap to run, perhaps the toilet to flush. Instead, drawers open, a cupboard closes and the water runs for long enough that you lift your head from the pillow.

“Are you renovating in there?”

“Go to sleep.”

“This is my room.”

“Then you should know where the painkillers are.”

You don’t, as it happens.

He comes back with a glass of water, two tablets in their foil and a folded hand towel. His hair is a mess from your hands, his mouth swollen, and he is naked except for the boxers he put back on. A red mark runs across one shoulder. 

Taehyung puts the tablets on the bedside table.

“Those for the sex or the Armagnac?” you ask.

“The Armagnac.”

You discover the towel when he sits beside you and places it in your hand.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I didn't think you'd—” You look at the towel, then at him.

“You can manage?” he asks.

“Obviously.”

“You struggled with the door.”

“Get out.”

He reaches for his trousers, taking your joke seriously.

“I was joking. I didn’t mean it, so don't go. Not yet, at least.”

Taehyung looks back at you.

You clean yourself beneath the sheet, suddenly fascinated by the embroidery along its edge. “You knew I didn’t mean it.”

“You told me you revoke invitations.”

“I also told you I was grieving.”

“Your universal defence.”

“It’s working so far.”

He leaves his trousers where they are and gets into the other side of the bed.

The other side. Tom’s side, if this had happened the way it was supposed to. You nearly tell Taehyung to move, although there is nowhere he could go that wouldn’t have been assigned to Tom at some point in the planning. The whole week was his—his seat on the plane, his robe, his place at tomorrow’s breakfast and his name beside yours on every reservation.

You swallow the tablets with half the water. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say.

“Bring you water?”

“The towel. The tablets.”

“You drank half a bottle of Armagnac.”

“Not half.”

“Enough to invite me upstairs.”

“That was just my natural charm.”

“I’m sure it was.” He nods.

You lie down with your back to him. The pillow smells slightly of hotel starch.

Taehyung switches off the lamp on his side. The opening in the curtains leaves a narrow column of headlights moving when cars pass below.

You pull the duvet higher. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you next wake, the clock reads 4:17.

Your mouth is dry, one foot is cold and Taehyung has migrated towards the centre of the bed. He sleeps on his stomach with one arm beneath the pillow, his face turned towards you, hair pointing in several directions. 

You drink what remains of the water. 

Taehyung doesn’t wake when you put the glass down, and instead wakes when you kiss his shoulder and slide your hand beneath the duvet.

His eyes open. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

He turns onto his back. Sleep has roughened his voice and stripped the last of the formality from his face. “You’re awake?”

“Enough.”

“Sober?”

You draw your hand back. “You can say no.”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment, then reaches for the back of your thigh and pulls you across his hips. “I don’t want to say no.”

You bend to kiss him. His hand goes into your hair and yours braces beside his head, close enough to the mole beneath his eye that you lower your mouth to it without thinking.

Taehyung turns his face towards you. “Did you just kiss my cheek?”

“I’m still drunk.”

“Another universal defence?”

“Are we having sex or conducting an interview?”

Taehyung throws the duvet aside and gets out of bed. “Both, apparently.”

“Where are you going?” you ask as you watch him cross the suite naked.

“The condoms.”

He returns with another condom and the unused sachet of lubricant from the black box.

You take the wrapper from him while he tears open the sachet. “Efficient,” you murmur.

“You woke me up for this.”

“You weren’t complaining a minute ago.”

Taehyung pours some lubricant onto his fingers. “I’m not complaining now.”

His hand disappears beneath the duvet. The touch is cool, and you close your legs around his wrist. 

He spreads the lubricant over your pussy, fingers moving through the soreness left by the last few hours. There is no attempt to tease you into begging this time. He strokes you until the discomfort gives way to heat, then slides two fingers inside.

Your head sinks into the pillow. “That’s better.”

Taehyung’s mouth moves to your neck. “I know.”

You hook your fingers into his hair and pull his head back far enough to kiss him. His mouth is dry at first, yours tastes slightly of the water you drank, and neither of you has the energy to pretend this is elegant.

Taehyung curls his fingers inside you.

You break the kiss to let out a moan.

You reach beneath the duvet and wrap your hand around his cock. He is already hard, though not with the almost painful pressure of before. You stroke him slowly, your grip slick.

The dark room hides some of him, but not the clenching in his stomach or the manner his grip slips from your hand to the sheet when you drag your thumb through the precum at his tip.

“Taehyung.”

His eyes open.

You hold up the condom. He reaches for it, but you tear the wrapper yourself and roll it down his cock. Taehyung watches your hand work, one palm resting on your thigh beneath the duvet.

You start to move over him. He catches your waist and rolls you onto your back instead.

“I was going to be on top.”

“You took too long.”

Taehyung moves between your legs and pushes the duvet towards the bottom of the bed causing cold air to reach your damp skin. You pull him down before he can do anything else, his chest meeting yours and his weight settling across you.

The mattress dips beneath his knees. 

Taehyung kisses you while he spreads the remaining lubricant over the condom. His cock slides against your pussy, catching at your entrance on each movement. You lift your hips, trying to draw him in.

“Impatient,” he says against your mouth.

He reaches between you and positions himself, head pressing inside and by the time he is fully inside, both of you are breathing through your mouths.

He stays there with his hips against yours.

“You’re very big at four in the morning,” you say.

“Only at four?” Taehyung draws out and pushes back in.

He fucks you with his weight supported on one forearm, the strokes deep and heavy, each one rocking you into the mattress. 

“T-Taehyung.”

He pinches your nipple. “What?”

“Please keep going.”

You put your hand in his hair and pull. Taehyung groans, grabbing your nipple between his lips, the sound quivering through you. His hips drive deeper on the next stroke.

“Again,” he says.

You pull harder.

Taehyung thrusts into you with more force, saying your name into the skin beneath your breast.

“Taehyung.” His name comes out rough. 

He raises his head, mouth wet, eyes fixed on your face. “You’re squeezing my cock.”

Your pussy tightens around him with every thrust and when Taehyung says your name again, you cum around his cock, your leg locking behind him while the contractions work through you. He holds the same pace for as long as he can. Then his arm gives slightly, his chest dropping against yours, and his thrusts become short and hard.

You keep your fingers entwined in his hair. “Cum for me.”

Taehyung groans into your neck as his cock jerks inside the condom. He thrusts once more and stays buried in you while he comes.

He lowers his face into the pillow near your shoulder, still inside you, his chest heavy against yours.

When he pulls out, you collapse beside him and discover that the cold foot has become both feet. “Move over,” you say.

Taehyung looks towards the large stretch of empty mattress on your other side. “There is an entire bed behind you.”

“This part is warm.”

“Because I was sleeping here.”

“Exactly.”

He moves with poor grace, and you follow until your shoulder rests against his arm.

“Don’t leave before I wake up,” you say.

“You’re issuing instructions now?”

“I have been all night.”

“True.” Taehyung pulls the duvet over your uncovered foot. “All right.”

Down below, a reversing lorry begins to beep. Paris at four in the morning, it turns out, is mostly deliveries and bins.

You fall asleep before the lorry finishes.

ᥫ✿ next | series masterlist | main masterlist

a/n: hello, friends! it’s been a minute since i last came to you with a new fic, so i really hope this makes up for the lost time. i’m ridiculously excited for everything that’s still to come with daylight.

the idea for this story found me during my solo trip to paris for the bts concert. on day one, i found an empty spot at the trocadéro, tucked away from the crowds of tourists. my feet were killing me, there were beads of sweat running down my forehead and i had officially reached the point where sitting on the ground felt like a luxury, so i stayed there for a long time looking at the eiffel tower and watching the people around it.

there was a newlywed couple taking their wedding photographs, a family dressed in matching clothes trying to pose together and children running around while their parents bought them slushies to cool down. everyone arrived at the same place carrying a completely different story. different reasons for being there, different people waiting beside them and different memories they would eventually take home.

i think that might be what makes paris feel so magical. it's a city made up of other people’s stories—and for a little while, you get to exist among them.

i don’t even know what i’m rambling about anymore, hahah. anyway, i listened to “daylight” by taylor swift on the bus back to my hotel that evening, and the fic basically began puzzling itself together in my head. the moment i reached my room, i recorded a very long and probably incoherent voice note so i wouldn’t forget anything, and then immediately started working on it.

this story has become so special to me, and i really hope you enjoy meeting these characters, walking through paris with them and watching all their terrible decisions unfold.

i also want to give a very, very, very special thank you to my wonderful friend missie, who encouraged me to finish this fic, created the absolutely beautiful banner above and beta-read the chapter with so much care and detail. daylight genuinely would not be daylight without her. @missenu, i love you so much, my friend <3

if you made it this far, thank you for reading my friends, and i’ll see you in the next one!

⠀iv.for you, a thousand times over - them & now. ⠀⠀⠀dad!yoongi, each dream of mine. ⠀⠀⠀dad!jungkook, the sound of magic. ⠀⠀⠀dad!namjoon, a tale of cosmic hope. ⠀⠀⠀dad!hoseok, the power of kisses. ⠀⠀⠀dad!jimin, made of stars and laughter. ⠀⠀⠀dad!seokjin, a collection of love. ⠀⠀⠀dad!taehyung, fragments of happiness.

⠀v.a dream within a dream - serenity of a heartache. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!yoongi, wishes of hurt & love. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!jungkook, bouquet of insignificant tears. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!namjoon, drunk in hurt. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!hoseok, the melody of departure. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!jimin, the ashes of his essence. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!seokjin, pain in ignorance. ⠀⠀⠀ex-boyfriend!taehyung, moon's first tear.

⠀vi.and the rest is rust & stardust - a moonless hope. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!yoongi, confessions over coffee. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!jungkook, impatiently he waited. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!namjoon, another saturday morning. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!hoseok, the last apologize. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!jimin, wrapped in the present. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!seokjin, an invitation. ⠀⠀⠀second-chance!taehyung, the fate of a lover.

on a rainy day, you decide to read... ⠀vii.i wish you always - soulmate!BTS. ⠀viii.oh, your love is sunlight - older-brother!BTS. ⠀ix.but here i blur into you - childhood-friend!BTS. ⠀x.softer than the stars - best-friend!BTS. ⠀xi.where the sun meets wildflowers - highschool-sweetheart!BTS. ⠀xii.all love is an attempt to live - roommate|BTS.

on a foggy day, you decide to read... ⠀xiii.it's the connection we can't explain - co-worker!BTS. ⠀xiv.the moon is the same here - long-distance!BTS. ⠀xv.we're becoming so much more- jealous!BTS. ⠀xvi.it only has to make sense to you - sugar-daddy!BTS. ⠀xvii.do the stars gaze back at us? - first-time!BTS. ⠀xviii.the sun doesn't ask the sky if it belongs - to be added.