neinyasficrecs
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neinyasficrecs · 4 days ago
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────𐙚 husband!Jungkook
husband Jungkook who..
○ gives backhugs when you're cooking, sliding his hands up your stomach under your shirt, smelling your scent with his nose burried in your neck
○ loves to shower with you, pressing your back against his chest, kissing your shoulder while he washes out your shampoo,
○ sits you on the kitchen counter while he cooks, letting you play music and occasionally taste the dish he's cooking from his finger
○ takes his time to kiss you touch all over you, laying you both under the soft covers, feeling up every inch of your skin while muttering how sexy you are, how much he loves you
○ wraps his arm around your waist at any given moment
○ plays with his wedding ring whenever he's thinking
○ calls you his wife with the most pride he's ever felt
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neinyasficrecs · 9 days ago
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bend my rules | jjk
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in which jeongguk jeon, the frattiest of all frat boys, has been trying to get you to go out with him since freshman year, no success. what if the events that occur in junior year change your opinion on jeongguk and you actually give him a chance?
rich! jeongguk x reader
warnings: detailed virginity loss (minors, go away!), use of yn, jk is a little dumb sometimes but he’s a sweetheart, jk is a frat boy, minor mention of SA (nothing too triggering (i hope)), i love yn, taehyung mention đŸ«¶đŸŒ, yn is thick asfff (#needthat), desperate jk, use of both jeongguk and jungkook (i’m an indecisive bitch sorry), he gets the girl!
another scenario with this couple ‘couple’s getaway’ !
——-
Jeongguk needs no introduction. There was not a single soul at Berkeley University that didn’t know of him. Even the freshmen got introduced to who he was on their first day. With a powerful presence, daddy’s money, and unfortunately for you, a gorgeous, gorgeous face and muscles for days, Jeongguk takes the entire world by storm. He had that something about him that makes every guy want to befriend him and makes every girl want to be with him.
He was a business administration major, now in his senior year; his goal? To take over his father’s many businesses when he graduates. He could have done that without college, but his family put a lot of importance on education.
He was simultaneously in a frat and also lived alone in a penthouse off campus. You always wondered how he was allowed to be in the frat if he wasn’t living in the fraternity itself. But he’s the king of Kappa Sigma; they couldn’t vote him out. You met Jungkook at a party thrown by a friend’s friend, who is also friends with Jungkook, during the second semester of freshman year. He approached you with charming confidence, asking for your number. You declined politely, and he has not left you alone since—following you around, asking you out, giving you gifts, inviting you to parties that you never ended up attending, asking your friends about you, pretending to share your interests to get closer to you, and so on and so forth.
The one thing that was good about freshman and sophomore year was that you had no classes with Jungkook. So the last two years, you had Jungkook-less classes, except for the ones he decided to barge into uninvited and declare his love for you. Junior year came, and with it, Jungkook decided to sign himself up for the 18th-century literature class with Professor Sullivan.
Your major was English literature.
Professor Sullivan’s class was one of your favorites—the debates, the topics, the atmosphere. Also, the fact that Professor Sullivan liked you a lot. The topic of this lesson was: the role of women in literature in the 18th century.
"Women in the 18th century played very crucial roles as empowered figures; that is a fact. Authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, for example; she challenged societal expectations and wrote incredibly critical narratives that advocated for women’s rights,” you argued with a steady voice.
From across from you, you heard a voice you dreaded. "Yn, no one can argue with you about the existence of women authors at the time, but were they really all that empowering? I mean, they pretty much all were dependent on men. For example, ‘Oroonoko,’ written by a woman, yet it represents a male hero, while the female perspective is secondary.”
“Well, Ben, if you had taken my argument or really, any historical context into consideration, you would understand that, male hero aside, a woman producing literature of any kind in that era meant that she was asserting herself in a male-dominant, or rather, in a female-submissive world, and that in itself is resistance. It embodies power. I rest my case."
Ben was about to open his mouth to argue back when the door to the lecture hall interrupted him.
"Mr. Jeon, you are half an hour late," Professor Sullivan spoke to the interrupter.
In that moment, Ben became the least of your worries, sexism and all. You felt as if your life was upside down and you couldn’t get it up. What the hell was he doing in this class? This isn’t even his thing; he will fail! He will fail miserably!
"I sincerely apologize, Professor. It won’t happen again," the deep voice apologized before stepping forward and finding a seat.
As his piercing brown eyes found yours, the usual smirk found its place on his lips, and them and their owner made their way directly towards you. He sat down with the same expression on his face. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me over the summer?"
He put his muscular arm around your shoulder and kept his head tilted to the side to stare at you, admiring the beauty before him from head to toe. You were wearing flared jeans and a tight pink long-sleeve shirt that accentuated your generous breasts. "Cute outfit, baby. Pink is your color; I’ll make sure to buy you lingerie in that same shade."
Before you could answer, Mr. Sullivan stated: "Mr. Jeon, we were just discussing the woman’s role in 18th-century literature. I am sure Ms. Ln will fill you in on what you have missed so far, but I wish for you to pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I know Ms. Ln is much prettier than I am; nonetheless, I hope you can find it in yourself to pay more attention to me and less to her."
The whole hall broke out in laughter, amused at the professor’s wit. Jungkook just continued smirking at you, seemingly also amused at the professor, and you sat in silence for the rest of the lecture, blushing.
The lecture ended quickly after, all the students making their way out, and you would’ve done so as well, but you needed to have a little talk with the man sitting beside you first.
"What are you doing here?" you nearly hissed at Jungkook, who was still sitting, your arms crossed around your chest.
"What do you mean, baby?" he provoked. "You don’t want me here or something?"
One thing that can be said about Jungkook was that he was a very persistent man. Even after your countless rejections, he somehow managed to come back stronger, bigger, and harder to fight off.
"You know I don’t want you here! What are you even doing here in the first place, Jungkook? What do you want?" Your hands were on your full hips as you questioned him.
He looked up at you with a shimmer of amusement and a raised eyebrow, his eyes tracing every curve. "You know, Yn, you look really good from this angle."
The thought of kicking him in the head came to you, but you fought it off. "Answer my question."
"I’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to. You know damn well why I’m here; I want you, and I wanna see you, and I want you to finally go out with me so we can live happily ever after and put me out of my misery," he proclaimed, with the spirit of Romeo possessing him.
"You just did, though," you noted with a smirk.
"Huh?"
"You just answered a question I already know the answer to." With that, you grabbed your bag and swayed away from the man, who was too distracted watching you walk away to comprehend that you were gone.
___
On a Friday night, you had a lot you could do: read a new book, talk to your mom, whom you hadn’t seen in two months on the phone, organize a sleepover with your friends and watch a movie, finish the five essays you haven’t finished yet, go off campus and try new food, and if you don’t like it, get the food you know and like and eat it.
But in Avery’s opinion, there was nothing better to do than to go to the Kappa Sigma party. You would usually not necessarily disagree; a party is sometimes exactly what you needed, but not this Friday and not at Kappa Sigma.
"Avery, did you forget the 100 times that I have told you he is now in my 18th-century lit class? I had to see him three times this week for almost an hour each lecture. Those are three hours where I had to see him, where I had to hear him speak," you dramatically articulated. "And if you count the times that I have seen him in the halls, and the one time I saw him in the library, and the one time he came into my poetry class and sat there, watching me for 20 minutes before Professor Sinclair told him to leave, and the one time he came here to give me flowers and ask me out, that makes like a hundred thousand hours that I had to see him this week. I do not wanna go to his party!"
Your roommates all looked at you like you just fell down from an alien spaceship. Nora was the first one to react. "Your math skills are really bad, Yn."
Avery rolled her eyes. "True, but that’s besides the point; Yn, why are you whining that the hottest and richest guy at this entire university wants you and has been wanting you for the last two years? That’s a flex, girl! Now, go put on a sexy ass outfit on that sexy ass bod and let’s. go. out."
"Woooo!" you heard Sasha yell from the kitchen, making you crack a smile amid your misery.
"Alright, but next Friday, I choose what we do," you claimed, with full intention of keeping that promise.
_
You and all four of your roommates arrived at the Kappa Sigma house with outfits that nobody else could compete with. You were wearing a tight, black off-shoulder shirt and a red mini skirt that emphasized your already emphasized thickness. Topped off with soft glam makeup and black heels, you felt like a real woman.
"Welcome, ladies," the deep voice that could only belong to Taehyung greeted you. "Sasha."
"Hi, Tae," Sasha purred, her hands quickly finding his neck, leaning into a passionate kiss.
These two had been a couple for a few months now, after a whole year of being on and off. Despite the stereotypes of frat boys, Taehyung knew how to treat his girl right.
You entered the house with one friend less; Sasha disappeared with Taehyung into the chaos that is the current state of this house. Your other roommates quickly disappeared as well, much to your dismay.
Now, your goal was to socialize, maybe drink a little something, but not too much because of the essays that you would have to write the next day. Your eyes scanned the house for a familiar face, and it landed on one.
One that was looking you up and down with hunger. He signaled you to come over where he was sitting with a bunch of girls and one other guy. You shook your head no, so he came over.
"Yn! I’m glad you came, baby." He hugged you, and you only half-hugged him back. "You look gorgeous, of course."
"Thanks, Jeongguk," you said politely.
You and he had a complex relationship; the first time he saw you, he showed romantic interest in you, showering you with affection and gifts. He never stopped. You always rejected him, no exceptions, even at times where you wanted nothing more than to say yes. Yet he was always kind to you, and you were kind to him (most of the time). Your mutual friends always brought you together; it was as if you couldn’t escape one another—to his pleasure and to your dismay.
"Lemme get you something to drink," he went into the kitchen and came back with a soda can. "Here, I know you usually don’t drink, so I got you a cola; hope that’s fine."
"It is, thank you," you smiled softly and started drinking the cola. "So, you’re interested in literature this year."
You only started a conversation because you knew he would not leave your side the entire night anyway, and you would prefer it if you picked the topic of conversation instead of him.
"Hell yeah, I love me some Samuel L. Jackson," he stated, making you laugh.
"You mean Samuel Johnson, you idiot," you said, giggling as you pushed his strong arm playfully.
He watched you giggle, gazing as if you hung the stars. "Yeah, yeah, same thing, same thing." With his boyish smile, he said, "Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by signing up for the same class as you. It was kinda out of pocket, even for my standards. I know the last person you wanna see is me, so if you want me to drop it, I will."
Your jaw metaphorically dropped at Jungkook’s words. Those are words that came out of Jungkook’s mouth? Does that mean that he will leave me alone completely if I wish? What does this mean?
A strange emotion settled deep inside you; you started wondering if you had done something wrong or if he perhaps found another girl he wanted to ask out even more than he wanted to ask you out.
"Jungkook, it is your right to choose whatever class you want to be in; I can’t be mad at you for that. Besides, you will learn a lot from Professor Sullivan; he’s great," you reassured him with a sweet voice.
"Yeah?" He grinned, recognizing that this was your way of saying you did not want him to leave.
"Oh yeah, he is a delightful old man. The stories he has to share are amazing. Did you even know he’s married to Professor Martinez? The reason why she hasn’t taken his last name is that he was against it, telling her, ‘Maria, if you take my name, that is erasure. Erasure of your life before my appearance, and erasure of your beautiful Mexican heritage, Maria. Do not change your name to mine; I am technically your oppressor.’ He told us that story maybe about 23 times, and he made sure to roll the r real hard," you found yourself joking with Jungkook, as your mind took you back to Avery’s earlier words.
It was not the first time that your friends said the same words to you; they always expressed their envy and their confusion about the situation with Jungkook. But you were thinking much deeper than them.
Much to everybody’s surprise, you never had a boyfriend, and you were also still a virgin. The most you did was a kiss you shared with a guy at your high school graduation, which you immediately regretted. You had high standards. For yourself, for your future, for your future husband, and for everyone you allowed to enter your life. It was not about not having options; God knows you had many. It was about knowing for sure that the man you give these things to—your trust, your dignity, your virginity, your love—would be the right one, the one that deserved it. The idea that Jungkook—the man who gave you his undivided attention for two years straight and spoiled you without being asked—was perhaps the man for you didn’t sound so unbelievable anymore.
When you were a freshman and before you met him, you heard stories about him—stories of the parties he threw, the money he had, the many girls he fucked. These stories made you cautious, even though he put in real effort to get closer to you, you were hard to impress, and it was even harder for you to get out of your shell of self-protection.
Jungkook howled with laughter at the things you told him about your professor; either he found them genuinely amusing, or he was just laughing because the stories came out of your mouth.
“So, what will you do?” he asked once the laughter died down a bit.
You tilted your head innocently. “What do you mean?”
He looked at you with such tenderness, your innocent eyes captivating him.
“When we get married, will you keep your name, or will you take mine?” he posed the question so casually, yet so longingly.
You shrugged your shoulders elegantly, taking a small sip from your forgotten cola. “I will probably take yours.”
The words you said that Friday night made Jeon Jungkook the happiest man on planet Earth, and probably all the other planets in the universe.
_
“So, you little minx sat down and talked to Jungkook basically the entire fucking party, and you didn’t even get up once? You didn’t even complain about it!” Avery was almost lost for words; key word, almost.
“What’s the big deal? We talked, so what?” you shrugged it off.
“Everybody’s talking about it, you know. They think you might finally give the guy a chance,” Nora chimed in. “I always knew you would eventually cave; I mean, with those arms and that black card, I would’ve folded a long time ago. There’s a rumor he has a seven-inch dick, by the way.”
Just as you were about to say something, Sasha entered the living room, having just finished talking to Taehyung on the phone. “What are you girlies talking about?”
Avery answered, “Oh, just about Yn and Jungkook getting married and having six kids.”
You threw a pillow at her head in response, and Sasha smirked at the mention of her boyfriend’s buddy. “Yeah, I heard what happened. Tae told me Jungkook went crazy after talking to you, saying that this will be the year that he will claim you as his and that there’s not a single person that can take away the happiness that he’s experiencing at the moment. He literally can’t stop talking about you.”
You suppressed your smile successfully and shrugged your shoulders again. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal. I mean, you all left me lonely at that party, and he was the first familiar face I saw, sooo
 I had nothing better to do.”
“God, you’re such an odd person. The guy wants you so bad, just give him a chance. You think it’s not noticeable that you are also kinda into him, but if you weren’t, you would’ve blocked that guy a long time ago, and you would’ve gone crazy on his ass with all the things he does to get your attention, but you don’t,” Tanya argued with a sly smirk on her face. “You may be mysterious to other people, but you can’t fool your best friends, who have been living with you for two years.”
Avery and Nora both agreed with Tanya’s words by nodding their heads crazily, and Sasha said a loud ‘true’ from the kitchen across the living room, where she was preparing five hot chocolates for you.
“I do go crazy; I always go crazy; I always tell him off. You all have personally experienced me going off on him for things he did and said,” you defended yourself the best you could, before taking the hot chocolate out of Sasha’s hands with a small ‘thank you, S.’
“Yeah, but it’s not really a ‘fuck off, I don’t ever wanna see you or hear you again’ type of ‘going off’; it’s more like a ‘ugh, Jungkook, I can’t believe you did this again. Please do it again’ type of thing,” Avery mocked with a high-pitched voice and fluttering eyelashes.
“Oh my God, I do not do that.”
“You kinda do, now that I think about it,” Sasha finally sat down. “I mean, I have seen you pick fights with men flirting with you before, and you are a completely different person with them versus with Jungkook.”
The others thought about what Sasha said, and it was almost like a collective epiphany. They all looked at you with the same look on their faces; almost an accusatory expression.
“You totally like him; oh my God! Yn likes Jungkook. It makes so much sense; I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Nora expressed with exciting energy.
You felt a rush of relief coming over you, almost as if you were carrying a secret that you wanted out. You had no idea if that feeling was a good sign or a bad one.
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, girls. I do not ‘totally like him’; I may be just starting—emphasis on just starting—to warm up to the idea of giving him a chance,” you revealed. “But Sasha, promise not to tell Taehyung about this, ‘cause if you do, Jungkook is gonna know by default, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
“I won’t; I promise. This is just soooo exciting,” she spoke. “It’s just gonna be really hard to keep to myself, but I will try.”
“No, you won’t just try; you have to actually not say anything. You forget how indecisive I am; I could change my mind about this in an hour, so if you tell Taehyung, he will tell Jungkook, then Jungkook builds up hope and confronts me about what he heard, and I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, that was nothing; he’s just messing with you,’ and can you imagine how hurt his feelings would be? I really don’t need that on my conscience,” you explained thoroughly, your dramatics intact as they always were.
“Oh my God,” they all said in unison.
“What?”
“You care about his feelings!” Avery exclaimed, standing up dramatically. “You like him, like, like him. Admit it, admit it, please, please, please.”
“Shut up. I’m going to bed now. Buh-bye.” With that, you exited the living room, leaving your friends to talk about your situation for another hour before also going to bed.
“Remember when he got her a Cartier bracelet?”
___
“I will form six groups consisting of four students; each group discussing the topic I will be assigning them,” Professor Sullivan revealed.
“Ms. Ln, you will be grouped with Ms. Jones, Mr. Jeon, and Mr. Davis,” he spoke loudly. “You will be discussing Rousseau’s ‘The Confessions’ and prepare a presentation on identity and selfhood that is due next week, on Monday.”
You dreaded being in a group with Ben Davis, who had been nothing but a pain in your butt since you got to know him, but at least the assignment was the one that you wanted.
Jungkook, who sat next to you, smirked and nodded his head. “They couldn’t tear us apart if they tried, angel; this is meant to be.”
“Who are you even talking about? Who’s they?” Confused by his words, you asked.
“Just the world. You know how much these people hate real love,” he flashed you his trademark smile, making you push his arm playfully.
"Could you two stop flirting so we can start with the assignment?" the annoying voice of Ben whined, sitting across from you, with Lily Jones joining in the seat next to his.
“Alright, let’s dive in,” you started talking. “I personally think the most transfixing part of ‘The Confessions’ is how Rousseau emphasizes his intentions to be authentic. He exposes himself without shame or any sense of privacy, which for the time challenged societal norms completely.”
Lily nodded in agreement; Jungkook was busy staring at your lips as you articulated your opinion, smiling with his arm still around your shoulder. Ben, on the other hand, pulled a face you could only describe as disgusted. “Authenticity? The only authentic thing about Rousseau is that he is able to whine about his feelings like a pubescent girl. It feels almost like narcissism to me.”
"What a stupid take, Ben. With Rousseau writing this book, he laid the foundation for modern notions of individuality; the book challenges the reader to think about their own identity, their individuality," you explained your point further.
“I don’t need a stupid book like this to tell me about my identity or my individuality. It’s literally just a dude whining and rambling about his feelings and whatnot. No one wants to hear it,” Ben snapped.
Jungkook looked between you and Ben while you were arguing; seeing your agitated face when you hated someone made him realize you didn’t hate him at all. You even leaned closer into his arms.
“Well, I think we can use this as a talking point in our presentation,” Lily stated her idea. “How our perception of the book is similar to how we perceive ourselves; there are people like Yn, who confront and explore their feelings, thus creating a healthy relationship with the self, and there are people like Ben, who repress and ignore them, which makes for an angry person; which, by the way, is also an emotion.”
You and Lily giggled at her words, sending each other glances as to say, "God, I fucking hate that guy."
Jungkook decided to chime in. “That’s a good idea. We can use it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the self, to question it. If you are so opposed to Rousseau’s vulnerability, that’s a big indication of your own issues with vulnerability.”
You observed him as he spoke, astonished at his participation. You leaned in even more, to the point where your bodies touched as a way to show him you liked what he said.
“Oh, shut the hell up, man,” Ben shot back. “We all know you’re just here ‘cause of her; you don’t actually give a crap about all this.”
Jungkook simply smirked at him, already having figured out how easily provoked Ben was.
“He obviously cares more than you, ‘cause with that attitude, we are never gonna get a presentation done, much less start,” you defended Jungkook sassily, with a displeased expression sent Ben’s way, who just mumbled, “Yeah, go on, defend your boyfriend.”
“True,” Lily sighed. “By the way, where are we gonna prepare our presentation? The common rooms are always too loud, and all lecture halls are always occupied, and I don’t know about you guys, but my dorm isn’t exactly a mansion.”
You thought about Lily’s concern for a second, and the same resonated with you; your on-campus apartment wasn’t small, but you shared it with four very loud girls.
“We can do it at my place; I don’t mind,” Jungkook offered with a squeeze on your shoulder. “Then I finally have an excuse to invite my baby over.”
You looked up at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. For a moment, you shared intimate eye contact before Ben coughed to get your attention. “At your penthouse? Pff, no thanks. I’m sure a professor will let us use a room here.”
“You are not serious, Ben. Jungkook just offers us to go to his huge penthouse and you decline? I must say, I have never known such a dedicated hater; it’s almost admirable,” Lily admitted her admiration for Ben’s consistency.
“Why the fuck would we go there? It’s off campus, and it’s a penthouse; it’s so
 distracting and unnecessary,” Ben debated, irritation written all over him.
“It’s a 15-minute walk and a five-minute drive, man; it’s not in Mexico,” Jungkook concurred, unable to find reason in Ben’s opposition.
“And what’s wrong with it being a penthouse? I personally would love to just hang out at a penthouse. It would make uni work a lot easier, actually,” Lily stated.
“I agree,” you shared, making Jungkook grin like an idiot at the image of you in his house. “And since this is a democracy, and we have one vote against three, we will meet at Jungkook’s penthouse next Sunday; of course, if that works for you, Jungkook."
“Works perfect!” he excitedly responded.
Ben was looking pissed as always; Lily was already thinking about all the pictures she was going to ask you to take of her in the penthouse for her Instagram, and Jungkook and you seemed to be in your own little world, gazing at each other.
“Thank you, Jungkook; that’s really nice of you,” you expressed with a smile, lifting your face to his to plant a short kiss on his cheek.
His heart raced at the unexpected movement; you had never done that before. He froze, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment while you gathered your belongings at the signal of class dismissal. One by one, the students gradually walked out, and you followed suit with Jungkook trailing behind you. He advanced in your direction, watching your hips sway.
“Yn!” he called after you, resulting in you turning around.
“Yes?”
“Go out with me tomorrow night at 7:00, just you and me,” he called out flirtatiously, gaining the attention of everybody around him, but only having his eyes on you.
You grinned mischievously at him before replying, “I don’t know about that
 you’ll have to impress me first.”
To anyone else, it might sound like a rejection, but to Jungkook, it sparked a glimmer of hope that made his heart leap with resolve. Until now, it had only been ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s. He was more confident than ever that he would capture the heart that had captured his.
___
“Yn, what did you do to Jungkook?” Sasha came back from a date night with Taehyung. “Tae told me he can’t stop smiling and is just sitting there, being cheesy as fuck.”
You were writing a sonnet for your poetry class as she barged into your room, looking stunning. “What made him think it’s about me? Let the man smile and be cheesy in peace.”
After Sasha looked at you with a look that said ‘you know damn well,’ you confessed, “He asked me out, and I—”
“You finally said yes??” she quickly interrupted with a dropped jaw.
“Nooo, I said maybe if he impresses me,” you continued. “Oh, and I also kissed him on the cheek.”
“You. Did. Not!” Sasha put a hand over her mouth, a loud gasp leaving it. “No wonder he is a smiling idiot; you broke him!”
“No, I didn’t ‘break’ him; I’m simply doing what I already said I am doing; I’m warming him up, giving him hope,” you explained, putting your pen down. “Because there is a very high chance that I will agree to go out with him soon. I just need that something.”
“That something?” Sasha repeated, confused.
“Yeah, that something; that one moment that makes me go yes, this is the man I want,” you further explained. “I have a good reason, two actually; I’m picky, indecisive, and also a virgin, so if I let him in and then, for some reason, regret it, I will be destroyed. And if I suddenly change my mind after giving him a chance, it will hurt Jungkook really badly, and I don’t want that.”
Sasha looked perplexed and deep in thought at your words, as if puzzling them together and making sense of them. “Oh wow, I never thought of it like that, but now, I totally get you.”
“Well, finally!” you smiled at her and giggled. “Anyway, what are you and Tae wearing to the Halloween party? Cause I was thinking
”
___
You and your girls took Halloween very seriously. You loved the dressing up, the makeup, and you always utilized the only day in the year where it was socially acceptable to be someone else entirely.
Of course, there were always at least six simultaneous Halloween parties going on on campus, and you had to choose between them, which was never a hard decision to make since Kappa Sigma always won. If they’re throwing a party, no other party stood a chance.
You decided to dress up as something cute yet sexy but very recognizable. Last year you came as Jane Eyre, and not a single person guessed your costume right. You decided to go with Chel from ‘The Road to El Dorado’; a white maxi skirt with two slits on the sides, a pink tube top, and statement jewelry with your hair down. It was low effort, yet very effective.
Nora went with Cher from Clueless, Avery of course was Shego, Tanya went creative and dressed as 2010 Justin Bieber, and Sasha and Taehyung were Morticia and Gomez Addams for the night, catching many envious stares.
After all the assignments, the essays, and the overall stress of uni the past few weeks, you hadn’t felt that alive and sexy in a while. Your maxi skirt was clinging to your full lower body seductively, and your tube top took on the very shape of your chest. You looked damn good, and you were ready to feel good too. Promising you wouldn’t drink too much, you took it slow.
Moving your hips seductively to the beat of a The Weeknd song while closing your eyes and tilting your head back, with Avery and Nora dancing together in front of you. Tanya was nowhere to be found, and Taehyung and Sasha were having their own dance party, grinding and kissing like there was no tomorrow. The dancing continued, and with it, the staring. You wished you could just dance at a party and have everybody mind their own business.
After a couple more rounds of dancing and drinking, you felt a firm hand gripping your hips. Turning around immediately, you pushed the guy away and looked at him, terrified. “What the fuck?? Get your filthy hands off of me!!”
Your friends stopped their dancing for a moment to see what was going on. They found Ben, dressed as Patrick Bateman, groping your hips like you were his property. “Just having fun, bird; don’t get all upset.”
Avery and Nora yelled at him, but it wasn’t effective. The scene caused such a huge stir that even Sasha and Taehyung got out of their trance, watching your fight with Ben.
“Yo, dude, get the fuck outta here, or I’ll call the cops on you,” Taehyung stepped in, pushing Ben completely out of the way. “What the fuck made you think you could do this, huh?”
As if he knew just when to step in, Jungkook in a cop uniform just arrived at the scene, asking what was happening.
A very drunk Ben slurred his words in an almost incoherent tone, facing Taehyung. “Look, man, she’s dressed like a slut. So I’m gonna treat her like a slut.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened at Ben’s words, trying to make sense of the situation. He followed Ben’s eyes that were directly watching you, all of your friends and Taehyung just standing shocked, and the only thing between you and Ben was a protective Taehyung. Ben was talking about you.
Without putting any thought into his actions, Jungkook stepped in and punched the guy in his face, causing him to stumble down to the ground, where Jungkook kicked him in the face before crouching down and spitting on him. “What the fuck did you just say??! Did you touch her, huh? Did you fucking touch her? I swear, I’ll kill you; I’ll fucking kill you, man; this is your last day alive, ‘cause I’ll kill you.”
You had no idea what to do in this situation, so you just watched with a shrinking posture, similar to your friends who were all in shock at the scene of Ben lying on the ground, his blood pouring out while Jungkook continued to throw punches. At that point, the entire party stopped and just observed the scene.
"Jungkook, that’s enough. I’d love for you to kill him, but I don’t wanna see you in jail, bro," Taehyung calmly spoke, in order to ease the tension. Jungkook listened to him, standing up; a look that furious had never been on his face.
He turned to you, taking your hands in his, his face softening at the sight of you. “Everything okay, baby?”
You nodded weakly, semi-visible tears rolling down your cheeks. Your instincts told you to hug him, so you did. He immediately pulled you closer to him, his hand on your back and your chest against his as he soothingly rocked you back and forth. Everybody was watching you, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.
“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to relax,” he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd and into one of the bedrooms. “Want me to carry you?”
For the first time in those 30 minutes, you cracked a tiny smile, knowing that he was so very serious about carrying you in front of an entire party. “No, that’s fine; I can walk.”
Ignoring the intense eyes of the crowd, you two made your way upstairs.
Your eyes were still slightly watery with tears, and you were still holding onto Jungkook’s hand as you both sat down on the bed. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
He offered you an irresistible smile and brought you in tighter against his solid chest, allowing you to hear his every heartbeat clearly. “That’s my job, baby; no need to thank me.”
“You really didn’t have to do that; I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Kookie,” you spoke against his chest, with a soft, alluring voice, using his nickname to make him happy. “Ben really isn’t worth your anger at all.”
Jungkook took in your entire figure from above you with a gleam in his eyes. “Yn, I will do anything to protect you. I won’t ever allow anyone to harm you.”
You gently pulled away from his chest to meet his loving gaze. You never understood the books where the main character described a romantic encounter by saying ‘it felt like we were the only two people in the world’ until that moment. He leaned in closer, maintaining eye contact. You placed a delicate hand on his muscular arm—too gentle to stop him from getting closer, yet firm enough to prevent yourself from melting into him.
You were face to face with him now—breathing the same air. “You really mean that?”
“I couldn’t be more sincere,” he whispered, the warmth of his words meeting your full lips, his hands firmly placed on your soft, naked waist. “You know, we’ve never been this close before.”
“Yeah,” is all you managed to say, avoiding eye contact.
Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away, standing up, offering you his hand. “As much as I want to kiss you, I don’t think we should do that right now. You obviously drank tonight, and I want you to want to kiss me, and I want you to remember kissing me.”
You nodded and took his hand, not knowing what to say or do. As you stepped outside again, Jungkook’s broad shoulders became your view, him leading you downstairs again to take you home.
“Jungkook?” you said his name quietly, almost in a whisper.
He turned around, watching your shorter and smaller frame from above, looking absolutely tempting. “Yeah?”
“I’ll go out with you.”
___
The week after the Halloween party was exhausting; there were exams, essays, and seminars.
Besides the exams and usual uni duties, Jungkook was very enthusiastic about your first date. Being secretive about what he’d planned, getting your friends to ask you what you expected from a first date in an unsuspecting way, not wanting to annoy you so that you wouldn’t change your mind. It was very endearing.
You were also looking forward to the date, but you were much more subtle about it. Jungkook didn’t care about secrecy as much, telling every single person he knew that you agreed to go on a date with him; the news spread fast, and every student knew about your date.
Taehyung reported to Sasha that he jumped up and down, screaming and shouting out of the windows, “I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!” And later, when the pizza they ordered arrived, he tipped the delivery guy 300 bucks and told him, "The love of my life finally agreed to go out with me; I wish for you the same. I wish for every longing soul to experience the same happiness I am in right now, but I don’t think that’s possible because only she is capable of making a human feel this way. Goodbye and good luck, brother."
As for your shared class, he was insatiable. It was about the only time that week where you were able to see each other, and he had made good use of those three hours. In just three lectures, he got you a Swiss chocolate cake with a picture of himself printed on it because Avery informed him chocolate cake was your favorite. He got you a beige rose Lady Dior purse because it "goes well with your complexion," and a pink diamond ring, which he said was "nothing compared to the future engagement ring, of course." Before he signed up for your class, he gave you a gift once every two weeks, so this was a lot even for Jungkook. You told him it was all unnecessary, and he said, "No, this is very necessary; gotta spoil my future wife."
You were drowning in your assignments, your MacBook completely overheating when your name was called.
"Yn! There’s a package for you on the table," Tanya, one of your roommates informed.
You got out of your room confused; you couldn’t remember ordering anything in the last few weeks, and Jungkook usually liked to give you his gifts in person. “Are you sure it’s for me?”
Tanya playfully scoffed at you, reading what’s on the package again. “Is there another Yn here that I have yet to be introduced to?”
You scoffed back, taking the package into your room. Your impatient self couldn’t resist tearing it open to see what’s inside. A note, a small box, and a big white box with the words ‘Givenchy’ on it. Your breath hitched.
The note read: ‘Wear this to our date, gorgeous. Yours forever, JK.’
Almost scared to do so, you opened the white box, revealing a gorgeous, long blue silk dress. Then you opened the smaller box, which held a beautiful 24k gold necklace and matching earrings inside it. That idiot. You smiled to yourself, but quickly realized you shouldn’t.
You were a princess, and you deserved to be treated like one; he was just a rich enough man to comply.
You freed yourself from the clothes you were wearing. Carefully, you took the dress out of the box and put it on.
It fit like a glove, harmonizing with your every curve. The neckline was low, exposing the perfect amount of cleavage.
How did he know my size?
You put the dress back into the box neatly and pulled out your phone.
7:26
Yn: How do you know my size?
7:29
JK: I’m glad you got my little gift. Do you like it?
7:31
Yn: Yes, it is very nice; thank you. It was not necessary at all.
7:32
JK: I’m glad, baby; can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.
7:34
Yn: I’m really excited too.
7:36
JK: Promise you won’t be disappointed.
___
Whistles and girly screams were heard all over your apartment when you stepped out of your room, wearing the blue silk dress that clung to your wide hips and showcased your full chest perfectly; in soft glam makeup and your hair in an elegant updo, dazzled with the matching set of necklace and earrings, a pretty black purse in your hand. You looked the very image of beauty.
“Damn, girl!” Nora let out, impressed by your beauty.
“Does it look good?” you asked. You knew you looked beautiful, but you needed the extra assurance.
“Are you kidding me? You look ravishing, absolutely radiant; your body is just wow,” Avery complimented, observing you from head to toe. “Is that a new dress? It’s soo fucking gorgeous.”
“Yeah, it is; Jungkook actually sent it to me to wear today.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the knowing glances of your friends.
“Mmhmh, he’s a good man, Yn; a good man,” Sasha quoted a TikTok sound. “He’s so gonna freak when he sees you!”
“Is that what was in the package a few days ago? The guy’s got taste; gotta hand it to him,” Tanya chimed in. “When is he picking you up?”
You looked at the clock and answered, “Just in 3 minutes.”
About two seconds after you said that, a knock was heard from your front door.
“Ooooh, somebody’s eager,” Nora wiggled her eyebrows.
You walked to the front door, opening it after letting out an ‘I’ll get that.’
Before you stood Jungkook, wearing black tailored pants and a sophisticated white button-up shirt tucked into his pants, emphasizing his small waist and his muscular frame. In his hand, he held a big bouquet of pink and red roses.
“Hi, Jungkook,” you greeted him with a million-dollar smile.
He observed you with the biggest grin in the world, letting his eyes travel up and down your frame. “You are the most beautiful woman on Earth. Here, these are for you.”
He handed you the bouquet, which you took gracefully. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.”
Your friends freaked out, all attentively watching the interaction.
“Let’s go?” Jungkook said in a questioning tone. You nodded.
“No funny business, mister! We want her home by 11,” Avery screamed while you and Jungkook made your way out. Jungkook laughed, giving her a thumbs up.
“Yeah, you better not try anything with our girl; remember, we see all!” Sasha joined her, while Tanya and Nora made kissing and moaning noises, causing you to facepalm.
“Let’s just go, Jungkook,” you expressed in an embarrassed voice. “I’ll see you girls later!”
Once you were out, you looked at Jungkook apologetically. “I am so sorry; they’re literally so embarrassing sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Jungkook chuckled, taking your hand in his. “Let them have their fun; they’ve been waiting for this day as long as I have.”
You bit your lip as your eyes met his longing ones.
“Now, let’s go,” he started walking faster towards his car. “I got us reservations at Quince.”
Quince was an Italian restaurant that you only heard of but never entered; it was much too expensive for you to even consider. It was not like you were poor; it was just that Jungkook was wealthy.
You both made your way to the car together; he opened the door for you and then entered himself.
“This is a really nice car,” you stated, taking in the car with a wide-eyed look.
“Yeah?” He started the engine. “It’s a Mercedes-Benz Maybach Exelero.”
You simply nodded, still looking around amazed.
“You know, I’m beyond happy you finally agreed to go out with me,” Jungkook admitted, one hand on the wheel and the other hand finding your thick thighs. “I lost hope there for a while, you know?”
“Well, what can I say? I’m an incalculable girl,” you teased, putting a hand over his, linking your fingers. “You will never figure me out, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s dimple was visible as you gazed at him while he looked ahead.
“Remember when you told me you’re never going out with me? Well, now you are,” his voice reminisced. “So, I think I will figure you out, Yn.”
You decided to push his buttons a little. “Are you telling me you would wait over two years to figure me out? I didn’t peg you for a patient one.”
“I would wait a lifetime just to get a little piece of your heart and be able to call it mine, Yn,” he professed, his hands tightened, and his eyes gazed at you with yearning.
You didn’t know what to say.
_
The dinner at Quince was a dream come true; Jungkook rented out the entire restaurant for you, the view was breathtaking, every dish was a work of art, and the service treated you like royalty.
“So, do you like it here?” Jungkook asked you as you shared a slice of the best chocolate cake you had ever tasted.
“I love it!” you enthusiastically replied. “It is so beautiful here, Jungkook; honestly, thank you so much.”
The harpist was in the back, playing soft melodies that warmed your heart. You could not believe Jungkook planned all of this for you, and a sense of regret washed over you as you realized this was the man that you had been denying for two years.
“No need to thank me, baby; the important thing is that you’re with me,” he took a piece of cake with his fork and held it in front of your mouth, which you then ate, blushing. “I got something for you.”
Jungkook made a hand gesture, and as if on cue, a staff member came in, holding a framed picture in their hand, handing it to Jungkook.
He held it up for you to see; it was a star map, a very beautiful one. “This is the star map of the day we met—3rd of October, 2 years ago.”
Your eyes widened. “You remember the day we met?”
“Of course I do.”
“Jungkook, it’s so beautiful. I’ll hang it up on my wall,” you admired it while he admired you. “You’re really spoiling me.”
“Of course, baby, that’s my job,” he answered, taking your hand in his. “Now, let’s go; I have something planned for us.”
_
“Where are you taking me now?” you inquired; his secrecy wasn’t scaring you, but you were a naturally curious person.
“It’s a secret, baby. I promise you’ll love it,” Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, responsibly, and his veins ripped along his forearms, your eyes glued to the thickness of his arms.
“Ugh, fine, if you wanna be secretive about this, be secretive about it,” you feigned dramatic annoyance. “Just know that I’m hating every minute of it.”
“I think I can live with that since we’re just three minutes away,” he teased, his dimples evident.
“Three whole minutes of me hating it
 you are a very cruel man, Jeon,” you shook your head, enjoying the breeze of the Californian air.
When you arrived in the parking lot of a bar, he pulled up saying, “We’re here!” before stepping out and jogging to your side, opening the door for you. You took his hand, letting him lead the way into the bar.
“A bar?” you asked in a suspicious voice. “Jungkook, a bar is not the place you take a lady
”
He knew you were joking and chuckled lightly.
“Just wait till we get in; you’ll love it,” his excitement was apparent, which confused you even more.
You stepped inside the bar, which was actually prettier than you imagined it would be; it had a calming feel about it. It didn’t look like a traditional bar; there was a stage set up and seats for an audience where about 30 people were already sat.
“Sit here,” Jungkook took your hand and brought you to a seat right in the front.
He made his way onto the stage, which led to you asking him, “What are you doing?” but he didn’t answer your question and just stood in front of the mic.
“So, uh, I wrote a poem a few weeks ago about the girl I love—a girl I have been trying to get with for two straight years and failed every time. I know how much she loves poetry,” Jungkook spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming with happiness. “And exactly a week and two days ago, she agreed to go out with me. Actually, this is part of our date; she’s sitting right there.”
He pointed at you proudly; the crowd cheered at the cute story he told and then observed you and cheered some more before letting him continue.
Jungkook looked self-assured, but there were little hints that showed you he was nervous to be standing in front of a crowd the way he was. “Yn, I know your writing is way superior to mine, but I hope you like this regardless. I’m gonna read it now.”
The crowd slightly giggled at his comment, but you could only focus on catching your breath and stopping your tears because you had never expected Jungkook to be as amazing as he was.
“In grand halls where soft echoes linger,
I spread petals, gold on gray floors.
Yet no amount of riches can sway you
To feel what’s in my heart, what I adore.
Two years have passed like silk through fingers,
Each moment woven with hopes and dreams.
But in your eyes, there’s a distant wonder;
You craft your path, and it’s not what it seems.
I’ve painted skies with vibrant colors,
Called stars to shine above you, glowing bright.
But love, I find, goes beyond gold and shine—
Sometimes a simple heart knows what feels right.
Yet here I stand in this space, laid bare,
With wealth at hand, but your laughter’s far away.
I’d give it all, just to share a moment—
To glimpse the dreams you cherish and replay.
Though riches fade like whispers in the dark,
My love, unyielding, still holds the spark.”
The crowd erupted into applause, gasps, and "awe's" and "Girl, marry him's" as Jungkook finished. You sat there, frozen in time and frozen in the words he dedicated to you; your heart beating faster than it should be, and singular tears rolling down your face.
Jungkook left the stage, eagerly approached you with the softest smile. “Did you like it?”
You couldn’t utter a word; you only stood in front of him, shook your head slightly in disbelief, and threw your arms around his neck tightly, jumping into his arms, hiding your face in his chest. You cried.
“Hey, why are you crying? Was the poem that bad?” he half-joked, running his hands over your hair soothingly.
As you finally parted from him, you glanced at his face, adoringly and implored, “Kiss me.”
And so he did. He kissed you hard like a soldier reunited with his loved one after many years; his hands were firmly on your waist, exploring other places of your body—in that moment, you were alone. In that moment, it was only Jungkook and you as you lost yourself in each other.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, lost in each other before staying at the bar for a while, listening to talented poets reciting their work.
___
“I can drive you back to the dorms, or you can—” Jungkook started.
“No, I think I wanna go back to your place,” you quickly interrupted. “Of course, if that’s okay with you.”
After leaving the bar, you entered his car, lips still swollen from all the kissing.
“Of course it’s okay with me; you said exactly what I hoped you’d say,” he smiled. “You know, the girls will probably beat me up tomorrow for not bringing you back.”
The drive to his penthouse wasn’t long at all; it was just enough to talk for a while and enjoy the evening view.
“Oh, absolutely not; they are totally secretly celebrating this because all they’ve been wanting me to do these past two years is give you a chance,” you admitted, also smiling. “Now that that happened, I can just tell you the complete truth; there is nobody more into this than them.”
“Damn, so even with a whole secret support system behind me, it took me two years?” He tsked, finding amusement in the admission. “That’s embarrassing for me.”
You looked up at him through your lashes and tilted your head; he was focusing on the road, but glanced at you as much as he could. “If you were anybody else, it would’ve taken you five more.”
He leaned in to steal a quick kiss; the prideful expression on his face was clear to see. “That’s really good to know.”
You drove around for the next 10 minutes; finally, you arrived at his luxurious penthouse, which was adorned with a huge terrace and a chic entrance that you rushed to hand in hand.
You had already been to his penthouse for the project, yet its beauty didn’t fail to impress you once again; being in this position made it look even more magical.
As soon as you stepped inside, Jungkook grabbed your waist and gently held you, with his lips finding yours again. You stumbled into the spacious yet warm living room. As your lips still moved in sync and passionately, your hands roamed his body, exploring every muscle, every inch. Your gasps intertwined with his heavy breathing, your chest against his. He guided you to the couch and sat down, without breaking the kiss, and with firm, strong hands on your hips, he seated you on his lap.
Your heated core met his clothed, hard dick in sensual movements, the grinding gradually getting quicker and more effective. You felt his hardness press against your covered pussy, leading to feelings unknown to you. Your dress crept up higher with every movement of your generous hips, his hands now on your ass, kneading it while moaning into your mouth.
“Fuck, Yn, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for just a second before going back immediately, earning an agreeing moan from you.
His hands wandered over your entire body, holding your slightly pudgy stomach and traveling up to your full breasts. You couldn’t contain your moans from coming out, your lips moving against his as if they were made for them.
But there was something on your mind that you still had not mentioned to Jungkook.
“Wait, Jungkook—” you interrupted your session with a breathless voice. “I—I have to tell you something.”
He was confused, his face slightly flushed with hazy eyes and parted lips. “Yeah, anything, baby.”
“I’m—I’m a... virgin,” you almost whispered, still sat on his lap, lowering your head so you wouldn’t have to face him. “But I wanna do this.”
His grip on your hips loosened for a second before he firmly grabbed you again. “Oh.”
Your heart sank a little, not knowing what to make of his response.
Just a few seconds later, he continued, “We can take everything slow, baby; we don’t need to rush into anything; we’ll do everything at your pace.”
You nodded, raising your head again to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Kookie.”
“Of course,” he kissed you gently.
“Okay, we can go back to making out now; I just have a tiny problem,” you noted, easing the tension caused by your revelation. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t stay in this dress the whole night.”
Jungkook chuckled and slowly stood up. “Wait here; I’ll get you a t-shirt.”
The few minutes it took him to get you a shirt gave you a chance to take in your luxurious surroundings; the lavish, over-the-top kitchen facing the living room brought a smile to your face, knowing that Jungkook in no way cooked or had any culinary skills whatsoever.
“Here, wear this,” Jungkook came back with a black shirt in his hands. “Next time, we’ll be prepared. Gotta make sure you have your own closet here.”
Your heart beamed at his display of commitment, knowing he was serious about everything he said.
You took the shirt, turning your back to him. “Can you help me zip the dress down? I can’t reach it.”
He obliged happily, zipping the dress’ zip down, his hands lightly brushing over your uncovered back, his lips pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. You turned around, letting the dress fall down, exposing you in just a lacy black lingerie set that left little to the imagination.
His gaze traveled over your entire figure, lips grazing his teeth with a spark in his eyes that conveyed a thousand unspoken thoughts.
“Damn,” he uttered after you put on the shirt, which barely reached your thighs. “Can’t believe you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
With newfound confidence, you pushed his chest, resulting in him ending up on the couch once again, and sat down on his lap with an alluring smile.
“I wanna finish what we started now,” you purred against his lips, guiding his hands to your waist. The rhythm of your seductive hips brought his breath to a halt, guttural "fuck's" escaping him.
You quickly stripped away his shirt, revealing his muscular arms and defined abs—all for you to run your hands over and admire, his dick noticeably growing. In response, Jungkook took off your—or his—shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bra, your tits practically spilling out of it; a sight he adored more than anything.
“Shit... please, let me take off the bra,” Jungkook desperately implored, to which you just as desperately nodded. “Just wanna see you like that.”
His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra before completely unfastening it, exposing your big tits and hard nipples. You were surprised at your lack of shyness, feeling completely free and comfortable, exposed in front of Jungkook like that.
“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your bare breasts before leaning in, gently taking one into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You pushed your head back from the overwhelming pleasure, one of your tits getting sucked and the other one getting kneaded, while you desperately chased the friction, your thinly clothed pussy rubbing against his dick. It was an erotic experience; Jungkook was introducing you to a new world.
“Baby, if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna cum in my boxers,” he hissed, his strong arms stopping your movements momentarily.
You were both in a state of haziness; desperation was strongly felt in the air. Your pussy was sticky and slick, aching for more.
“Then fuck me, Jungkook,” you whispered urgently, his breath stopping for a second.
“Are you sure about this, Yn?” he sincerely asked, locking eyes with you to look for a speck of uncertainty; he didn’t find it.
“Yes, I’m so sure,” you answered him steadily. “All I want is for you to fuck me.”
With that, Jungkook didn’t waste any time. He stood up, still grabbing your hips firmly while your legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried you toward the elevator, your bare chest pressing against his and your head lazily resting on his broad shoulders. Finally, he carried you to his bedroom, gently throwing you onto the bed.
He looked at you from above, lips caught between his teeth. He hastily put his hands on you, wanting nothing more than to take off your lace panties, the only thing holding him back from seeing you completely bare. So, he did, slipping your panties down your legs until they’re completely off.
His fingers traced your now bare pussy, lightly teasing it, eliciting a gasp from you. “That’s the prettiest, wettest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”
You blushed, not knowing what to say.
Slowly, Jungkook’s hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, taking them off entirely. His thick, long dick was freed, settling on his lower belly. The pre-cum shimmered on it, ready to enter you at any moment.
Your breath hitched, taking it all in for a second; your eyes widened at the powerful sight before you. He stood above you, symbolizing dominance, while you were naked, sitting on the bed, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
“Can I just
” you leaned forward, facing his pretty dick, giving it a lick.
“Fuck, Yn, yes please,” he stepped forward a bit to give you easier access. “You ever done this before?”
You shook your head, maintaining eye contact. His eyes darkened, turned on by your innocence. Strong hands found your hair, guiding you closer to him.
You gave him more licks and kisses, swirling your tongue around it and kissing every inch of it before finally taking it into your mouth entirely. He was big, so you struggled a little to breathe properly, but you wanted to keep going for him.
“Shit, baby, you’re doing so good,” he groaned as your hands started working him while your full lips were wrapped around him, sucking him. “Just like that.”
Bobbing your head up and down, you slightly gagged around him, but your hand on his hip signaled him to thrust into your mouth further, which he gladly did. The huge bedroom echoed with his shameless groans and praises.
He smelled clean and tasted salty, sort of musky; it was comfortable having him in your mouth. You continued to explore his dick, recalling all the blowjob wisdom given to you by your friends and the internet, and implementing it.
“Baby, I’m close,” Jungkook’s words were barely a whimper, sending more arousal to your slick pussy.
His words elicited desperation in you, desiring nothing more than to give him pleasure. You bobbed your head harder, his groans getting louder and his thrusts quicker. His hands tightened around your hair; it was obvious he was losing control, chasing his high.
The heat was building, Jungkook’s voice getting louder, and a few seconds later, a warm, salty liquid filled your mouth, which you instinctively swallowed. You released his dick from your grip and looked up at him.
His head was tilted back, eyes closed and breathing heavily before he finally looked down at you, leaning in and giving you a kiss. He put his boxers on again.
“You did so great, baby,” he praised, now sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m glad I’m your first... and last.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m glad too.”
You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes; he soothingly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. With determination, you started grinding against him again; this time, your bare pussy against him. A rush of blood was sent to his dick, slowly getting erect again.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” Both of his hands were positioned on your moving hips, furthering the friction between you.
“Yeah, I do, actually,” you admitted in a sultry whisper, licking his upper lip playfully.
“Yeah?” His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips.
“Hmmm, yeah,” you tilted your head flirtatiously, giving in to another kiss. “So, are you gonna fuck me today or not?”
Jungkook chuckled, clearly amused by your directness. “Baby, I just want to be sure you’re 100% sure about this.”
“I am sure!” you spoke with a tinge of urgency. “Can’t you feel my wetness? I need you, Kookie; I need you to be inside of me.”
The contrast of your words and the usage of his silly nickname made Jungkook’s heart race. He felt the urge to take you right then and there.
With a quick shift, he stood up, grabbed a soft towel and put it on the bed, and gently pushed you so you lay on the bed, ready for him to enter. He towered over you, fingers finding your wet pussy again, playing with it. After removing his boxers again, he fisted himself, the sticky sound of pre-cum finding you; you enjoyed the view more than you would admit. He opened a pack of condoms and took one out, wrapping it around his big dick.
“You sure you’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, I’m sure,” your bratty attitude started to show.
Jungkook came closer, parting your legs slightly, taking in the sight of your pussy, glistening for him. As he approached your entrance, he maintained eye contact. “This is gonna hurt a little at first, baby, but tell me as soon as it’s too much, okay?”
You nodded, your eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness. “Okay.”
He held onto you gently and slowly entered your wetness, eliciting a loud gasp from you. As he entered further, you grabbed onto him tighter, burying your head in his shoulder and clawing his back with your nails. “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight.”
“Does it hurt, baby?” he gently asked through heavy breaths, his thrusts continuing to be soft. You nodded. “It’s okay; just a moment and it’ll feel good.”
And he was right; just a couple of seconds into more soft thrusts, the pain transformed into satisfying pleasure that quickly took over, your gasps turning into soft moans.
“Jungkook
 fuck me harder,” you begged, pushing him down and closer to you; your bodies sticking together even closer than before. “Please.”
Gradually, his thrusts became harsher, lips moving from your neck to your tits that were begging for his attention and his big hands that gripped your ass. Your desperate grip on his back firmed as you clenched around his dick, causing his breath to hitch. He deepened his thrusts, hitting your walls sensually, introducing you to a pleasure you never knew you could feel.
“Shit, you feel so good around me,” his deep, grunting voice hugged you. “Gonna fuck you stupid; nobody else can touch you like that.”
His ongoing rambling about how good you felt, how beautiful you were, and how long he had waited for this made you feel like you were the most cherished woman on Earth. You couldn’t believe that this was happening. If someone had told you two years ago that you would be in Jungkook’s penthouse, his dick ramming into you deliciously; you would laugh in their face. But here you were.
To add an element of surprise, you suddenly changed the position, turning the both of you around and pushing him down to the bed, taking control as you rode him up and down. A cocky smirk formed on his annoyingly pretty face, looking up at you in admiration.
“You learn quick,” he praised in a grunt, putting his head between your bouncing tits.
You were too lost in pleasure to respond, your ass clapping against his balls and your hands were all over his broad upper body, savoring every inch of him. Your head tilted back in bliss as his dick slipped in and out of your wet, tight pussy; a sight that Jungkook enjoyed very much.
“Baby, I’m close, shit
 I’m so fucking close,” he informed with a breathy voice, bitten lips, and hazy eyes, dick thrusting up more desperately than before.
Your walls tightened more around his throbbing dick, indicating to him that you were also close. “Yeah? Me too, baby.”
After a minute of passionate thrusting and bouncing, Jungkook’s body suddenly tensed, reaching the edge. He released a warm flood of cum with a loud “fuck” coming out of his mouth.
With a grind of your hips, a moment later, you also reached a pinnacle, your breath hitching and your eyes closed. You got off of Jungkook and laid next to him on the bed, both of you still trying to come down from the high you experienced.
He slowly stood up, grabbed the bloodstained towel he laid under you to put it in the washing basket, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. “You did so good, you know that?”
You simply smiled sheepishly, also getting up to clean yourself and pee. When you came back from Jungkook’s extravagant bathroom, he was lying on the bed now wearing boxers with an eager smile. “Come here.”
You obliged with swaying hips, your naked figure waltzing over to his king-size bed, laying your head on his chest. “Today was amazing, Jungkook. Thank you for everything.”
He held your hand in his, kissing your head gently. “Baby, that was nothing; I wanna thank you for everything. It’s really special to me, what you did.”
“It was easy, being with you and all,” you admitted in a soft voice. “You know, I feel surprisingly very comfortable with you, Jungkook; it’s weird.”
That made him chuckle; his chest left a vibration. “I think I’m gonna take that as a compliment
?”
“You should.”
“I don’t think this needs to be said, but I hope you know this means we’re together now,” Jungkook started, now looking deeply into your eyes from above. “Like an item, a thing, boyfriend and girlfriend, soon to be wed, a coup—”
You stopped him with a giggle, laying a loving hand on his chest. “I get it, Jungkook, and I know.”
“Good.” He tightened his grip on your shoulder, smirking as he looked down at your naked body. “Next time, I wanna cum inside; so you better get started with birth control.”
“Jungkook!!”
——-
i hope whoever reads this enjoyed itđŸ«¶đŸœđŸ«¶đŸœ btw the poem is completely AI generated😭 i really wanna make this sort of a series like write a bunch of different scenarios for this couple; pls tell me your opinion on that.
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neinyasficrecs · 11 days ago
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Dolbeault's Theorem
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Pairings: Top (wink hehehehe) Student JK  x Reader
Summary:  When you found out you’d be paired with the smartest guy in class for a math project, you couldn’t help but anticipate all the things you could learn from him.
Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!
Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents
Au/Genre: Smut (X), Fluff if you squint (-_-), they’re kinda cute idk, reader is needy, JK is a warning but its ok because he is jeykey!!! college au
Word Count: 2168
Note: This is my first post
 kinda nervous, but fuck it lololol please let me know what you think!!! Aaaaaaaagh
:)
🐙 Masterlist / AskMe!
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When you found out you’d be teamed up for a math project with the smartest guy in class, you have two reasons why you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning like a fool:
you were certain your grades were gonna be great! At least you knew you wouldn’t fail.
you’d been nursing the fattest crush on him since last year.
There was just something about the way he explained complex formulas, his voice always calm and gentle. And then, there was the way he pushed his glasses up his nose, almost absent mindedly, mid-sentence while he’s patiently simplifying every confusing calculation.
So, you found excuses to sit closer to him. To brush your hand against his “by accident.” You don’t miss the way his jaw tightens. But he never touched you back. Never gave any indication he noticed your lingering glances or the way your voice softened just for him.
So, when imagining how his lips, or his cock, might taste as you touch yourself at night wasn’t enough anymore, you decided to take a chance. It was bold, it was brave. But you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
One late afternoon, when the two of you were alone in the lab, you pushed your luck. It started with a subtle brush of your breasts against his arm while pretending to look at his computations. He froze, but he didn’t move away. Encouraged, you pressed harder and you saw his hand curl into a fist, his breathing falter, his jaw clench like he was fighting something within himself.
And then, when you felt there was no going back, you leaned closer, grazing your lips against his.
Silence.
Just the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.
He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t move either. And just as you were about to wish the ground would swallow you whole -
Jungkook kissed you.
It was gentle but full of intent. He kissed you like he had been waiting, holding back, and now he couldn’t any longer. He kissed you like he was studying you, tasting you, learning you.
From that day forward, you weren’t just partners in math—you were partners beyond the four walls of the classroom. Partners in exploring each other's bodies, learning each other's sweet spots, tasting each other's skin.
And as days pass you learn a lot about him – like how he’s gentle in the classroom but not in the bedroom. How he spoke softly in school, but rough in bed.
And you couldn’t help but anticipate all the things you could learn from him.
So, when Jungkook offered to teach you Dolbeaut’s Theorem, he didn’t realize the kind of lessons you were truly eager to receive from him.
The moment he sat in his chair and started explaining how Dolbeault's theorem is a complex analog of de Rham's theorem, your mind was on the dripping need between your thighs. So when he told you to focus on the lesson, you dropped to your knees, unzipped his jeans, freeing his already hard cock, your mouth watering at the sight of it.
Your tongue licking along the length of his cock, measuring his girth with your soft, eager lips, wrapping around his swollen tip.
His groans and filthy sounds filled the air as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your head down further.
You choked, tears spilling down your cheeks as you took him to the base, your throat tightening around his cock.
“Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum,” he hissed, voice strained as you licked and sucked, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. The salty taste of his pre-cum drove you wild, and you feel your cunt clench.
He tastes so sweet so sweet you want more.
And when he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed you by the jaw, another hand on your back, as he pushed you to the bed.  
You were about to crawl onto the mattress when he grabbed you by the ankle, flipping you onto your back. In one swift motion, he dragged you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide.
His mouth lapped on your wetness, his tongue flicking over your clit with determined precision. Your back arched as he sucked hard, the nasty wet sounds of his tongue against your pussy filling the room.
“Jungkook!” you cried, your hands fisting in the sheets.
He smirked against you. “So wet for me.”
When he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, your vision blurred. He pumped them hard and fast, his lips never leaving your clit.
“You taste so fucking good,” lips glistening as his fingers slammed into you harder, hitting that spot, driving you to the edge of release. But just when you were about to cum, he pulled away, leaving you gasping.
“Fuuuucccck!!! Kook, please!” you gasped, your voice trembling.
And as you writhed in need, hands clawing the sheets, he grinned – or was that a chuckle?
“Hmmm? What’s that baby?”
“Please baby, please
” you begged, whining, as you watched him pump his hard member, tip glistening with pre-cum. He rolled a condom over his length as he watched you squirm. He towered over you as he slapped his cock against your slick entrance, teasing you as he smirked.
“I need words baby girl” he taunted, tapping your swollen clit with the head of his cock.
You just groaned as you stared at his toned abs. Your hips lifted to try and take him in, but he held you down with a firm hand on your stomach.
“Fuck
 this pussy” as he pressed just the tip of his cock inside, stretching you torturously slowly.
“Oh god
baby, please. More!” you pleaded, as your breath hitched in need.
“Greedy little whore,” he chuckled, sliding an inch more, slowly.
Oh, you want more. You need more more more -
“You think you can just suck my dick like that?”
You whimper in torment, sobbing, breaking –
He pushed another inch in quick and steady motions, but still not burying all in. And it's driving you crazy, so crazy you claw on his biceps.
“Jungkook! Please!!!”
He chuckled again, staring you down like the beautiful, pathetic mess you were. “You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his gaze drinking in every inch of you.
Your velvet skin glowed under the light of the computer screen, and your dark hair sprawled messily across his bed.
You grind yourself to him, trying to take more of his hard dick.
“Goddamn baby. You want this dick? You want to take it all?” he growled, pushing in another inch, making you cry out.
Utterly helpless and succumbing to need, you yelled. “Jungkook, please! I need you to fuck me hard baby please!”
He gave a raspy laugh, leaning over you, his eyes dark with a promise. A warning?
“You act like a slut, you’re gonna get fucked like a slut. Do you understand?”
And with both his hands on your jaw, he slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your scream echoed in the room as he set a punishing pace, his cock hitting deep, every thrust stealing the breath from your lungs.
“goddamn, so fucking tight” he hissed, one hand now gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.
You cried his name because words left you, and you can no longer form coherent sentences. You were so drunk on lust, feeling full of his dick – and yet, you still want more. You craved his dick every day and you couldn’t get enough of him.
“Turn over baby. I wanna see your ass” he ordered, flipping you onto your stomach before you could process his words. He yanked your hips up, pressing your face into the mattress as he entered you from behind. His hand fisting your hair, pulling your head back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“You like being used, don’t you? Being my little toy to fuck however I want?”
 “Yes! Fuck!” you sobbed, your body trembling as he pounded into you.
He bit his lip, feeling you clench around his cock, his free hand snaking around to pinch your nipples, then your clit.
“You’re taking me so well.”
Your body tensed, the knot in your stomach tightening, your head blank but seeing stars, and all you can feel was his dick slamming torturously inside you. And as you thought you couldn’t feel fuller, he inserted his thumb into your asshole, his pace never faltering as he stretched you further.
“Fuck!” you cried, your head spinning from the overwhelming sensation.
“You like that?” he chuckled, his voice dripping with pride. “Taking my cock and my thumb like a greedy little slut?”
You could barely respond, drool in your mouth, your moans turning to screams as he fucked you harder, faster, both holes clenching around him as you feel the build to an unbearable peak.
“Speechless now, are we? You like all your holes filled?”
He grabbed the base of your hair, pulling you back to him so you could feel his chest, and hear him whisper filth in your ears. You’re feeling everything, everywhere all at once.
You’re so close, so fucking close –
“You coming baby?”
You could only respond with a nod and noises unknown to man.
“Yeah?”
His thumb pressing deeper, his cock slamming into you relentlessly as he bites the side of your jaw.
“Then come for me”
Your release hit like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, along with words you couldn’t comprehend.
Fuck fuck fuck.
You come so hard you collapse on the mattress. How Jungkook can make you feel like his nasty little whore, you also don’t know. But you love it.
But just as you thought he was done, Jungkook’s hand slid between your thighs again, his thumb brushing over your abused clit. You jerked, a whimper escaping your lips as the overstimulation sent a jolt through your body.
“Oh, you thought we’re done?” panting, with a smug grin spreading across his face. "We’re not done baby."
“Jungkook, wha—”
And before you knew it, he slammed his hardness back inside you, fingers rubbing your clit until you arch into the sensation. He pressed kisses along your spine, his voice a soothing contradiction to the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Come for me again baby”
Your body obeyed his commands before your mind could catch up, pulse after pulse, as you ascended to the sky. He slams so hard you feel your eyes roll at the back. You're so close close clo-
“Look at you,” he said, his voice laced with pride. “So fucking perfect. Taking everything I give you.”
Tears pricked your eyes as you felt your thighs trembling. He watched you, his dark eyes devouring every reaction, every twitch and moan.
“Jungkook- im g-gona fucking come”
“I know baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I know”
And so you come again. Your body shattered under his touch, your orgasm crashing over you in waves so intense that you couldn’t hold back the sobs that broke from your throat. Jungkook didn’t stop, movements quicker now, your walls milking him for all he was worth. He hissed, his thrusts growing erratic before he buried himself deep one last time, his cock twitching as he came hard, filling the condom with a groan.
Fuck.
You left the earth, because there’s no way that wasn’t heaven.
As you both came down from the high, you lay there, spent and trembling. He took his time easing himself out of you. Your spent body still twitching with aftershocks. He laughed lowly, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your shoulder.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” he murmured, his voice gentle now, his hands soothing as he helped you sit up.
He disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth. The care he took in cleaning you up was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure he’d just given you.
When he was done, he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You nestled against his chest, inhaling his scent – a mixture of musk, vanilla, and sex.
“I think you did a great job explaining Dolbeaut’s Theorem tonight,” you joked weakly, your voice muffled against his warm skin
Jungkook chuckled. “Uh huh. Guess I’ll have to teach you another lesson tomorrow,” he sighed dramatically, his fingers brushing through your damp hair.
“And what’s that?”
“Equilateral triangle.”
“
because I have three equal sides?”
“Because you’ve got all the right proportions.”
You rolled your eyes. “Baby, sometimes you’ve gotta know where to draw the line.”
Before he could say another punny joke about lines, you kissed his smile and swallowed his laugh.
And once again, you feel the soreness in your core—a reminder of a your just-concluded learning session today.
Oh, the perks of dating the smartest boy in class.
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neinyasficrecs · 11 days ago
Note
hii 😭 im imagining jungkook as a church boy who is so attracted to the reader that he thinks he’s sinning right before the lords eyes
honestly let's talk about it because now that you said it all i can imagine is...
Repent
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Adventures of Jeon Jungkook and the new girl who attends the church retreat - and who is also determined to fuck him.
Warning: church boy jungkook, very shy boy, reader has ulterior motives of course, reader obviously has a corruption kink, dry humping, slight masturbation,
Part 2
The first time Jungkook has laid his eyes upon you, he noticed there was a shift.
You weren't from here, Jungkook notes. He knows everyone at this church and has yet to know who you were. It only takes a quick word from you to know that this isn't what you usually indulge in.
Y/L Y/N was your name and you've volunteered simply because of your sweet grandmother - the same one who baked such delicious treats for all the children on this trip. She had introduced the two of you and you have given him a smile that causes his heart to jolt suddenly.
Jungkook had to stay away from you and that was his only option. To think that he - a man - had to stay away from you was absurd. However, it was true. Your presence causes an unbalance in his life.
The first unbalance had been when he saw you again. Again, you only volunteered because your grandmother insisted. It was summer and the church always went on a week retreat deep in the woods to be one with nature and naturally, it was hot.
And of course, naturally, your legs were showing.
Legs and shoulders.
Was this where Jungkook's life was going? Him being attracted to any ounce of skin that he had to physically remove himself from the situation entirely.
Jungkook grew up in this church, his parents attending every and any event there was. He was a religious person who stuck to themselves - even as he reached adulthood. That didn't mean he didn't have friends that weren't apart of the church - and as soon as he began to feel things, he called them.
Jungkook's friends had laughed at him. He always hated being the youngest one in said group. Jimin had teased him the entire phone call. Namjoon was trying to keep everyone at bay, but it was no use. "You're acting like a little virgin, Kookie." was Taehyung's words. "Act like you had pussy before, please."
Jungkook decides that his friends were going to be of no help. They didn't grow in the church like he had and had to constantly think about what God thought about his actions - how perverted his mind was going whenever he saw you. Like when you gotten on your knees to pick something up and his mind instantly flashed to you on your knees for him in a less than holy way.
"It's normal to feel these things. You're a man, Kook." Namjoon had assured him over the phone. He's unsure if he'd be able to stay the entire week if he had to keep seeing you and imagining filthy ways to have you.
"You're an artist...why don't you draw what you're feeling?" Yoongi had suggested - and that idea felt ludicrous. He was feeling aroused by you and the only way to release it, by his older friends' thoughts, were to draw it out?
Jungkook had - and at the end of it all he felt like a horrible human being. But once his pencil started to sketch, he couldn't bring himself to stop. While everyone else remained asleep in their respected parts of the cabin, he had been up drawing you.
The drawing started sweet - you smiling just the way Jungkook remembered. You looking out into the distance and even one of you eating one of your grandmothers' infamous cookies.
It went downhill when his mind flashes once more of you on your knees and his hand moves quickly, sketching out the perverse thoughts into his notebook. His mind thinks about what your body would look like underneath your clothes. He draws what he imagines your pretty face would appear if contorted with pleasure, your eyes barely able to remain open...
Before Jungkook knew it, it was morning, and his room shines brightly thanks to the sun. He had slammed his sketchbook shut and hid it deep in his suitcase, a part of his ashamed of what he wasted the entirety of his night on.
"Jungkook, right?"
Jungkook stiffens when he hears your voice directly beside him. He turns slowly, as if afraid. Doe eyes stare at you for a moment and it's only when you speak again does he answer. "Y-Yes. I'm Jungkook."
Jungkook thinks he could melt when you offer him a smile. "Can I see them?"
"H-Huh?"
"I was told you draw."
The color leaves Jungkook's face and he eyes you once more, unsure on who told you that.
"The kids," you turn to the table full of children doing arts and craft. "said Kookie is the best artist here."
Jungkook hearts beat outside his chest and slowly he nods. "I-I can show you." he says, swallowing his nerves. "It's in my room. I'll go get them-"
"I can come." you smile. "I don't want to burden you and have you walk all the way there and back."
Jungkook's heart is beating outside his chest at having you in his room. On the way there he had texted his friends about it, asking for any advice on not passing out - and all he received was vulgar things to do while the two of you were alone; they were never any help.
"These are nice." you compliment, flipping through the countless drawings he had - some of scenery and landscaping, some an assortment of flowers or even fruit. You're laying on your stomach as you flip through them, your legs swaying back and forth behind you. Jungkook thinks they'd feel soft if he ever had a chance to touch them. "Do you draw people, as well?"
"Sometimes." Jungkook's cheeks flush and he wonders if maybe you knew just how much of a pervert he was - why else would you ask these questions? Maybe he should apologize before you accuse him of anything.
"Can I see them?"
There it was - you were gathering evidence. Jungkook swallows thickly, unsure of what to say or do; maybe he should start praying as God would have to be the first to grant his forgiveness. He swallows thickly going through an internal battle with himself.
"Are you scared of me?"
Jungkook glances away at your question. He wants to say that he was - that you were far too beautiful for him to be too close to. Even now he finds it quite difficult to not stare at your legs and admire how femininely woman they look in your shorts. But then he would be questioned further and how could he tell you about the perverted thoughts he has? "I-I..."
"I'm not a very...religious person. I'm sure you know." you speak, closing the sketchbook he has given you that displayed his mild artwork. "I hope you don't think I'm a bad person." you continue, now lying on your back, eyes blinking upwards at him.
"Never!" Jungkook insist, snapping his head back to you quickly. "I'm...just...awkward around new people." he admits, not wanting you to think he didn't like you because of how you lived your life.
You smile at him, eyes unreadable to Jungkook. "So, you wouldn't judge me for what I want to say?"
"Of course not." Jungkook responds meekly. "You are entitled to say whatever you feel. Only God could judge us!"
"You are right." you nod. "Before the week is over, Jungkook..." you begin, eyes staring right into his dark curious ones. You now bring yourself up to a seated position. He waits for you to continue and he swears that he could hear a pin drop in his room. The suspense was killing him. "...I'm going to get you to fuck me."
You leave Jungkook there for the suspense, giggling to yourself at how wide his eyes were and how terrified he looked. His eyes follow your figure leaving his bedroom, his heart in his ears. He's humiliated that those words caused an erection that he couldn't get to go away for the following 15 minutes.
How couldn't you want someone like Jungkook? The boy was gorgeous and had a body and the face of a man that deserved to be the biggest, conceited asshole - and it made it better that he wasn't. He was a shy individual and appeared to avoid any contact from the opposite sex over the age of 18. Though, there wasn't any woman here that appeared to catch Jungkook's eyes, and yes, you've noticed.
Jungkook's wandering eyes were the reason you chose to wear the tight shirts and shorts, regardless of the disapproving glances from the other church go-ers. You've done anything you could have to make Jungkook talk to you - and when he hadn't after the second day, you told yourself matters had to be taken into your own hands.
"So...a hot girl wants to fuck you?" Jimin asks over the phone. "But you're blowing up my phone?"
"This is serious!" Jungkook hisses over the phone. He needed outside help on how to approach this. "What if this is a joke?"
"A joke?" Taehyung scoffs. "What more does she have to say?"
"She'll have to put her pussy on his face to get his dumbass to get the point." Hoseok grumbles, tired of hearing Jungkook and his made-up problems. "I say you give her what she wants. Fuck her raw and-"
"Can you all please?" Namjoon groans loudly. "You're not being supportive."
"Thanks, hyung."
Jungkook decides to listen to Namjoon and talk to you about it - later on in the night. Now you were helping your grandmother set up the food table with the meals she's spent hours preparing that would be served only after the service.
"Kookie!" one boy says, running right into him. "Take a picture of us!"
Jungkook nods, a soft smile on his lips. He was on photography duty and had to make sure enough pictures were taken. This will get his mind off of you, surely.
Jungkook snaps countless pictures throughout the night, making sure everyone was a part of it. In the back of his mind, you remained - your admission to wanting to...sleep with him was weighing heavily.
In the camera lengths Jungkook see's you, already looking his way. Slowly, he lowers it from his face and his eyes meet yours for the first time since this morning. You and here stood across the room but even he could see that you wanted him to notice you.
Jungkook glances away from you and to two more kids running past him. He sighs, stumbling out the way and when he looks back to where you once stood, you were gone.
This is his chance, Jungkook thinks. He could be a little late to the service today. He could never focus if his mind could only think of you.
Jungkook goes towards the direction of where your room would be, the hallway long and quiet. It's vacant as everyone is in the dining hall for service soon. His nerves are kicking his ass, and he contemplates if he should turn around now.
Jungkook stops outside your room door. It's cracked and a bit of light shines behind it. He goes to knock on your door when he finds you - only you were naked, your clothes sprawled on the floor. His breath hitches as you lay on the bed, your legs wide open for him to see.
Jungkook wants to run away and forget that he has seen you in such a vulnerable state, but his body doesn't move. His eyes are unblinking and solely focused on the way your fingers begin to play with yourself.
Your breast appears so full and he imagines how nice they'd feel in the palms of his hands. Your nipples are erect due to the slight coolness of the room this evening and his mouth salivates on just how he imagines his tongue circling them until they're swollen.
Jungkook was a pervert - he was going to have to repent after this. He finds that he cannot move from his spot, watching you play with yourself. One hand grips your breast while the free one begins to enter two fingers inside of you. Your moans fill the room and it's a melodic tune that he wants to hear over and over and over again.
Jungkook's pants are tight, his erection begging for a release from the prison that was his underwear.
"Kookie?"
Jungkook nearly jumps from his skin when you say his name, eyes staring at the cracked door where he stood in the darkness. Maybe if he didn't respond you'd think that he wasn't there.
"Come in." you say, lifting yourself from laying on your bed to sitting on it. "You don't have to be afraid."
"I-I'm so sorry!" Jungkook says from the door, not moving an inch. His heart is pounding and damn it he was afraid. You were becoming to much to handle and his friends were right - he was acting like some virgin teenager that didn't experience this with a girl before.
And truly, it was only a few times with a girlfriend he had that didn't work out. Maybe he should have listened to his friends and not propose to her at their young age; but what were they expecting a religious person like Jungkook to do?
You were going to have to initiate everything, you note. But that's okay - you loved the shy ones like Jungkook. You could only imagine the way he'll whimper beneath you.
You swing the door open, just as naked as before. Jungkook is frozen and his breathing increases. He tears his eyes away from you, dark cheeks. "P-Please don't hate me."
"You're so silly." you laugh. "Why would I hate you?"
Jungkook feels ready to explode when you wrap your arms around his neck. Your chest is against his and you're so close that he can smell a vanilla scent on your skin - he has a good nose, and he just certain it's the warm vanilla collection.
You're teasing him, your tongue poking out from your lips to lick at his neck. "Do you want me to stop?" you asks him - you weren't going to do anything to the man while he was crying the entire time.
"It's...this is fine." Jungkook murmurs meekly.
"You don't sound sure." you tease. "Do you not like me?"
"I-I do!" Jungkook is quick to say. "I just don't want to force you into anything."
You mentally sigh - he wasn't helping you not want him. You want to coo at how cute Jungkook was. To think he didn't want to force you into anything after you've gone this far.
"We have five days left of this trip." you murmur, tongue against his neck. It circles the nape of it. "You aren't going to keep me waiting, right? That wouldn't be nice."
Jungkook whimpers when he feels your teeth biting his neck and it does nothing but make you want to ruin the man further.
"I want you to take some pictures of me." you tell Jungkook, leaning back to look into his eyes. "Some pictures that are for...your eyes only."
Jungkook gulps, his cock jumps in his pants. "O-Okay." is all he could muster up to say.
You remove your arms from his neck and nod to the camera around his neck. "Then start." you tell him.
Jungkook's hands are trembling when he does as you ask him to. He snaps several pictures of your naked body, you are posing in such provocative positions that he's unsure if this is real or a sick, perverted dream of his.
"Now," you clap your hands. "I want to take some pictures of me in a different P.O.V."
Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. "I-"
You pull him onto the bed, caging him between your things. Your pussy is right against his clothed erection, and he yelps when he feels you sit directly on top of him. "Take them."
Jungkook knows these pictures were going to be blurry. His palms are sweaty as he snaps a few more pictures of you directly on top of him. The sight is forever going to be drawn into his mind - naked body on top of his, breast on fully display as you look down on him with such a lustful look in your eyes.
"I-I can't get the right pictures if...if you keep moving." Jungkook clenches the camera in his hands. You were grinding against him and through the lenses he watches the way your pussy humps against him.
"Sorry," you murmur. "you just feel good."
Jungkook drops the camera at your words, and you could only snort, but you don't stop your grinding. Your eyes force his to watch you, hands clenching into his shoulders as you beginning to add pressure and speed to your humping. "I can't feel it enough."
Jungkook was going to die here - he's sure of it. One hand removes itself from his shoulder and you slightly lift yourself up so you could yank down his pants. You weren't going to stop there and before you know it, Jungkook's underwear's is yanked just as fast.
"I-I-"
Jungkook winces when he feels you sit directly onto him, your folds against the shaft of his cock. You're wet and warm - he's never felt anything without a condom on.
Your hips begin to buckle, grinding against his shaft. Jungkook's cheeks are bright red with embarrassment and his hands hover above your hips, afraid to touch you. "You're acting like you never touched a woman before."
Jungkook swallows, resting his hands onto your grinding hips. "N-Not one like you." he admits - someone so bold and beautiful who knew exactly what she wanted.
You giggle, then moan. Your hips circle around Jungkook's cock and wished that something so beautiful was inside of you - but you were patient enough to wait. You didn't want to overwhelm the boy more than you were already.
"Don't be afraid to touch me, Kookie." your mouth is so close to his that he wants to connect your lips. He could feel your breath against his face, tickling him as you moan.
Jungkook's hand roam your body, his palm vibrating with anticipation. He grips on the flesh of your ass, whimpering at how soft it was all the while you grinded against him. He roams them up past your hips and towards you back to them cast them down your sides to grip your breast.
"You're very beautiful..." Jungkook whimpers once more, body hot with pleasure. "...so so beautiful."
Jungkook's embarrassed that he can feel himself about to cum, but that was alright because you were determined to cum along with him. You take the initiative to connect your lips to Jungkook's in a needy kiss, your hips buckling with such need.
Humping usually wasn't what you settled for - but Jungkook was just too hot (and shy) to not tease and mess with. You're cumming all over him, creaming against his cock that he cannot help but do the same, hot cum falling all over his abdomen like a hormonal pathetic teenager.
"I can't wait to feel your cum in me." you murmur against his lips and Jungkook swears that alone could make him hard again.
PART 2 COMING SOON
Preview
“I’m sure we can be besties.” you wink at him, an action Jungkook finds cute. “That does other things.”
You connect the gap between you and Jungkook, pressing your glossed lips against his. Your lips are sticky but sweet, tasting like blueberries. 
Your hands are soft onto his cheeks, ensuring he doesn’t push himself away - and he doesn’t plan on it.
Jungkook is unsure where he puts his own hands and this allows you to help him. Your left hand removes from his check to grasp his wrist and place it onto your hips. You tap it slightly, giving him full access to whatever he wants to feel.
Jungkook is hesitant, but he follows your lead. His hands grip onto your hips, moaning against your soft lips. 
The soft kisses soon turn to a makeout session, your delicate hands roaming Jungkook’s broad chest.
Jungkook’s hands roam up your sides and around your back, wanting to feel more of you. Even now as the two of you were fully clothed and he technically saw you naked, the crave he has for you only grows higher and higher. 
You pull yourself away from Jungkook, snorting when you notice his plush lips are full of gloss.
“You said you’ve done things with other girls?”
Jungkook begins to nod. He was growing anxious at your question. He hasn’t done a lot - especially not with more than one girl.
“Hm.” you peck his lips gently. “What have they done to pleasure you?”
Taking a short breath, Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Regular
stuff
?”
Once more, Jungkook is so cute to you. Knowing him, he hasn’t experienced foreplay. You recall hearing some religious people only experience sex to procreate and you truly hoped that was a lie.
“Hm
” you bat your eyelashes at him. “...I’ll show you regular stuff with me.”
Jungkook nodded his head, only a bit embarrassed how eager he was to see it. 
You decide to take things slow - for now. You peck his lips, then his cheek, down his jaw. You get to his neck, slightly inhaling the scent of his cologne. It’s faint and smells a bit earthy; a scent that does scream Jungkook. It’s subtle.
“You’re hard.” you state at the nape of his neck.
Jungkook opens his mouth to speak; to apologize for his behavior as the two of you were just supposed to be kissing, surely. “S-Sorry-”
“That’s a good thing! I need you to be aroused, Kookie.” you grin, pulling yourself away from him to bat your eyelashes once more. “It’s easier to suck your cock this way.”
Jungkook nearly explodes at your lewd words.
Part 2 | Part 3 |
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neinyasficrecs · 14 days ago
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MYSTIQUE
TW: manhandling, masked sex, size kink
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Taehyung fucking you stupid with that fucking mask covering almost all of his face, only his narrowed eyes barely visible. He’s gotten so much bigger, so much stronger since he got back, his arms have doubled in size, and he seems to tower over you even more than before. So it’s only that much easier for him to hold you down to the bed, keeping your thighs spread out all the way, while he drills his cock into your weeping cunt. His low moans and dirty words are slightly muffled behind the black cloth on his face, only adding to the arousing mystique of the moment. His pace is rough, almost painful, which he must be due to his twink death unexpected transformation. And you already know that Taehyung can see how turned on you are, how your cheeks are flushed heavily and your eyes are glazed over with an intense desire. It only drives him to pound harder into you, the sound of his skin hitting yours and both your moans filling the room.
“Look how fucked out you already are,” I pants over you, his darkened eyes fluttering closed when you clench around his cock, before he opens them again to look at you as if you were an angel beneath him.
“You’ve only cum once and you’re already dumb from my cock; did you miss me that much?~”
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Smth short for my bbg bc I miss him terribly <//3 honestly might, MIGHT, make this a full length thing later. But when I saw these pics on my tl
you do NOT want to know the sound I let out.
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neinyasficrecs · 14 days ago
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⋆⭒˚.⋆ Hot and pissed and on the pill - m.list ˙⋆✼
nsfw warnings : oc is tipsy but sober enough to know what she's doing, riding, jk having a lil thing with oc and her skirt, praises, jk calling oc "slut" once, spitting, hairpulling, slapping, dry humping at first, jungkook asking if she's sure first, oc breaking his window lock lmaoo, big c! jk, unprotected sex (USE CONDOMS FOR SAFETY YALL), praise, oc taking the initiative, literally porn and lastly it's not proofread
wc : 1k
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“Y/n?? ” Jungkook’s voice was low and urgent as he noticed you climbing in through his window. His eyes widened as he moved closer, pulling it open further. “Shit- what- what the fuck are you doing here?” he whispered harshly, glancing behind him as though someone else might hear.
You grabbed his hands instinctively as he helped you clumsily climb inside, his grip firm despite the clear exasperation in his voice. Once your feet were on solid ground, you stumbled slightly before collapsing onto his bed, your messy hair falling into your face.
Jungkook ran a hand through his own messy hair, staring at you like you’d grown two heads. “You
 you look drunk,” he muttered, grabbing the glass of water from his nightstand and handing it to you. “Where were you?”
You nodded, sipping the water slowly, your movements lazy and uncoordinated. “heathers, four drinks, ” you said with a crooked smile, holding up four fingers as though it was some sort of victory. “Did I wake you?”
“I—no, I mean
 yeah?” he stammered, his brows furrowed as he crouched slightly, his face now level with yours.
“W-what are you doing here?” Jungkook’s voice was laced with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, his doe eyes searching yours. But you didn’t let him finish, silencing him with a press of your index finger to his lips.
“Wanna ride you,” you said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. The boldness in your voice startled even you, but you were too caught up in the mix of frustration and desire coursing through your veins to care.
“Wait—what?” he asked, straightening his posture, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His hands instinctively found their way to your hips as you climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as your weight settled against him.
You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw. “Jungkook, I’m hot, pissed, and on the pill,” you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.
He blinked at you, his lips parting as if to respond, but before he could form a coherent thought, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The initial shock melted away quickly, and his hands tightened their grip on your hips as he kissed you back with equal fervor.
“Fuck—wait,” he groaned, pulling back for just a moment. His lips were swollen, and his dark eyes glinted with amusement despite the obvious tension in his body. “You broke my window lock, you know,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
You smirked at him, your hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. “You’ll live.” you said, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Now only in only your skirt and bra, you leaned back in, your lips finding his again as your hips began to move. The friction of your clothed core grinding against the hardness beneath his boxers made you whimper into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his hands sliding down to guide your movements. His fingers dug into your waist, his body already reacting to yours. “Y/N, you’re gonna drive me insane.”
“Good,” you whispered, nipping at his bottom lip. Your hands slid down his chest, your fingertips tracing over the firm lines of his body until they found the waistband of his boxers. You tugged at it, your movements impatient.
“Wanna take this off? Yeah?” he murmured, his voice a low, breathy rasp as he watched you with hooded eyes.
“Yeah,” you breathed, your hips never stopping their rhythm as your hands worked to slide his boxers down.
He lifted his hips slightly to help you, and the moment his cock sprang free, you felt the heat of it pressing against your thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight, your body throbbing with need as you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his length.
You were about to reach for the zipper of your skirt, but his hand shot out, stopping you. “Don’t,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “Keep it on... please?”
Your breath caught at the look in his eyes dark, hungry, yet somehow tender. You nodded, letting him have this one thing as he leaned back slightly, his hands sliding up your thighs to bunch the fabric of your skirt just enough to expose you. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them to the side. The cool air against your slick folds made you shiver, and his gaze locked onto you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
“Can I- can I take it?” you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation as you positioned yourself over him, guiding his tip to your entrance.
“Fuck—go, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained as he gripped your hips, helping you lower yourself. “Take it like the good girl you are, hm?”
The stretch of him filling you inch by inch made your head fall back, a silent moan escaping your lips as your walls adjusted to his size. He felt impossibly big, and the slight burn only added to the pleasure. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his nails digging into your skin as he watched you take him, his own breaths coming out in ragged gasps.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as you finally sank down fully, your bodies flush together. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Jungkook,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You rested your hands on his shoulders for balance, your nails digging into his skin as you began to move.
 His cock stretched you so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust upward as you rode him with reckless abandon. His hands gripped your waist tightly, guiding your movements.
“Fuck- you look so good like this,” he growled, his head tilting back as he watched the way your body moved on top of him, the skirt you kept on bunched up around your waist. His eyes darkened with lust, his chest heaving as his hands slid upward, brushing over the curve of your breasts before gripping your throat lightly, making you gasp.
“Faster, baby,” he rasped, his thumb pressing against your windpipe just enough to send a thrill through you. “Show me how much you missed me.”
You moaned, leaning forward to press your lips to his. But before you could deepen the kiss, Jungkook’s hand left your throat, moving to your cheek instead, and with a sharp smack, he slapped you.
“Fuck,” you gasped, your movements faltering for a moment as you processed the action. His dark eyes bore into yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he cupped your face roughly.
“Don’t stop,” he commanded, his voice rough and dripping with dominance. “Ride me, baby. Show me what a good fucking girl you are.”
The mixture of pain and pleasure sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core, and you moaned loudly, your hips snapping forward as you resumed your movements. Your fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bounced on his cock, your wetness coating him with every thrust.
“That’s it,” he growled, one hand sliding back to grip a fistful of your hair. He tugged hard, pulling your head back, exposing your neck to him as he leaned forward to nip and suck at the sensitive skin. “You like it when I treat you like this, huh? Like being my filthy little slut?”
“Yes—fuck—yes,” you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you. The sharp tug of his hand in your hair, combined with the deep thrusts of his cock and the filthy words spilling from his lips, was almost too much.
“okay, okay” he murmured against your neck, his other hand slipping down between your thighs to rub tight circles against your clit. “So fucking wet. Look at you falling apart just for me.”
You whined, your body trembling as the pressure in your core built, your walls clenching around him. Jungkook pulled back, his hand releasing your hair only to grip your chin, tilting your face down toward his. “Spit on me,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.
“What?” you whispered, your brows furrowing in confusion, though the heat in his eyes made your stomach flip.
“Spit on me,” he repeated, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. “Right here.” He opened his mouth slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he waited.
Your breath hitched, but the fire in his gaze made you comply. You gathered the saliva in your mouth before spitting on him, the act feeling strangely intimate and dirty all at once. He groaned, his tongue darting out to lick the corner of his mouth before smirking up at you.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “Now let me hear you, baby. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
The praise sent you over the edge, your climax crashing over you as your walls clench around him, squeezing him tightly. Your head fell back, a loud, broken moan escaping your lips as your body shook in his grip.
“Fuck- that’s it, baby,” he groaned, his own movements growing erratic as he chased his release. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust up into you one last time, spilling inside you with a deep, guttural moan.
You collapsed against him. Jungkook’s hands moved to your back, rubbing soothing circles as you both came down from your highs.
“You’re fucking unreal,” he murmured after a moment, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His voice was softer now, a stark contrast to the dominance he’d displayed just moments ago.
You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes softened as they met yours, and for a moment, the intensity of the moment lingered between you. Then, a sly grin spread across his face.
Jungkook leaned back slightly after his cheeky response, his smirk firmly in place, but the way his eyes roamed your face made your chest feel strangely warm. You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in mock exasperation.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, letting your palm land on his chest in a playful slap. He chuckled softly, his hand still resting lazily on your waist.
“And
” you started, a sly smile tugging at your lips as your fingers absentmindedly playfully slap his chest, “
you’re my first.” 
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notes : okay..... okay? i don't know what to say lmao. i wanna say i'm kinda proud of this? also this was a lazy fic so don't expect it to be good
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neinyasficrecs · 20 days ago
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drabble- late night calls⋆୚୧˚
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the fight earlier had left a bitter weight in your chest. hours had passed, but the tension still lingered, thick and unrelenting. you toss and turn in bed, replaying every word exchanged, every raised tone. the argument wasn’t even about anything important, just something trivial that spiraled into something bigger.
your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the vibration cutting through the quiet. his name lights up the screen. jungkook.
you hesitate, staring at the phone as it rings. the hurt is still fresh, but so is the longing. finally, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear without saying anything.
“my baby,” his voice comes through, soft and cautious, yet so unmistakably him. “are you awake?”
you don’t reply right away, your silence speaking volumes.
“pretty girl,” he says gently, “are you still mad at me?”
your throat tightens, the sound of his voice unraveling the wall you’ve tried to keep up. you close your eyes and exhale, letting the quiet hang between you.
“i hate when we fight,” he says after a moment, his voice dipping lower, almost vulnerable. “i’ve been sitting here, thinking about it. thinking about us. and i was wrong, okay? i overreacted.”
the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. “you did,” you say softly, not to hurt him but because it’s true.
“i know,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “i just
 i don’t like when we’re not okay. it messes with me, baby. i can’t stop thinking about it.”
his honesty chips away at the last of your defenses. you sigh, your fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “i don’t like it either, jungkook.”
there’s a pause on the other end, the sound of his breathing filling the space. “can i come over? i need to see you.”
you shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “it’s late.”
“i don’t care,” he says firmly. “i’ll stay outside your door if I have to. i just want to make this right.”
tears prick at your eyes, the sincerity in his voice overwhelming. “we’ll be okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“promise?” he asks, his tone softer now.
“promise.”
he exhales in relief, and you can almost picture the small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “i love you,” he murmurs. “more than anything, pretty girl.”
“i love you too, jungkook.”
the call ends, but the weight on your chest feels lighter. you curl back into bed, your heart finally at peace.
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đ—Żđ—źđ—»đ—»đ—Č𝗿 𝗰𝗿đ—Čđ—±đ—¶đ˜đ˜€ đ˜đ—Œ-@khaer
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neinyasficrecs · 21 days ago
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Preview
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𝜗𝜚 Title: APT 
𝜗𝜚 Paring: Student council President! Namjoon x Singer! Reader 
𝜗𝜚 Rating: PG - 16
𝜗𝜚 Summary: “Don’t you want me like I want you, baby?” 
Straight A’s and student council president, what else can a girl want? Y/N can list why she didn’t want that in her life and why it’s more of a headache to have Kim Namjoon as a boyfriend. Poor Namjoon...
𝜗𝜚 Genre: Fluff, romance, comedy, angst, enemies to lovers, and some steamy scenes but not to crazy 
𝜗𝜚 Playlist: APT - Rose and Bruno Mars
“Don’t forget to post your comment on the recent article! Have a good night!” 
L/N Y/N, collected her items with her headphones in ears. Tonight was like any other night. Wake up, class, eat something, class, and then go sing before she knocks out for the day. Normal. She walked through the hallway and her eyes focused on her phone ignoring everyone and everything. She had to figure out what song she was going to sing tonight because she didn’t have time that morning to figure it out (saying time was at fault was her being nice). 
She felt a hand on her shoulder and she took off her right headphone. She turned her head and smiled at her best friend, Lee Ji-hoon or Woozi (a nickname she gave him in middle school), “What’s up?”
“Did you figure out the song?” 
Y/N scoffed at this and shook her head, “I went to the library to figure it out but-”
“Let me guess Namjoon was in there with his girls.” 
Y/N nodded her head and took off her headphones completely, “It’s a library, not a concert. It was a headache.” 
Woozi let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “They can be much. I’m sorry.”
Y/N shrugged her shoulders and glanced at him, “I’m sure we can figure it out. We always do.”
“Always? That’s being nice.”
“Shut up, you know what I mean.” 
Kim Namjoon watched Y/N and Woozi walking out the hall with a frown. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, “She’s always with him...”
Jeon Jungkook, raised his eyebrow and let out a small chuckle, “You could always talk to her.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“You're Kim Namjoon, you can do anything.” 
“I can’t talk to her...so I can’t do anything.”
Min Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Let’s hurry up and go to her singing thing so I can go to sleep.” 
Namjoon cleared his throat and nodded his head, “One day I’ll talk to her.” 
“Sure...sure.”
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neinyasficrecs · 22 days ago
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the road not taken 06 | myg
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part five: all is fair in love and war
Summary: Not everything turned the way you wanted, but you were used to it.
<part five
—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc
—rating: +18
—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn
—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff, flashbacks, *takes a deep breath* multiple smut scenes, protected sex and not so protected sex(?), fingering, explicit language, dom!yoongi if you squint, lots of teasing, lots of kissing, also DON’T open condoms with your teeth pls !! btw english is not my first language.
—words: 14k
—a/note: literally screaming as I write this bc I haven’t been so excited to post anything everrrr. omg this was so complicated to write it has my blood, sweat and tears on it!! hope you like it and as always I’m open to discuss this part in the asks (please do) (it’s an order)
series masterlist | teaser | playlist
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Four years ago
It wasn’t a surprise for you to know that Yoongi was a patient man. He never rushed things;  he knew how to wait, he knew the precise moments to act and when to hold back. Tonight was no exception. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, taking his time as if the world had all the hours to spare just for you and him, he knew that the night itself was in his pocket.
He wasn’t wrong—the night was just beginning, and there was no reason to escape, rush, or leave early. But at this moment, you were anything but patient—not because you didn’t know how to wait, but because you had already waited long enough. From the way his fingers grazed your thighs during the car ride home to the kisses in the elevator, your impatience was growing rapidly. Every second felt drawn out, and you kept wondering how he could ignore the tension in the air, how you were sick with anticipation, on edge, waiting for his hands to touch you the way you truly wanted.
“It unzips from the back.” You whispered, breaking the silence of the quiet room. 
He saw your bright wide eyes shining in the dark, your swollen red lips and a strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, almost feeling guilty for all the things he was thinking of doing to you. 
“I know.” He breathed out, as if he hadn’t studied every part of your dress just hours before; where the zipper was, how long it was, how long it would take him to take it off.
You looked like you’d stepped out of one of his summer dreams, the kind that pulled him from his sleep, breathless and soaked in sweat in the middle of the night. Only this time he didn’t have to close his eyes and try to enter the same illusion again, he didn’t have to imagine the ending, he had you right there.
His lips moved slowly against yours, taking his time as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch as though he wanted the moment to last forever. He ventured one hand up your back, searching for the zipper of your dress and finding it with ease. With a smooth tug, he pulled it down in one motion, leaving it loose. A tingling excitement swept through you as his hands slid beneath your dress, dragging the shiny fabric upwards against your skin, pulling it over your head to leave you almost naked, wearing only your underwear. 
A chill traced its way down your spine, and a cold breeze swept over your body. If you weren’t so turned on by the way he was looking at you—his dark eyes roaming over you, absorbing the sight of you—you’d be embarrassed about the fact that the only piece of clothing under that dress were your black lace panties, but the man on top of you didn’t seem bothered at all, in fact, he seemed more than satisfied.
His hands were soft against your skin, he ran his fingers down your waist, your hips and over the lace waistband of your panties, making your pulse accelerate. “You're so beautiful.” He mumbled, out of breath.
"You think?" You whispered. He bit his bottom lip, nodding as his palms slowly made their way up your torso, pressing your breasts, squeezing on the flesh and brushing his thumbs over your hardening tips. You let out a quiet whimper, arching your back to meet his touch. Yoongi immediately felt tight in his pants like he was a teenager. 
You quickly became addicted to his touch—the way his lips kissed yours with a fervor that ignited every nerve in your body, how he nipped playfully at your skin, leaving a trail of electric anticipation in their wake. The way he held you tightly, as if to ensure you wouldn’t move, but you weren’t going anywhere.
“Hm, and hot." He said, trailing open mouth kisses down your neck, nibbling your skin as if he was determined to mark it. His lips traveled from your collarbone to the valley of your breasts, you felt his breath against your skin and then his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue back and forth as his other hand brushed your other breast with his thumb just for the sake of driving you crazy. Yoongi was gentle, his moves were painfully slow, you couldn’t help but choke back a moan, arching your back forward already feeling dizzy. “I dreamt of having you like this” He breathed out, his lips going to your other breast, kissing your skin and leaving you undone. “So pretty and soft, all mine.”
You were sure he could see how his words affected you, that and the feeling of the fabric of his pants grazing over your core tortuously, his heavy breath and his hands over your body made you want to shut your legs off, clenching around nothing. “Yoongi
” You sighed, trying to sound firm but inevitably failing.  He hummed, pulling away before leaving a wet kiss on your skin. “This is not fair.” You huffed, making him gaze up, finding your hooded eyes observing him with furrowed eyebrows.  “How come you’re still dressed?”
For a moment, he wanted to laugh, but from the way you grabbed his shirt as if you wanted to rip it off, you seemed dead serious. The fact that you were practically naked in his bed wasn’t going to change your attitude towards him, and Yoongi knew that more than anyone; if there was one thing he had learned over the years was not to make you angry and even if you were far from being discontent, he was not trying to tempt the devil.
The confused look on Yoongi’s face melted away, placing a cheeky smirk on his lips right after. “I almost forgot how bossy you are.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, covering your breasts.  
“Am I bossy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He did not miss the warning tone that lingered on your voice. 
“You are
 really cute.” He answered, dodging your question as he watched your frown disappear from your face, you smiled, accepting the compliment. He quickly unfastened all the buttons of his shirt, taking it off and throwing it away somewhere in the room, he was pleased to grant your wishes.
You bit your bottom lip, satisfied. It was a rare sight; you could count the amount of times that you saw Yoongi shirtless, including that one time last summer—but it was different this time, his frame was broader and his shoulders were wider, you could notice the subtle definition of his arms, of his chest, you swore it could drive you insane. Fuck that damn gym.
“This too?” He asked, his fingers tightening around the belt of his pants. You looked at him through your lashes, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 
“That too.” You nodded eagerly, and he had no choice but to comply with your instructions; you were observing every move he made as you laid on his bed, with your hair scattered across the pillow looking at him like you could ask anything from him and he would give it to you. He wasted no time, straightened up and unbuckled his pants, managing to get rid of them easily. 
He bent close to you, his face inches away from yours as he locked your gaze with you, his hands reaching for the only piece of clothing that prevented you from being fully naked “What about this?” He asked, playfully curling his fingers on the waistband of your panties, his hot breath hitting your mouth. 
A tingling sensation filled you, and goosebumps spread across your skin as his fingers moved down your center, slipping between your tights and pushing your panties aside, gently gliding through your wet folds. He was careful, rubbing slow circles on your clit, teasing your entrance as if he were mocking you, playing with you. “Should I take this off?” His deep voice resonated in your ears. 
In a matter of seconds you felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable. You tilted your head, trying not to close your eyes. “Please
” You let out in a weak whisper, feeling your skin getting warmer. 
“Please?” He chuckled. “Please what?” 
You had been instantly pushed into a trance, you were too lost in the sensation to be embarrassed by how wet you already were. “Please, take it off
” You said, being washed by a wave of pleasure every time his finger taunted your entrance, only to come back to your clit, sending you closer and closer to the edge.
You were sure that with a few quick movements you could do that by yourself, but there was something about Yoongi being in control that made your stomach turn, and there was something about you, uncomfortably squirming under him, slowly moving your hips to meet his fingers and patiently waiting for his next move that made Yoongi feel like a caveman. 
“And then?” He continued to ask, “What should I do next?”
Then, like he knew exactly what buttons to push, he sank two of his fingers into you, curling inside you without further notice. You gasped softly, but the answer got stuck in your throat, lost in a sea of thoughts. One of his hands firmly gripped your thigh, spreading you out so he could have a better access to your pussy, sinking his fingers and pulling away so he could toy with your sensitive clit. 
You gripped his shoulders to find some balance while his fingers pulled out, gathering your wetness to fuck you again without hurry, taking his time so he could watch every expression you made, the soft frown in your face, your slightly parted lips, the way you bit your lip everytime you were about to make a loud sound, you were crumbling apart for him slowly, almost without noticing.
You shut your eyes, “Yoongi
” You moaned out.
“Yes?” 
You bit your lips, struggling to find the words. His voice sounded so gentle but his actions were so evil, you never imagined that Yoongi was going to be this bad, mocking and teasing you for his own satisfaction, and somehow, it felt like he fell from the sky just for you. 
“You’re being mean
” You whimpered, rolling your head back against the pillow. He slithered his hands over your chest, playing with your breast as you rolled your center against his hand, trying to chase the feeling. “Don’t play with me.”
Your voice and your words were laced with sin, he had never heard you talk in such a soft and tender manner, even if you were practically threatening him. 
Yoongi was aware he could only push the teasing so far, not only because you were too eager, but he also had to consider how tight he was feeling in his boxers, he knew he was in no position to keep playing with you. Still, he smirked, satisfied as he observed the way you melted in his hand. 
He brushed his nose over yours “What, do you want me to stop?” He said, a mocking tone in his voice. You would’ve been furious with him in any other scenario, but in this particular one you couldn’t help but feel completely flustered. 
You let out the most pathetic mewl sound you ever heard, shaking your head. 
“Mmm, thought so.” He chuckled, closing the distance between the two of you to catch your lips between his teeth and wrapped you in a fervent kiss. With an urgency, he grabbed a handful of your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tilted your head to the side and opening his mouth wide open, deepening the kiss. It seemed like the only right way to be kissed; hard, sloppy and messy, he eagerly licked your tongue in your mouth and managed to erase every coherent thought in your mind as he kept fucking you with his fingers, making you moan into his mouth.
It felt too good, his body against yours, his lips kissing you as if he was about to devour you, his fingers grazing over your clit every time he pulled them out of your pussy just to push them deep down inside you again. You wished you could prolong the moment for a few more seconds, but the familiar tight feeling on your stomach warned you that you were dangerously close to your climax.
Yoongi, incapable of keeping it together any longer, pulled his fingers out at the same time he broke the kiss apart, making you finch. You whined in protest, but he left a small kiss in the corner of your lips in hopes to keep you content. 
“Stop torturing me
” You said, already feeling frustrated. 
“Is this what you call torture?” Yoongi scoffed, his voice hoarse. He reached for the nightstand next to his bed, pulling open the drawer. You heard his hand quickly going over some clutter, removing things until he finally found what he was searching for. “What about me? Watching you about to cum while I’m fucking hard.” 
Your eyes inevitably traveled south, observing the outline of his cock under his tight boxers. You gulped, that view was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Even if he was struggling a bit with the whole situation, Yoongi knew he could die happily right there, he could not complain at all. 
When Yoongi noticed the way you were ogling him, your thoughts drifting elsewhere, he tried to catch your attention by holding up the small condom package in front of your face, its glossy surface glinting under the light. “Open it.” He just said. 
You paused for a brief second, then decisively bit the foil, opening it with your teeth.
Fuck. 
If Yoongi wasn’t completely hard before, now he felt he could explode right in this moment. 
“Fuck, you might kill me tonight," He breathed, surrender evident in his voice as his gaze lingered on you, trying maintaining his composure, though impatience was beginning to creep into his demeanor. You couldn’t help but smile. “Now let me take these off” He said, hooking one of his fingers on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and taking them off. You bit your lips in anticipation, watching the piece of clothing disappear from your eyesight. 
“It wasn’t that difficult after all.” You murmured, making him laugh. You would never miss an opportunity to pick a fight with him. 
“God, Pinky. Do you ever shut up?” He said, gripping the back of your thighs and bringing you closer to him. You rolled your eyes, but your attitude didn’t last very long; the next thing you saw were his hands, pushing down his underwear to let his cock spring free, almost making you choke with your own saliva. 
You suddenly shifted yourself up onto your elbows, ever so dramatic. “Yoongi
” You cried, giving him more than one reason to feel cocky right now. “I don’t know if I can take that.” A smirk tugged from the corners of his lips, one of his hands traveling down his length to jerk himself off, determined to drive you insane. You should’ve imagined that the fact that Yoongi was so confident and cocky was directly connected to how big he was; you wanted to punch him just for that alone. This wasn’t fair at all. 
Yoongi laughed, rolling the condom onto himself and shaking his head, not paying real attention to your concern. He settled himself between your legs, dragging his crown between your wet folds, you barely managed to bite back a moan, throwing your head against the pillows. “You’re soaking wet, baby. You can take it.” His voice sounded so deep it vibrated in your ears, the weight of his words filled with lust and the gentle feeling of the tip of his cock resting on your entrance were so overwhelming it almost made you miss the new endearment, but you heard it just right, even if you felt like were in the brink of madness, aching to feel him inside you.
“Then, hurry up.” You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. He chucked at that, never in a million years he thought he would have you like that, trapped under him, with a frown on your face, urging him to hurry up. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it. 
“No need to rush, we have all night.” He simply said, as if he was purposefully trying to annoy you, but the truth was that, as patient as he could be, having you naked under him and not being inside you was beginning to do a number on him, too.
You let out a cry when he sank into you, slowly guiding himself deep inside your pussy, groaning. Your whole body burned in flames, but it felt too good. “Take everything for me, be a good girl.” He said, his gaze meeting the way you sucked him whole, you were too far gone to make sense of anything else. Your whole body burned in flames, but it felt too good, you gasped when he pushed a leg against your torso, burying himself inside you and reaching your deepest point, you’ve never felt that full. “Look at that— fuck, you fit me just right.”
“Fuck. Yoongi, I-” You attempted to form a coherent sentence, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt his cock stretching you open, leaving you breathless. 
“How’s that, hmh?” 
Lacking a better response, you nodded, letting a small whimper leave your lips. “Please, move
” You mumbled, immediately feeling how he began to set a pace, moving languidly and enjoying how your body adjusted to him as he moved inside you. He slid his cock almost completely out of you, slamming back to meet your body once again, you felt yourself dripping down his length, certain that you were becoming a complete mess. “It’s so good.” You whimpered, not even thinking straight, you were completely focused on the way he was slipping in and out of your wet heat. 
Yoongi could only think how good you felt, just the view of you, overwhelmed with your eyes barely open, biting your lips so you made the least amount of noise possible, made his cock throb inside you, making him feel like he was on the verge of breaking. “You’re so tight, baby.” He moaned out, obsessed with the way you wrapped around him perfectly, the way your cunt pulled him back in every time he pulled away, the way your breast bounced in front of him as he drilled in and out of you. He was sure he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he knew that, considering that you were just about to cum a few moments ago, you weren’t going to last long either. “You look so pretty taking me, wish I could take a picture.”
“God- Yoongi
” You whimpered, his name slipping out, the only word you could grasp, filling every corner of your mind.. You felt your pleasure building in your belly and your thighs trembling as he kept thrusting inside you, “I’m not, oh-” Your voice got caught in your throat when you felt a particularly hard thrust hit your sweet spot, leaving you breathless. 
“You like it, baby?” He grunted against your neck leaving wet kisses on your skin as his thrusts deepened . You nodded several times, the only thing you could do was moan in response. “Tell me you like it.” 
“I- Yes, I love it, feels so good.” You slurred, feeling his lips kissing your jaw, your check and then catching your lips, kissing you softly, a gesture so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you open. 
He bit your lips tenderly “You feel so nice.” He murmured against your mouth, “Want to have you like this all night, would you let me?” Your voice was cut by a moan, as if you could find an answer for that anyway. “Would you let me fuck you all night?”
You were certain that his words were going to be engraved in your mind for a long time, you wouldn’t be able to forget the way he pronounced each syllable, compelling you into saying whatever he wanted to hear, how he looked at you without any kind of inhibition, how he touched you like your body was his only; you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
“Y-yes, please.” You moaned out, feeling yourself clench around him at the thought. 
“Such a good girl.” He said between huffs. “So perfect, like you were made just for me.”
Completely drunk on his compliments, you sobbed, digging your nails on his biceps once he began to sped his thrusts, he could see the desire spreading all over your face, moaning into his mouth “Fuck, right there.” You said in the prettiest of whimpers “I’m- so close.” 
“You gonna cum for me?” You didn’t need to tell him, he could feel the way you were throbbing around his cock, bouncing up and down and getting tighter with each thrust, it was driving him crazy. 
“Yeah, I’m-“ You struggled to finish the sentence, your thoughts were all tangled, your words stumbled upon each other, “It’s too much
” you could only feel the burning sensation between your legs, your wet thighs, his hips hitting against yours filling the room with filthy sounds. Somewhere in your mind there was a version of you that was worried about the sound of Yoongi’s headboard hitting the wall, or how loud both of you sounded, or the fact that Yoongi’s building was full of elder people who will have more than a reason to complain the next day, but if you were being honest, right now you couldn’t find the will to even care about it one bit. 
One of his hands reached to grab your jaw, making you look him straight into his eyes, but you were struggling to focus your crystallized gaze. “Want to see you cum for me.” He hissed, hypnotized by how pretty you looked, whimpering and sobbing around him. Without notice, one of his hands slithered between your bodies, running down your belly and meeting his fingers on your sensitive nub, tracing small circles on it to finish you.  “Be good for me, baby, cream my cock.”
“Fuck, d-don’t stop
” Your eyes fluttered shut, arching your back off the mattress as you felt yourself coming undone. You had never felt that way, so high on your own pleasure, a few more thrusts were enough to push yourself over the edge, tightly squeezing around him and moaning his name like a broken record. You dug your nails into his back, clinging to him as though you might collapse if you let go, but he helped you ride your high, even if the sight of you was about to push him to his breaking point. “That’s it, baby, I got you.” He said, his voice barely hanging by a thread.  His thrusts began to feel uncoordinated, a sign that he was not far from his release. “God, you’re so pretty, you’re gonna make me cum, too.” 
He crashed his lips onto yours, making you swallow all his moans as he fucked himself into you, reaching his climax. The room was filled with your heavy breath, muffled moans, the sound of his skin hitting against your as you finished milking him dry, with your forehead against his, murmuring his name in the dark as you both came down from your high.
You were tired, your whole body felt heavy and sore, but you still felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips kissed you, making you feel like you were in an alternate universe. 
“You’re not real.” He said, mesmerized as he met your teary eyes. You didn’t know where this Yoongi came from, but you didn’t want him to leave. 
You groaned, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re too much
” You said, hiding your face in his neck. 
You heard him chuckle as his body softened on top of you. “Get used to it.” 
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Maybe it was time to admit that you were a bit messed up in the head, realizing you never quite knew when to let your guard down. You could excuse it by saying you'd spent so long building walls around yourself that you’d forgotten what it felt like to live without them, or you could just tell the truth and say that you were afraid.
As you rested in Yoongi’s bed, refusing to fall asleep, you observed him, wishing to be as clueless and unafraid of the future as him. 
You heard his muffled voice, Yoongi’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, as he refused to go to sleep just yet. “You never told me if you like me too.” He said as he hugged your waist.
You traced your fingers along the back of his neck, gently threading through his long hair at the nape.
“I don’t, what gave you the impression?” You joked, making him bite the skin of your neck for teasing him.
“C’mon
” He said, glancing up “Tell me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, his eyes barely open and the pout on his mouth while he asked you to confirm something obvious. 
“I like you, Yoongi. I really do.” You confirmed, as if it was ever necessary to do so.
“But since when?” He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense.
“I can't tell you that.”
He frowned, a hint of confusion crossing his face. “Why?”
You shrugged, trying to avoid his eyes. “Mmm... because it's embarrassing.”
“I wouldn’t care,” He insisted, shifting to lie down beside you, settling onto the pillow with a gentle sigh. You turned towards him, mirroring his position from before and resting your head on his chest, your fingers tracing random patterns along his chest.
“I know,” You murmured, your voice softer now. “But I would.” You hesitated, the words tasting heavier than you'd expected. “It’s just... it’s a long time.”
He propped himself up slightly, looking down at you, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “How long?” He pressed. “Since college?”
You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Longer than that.”
He tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Mmm... since high school?” His voice held a teasing edge. “I wasn’t that cute back then.”
“You were really cute in high school,” you found yourself admitting, a smile tugging at your lips as your mind wandered back. You could still picture him, awkward in his oversized clothes and square glasses, but somehow, to you, he’d been the only boy who existed.
He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So... since high school.”
“Mmm
” You hesitated to answer. Hiding your face on his chest. You felt his fingers on your waist, squeezing the flesh so he could make you look at him. “A bit longer than that.”
Yoongi sighed, trying to think of a memory where he remembered you having a crush on him, but nothing came to mind. For someone you claimed to be the smartest person in the room, he seemed to be completely clueless. Perhaps because Yoongi always saw you as your brother's little sister, as this teenager that wanted nothing to do with her brother, as his friend. The idea of you having a crush on him since that long was crazy, but more crazy was the fact that he didn't notice at all. 
“God, don’t make that face,” you complained, rolling your eyes as you shifted uncomfortably.
“What face?” he asked, his voice distant, a slight frown tugging at his features as he seemed momentarily distracted.
“I told you, it’s embarrassing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is it that bad to have a crush on me?”
You groaned, feeling your cheeks flush. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” He shook his head with a playful grin, inching closer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “I still want to know.”
You huffed, debating whether to tell him the truth or not.
“What exactly do you want to know?” You asked, a mix of hesitation and willingness in your voice, ready to answer his question.
“Mmm... I don’t know, when did you know?” He asked, his tone casual, though his eyes held a deeper curiosity.
“I was a kid, Yoongi,” You replied, your voice softening, as if the memory itself were a weight.
“What about it? I’m curious.”
Maybe you were the only one in the room who found it embarrassing, because Yoongi wasn’t judging you—he was simply asking, genuinely interested. But the answer
 it came from somewhere deep inside, a place you couldn’t quite reach, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn’t something that could be spoken so easily, yet here you were, on the verge of telling him.
You smiled, closing your eyes. “The thing is
 that I don’t think is something that I can remember, Yoongi.” You confessed “It’s embarrassing because maybe I always felt that way. I was never the kind of kid who could be easily understood, but you did, and in those moments where you didn't, you sided with me anyway. And I don't know, I felt like you saw right through me and I liked that. I guess that messed with my head, because I knew that what I felt was somewhat irrational but I couldn't make it go away, I tried but I still can't. I have always been kind of a loser.”
Yoongi’s chest tightened, as though a quiet ache settled in, deep and raw. It was as if he could sense the weight behind your words—the hesitation, the vulnerability—but he knew they were nothing but the truth. You couldn’t remember when your feelings for him began, because, in a way, he had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface of your thoughts.
He reached out, his hand gently threading through your hair before sliding down your back, pulling you closer to him.
“You're not a loser, Pinky,” He murmured, his voice low and steady as his fingers found the back of your neck, keeping you anchored to him. “And you’re not difficult to understand. You’re not irrational, or crazy, or losing your mind.” A soft laugh escaped you as you listened to him list off your most frequent self-deprecating phrases.
“Isn’t it a bit embarrassing, though?” You whispered, the words barely escaping your lips
“What, having a crush?” He asked, letting out a small chuckle.
You nodded, but a part of you wanted to shake your head, to clarify that it wasn’t just about the crush. It was the way you had fallen in love with him—because, somehow, he was the only one who could ever truly understand you.
“For this long?” You whispered. 
“Nothing wrong with that,” He replied, his fingers gently tracing through your hair, the touch soothing.
A soft smile tugged at your lips as you pressed a kiss to his chest, settling closer against him. You felt a wave of warmth washing all over your body. 
“You're too good to me.”
He let out a soft laugh, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Come here,” He murmured, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer with ease. “I want to kiss you until you give me a toothache.”
You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his touch as his hands cupped your face. “I’m too sour to give you a toothache.”
“No, you're sweet,” He insisted, his grip tightening around your waist. With a playful move, he slid one of your legs around his, drawing you onto his lap. “You're nauseatingly sweet. Now shut up, sit here.” You settled on his lap, still shaking your head in defiance, even as your body remained pressed against his. “I want you to ride me.”
You snorted, surprised. “I have to shower...” You murmured, trying to pull back, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders to create some distance.
“Ride me first,” he breathed, his voice low and insistent. “Then we’ll shower.”
He leaned in for a kiss, grabbing your waist to keep you pressed to his body. “We?” You asked against his lips, chuckling.
You didn’t forget the fact that you were still naked, he kept kissing you, aligning your hips so he could rub your slit with his cock, making you wince. “Don’t you want to shower with me?” He innocently asked, pressing down your body against him so there was no space between the two of you.
You bit his lip, making him let out a small moan against your mouth. “Maybe
” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Why would I want to?”
“‘Cause I’ll make you cum.” He said without any trace of hesitation in his voice.
You groaned, rolling your hips against his body. “Really?” You kept teasing. He nodded, leaning back against the headboard, his hands sliding to your ass to pull you closer. “How?”
He raised his hips to meet your entrance, teasing your clit with every movement. From a second to another, you were trapped in a trance again. “First, I’m fucking you with my fingers.” He slowly said, his voice deep as he left a kiss on your neck, his palms gripping your ass to press you closer to him. You nodded, enjoying the way he handled you as he pleased. “And when you’re close I’m gonna start eating out that lovely pussy of yours. But when you think you’re just about to cum I’ll stop.” You whimpered, your head already spinning at the thought. The only logical thought in your mind was that Yoongi should be thrown in jail for the way he spoke, and the way he was moving. “I will only fuck you with my cock when you’re begging me to fill you with my cum, would you like that?” You let out a shaky breath, nodding, not thinking much about what you were agreeing to. “Would you like me to cum inside you, baby?” 
You nodded pathetically, your eyes fluttering shut as he ease the ache between your legs every time he rolled his hips against your body. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, feeling completely ridiculous at the thought of cumming like this. Suddenly, he stopped his movements, making you open your eyes to look at him. 
Yoongi was looking at you with a mischievous smirk on his face, ready to tease you. “Or I can let you go, I don’t mind.” He murmured, leaving an innocent kiss on your lips. 
You punched his arm, annoyed at him. “Fuck you.”
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It was like the secrets of the world were held inside Yoongi’s bedroom, because you haven’t left since you arrived. 
You knew you should probably leave, give your mother a New Year’s kiss in person rather than sending a quick text, change into fresh clothes, and get some proper sleep. But inside these four walls, it was as if time had not passed. You’d woken up this morning beside him, determined to be the kind of girl who slipped away early, left no trace and didn't linger. But instead of the cold chill of the morning, you felt the warmth of his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, his breath soft against your neck. So, you let yourself stay just a few seconds longer, waiting for him to wake up first.
You stayed in bed until he offered one of his t-shirts to wear and kissed your nose, he only left the bed to make breakfast.
Now you were kneeling on the floor, lowering your head to search under Yoongi’s bed for your dress. You wondered what would be worse: showing up at home in Yoongi’s clothes or wearing last night’s dress.
“What are you looking for?” You heard his voice behind you. You sat up, turning your attention to him. He was still wrapped in his morning look—gray sweatpants, a black tee, and ruffled hair, probably thanks to you. Damn, he looked good.
“My dress.” You explained “Where did you throw it?” 
“Oh, I put it in my wardrobe,” He answered casually, extending his hand to help you up from the floor. You took it, trying to keep the shirt you were wearing from hiking up—though it was a losing battle. “Why?”
“I’d better get going,” You said shyly, nodding towards the door. 
“Why?” He repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Well, um
” You stammered, searching for an answer, but you didn’t have one.
“You can stay,” he interrupted, his tone firm.
“I don’t know
 I have no clothes.” The words felt foolish as soon as they left your mouth.
He scoffed. “You have clothes.” He scanned your body from head to toe, but all you were wearing was an old shirt that still smelled like his perfume and a pair of boxers he’d kindly offered you after tossing your black panties in the wash. You didn’t actually have clothes. “You’re dressed right now.” He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your waist over the fabric of his shirt. You unconsciously stepped towards him, letting him cup your face with one of his hands.“I wish you weren’t, though.” 
“Yoongi
” You whined, hypnotized by the way he bit his bottom lip.
“What?” He murmured.
“My mom?
” You mumbled, making him laugh once again. 
“Are you serious?” He asked, his knee slowly pushing between your legs—was he trying to make you trip into his bed?
You gripped his shoulders tightly, determined to stay on your feet.
“I bet your mom’s just fine,” He said, his voice laced with mockery. “Unless you want to leave.”
His knee pressed deeper into your thigh, but you fought back, unwilling to let gravity win so easily.
You tried to come up with a clever, sassy response, something that would shut down his attempts to make you blush, but you were too focused on not falling into his bed. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
“Do you want to leave?” He asked, lowering his voice and pulling your face closer with his grip.
You pursed your lips, finally losing the battle with gravity as you tumbled into the bed, pulling him down with you. Your eyes locked for a brief moment, the room so still you could hear the pounding of your own heartbeat and the soft sound of his hands running up your thighs, squeezing the skin beneath the fabric of his boxers.
“Or do you want to stay?” He murmured, his breath hot against your ear, though the words seemed to echo in your mind.
You were too proud to say anything, he should’ve known you didn’t like to ask for things, but he was proud as well, he needed you to say it, and maybe this time you wanted to do it.
“I’ll stay...” You whispered, making him smirk. 
“Mmm
 I won’t argue with that.” He murmured, pressing your nose against yours and kissing you with his mouth open, melting you under his body as his hands did the rest of the work.
And when you finished, tangled with each other, with his nose buried in your neck and his body on top of yours, he breathed out. You sighed, observing the watch on his wrist next to your head, it was only eleven in the morning. And that should be the perfect moment to run away before he kicked you out, but when you tried to move under his body, you found his gaze. 
“What?” He smiled, gripping your waist so you stayed there. 
“Nothing
” You said “Am not allowed to look at you now?” 
“No, you are.” He said “You’re just not allowed to look at me like you’re about to tell me you have to run away- I mean, that you have to leave.” 
You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, you’ll get tired of me.”
He braced himself on his arms, lowering his hands into the mattress as he hovered above you, just like he had five minutes ago before you came undone under him. The memory sent a flutter through your stomach, but now, he looked cute—confused by your words.
“You know, if you leave, I’m just going to follow you home, right?” He said, catching you off guard.
“Are you serious?” You scoffed. 
“I mean, what are you going to say? You have no clothes, you have to shower, you have to see your mom?” 
You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I want to see my mom?” You teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
“Leave your mom alone, Pinky,” He shot back, grinning. You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Stay with me today.”
You tilted your head, eyes searching his lips. “And what about tomorrow?”
“Stay with me tomorrow too,” He insisted, his voice soft but firm. “And the day after, as well.”
“You have no idea what you're getting yourself into...” You warned, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” He said, his gaze steady. “Trust me, I do.”
You wondered how long you could stay before you snapped out of the trance, how many kisses you could give, how many secrets you could share, how many times he could lift your shirt up your chest, kiss your stomach, kiss your neck. It was like the secrets of the world were held inside Yoongi’s bedroom, because after that you couldn’t escape his hands for the whole day.
Yoongi’s apartment suddenly became a universe of its own. He played music while you danced through the kitchen. He put on a movie as the snow fell outside, and you snuck onto his bed, napped wrapped in his arms, and woke up just in time for dinner.
For a moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place. Yoongi showed you pictures of the hotel he was planning to book for your getaway to the beach, mentioning that he’d considered booking two rooms but now didn’t think it was necessary. You received a call from Simon, but you simply wished him a happy New Year without telling him anything. You texted your mom, letting her know you were with Yoongi, and she didn’t ask any questions. You texted Minnie, but her response was quite different—she bombarded you with almost twenty texts, begging you to tell her everything. 
Yoongi was serious, he wouldn’t let you go that easily. After dinner he trapped you in bed and kissed you till you were out of breath, making you promise that you’ll stay the night again. 
“What if I have other plans?” You murmured as you brushed the hair away from his face.
“What other plans would you have?” He teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“I don’t know, what if I have to see a boy?” You shot back, a mischievous glint in your eye.
“Mmm, what boy?” He asked.
You bit your lip, sensing the opportunity waiting for you to seize it.
“I think you know him, actually,” You said, shifting slightly under him. You seemed to find yourself in that position more often than you realized. “His name’s Namjoon. Does that ring any bells?”
Yoongi blinked, clearly caught off guard, before letting out a soft chuckle. He grinned mischievously, then quickly reached for your sides, tickling you until you squirmed. “You’re asking for it now,” He teased, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in to nip playfully at the skin there.
You burst out laughing, trying to wiggle away. “Stop! Stop, I’m serious!” you gasped between laughs, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you tried to push him off.
Present
By the time Friday came, you had already decided you were on vacation. After a few calls with Sally and another few calls with your publicist, you had cleared your schedule completely and you were free to do whatever you wanted for the next three months. You supposed you deserved it, or that was what you were trying to convince yourself about as you had breakfast and planned what you were going to do today —which was nothing. 
As the days passed, the news, reporters, and everyone else trying to reach you for a statement began to forget about you, it turned out to be that you weren’t the most important person in the world, and saying no to a marriage proposal wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve done. The world kept spinning and everyone moved on to the next scandal, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away that quick.
You tried contacting Ian countless times. At first, all you wanted was to confront him and to ask him to tell you the truth, but by the tenth attempt, you were ready to curse him and his entire family. The fact that he had blocked your number only confirmed what you suspected—he was the one who leaked the pictures. 
Making peace with it felt impossible; it was as though you’d been lying beside a stranger, an enemy, for nearly four years. You wondered if he felt the same about you right now—if that was why he did what he did. But you weren’t the most forgiving person to exist, nor was forgetting in your nature. So even if some part of you knew it might be healthier to let go, you clung to the bitterness, feeling it settle deep inside you, a grudge you were ready to carry for as long as it took. Letting go simply wasn’t an option.
Still, you didn’t let the whole scandal ruin your main plan—an early vacation in October. But it seemed your friend Minnie, sitting across from you with a glare that could kill, was more than ready to.
Minnie didn’t keep insisting you on helping her with The Alley, but you knew that she was counting on you. You promised to go with her today, but the fact that you didn’t say a word about it the whole week was beginning to make her think that you changed your mind. 
“I’m going with you today.” You said without taking your eyes off your phone. “You don’t need to look at me like that.” 
You heard her sigh in relief. “God, I was afraid you would say no.”
“I said I would the other day, didn’t I?” You reminded her, making her roll her eyes. 
“Yes, like you are a person who doesn’t change her mind at all.” 
You laughed, letting her comment slide. 
By the afternoon, you were standing at the door of The Alley, waiting behind Minnie as she tried each one of the fifty keys of the keyring in locks of the large wooden doors. “I never know which key is.” She murmured under her breath, annoyed. 
You weren’t of much help, all you could do was observe her as she cursed Sid for not labeling the keys, hiding in your scarf just in case she took it on you as well. Minnie peered through the keyhole, as if she could glimpse the shape of the lock and somehow figure out which key would fit. You took a look around at the park, which was completely desolated, except for the view of two people approaching down the street. 
It took you exactly two seconds to figure out who that was, after all, you had memorized every tiny bit of Yoongi’s personality, including the way he walked. There he was, this time dressed casually, with a black hoodie on and a black cap over his head, laughing and chatting with a blonde girl who you didn’t recognize at all.
You turned immediately, pretending you hadn’t just seen him and that girl heading in your direction. Your first instinct was to curse Minnie for not warning you that Yoongi would be here, but, in fairness, she had mentioned he’d be around—and you had assured her it didn’t bother you. Still, you hadn’t expected him to appear the moment you arrived. For the sake of keeping your word, you played dumb, pretending not to have seen him.
“This is pissing me off.” Said your friend, straightening up and wiping the sweat off her forehead. She looked around, catching the glimpse of Yoongi almost as quickly as you did. “Oh, don’t turn around.” She warned you as she waved at him, faking a smile. “You don’t want to know who’s coming.”
“I already know.” You gritted through your teeth.
“How did you know?” she whispered, raising an eyebrow. “Did you feel him coming? How? Do you have some kind of spidey sense I don’t know about? Like
 an ex-boyfriend radar or something?”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. No. I saw him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, but you just shrugged, already hearing steps behind you, slowing down as they approached you.
“Hey, guys,” Minnie said with a polite smile, holding up the jangling keyring. “Am I late? I’ve been wrestling with these keys.”
Yoongi’s eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of unease flashing across his face before he shifted his gaze to the blonde girl beside him. Her expression froze for just a moment, her gaze landing on you with a slight look of recognition, but you barely acknowledged it, focusing instead on the uncomfortable pause that followed.  “Uh
 no, you’re fine,” He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think we’re just a bit early.”
You murmured a quiet “hi,” watching as Yoongi stepped towards Minnie. “Let me see,” he said in that low voice of his, reaching for the keyring. Minnie handed it over eagerly, clearly too flustered to remember introductions, but you didn’t mind. You had no interest in learning who Yoongi had shown up with—not in the slightest. “I already told you which one it is.”
In what universe Yoongi knew which key opened the doors of The Alley? Apparently, in this one. In a matter of seconds he had found the key and opened without any problem, leaving Minnie thanking him. 
“I need to label it before I lose it again.” She said.
The blonde watched them both, her gaze flickering to you for just a moment before returning to Yoongi. She shifted her weight, as if she was waiting for something else to happen while Yoongi and Minnie exchanged words, but you kept quiet. You were quite used to people recognizing you on the street, especially in your hometown where every single person knew your name, that didn’t mean that you enjoyed it. 
“Look, it has different slots from the other ones.” He showed her, and Minnie looked carefully as he pointed the key. 
“Fine, I’ll try to remember.” She nodded, grabbing the keyring from his hands. “Now enter, time to work.”
Minnie clapped her hands as she stepped inside, disappearing ahead and leaving you, Yoongi, and the blonde girl—someone you'd never seen before—standing there, exchanging glances as if there were something unspoken between you all. The blonde shifted her gaze to you briefly, her expression unreadable yet somehow expectant. You felt a knot tightening in your chest and quickly slipped past them without acknowledging it, catching up to Minnie and putting the awkwardness of the moment behind you.
“You can play some music if you want.” Said Minnie, disappearing through a hall that led to the office.
You hurried towards her, leaving Yoongi and his friend behind without a backward glance.
“Why does Yoongi know how to open the doors, and you don’t?” You whispered, quickening your steps to keep up with Minnie.
“I told you, he’s here all the time,” She replied, barely slowing down as she moved ahead. “He has to fix some lights from the theater today.” 
“And... who was that?” You asked, slipping into the office and closing the door behind you a little faster than necessary.
Minnie dropped her bag on the desk with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t know—some girl he’s seeing now,” She replied, shrugging. “She’s just here to keep him company. I doubt she cares much about The Alley, but hey, not my business.”
You nodded, suddenly feeling the faintest stir of something you couldn’t quite name. You pushed it aside—no need to dwell on it.
“How do you know?” You asked, trying to sound casual. “Is he your personal friend now?”
She chuckled, sitting back in her chair. “We’re friendly,” the redhead replied, her tone light as if that wasn’t the biggest betrayal of all.
You let yourself fall into the chair across from her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” She said with a shrug. “I don’t really have a choice.” Then, her gaze met yours. “We don’t talk about you, though. He doesn’t dare say your name.”
“He doesn’t mention me but he talks about the girls he’s seeing?” You asked, crossing your arms above your chest. 
“Yes, it’s like he’s seen a ghost everytime someone says your name, it’s funny.” She said “And why are you asking, anyway? Are you jealous?” She teased. 
You couldn’t deny that the fact that Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear your name gave you a little bit of satisfaction, but knowing that he also shared the details of his most recent date with who was supposed to be your best friend pissed you off. 
“You’re a traitor, Minnie,” You muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.
She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Didn’t you say you had no problem with him being around?” She shot back, using your own words against you. “He’s helping out with everything. I can’t exactly avoid being friendly.”
You huffed, already knowing she was right, but it didn’t stop the sting of betrayal. “Still
” you grumbled, unable to hide the bitterness in your tone. “You’re supposed to be on my side, one hundred percent.”
“I have to choose my battles, honey.” She sighed, paying little attention to your tantrum. “For the sake of this place, at least.” 
You exhaled sharply, leaning back in your chair, arms still crossed. “Guess I can’t argue with that,” You muttered, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice, but it still seeped through.
Minnie slipped through some papers on the desk, glancing up to you. “Besides
 I can be on your side, which I am, and still be friendly to him. I’m not trying to brainwash you, but he’s a great guy, you know? Overall
”
“I know that.” You said, defeated, “I know that more than anyone.”
Your friend didn’t need to convince you; you knew better than anyone how impossible it was to dislike Yoongi. You knew that he was a great man, a great son, a great neighbor. That he loved his mother, was the best friend of everyone and girls loved him. And yet, it was for all those reasons that you resented him. If only he were just a little less of all those things, a little more selfish, maybe—just maybe—he might have chosen you.
Four years ago
You have never been the kind of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but the next morning, tangled in sheets under Yoongi’s body, you were. 
That afternoon you inevitably had to say goodbye to him, but not without him putting on a good fight first. His mom was coming back from vacation that night and you refused to be there when she arrived just to find you wearing her son’s clothes as pajamas for the second day in a row, even if Yoongi argued that there was nothing wrong with it since she’d known you all your life. At the end he ended up agreeing with you, deciding that maybe you were right and driving you home.
You walked backwards towards the porch, blowing kisses to Yoongi, who sat in his car, trying to catch each one of them. He waited until you opened the door and winked at you, waving a goodbye before starting the car and disappearing. Closing the door behind you, you felt your heart beating against your ribcage, threatening to escape from your body. You leaned against the door for a moment, feeling the weight of the silence that filled the space around you. Your breath was shallow, your chest tight, as if the air itself was heavier now that he was gone. 
You had always been in love with Yoongi; it was a weight you had carried for most of your life. You had grown tired of trying to get rid of it, learning to live with it as if it were a curse. But this time, it felt different, it was like love was supposed to feel like. 
You wanted things to sink in and be as far from him as you possibly could, but as soon as you heard the car driving away, a sudden urge to run and look for him took over you. 
Still, you lay in bed for the rest of the day, feeling like you were sixteen again, wondering if it was okay to text him first. What should you say? That you had a great time? That you wanted to see him again? You wished he could have just appeared at your doorstep without you having to ask. You wished to hear the sound of a rock against your window, only to find out it was him, calling for you.
Later that night, you did receive a text from Yoongi, though not in the way you had imagined.
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Almost all of Yoongi’s memories were of just him and his mom together. The concept of family had always been different for him than it was for everyone else, but he had learned to embrace it. Even so, he often wished things could have been different—that his mother didn’t have to work two jobs, that he didn’t have to spend so much time in other people’s homes, that the concept of a family of two didn’t come with so many complications. 
Yoongi had spent most of his childhood with nannies and Simon’s mom, observing how Lila took her of her children and hoping that image could be his instead. 
He grew up trying not to cause much trouble, working to help his mom, studying hard, and striving to earn a full scholarship. Between long hours at part-time jobs and nights spent pouring over textbooks, he found himself attending to her when her health took a turn—making meals, running errands, or simply sitting by her side to ensure she was comfortable. The weight of responsibility shaped him early, leaving little room for his own dreams, doing everything he could to lighten her burden while quietly dreaming of a future where neither of them had to struggle.
His mother had become a priority and he never complained, he loved her, but in the meantime he was slowly forgetting about himself without noticing. 
That night, Yoongi had created a group chat to inform all his family that his mother had suffered an accident on her way home from vacation. She had fallen, breaking her hip in the process, and now required surgery as soon as possible. The tone of his message was calm, almost detached, as if he were trying to keep the weight of the situation from overwhelming anyone. Still, you could feel the urgency behind his words, the unspoken worry pressing between the lines. 
His message said that she was going into surgery in a few hours and that his aunt was with him, but didn’t answer any other message for the rest of the night until the next morning, when he announced that the surgery had gone okay and that Nari was fine, though she didn’t wake up yet.  
You felt a whole carving in your chest just by thinking of him, handling the situation alone. You knew that Yoongi always tried to convince everyone he was fine on his own, that he didn’t need anyone’s help, but you couldn’t shake the image of him sitting in a hospital chair, exhausted and worn, holding it together for everyone else while no one held it together for him. 
Even if you wanted to visit Nari, to be there for both of them, Yoongi explicitly said that people could only visit her once she was at home, three days later.
That very same morning you began your ten block walk to Yoongi’s home, starting to feel your feet getting frozen inside of your monochrome black Converse, your fingers numbing inside your half finger gloves and a strange feeling in your gut that was slowly creeping up on you.
You tried to tell yourself that it was the bad taste that left you the news of the accident, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of worry, hence the anxious feeling in your stomach. Even if Yoongi had said that everything went alright, you still were worried.
You turned around and looked at the end of the street where your home was, wondering if you should go back and take your car, but you ultimately buried your hands in the pockets of your jacket and decided to carry on your way; ten blocks in the snow never killed anyone. 
When you started to approach the old building, flashbacks immediately assaulted your memory in the least subtle of ways, it was like every kiss lingered in your skin, you couldn’t wash them off.
You rang the bell, announced yourself and in less than five minutes you were in front of Yoongi’s door like you were a few days ago. 
“Pinky, I-... I didn’t know you were coming.” Was the first thing he said. 
Yoongi’s face was a map of exhaustion, his eyelids hung heavy and the skin beneath his eyes shadowed by the weight of sleepless nights. 
“Hi to you too,” you mumbled.
“Sorry... Hi. You surprised me,” Yoongi replied, his voice thick with exhaustion.
“It’s okay,” you said quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. “I wanted to see Nari. I tried to text you, but-”
“I haven’t been paying attention to my phone,” He interrupted, his gaze dropping for a brief moment, a tired sigh escaping him.
You frowned slightly, unsure if it was the weariness or something else. “Yeah, I’m sure. But I was hoping she’d be here already.”
“We arrived a few hours ago,” He explained, his voice low, as if the weight of the past few hours still clung to him.
Silence stretched between you, the kind that felt heavy, as if neither of you knew quite how to fill it.
“How are you?” You said, taking a step closer to him.
“I’m okay now that she’s home,” Yoongi admitted, his voice low and strained. “But
 I was so stressed I thought I was going to pass out.”
Your heart clenched at his words, a pang of helplessness surging through you. You fought the urge to pull him into an embrace, knowing it wouldn’t erase the exhaustion carved into him.
“What exactly happened?” You pressed gently, your tone careful.
Yoongi exhaled, leaning briefly against the doorframe, his gaze distant. “She slipped and landed in the worst possible way. Her hip
 it didn’t just crack. It broke clean through, but not in the middle, more on the edge, closer to where it connects to the rest of her leg. They said the pieces weren’t in the right place anymore, and they had to go in and put it back together” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. “I wasn’t even with her. It was my aunt who called me, and by the time I got to the hospital, they were already preparing her for surgery.”
“How is she?” You asked softly, glancing at him.
“She’s... recovering,” Yoongi said, running a hand through his hair. “The doctors said the bone broke just outside the joint. They had to put this metal nail inside her thigh bone and screw it into place to hold everything steady so it can heal.”
“A nail?” You repeated, eyes widening.
“Yeah,” He nodded. “It’s supposed to keep the bone stable. They said it’s the best way to fix this kind of break. She’s in a lot of pain, though.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for her... or for you.” You took a step closer, watching the weariness in his expression.
Yoongi let out a shaky breath. “She’s tough, though. Tougher than me, that’s for sure.”
You kept silent for a second. “Can I see her?” You almost whispered, unsure, but he quickly moved away from the door.
“Yeah, of course.” He said, suddenly remembering you were still outside of his home. “Come in, she’ll be happy to see you. I’ll let her know first.”
You stood in the living room as you watched him disappear through the hall where both of their rooms were, trying to avoid any kind of memory you had from a few nights ago. Why did you have to think of that in moments like these?
After a few seconds, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s face from the hall, telling you to follow him. You followed his voice, entering Nari’s room without making much noise. 
She was laying in bed with a blanket draped over her legs. She looked up as you entered, her eyes lighting up with a welcoming smile that made her seem so much like Yoongi, and yet, not entirely. She was clearly in pain, but her cheerfulness masked it, her eyes twinkling with the same kindness you remembered. 
“Oh sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Nari said warmly, her voice a little strained but genuine. “I didn’t expect you to drop by.”
“How come? I wanted to come check on you.” You smiled, taking a cautious step closer “Simon and my mom, too. They all want to see you.”
“Oh, they don’t have to!” She waved off “I’ll be on my feet in no time, this was nothing.” Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before shifting to Yoongi, who was quietly standing behind you. 
You glanced over at him, catching the flicker of something unreadable in his expression before he quickly masked it. You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you didn’t dare in front of his mother. Instead, you focused on her, trying to offer a comforting smile.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Nari,” You said, your voice soft but sincere. “It must’ve been scary.”
“Oh, I’ve had worse.” She shifted her weight slightly, and you could see a flash of discomfort cross her face, but she quickly masked it with another smile. “It’s just a little fracture. Nothing to worry about, really.”
Yoongi shifted, his hands gripping the keys in his pocket, eyes flicking towards his mom before looking back at you. “The doctors said she needs to use a wheelchair for a while.” He interrupted, as if he was trying to remind his mom rather than telling you about it. 
Nari gave him a sharp look, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a softer, more forced smile. “I’m okay. Really, I’m tougher than I look.” She looked up at you.
You nodded, but something in the way she looked at Yoongi made you pause. There was an underlying tension there, something unspoken. You weren’t sure if it was because of the accident or something else, but it felt like you had stepped into a moment that wasn’t meant for you.
“I’ll be fine,” Nari repeated, as if to reassure both you and Yoongi. “I’m just happy to see you two together. It’s been so long since you visited.”
You smiled, trying to match her enthusiasm. “We should all get together sometime soon, once you’re feeling better.”
You could tell she was trying to downplay everything, to act like it was just another ordinary day. But the quiet discomfort in the room, the way Yoongi stood slightly apart from her, told a different story.
You watched Yoongi shift again, clearly uncomfortable with the way things were, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We should let you rest, Mom.”
Nari smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. You two go on.”
You nodded, feeling the tension in the room like a heavy cloud, but not wanting to draw it out any longer. As you followed Yoongi out, you could still feel in your stomach the feeling you had when you left your house earlier.
Yoongi held the door open for you as you stepped out of the living room, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator at the end of the hall, the silence stretching between you like an invisible thread. Yoongi pressed the call button, and the sound of Yoongi opening the door of the elevator was the only sound that broke the stillness.
Inside, the faint hum of the elevator motor filled the space as you both stood side by side. You stole a glance at him, noticing the way his hands fidgeted slightly in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor numbers on the wall.
“You okay?” You asked, looking at his soft face. He glanced up, his eyes sidetracking towards your lips before looking away. 
“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He simply said. 
Yoongi stepped out first, waiting for you to follow before leading the way through the lobby and towards the glass doors at the exit. The cold morning air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, sharp and bracing after the warmth of the building. Yoongi stuffed his hands deeper into his jeans pockets, his breath visible in the frosty air as he exhaled. You tightened your own coat around you, walking alongside him as the wind tugged at your hair.
“Did something happen between the two of you?” You wondered out loud, watching him closing the door behind him, clutching the keys in his hand as he leaned against the stair railing beside you. 
“Nothing, she just
keeps picking fights with me. She’s been unbearable since the surgery.” He sighed, frustration heavy in his voice. “She tries to tell everyone it’s nothing but it’s not like that. She didn’t like it when the doctor told her she had to use a wheelchair, she refused.” 
You looked up at him. Yoongi had always been taller than you, making you tilt your chin just slightly to meet his gaze. “She needs time to process it. You know how she is—she’s never liked being helped. Just give her space, and she’ll come around. Don’t be too hard on her, okay?”
He let out a sharp breath. “It’s her who’s being hard on me,” He muttered. He shook his head, the frustration evident in his eyes. “Did you see the way she looked at me? The only reason she was being nice was because you were there.”
“I know it’s tough,” You said softly, “but she’s not used to this. Just a few days ago, everything was normal, and now she’s facing this huge change—she has to use a wheelchair for who knows how long. The meds might be messing with her mood too.”
“The meds are driving her crazy,” He affirmed.
“Well, see? It’s not your fault.” You said, reaching your hand to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing everything you can, she will come around.” 
Yoongi closed his eyes when he felt your fingertips close to his face, there was something about your touch that burned him through his skin, pulling him into a trance. 
A silence settled between the two of you, you shared a glance with him, your eyes meeting each other like a secret. It was like you could see everything that happened in his room a few nights ago just by looking him in the eye, like every kiss and every word were still palpable in the air. 
On the surface, Yoongi knew he should be worried about other things, that his mother was the most important thing right now, but in the back of his mind there was you, laying on his bed as you begged him for one more kiss, one more touch. Oh, how he wished he could turn back time to be trapped inside his room with you alone again, like you were the only people in the world. 
“Pinky, I-”
“Yoongi-” 
The words crashed into each other, a quiet storm of unspoken things hanging in the air between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid that night pressing down on the space between your breaths.
“We
” He tried to say, but he cut himself.  “I’m sorry for not calling.”
You shook your head, waving it off “It’s okay, I understand. I just wanted to check on both of you.”
“I wanted to call you,” He said, his voice quieter than usual. “And I wanted to see you
 but I couldn’t.”
“It’s alright, Yoongi
” You murmured, but his gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes avoiding yours like they were afraid of something.
“Pinky, about the trip to the beach-”
You cut him off gently, your voice firm despite the softness. “I’m not thinking about the trip to the beach.” You paused, feeling the weight of your words. “I was worried about your mom, I was worried about you.”
“I know, I know,” he said quickly, his voice tight as he looked away. 
“Yoongi, the trip can wait.” You insisted, but something told you that this wasn’t about the trip 
He inhaled sharply, his breath shaky, as if the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His gaze darted to the side, then back to you.
“That’s the thing, Pinky, I don’t think it can.” His voice cracked slightly, a crack in the armor he'd been holding up. Suddenly, you felt your chest tighten, the words weighing heavily in the air. “I just
 I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I’ve been doing some thinking in the hospital, and I-” He paused, his breath hitching like he was trying to swallow something painful. “I don’t know how to say this, but maybe
 we should leave this right here.”
Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, the sudden shift in his words making it feel like the ground had disappeared beneath you. “I- What do you mean?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Pinky,” He murmured, his voice barely audible now, thick with regret. His eyes flicked away, unable to meet yours. “For everything. I wanted to call you and explain
 but I couldn’t. I was afraid you thought I used you and-”
“I never thought that.” You rushed to say, confused. “Why would I?”
Yoongi looked at you, at a loss for words, but he couldn’t stand holding your gaze for more than one second, even if you desperately tried to meet his eyes, as if that could make him make some sense. 
“I don’t know, I-” He struggled to say. “I just wanted you to know that I said the truth the other night, you know that? I wasn’t lying but-”
“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, your heart racing as a wave of nausea hit you.
He exhaled sharply, eyes dropping to the floor, still refusing to meet your eyes.. “Pinky
 whatever happened these past few weeks
 it shouldn’t have happened.” His voice was low, almost regretful. You felt a cold chill creep into your bones. The air between you had shifted, heavy and suffocating.
“Yoongi, why are you saying this?” 
You took a step closer to him, but you felt his breath hitching, attempting to run away from you. 
“Because I can’t leave to follow you, I can’t run away with you.” He firmly said, breaking your heart into a million pieces. “For the sake of everyone.”
You frowned, your chest tightening. “For the sake of everyone, or for your sake only?” You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to shield yourself from the cold that wasn’t just coming from the air. It was coming from him, too.
He threw his head back in frustration, closing his eyes, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. He wasn’t willing to turn this into a fight, but he clearly underestimated you if he thought you would just stay silent.
“Pinky, don’t make things more difficult.” He begged, but that only made it worse. 
You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped you. “Yeah, but I can’t, can I? That’s always been my job, right?” You said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your anger. “I always have to make things difficult.”
He shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping him. “C’mon, I didn’t say that. You’re making things up.”
You tried to maintain your composure, but the effort was slipping away. The knot in your throat grew tight, and it felt like your chest was about to crack open. Maybe it was in your nature to make this more difficult, to create a fight, to be resentful, but you couldn’t just stand there, pretending this wasn’t nonsense, that what he said wasn’t completely different from what he said nights ago. You couldn’t pretend this wasn’t hurting. 
“Then, what is it?” You asked “It’s not me? It’s you?” 
The silence that followed was overwhelming, the weight of his words settling in the space between you like a wall.
“It’s us.” He pronounced, his words hitting the air like thunder, reverberating down the empty street, carving themselves deep into your chest.  “We are different, we- I can’t.”
For a moment it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just his voice. You swallowed hard, the burn of tears creeping into the corners of your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “Wasn’t it always like that?” You managed to choke out, your voice trembling, raw with hurt. “Because this isn’t what you told me the other night. What was it? That you wanted me? That you couldn’t stop dreaming of me? That I was the solution to all your problems?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Am I just supposed to walk away and accept it was all bullshit?”
You felt your cheeks burning red and your hands trembling as you closed them into fists. Your heart pounded so loudly in your ears you could barely hear your own words anymore.  Handling your emotions the correct way wasn’t one of your qualities, because you hadn’t even realized you were raising your voice until Yoongi took a step forward, the heat of his presence forcing your breath to catch in your throat. You faltered, trying to steady yourself, but it was impossible.
“I told you I wasn’t lying to you.” He reminded you, his voice filled with emotions. “It wasn’t bullshit, I meant what I said, you are a dream of a girl, Pinky. But you
 you drive me crazy.” He sighed, as if the words were tearing him apart. “Even when everything that was happening with my mom, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you, do you know how fucked up that sounds? I can’t let you do that to me.”
“What?” You spat. “Would that be so bad?”
Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shutting briefly, as if to block out the entire world. “Please, you know this.” His voice was strained now, almost pleading. “We can’t ignore it forever, I have to stop it now. You could never stay in one place, and even if I wanted to run away with you, I can’t. I have to stay here.”
“I was not going to run away. Not with you here.”
“And next year?” he asked, his tone sharp with frustration. “What happens next year? Or in five years? When you realize this isn’t what you wanted and you pack your bags again?—because I know you, do you think I don’t? You can’t stay, you never do. And I can’t leave.”
It was as if every cruel word the world had ever aimed at you, every harsh truth or bitter lie, was now coming from the lips of the one person who had always been on your side. You could understand that Yoongi was sad, tired and angry, but this was crossing the line. 
You tried to fight the tears, but they fell anyway, unable to defend yourself. What could you say? That it wasn’t true? Betraying your dignity and trying to convince him that staying with you was worth the shot? That it wasn’t as crazy as he made it sound? No. You had spent your life waiting for people to like you, but today you were stopping it. You stood there, not willing to wipe your tears and pointed to his chest, angry.
“God, you’re a fucking coward.” Your breath trembled, uneven, trying to hold it together.
“Pinky, please,” He breathed out, his voice low and desperate as he reached for your face.
“Don’t call me that.” You took a step back, shaking your head, your chest tightening. “I know you, too, you know? And I know this isn’t about me this time, this time it’s about you being afraid like you’ve always been.”
“Stop, please,” he begged again, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. But you couldn’t stop; anger burned through you, mixing with the ache in your chest, with the tears threatening to spill. You were angry, you were upset, you were fucking sad.
“Why?” you snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. “Is this not what you expected me to say? Or did you want me to admit that you’re right, like you always are—that I’m unpredictable, and a mess, and that I just don’t fit into your life like a normal girl would?”
“Y/n, I didn’t say any of that.” He replied softly, his eyes wide and pained, his shoulders sinking under the weight of your words.
The sound of your name ringed in your ears, but you ignored it. He didn’t say that but that was exactly what he meant, he couldn’t deny that.  
“You know, I don’t even care about the road trip,” You said, your voice trembling with restrained frustration as you stepped down one step, still facing him. “There would have been plenty of chances for that, fine. Whatever.” You paused, gripping the railing, your breath unsteady. “And your mom? Of course she needs your help now, I wasn’t gonna complain, how could I? And next year? Sure, she’ll probably still need you. But in five years?” You looked straight at him, your eyes sharp, filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. “In five years, your mom’s going to hate that the only thing you ever did with your life was take care of her.”
Your voice cracked then, but you didn’t stop. “And me? Even if I’d love to do it, I won’t be here to tell you I told you so.”
Yoongi’s face was a mix of disbelief and hurt, the corners of his mouth tightening as if trying to hold back a response that wasn’t coming. You turned around, not sparing him another glance as you almost ran towards your home, ignoring your name being called over and over again from the voice of the man who just broke your heart. 
Yoongi was painfully always there in your life. He was always the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have. When you turned the corner at the end of the street, determined not to look back, you decided that maybe now was time for you to accept it and finally move on. 
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taglist: taglist: @kingofbodyrolls, @overtherainbow35, @namin13, @p34rluv, @moonchild1, @yoongisoftface , @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts , @yoongisducky , @bangtansmauyeondan , @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater @ot7stansthings @curiouslioncutie @jalexad
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neinyasficrecs · 28 days ago
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TEASER
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‱ TITLE: Under The Blue Sky (Tangled In Love And Destiny Series)
‱ PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Accountant!Reader
‱ GENRE: Romance, Grumpy X sunshine, CEO au, fluff (?), love at first sight
‱ WORD COUNT: 5k+
‱ TRIGGER WARNING: This story explores themes of love at first sight, identity concealment, and the clash of personalities between two contrasting characters. It delves into the complexities of their budding relationship as they navigate misunderstandings and attraction. The narrative includes mature content, including explicit scenes and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.
‱ SUMMARY: Yoongi, the grumpy CEO, never believed in love at first sight—until he saw you on a rainy street. He kept his identity hidden, but when you moves in next door, things start to get complicated. Your sunshine personality clashes beneath the surface, sparks fly. Can your sunshine essence melt his cold heart, or will both of your differences will drive you apart?
‱ a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.
a/n: I'm not tagging anyone here since it’s just a little teaser, but don’t worry if you’re on the taglist—I’ll definitely tag you when UBS1 is ready to go (which shouldn’t take too long
 hopefully 🙈). Thanks for being patient with me, you’re the best!
MASTERLIST
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You slouched back on your couch, the exhaustion from yesterday’s move still weighing on your bones, but there was a sense of satisfaction that kept you from fully collapsing. Your eyes swept over the apartment—every box was finally unpacked, every corner now arranged to your liking. As tiring as it had been, the sight of your new home made it all feel worth it. You let out a long, relieved breath and let your head fall back against the couch, closing your eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The scent of room freshener—lilies and jasmine—clung to the air, soothing your senses as the cool breeze from the balcony slipped through the open door, brushing against your bare arms. A shiver danced down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps, but it only made you smile more, the chill somehow comforting.
It was strange, though, sitting here in this quiet space, feeling the weight of everything that had brought you back to Seoul after so many years. The city had a familiar coldness to it, something that you had once known and yet felt so distant now. Eight years in Busan, away from the hustle and memories of this place, and now you were back. It all felt like a dream, an impossible twist in the story of your life. But life was nothing if not unexpected. You had learned that lesson early—how everything could change in an instant, how things could shift and crumble, and how the paths you thought you were meant to take often led you somewhere completely different.
A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but it was hollow. The memories you carried with you felt heavy, like weights tied to your chest, and the loneliness that had crept into your life felt more pronounced now that you were here, in this new chapter. It was funny, you thought—how at one point, your life had been full. Full of people, of laughter, of noise. And then, somewhere along the way, you lost that. You lost them. You lost pieces of yourself too, chasing after things you thought you wanted, only to find that when you caught them, they weren’t what you needed. And those things you lost, those connections, those moments... you would never get them back. Only regrets remained, settling into the quiet corners of your mind.
But that was life, right? You had so many regrets, so many things you wished you had done differently, but you were still here, still smiling, still breathing. Because it was life. And life didn’t care if you understood it or not. You had learned that much over the years.
A soft, rueful sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as you stared at the ceiling. A memory crossed your mind, one that had stayed with you: "It's all in your head. Control it before it controls you." A piece of advice from someone who meant well, but who could never understand what it felt like to be stuck in the chaos of your own thoughts. Young you had thought it was profound. Wise. But now, now you understood it in a way that had nothing to do with wisdom. It was a struggle. The battle between your mind and your emotions, between wanting to control it all and knowing that you couldn’t.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping closer to eight. Then, a sudden ding-dong of the doorbell sliced through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. You blinked, disoriented, a frown pulling at your brows. “Who could it be...?” The words escaped your lips in a whisper, the confusion lingering as you glanced at your phone, only to toss it back onto the couch, your focus now entirely on the door.
You got to your feet, the motion slow, almost hesitant, as if your body hadn’t fully caught up to the change in pace. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward the door. Standing before the door, you paused for just a second, your hand hovering over the handle before you unlocked it. Just enough to peek your head out.
And there, standing on the other side, was a sight that left your heart skipping a beat. A man, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, his hair styled with effortless precision. A stray lock fell across his forehead.
He looked... familiar. But not in the way you could place him, more in a way that tugged at the edges of your memory, like a faint echo of something. You frowned slightly, brows furrowing as you tried to remember where you’d seen him before. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. How could you forget a face like that?
He was stunning—his features sharp yet gentle, his lips full and soft. There was a youthful roundness to his face that made him look so effortlessly cute, and something about his presence made your chest tighten. His smile—oh, that smile—was a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and suddenly, you felt the urge to reach out, to pinch his cheeks, as ridiculous as that thought was. It was as if his smile held the power to disarm you completely, leaving your heart fluttering like it was caught in a soft breeze.
You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, just staring up at him as your stomach twisted into knots.
"Hi!" he whispered, his voice soft. He gave a small, playful bow, his movements smooth. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and his lips curled into a smile that was warm, disarming.
You blinked, still taken aback, and pulled the door open fully, your own response a little stiff as you bowed your head in return. Your hands hung by your sides, awkward, unsure of what to do next. You gave a small nod, the movement barely noticeable. It was more instinct than anything else.
"You live here?" he asked, his words filled with a strange mixture of confidence and confusion. It wasn’t the kind of confusion that showed doubt, but more like he was piecing something together in his mind. It was almost like a game to him, the way his brows furrowed playfully.
You nodded again, not trusting your voice just yet. His gaze was intense, but in a way that made you want to stay just a moment longer. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, like he was letting it spread across his face just for you to see.
"You need something?" You finally managed, your words polite, but your posture tense. It was hard not to be wary. Men, you thought. You knew better. They were nothing but trouble, a lesson you had learned the hardest way. The memories of it still lingered in your chest like an old bruise.
He tilted his head slightly, the smile never faltering. "Oh! Actually, you must have ordered food, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, yet his words felt oddly innocent. He didn’t seem like a creep, nor did he look like a delivery guy. He looked... out of place in a way that didn’t sit right with you.
You nodded, still unsure of how this was going to play out. You gave him another once-over, a little more deliberate this time. From head to toe, he was wrapped in luxury—designer clothes that probably cost more than your rent. You couldn’t even name half the brands, but you could tell from the sharp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself that he wasn’t some lowly delivery guy.
There was no way. No way in hell. Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not in a billion years.
"And?" You prompted, still trying to piece together what was happening.
"Oh! Yeah. Yeah," he started, his words tumbling out quickly, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath. "Actually, the delivery guy dropped your order at my friend’s place. I was about to open it, but fortunately, I checked the bill attach to it and saw the address." He handed you the paper bag with a slight flick of his wrist.
You were so distracted by his presence, by the way his smile tugged at his lips and the gleam in his eyes, that you didn’t even notice the bag in his hand at first. You stood there, your fingers instinctively clutching the handle of the bag. A sudden rush of awareness hit you, and you looked back up at him, a sense of confusion swirling in your chest.
"Thank you...," you muttered, still trying to gather your thoughts, but your words trailed off when he interrupted, a touch of offense in his tone.
"Jimin," he corrected quickly, his brow furrowing slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. His lips curled into a playful, almost teasing smile, as though he found the whole situation amusing. "Jimin Park.”
The name hit you like a cold splash of water. Your eyes widened in shock as recognition struck you hard. Jimin Park. Of course. How could you not have known? He was everywhere—the notorious, high-profile director of Jeon Enterprises, always plastered across the media. Whether it was for business deals, lavish parties, or rumors about his playboy lifestyle, he was a constant figure in the spotlight.
You straightened up, an automatic sign of respect. "Thank you, Mr. Park." The words felt strange coming from your lips, like they didn’t quite belong to you. It was hard to act casual in front of someone so... big—someone you had only ever seen in the headlines.
Jimin's gaze softened, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the moment.
"No. Please, call me Jimin," he said, his voice shifting to a softer, almost shy tone.
You raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but you nodded slowly. "Okay, Jimin," you said, testing the name on your tongue. It felt casual, and for some reason, that made it all the more strange.
"Your the new tenant, right?" His voice practically bubbled with excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he was looking at you—too keen, too interested—made your skin prickle with unease. You felt your heart beat a little faster. His attention was...too much, too sudden.
"Yes...?" you replied, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the suspicion building in your chest.
"Wow! That's... something," he laughed, his grin widening, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity or mischief, but it made the hairs on your neck stand up.
"What you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to make sense of his words.
"Nothing, really! It’s just that this flat has been vacant for years now." Jimin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. He seemed to be enjoying the effect his words had on you.
Your brow furrowed. "Why? It’s a good one. It even has a pretty view from the balcony," you said, trying to defend your decision. The apartment was beautiful, a perfect little corner in the city. You couldn't understand why someone would leave it empty for so long.
Jimin’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped for a moment as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Then, his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, a hint of something dark flickering behind his grin. "No, you got it all wrong," he said, voice lowering just a bit. "Actually, it was instructed not to let anyone stay here. So...”
The words hit you like a cold shock, a wave of disbelief crashing over you. You blinked, mouth dry, unable to fully process what he was saying. "What?" The word came out too sharp, too confused. "Why would they do that?”
He shrugged casually, but the tension in his shoulders gave away that this was something more serious. "How would I know? I just do." The casualness didn’t match the weight of his words, and it made your stomach churn. Was he just trying to mess with you? Or was there something more? His easy smile didn’t help ease the growing knot in your chest.
You narrowed your eyes at him, your lips pressing into a tight line. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice low. Your gaze locked onto his, silently daring him to give you some ridiculous explanation.
He leaned in slightly, his smile not faltering, but there was something else now—a slight glint of pride, maybe? "What do you mean? I’m friends with the person who instructed it.”
You scoffed, disbelief dancing in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?”
"Who else, woman. Min Yoongi, the CEO of Min Corporation.The owner of this freaking building.”
Your breath hitched. Now this conversation was spiraling into territory you hadn’t expected. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The name Min Yoongi struck you like a bolt. The CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country? This was getting ridiculous.
You knew about Min Yoongi. Everyone did. He wasn’t just a person; he was a name, a reputation. No one ever really saw him, though. He stayed out of the spotlight, almost like a ghost. Starting your new job at Min Corporations, it only made sense to know a little about the CEO. Not that you’d gone digging or anything—there wasn’t much to find. He was private, almost obsessively so.
Despite your gut telling you to shut the door and walk away, you stayed rooted to the spot. Your mind screamed for you to let go, but your curiosity was louder. Tomorrow would be your first day at Min Corporation, and you were curious, even though you shouldn't. You could almost taste curiosity in the back of your tongue.
"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out before you could think. Shit, you cursed internally. You never knew when to keep quiet.
Jimin’s eyes sparkled with... Something, you couldn't quite place, his lips curving into a grin. "I don’t know," he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice suddenly softer, more gentle. "But I asked him to shift here once, and he told me he loathes noise... and I’m noisy." He chuckled at the last part, his fingers twitching at his side, almost like he was waiting for your response. "Am I?"
You bit back a smile, the words "Yeah, you do seem noisy" on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them. He was fun to talk to, and you couldn’t deny it. It had been a while since someone had made you laugh, and it was oddly comforting.
"Jimin-ah" Before you could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-thought. Jimin’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face the source of the voice. You followed his gaze, and when your eyes met the man standing at the end of the hall, your breath hitched.
"I swear," Jimin continued, shaking his head as if he was reminiscing about something. "That guy has serious issues. You need to be careful around him."
It’s him.
"Suga, hyung," Jimin greeted, his voice soft, almost in reverence. Suga. The name rolled through your mind, oddly familiar yet strangely comforting, like something you’d always liked without realizing it, and you recognized him instantly. The man standing there was none other than the person who had helped you two days ago—when you were a mess, crying in the rain at that bus stop.
You swallowed hard, your heartbeat picking up speed. It felt like fate had thrown this moment at you, but it wasn’t without its sting. You remembered every second of that breakdown. The humiliation of crying on a street corner, in front of a stranger, no less. And yet, there he was again, but this time, he seemed... Different.
Why wasn’t he looking at you?
Your stomach twisted in discomfort. It wasn’t like you expected him to remember you, but he—of all people—had been there when you were falling apart, and yet, his gaze didn’t meet yours.
It had only been two days.
His attention was fully on Jimin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. “I told you to wait for me, Jimin-ah,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a trace of irritation under the surface.
Jimin simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture, clearly unbothered. “I was. You’re late,” he said with an air of nonchalance, but his expression shifted to something as he added, “And why are you scolding me?”
Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg, as though trying to hold his patience. "I told you to wait." His eyes flicked briefly toward you, but quickly away, as if it was an afterthought. The tension in his shoulders, however, told you something more. Anxiety? Was he anxious about something? Was he
 waiting for something?
Jimin, still unfazed, pointed to the paper bag with a lazy grin. “I was just handing her this,” he said casually, nodding toward you. “Somebody delivered it at your place, hyung.”
Yoongi didn’t say a word after that. He simply nodded, a sharp, cold motion, before he turned on his heel, starting to drag Jimin toward the apartment next to yours. The air around you felt tense, heavy, almost suffocating. You were still standing there, unable to process the coldness that had overtaken him.
But before they could get too far, Jimin stopped, yanking his arm away from Yoongi with an exaggerated grunt. He turned back to you, flashing that same teasingly sweet smile. “It’s him," Jimin said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your neighbour and the C—”
“I know him,” you interrupted quickly, your words tumbling out almost desperately.
But Jimin’s eyes widened, surprise crossing his face for just a fraction of a second before he turned to look at Yoongi with a slow, subtle smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Yoongi, however, was already shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes not meeting yours. His voice, when it came, was sharp and final, the words cutting through the air like ice. “No,” he said, the simple word leaving no room for any further discussion.
Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. You hadn’t expected it—this abrupt, dismissive coldness. What happened to the guy who helped me? The memory of him offering you his coat, in that rainy street, his voice so soft and understanding, felt like a distant dream now. This Yoongi was nothing like the one you had met two days ago.
You took a step forward, wanting to hold on to the memory of that moment, desperate to remind him. “What?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You were shocked, and you couldn’t mask it. “We met. Don’t you remember? Saturday evening—”
“I said I. Do. Not,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice colder than before, each word heavy with finality. His eyes still didn’t meet yours, and his posture was stiff, rigid. The tension between you was unbearable, like an invisible wall had been built between you two in the span of seconds.
Your face burned. The pink on your cheeks deepened with humiliation, your heart sinking. Why was he lying? Why was he denying it so harshly? You tried to hold it together, but your hands trembled at your sides, your breath catching in your throat. Why was he being like this?
How could he be the same person?
The disappointment hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your shoulders sag slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your gaze shifted to the ground as your fingers clenched tightly around the paper bag in your hand.
Jimin, who had been standing there quietly, watching the exchange unfold, must have noticed how your face fell. He took a step toward you. He could see it, too—the change in Yoongi. And maybe, just maybe, he could sense your discomfort, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
“It’s okay if he don’t remember,” Jimin said, trying to break the tension, but his words barely landed. His voice, though soft, couldn’t lift the heaviness settling in your chest. “I’ll introduce you both. He’s your neighbor and the C—”
“Building manager,” Yoongi interrupted sharply, his words slicing through the air like a cold wind. His tone left no room for argument. He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Jimin, his hand already gripping his arm with surprising force.
Jimin’s mouth hung open for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Yoongi’s sudden shift. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to process what he’d just heard. “Building manager?” His voice came out more as a question than a statement. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth snapped shut with a soft click, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of disbelief.
Yoongi didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled Jimin by the arm, his grip tightening as he dragged him toward the apartment beside yours. The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he moved with a strange urgency, his face set in a hard line.
The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, the sound echoing in your ears like a final punctuation mark to the whole exchange. The force of it seemed to shake the air around you, the finality of it stinging more than you expected.
You were left standing there, frozen, staring at the now-closed door. Your heart still pounded in your chest, the hurt and confusion twisting inside you like a knot you couldn’t untangle. Building manager?
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a/n: Hey, hey, hey, people! Did you survive it? Did you actually like it? Because if you did, please let me know—boost my fragile ego. And if you didn’t, that’s fine too; just rip me apart gently. Feedback makes me feel like a real writer or at least someone pretending to be one. Honestly, I don’t think it was that interesting, but hey, the goal was to post something, right? So yeah, hit me with your thoughts. I'm all ears (and slightly terrified)!
a/n: I know, I know, a lot of you are probably like, ‘Jae, what the hell? Why didn’t he just tell her he’s the CEO? What’s with the secret identity? And why is he so rude?’ Look, I get it. All I can say is: UBS1 is coming soon, so read it and find out. Also, he’s not rude, okay? He’s just... scared Jimin might spill the beans about him being the CEO. That’s it.
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neinyasficrecs · 28 days ago
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The Missing Track - Min Yoongi One-Shot
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Pairing: !Idol Yoongi x ! producer f. reader
Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! 🔞
Word count: ~ 30k
Summary: Suga of BTS is on the edge, racing against the clock to finish his solo album. With just three songs left to complete and a looming deadline, he's struggling to find inspiration. In a last-minute move, his company pairs him with the highly secretive Producer K, a renowned but elusive figure in the music industry. Everyone assumes Producer K is a male, but when Suga meets the mysterious producer, he's shocked to discover that K is actually a talented and confident woman. As they collaborate, the line between professional and personal begins to blur. Their chemistry is undeniable, but with a ticking clock and the pressure to deliver, can they finish the album on time? Or will their growing connection derail everything they've worked for? Secrets, passion, and music. Can Suga keep his focus, or will Producer K. change everything?
!! Warnings !!: vaginal sex, protected sex, oral sex, slow burn, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, jealousy
A/N: I miss these two already!! đŸ„ș This story was highly influenced by me having Yoongi's SDL and Reed Wonder's The machine on repeat. Hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! Let me know your thoughts 💕.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The soft hum of equipment filled the studio, punctuated by the click-clack of Yoongi's keyboard. His desk was a mess of coffee cups, scribbled notes, and sheet music—proof of hours spent chasing inspiration that eluded him.
"Hyung," a staff member, Jihoon, said cautiously, standing near the doorway. "I think we need to talk about your album. Specifically, the last tracks you’re stuck on."
Yoongi swivelled his chair, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not stuck," he said sharply. "I just need time."
"You have three months before the release date," Jihoon reminded him. "And right now, three of the songs don’t have melodies. You’ve been staring at the lyrics for weeks."
Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I’m working on it."
Jihoon hesitated, holding back a smirk. "The team suggested bringing in another producer."
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need help. This is my album. I’ve handled everything myself before, haven’t I?"
"This time, we’re short on time," Jihoon countered. "And we’re talking about Prod. K. He’s incredible! The guy with the minimalist beats and genre-blending compositions. Even you’ve praised his work."
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I praised the music, not the person. And I don’t work with strangers, especially ones I’ve never even met."
"It’s non-negotiable, hyung." Jihoon sighed. "The higher-ups already agreed. We’re bringing him in to collaborate."
"Bringing him in?" Yoongi repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I’ve never even seen his face. For all I know, he could be some arrogant newbie."
Jihoon smirked, his gaze flickering with amusement Yoongi didn’t appreciate. "Lets not judge, just wait until you meet him."
Yoongi grumbled, turning back to his monitor. "Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for him. And when he leaves because I’m too ‘difficult,’ you can tell the higher-ups they were wrong."
~~ Y/N POV ~~ "Are you out of your mind?!" I hissed, pacing the small office where my team had dropped the bombshell of the century. "To collaborate with Suga of BTS in person? Sure, it’s an honor, but that’s a no from me. If my identity gets leaked, the fact that I’m a woman, working with him in some tiny studio, any sasaeng will have me on their hit list before I even step out the door."
My manager, Minji, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed but eyes pleading. "Y/N, listen. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His songs are streamed millions of times. You can’t just brush this off."
"I’m not brushing it off," I shot back. "I respect his work, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not willing to risk it. There are plenty of artists who would kill to have me on their projects just by sending them my demo, and they’re happy to communicate with me online without ever knowing who I am. Why him? Why now? Why like this?"
Minji sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It’s not just about you. The label needs this. We’re in a tight spot financially, and this contract is massive. Do you know how much they’re offering?"
I didn’t want to hear the number. Money had never been my motivator, but the way Minji’s face softened told me it was enough to make a difference, not just for me but for my entire team. I groaned, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms. "Why can’t anyone hear my opinion? I don’t want to do this. I’m not just some faceless entity, you know."
"You’re not," Minji said gently. "But you also know how much this could elevate your career. Three songs, Y/N. That’s all they’re asking for. Just three."
Her words echoed in my head, the weight of them pulling me in two directions. Logic screamed to take the job, but fear—fear of exposure, of judgment—held me back.
"Fine," I said finally, hating how small my voice sounded. "I’ll think about it."
*** That night, I found myself on an unintentional deep dive into Min Yoongi’s a.k.a SUGA a.k.a AGUST D world. It started innocently enough: a quick search to refresh my memory of his discography. But then one song led to another, and another, until I was buried in hours of music he’d produced, lyrics he’d written, and performances that made me forget why I was so hesitant in the first place. Scrolling through fan edits and live clips, I couldn’t help but be charmed. There was a reason people adored him, not just for his talent, but for the quiet charisma that seeped through the screen. His easy confidence, the way he handled himself on stage and in interviews, was magnetic.
"Focus," I muttered to myself, shaking off the distraction. But the deeper I went into his work, the harder it was to ignore his genius.
His music was haunting, intricate, and raw. The kind of art that pulled you into someone’s soul, no matter how much they tried to hide. I couldn’t help but wonder how someone with this much expertise got stuck?
By the time dawn broke, I called Minji. "Minji," I said the moment she answered, her voice still groggy. "I’ll do it."
"Wait, what? You’re serious?" she asked, clearly surprised.
"Yes, but on one condition."
"Name it."
"No one finds out who I am. If my identity leaks, I’m out."
Minji exhaled sharply. "We’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the higher-ups and confirm everything. Thank you, Y/N. This is the right decision."
I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, but it was the one I’d made. The next couple of days blurred into a whirlwind of paperwork. Contracts, NDAs, and endless signatures filled my time, the reality of the collaboration sinking in more and more with each passing document. Ironically, a small part of me hoped that Min Yoongi would refuse to sign the NDA. Maybe he’d see the clause about not sharing my identity, find it too ridiculous, and decide the collaboration wasn’t worth it.
But no.
He signed it.
When Minji told me, I stared at her like she’d grown a second head. "He signed it?"
"Yeah," she said, looking just as surprised. "No arguments, no complaints. Honestly, I thought he’d push back, but he didn’t."
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. "This guy
 He’s full of surprises."
"Don’t get your hopes up," Minji warned. "Just because he signed doesn’t mean this will be smooth sailing."
"I know," I muttered. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder. How different was the man behind the screen, the one whose music I’d admired for a while, from the person I was about to meet?
*** A few days later, everything was finalized. Minji and I were contacted by Jihoon, one of the team members who worked closely with Suga.
"He’s coming to pick us up personally?" I asked Minji, eyebrows raised as I adjusted my headphones around my neck.
"Apparently," Minji replied, glancing at her phone. "Guess he wants to make sure we actually show up."
When Jihoon arrived, he was younger than I expected, his energy warm and casual. He greeted Minji with a polite bow and a bright smile, then turned to me. For a moment, his expression faltered, his eyes darting behind me like he was waiting for someone else to appear.
"Uh
 Hi," he said, looking between Minji and me. "You’re both here for Suga, right?"
"Yes," Minji answered smoothly. "This is K." She gestured toward me.
Jihoon blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Wait
 You’re Producer K?"
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "That’s me."
"You’re kidding," he said, then immediately looked apologetic. "I mean, sorry, I just—uh—"
"You were expecting someone else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Kind of, yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "No offense, but I thought you’d be, you know
"
"A guy," I finished for him, crossing my arms.
He laughed awkwardly. "Well, yeah. I mean, your music has this
 vibe. It’s not what I’d expect from—" He cut himself off again, realizing he wasn’t helping.
"From a woman?" I challenged, though there was no malice in my tone.
"Not what I meant!" Jihoon exclaimed, waving his hands. "It’s just
forget it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you."
Minji chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Don’t worry. She gets that a lot."
I didn’t hold it against him. The entire point of my stage name was to avoid this kind of reaction, but moments like these reminded me why I kept my identity under wraps. Jihoon composed himself quickly and gestured toward the sleek black van parked nearby. "Anyway, let’s get going. Suga’s waiting for us at HYBE."
*** The drive to HYBE was surprisingly pleasant. Jihoon was chatty, making an effort to ease the awkwardness of our initial interaction.
"So," he began, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror, "I’m curious. How long have you been producing?"
"About six years," I replied.
"Wow, and you’re already working with Suga," he said, genuinely impressed. "That’s not something just anyone gets to do."
"I’m aware," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "It’s a privilege."
He nodded. "Have you been a fan of his music for a while?"
I hesitated. "I respect his work. He’s incredibly talented."
Jihoon grinned knowingly. "You’re downplaying it, huh? That’s fine. Most people get nervous meeting him for the first time. Don’t worry, he’s actually a lot nicer than people think."
Minji let out a quiet laugh beside me. "I don’t think nervousness is the issue here."
Jihoon glanced between us, confused but wisely decided not to press further.
*** Pulling up to HYBE’s towering building was intimidating, to say the least. I’d seen pictures online, of course, but being there in person was a different experience.
"Here we are," Jihoon announced as he parked the van.
As we stepped out, I adjusted my hoodie, making sure it covered my face as much as possible. Even with the NDA in place, I couldn’t shake the paranoia of being recognized. Jihoon led us through the back entrance, avoiding the main lobby and elevators filled with staff and trainees. "We’re heading straight to the studio," he explained. "He’s already there."
The walk felt longer than it probably was, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. When we finally reached the studio, Jihoon paused at the door, turning to us.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I’ll ever be," I replied, tightening my grip on my laptop case.
He opened the door, and there he was, Min Yoongi, sitting in front of a massive console, his back to us.
He turned at the sound of the door, his expression neutral as he stood to greet us. His gaze swept over Minji first, then landed on me. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then he frowned, looking at Jihoon.
"This is K?" he asked, his tone sceptical.
Jihoon winced. "Uh, yeah. This is K."
Yoongi’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "You’re joking, right?"
I stepped forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Last time I checked, I’m not a joke."
His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "You’re not what I expected."
"Good," I said, setting my laptop on the table. "Let’s get started." Yoongi smirked, leaning against the edge of the console, arms crossed. His sharp gaze never left me as he added, "I have to say, your previous work didn’t exactly
 scream ‘feminine touch.’ If anything, I thought you’d walk in here with a beard and flannel shirt."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
Jihoon coughed awkwardly, stepping back as if distancing himself from Yoongi’s comment. Minji shot him a warning look, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.
Yoongi raised a hand, his smirk widening. "No offense. I’m just saying your music has this raw, almost aggressive energy. It’s impressive. I just didn’t picture..." He motioned vaguely toward me. "...this."
Minji quickly interjected, "Alright, we’ll leave you two to it. Jihoon and I have some things to take care of."
"Wait—" I started, but Minji grabbed Jihoon by the sleeve and dragged him toward the door.
"You’ll be fine," she called over her shoulder. "Just... play nice, both of you."
The door shut with a soft click, and I was left staring at Yoongi, who looked far too amused for my liking.
"Let me guess," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You think this whole thing is a waste of time, right? That I’m here because someone in your company thought you needed ‘help.’"
He shrugged, moving to his chair and spinning it lazily before sitting down. "Help isn’t the word I’d use. But yeah, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this arrangement."
"Trust me," I said flatly, "neither was I."
That earned a low chuckle from him. "At least we’re on the same page."
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation in check. I’d dealt with condescending colleagues before, but Yoongi’s nonchalant attitude was already grating on my nerves. How different was he from the Yoongi I’d seen in interviews or fan videos? This guy wasn’t the soft-spoken, thoughtful artist fans adored. He was sharp, blunt, and entirely too smug.
"Let’s just get to work," I said, pulling out my laptop and external drive. "You have lyrics, right? Show me what you’ve got."
Yoongi grabbed a notebook from the desk and slid it across the table. "Here. Three tracks I’m stuck on. The lyrics are solid, but I can’t find the right sound to match them."
I flipped through the pages, skimming the lines. His handwriting was neat but compact, and the lyrics were, as expected, incredible. Emotionally raw, introspective, and layered with meaning. They demanded a melody that could do them justice.
"What’s the vibe you’re going for?" I asked, keeping my tone professional.
Yoongi tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "Something atmospheric. A mix of minimalistic and haunting, but with enough depth to make it feel powerful. Think piano-driven but layered with electronic textures. I want it to hit hard emotionally but not overwhelm the lyrics."
I nodded, already forming ideas in my head. "Okay, let’s try something."
Opening my laptop, I connected it to the studio’s system and pulled up my digital audio workstation. I started layering a simple chord progression on the piano, experimenting with minor chords to create the moody tone he wanted. Yoongi watched silently for a moment before leaning forward. "No, that’s too soft. It needs more tension."
I adjusted the progression, adding a dissonant note to the second chord. "Better?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Now bring in a low synth pad to fill it out."
I worked quickly, adding the synth and tweaking the sound to give it a subtle pulse. The room filled with the beginnings of a melody, and for a moment, the tension between us eased as we both focused on the music.
"Not bad," Yoongi muttered, almost to himself. "But it still feels... flat."
I bit back a retort, reminding myself that this was his music. "What do you suggest?"
He leaned back, closing his eyes as he listened. "The transition between the first and second chords needs more weight. Maybe a reversed sample or a swell to build anticipation."
I nodded, grabbing a sample from my library and reversing it. After a few adjustments, I played it back. The swell added a subtle but impactful build to the transition.
Yoongi opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "That’s better."
"Glad I could meet your standards," I said dryly.
He chuckled again, the sound low and almost teasing. "Relax. I’m not here to make this harder than it has to be."
"Could’ve fooled me," I muttered under my breath, earning another amused glance from him.
Despite his initial scepticism, Yoongi was a perfectionist, and that part of him was something I could respect. He pushed for the smallest details, catching nuances that most producers might overlook. But he also didn’t hold back his opinions, which made working with him both frustrating and oddly invigorating.
As the hours passed, we fell into a rhythm. He’d point out what wasn’t working, I’d offer a solution, and we’d tweak it until we found something we both liked. By the time we wrapped up for the day, we’d made significant progress on the first track. The rough demo already had a haunting, melancholic energy that complemented his lyrics perfectly. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Not bad for our first day."
"Let’s hope tomorrow’s just as productive," I said, saving the project file.
He smirked, standing up and grabbing his notebook. "We’ll see. You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be."
"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You’re a real charmer."
"Only when I want to be," he shot back, heading for the door.
As he left, I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. Working with him was exhausting, but I couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling under my frustration. For all his arrogance, Yoongi was undeniably talented, and I found myself looking forward to the challenge of working with him. *** The next morning, Yoongi and I sat in the studio reviewing the progress from the day before. The demo played softly in the background, and while it sounded promising, there were a few sections that felt off.
"We need to rework this transition," Yoongi said, pointing at the waveform on the screen. "It’s too abrupt. It needs more build-up."
I nodded, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Agreed. Maybe adding a soft vocal sample or layering the synth more would smooth it out."
"Try it," he said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
As I adjusted the track, Yoongi’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and stood up. "I need to take this. Keep working. I’ll be back."
He left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I sighed and refocused on the track, tweaking the layers as the melody slowly started to evolve. But after about twenty minutes, I decided to take a break. My coffee from earlier had caught up with me, and I needed to find the bathroom.
Stepping into the hallway, I started down the corridor when I heard Yoongi’s voice from around the corner. I paused, not wanting to interrupt, but something about his tone made me linger.
"...So yeah, Jihoon, I didn’t know she was a girl," he was saying.
I froze, my pulse quickening.
"I mean, if I’d known that was the case, maybe I would’ve pushed back harder at the beginning. Told them I didn’t need the help. She’s okay and talented, sure, but there are other producers out there who could’ve done this just as well."
My stomach twisted. Was that really what he thought of me? I took a step back, the faint creak of my shoe on the floor startling me. Afraid he might notice, I turned and quickly walked the other way, heading toward the nearest staircase to find another bathroom. I didn’t want to hear anything else.
After finally finding a bathroom and giving myself a moment to cool down, I headed back to the studio. I was determined not to let Yoongi know I’d overheard him, but my annoyance simmered beneath the surface. When I stepped back into the room, he was already there, seated casually at the console like he hadn’t just dismissed my abilities a few minutes ago.
"Done with your break?" he asked, not looking up as he scrolled through the project file.
"Yeah," I replied shortly, taking my seat across from him.
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me briefly. "You okay? You sound... off."
"Just tired," I said, forcing a neutral tone.
He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. "Alright. Let’s pick up where we left off."
We dove back into the work, but my responses to his suggestions were clipped.
"That transition is too smooth," he said at one point. "It needs more contrast."
"Fine," I replied curtly, adjusting the settings without looking at him.
A few minutes later, he frowned at another section. "This part feels like it’s missing something. Maybe we should—"
"Add another layer?" I interrupted. "I know. Already on it."
Yoongi blinked at me, surprised by my tone. "What’s with the attitude?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, not meeting his gaze.
"Doesn’t seem like nothing," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you’ve got something to say, just say it."
I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the mouse. "I don’t have anything to say, Yoongi. Let’s just get this done, okay?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might push further. But then he shrugged, turning back to the monitor. "Whatever you say."
The tension in the room was palpable, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.
"Look," he said after a long silence, his voice softer but still firm, "if something’s bothering you, it’s better to air it out now. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?"
I laughed humourlessly. "Team? Right."
Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, what did I do? You were fine this morning, and now you’re acting like I kicked your dog."
I hesitated, torn between calling him out and keeping what I’d heard to myself. In the end, I shook my head. "It’s nothing. Let’s just focus on the music."
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop, his focus returning to the track. For the rest of the session, I kept my replies short, my tone professional but distant. If he noticed, he didn’t comment again. But as I left the studio that evening, I couldn’t shake the sting of his words. He might think I was talented, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.
*** Sunday was a rare blessing, my day off, a chance to breathe away from the suffocating confines of the studio and Min Yoongi. The contract was clear: three months to collaborate on three tracks for his upcoming album. That deadline loomed over every interaction, and yet, the past week had felt like a year.
I sat across from Minji at our favourite café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter around us. She was nursing her caramel latte, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Okay, spill," she said, leaning forward. "How’s it going with Yoongi? Are you two getting along?"
I scoffed, stirring my drink with unnecessary aggression. "Getting along? Not even close. He’s impossible."
Minji raised an eyebrow. "Impossible how? Isn’t he just... quiet and focused?"
"Quiet? Sure. Focused? Definitely. But it’s like working with a brick wall that also has an opinion on everything. He’s a perfectionist to the point where it’s unbearable. We made progress on a track, a full week’s worth of progress, and on Friday, he decided he didn’t like it and scrapped the whole thing. We’re starting from scratch tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "He threw it all away? After a week? Was it really that bad?"
I shook my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, it wasn’t bad. It was good, really good, actually. But it wasn’t perfect by his standards. He nit-picks every little thing, and don’t even get me started on his work ethic. The man doesn’t stop. I get it, he’s Yoongi, he’s supposed to be this genius producer or whatever. But does he have to be so infuriating?"
Minji smiled sympathetically, sipping her latte. "Well, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He’s got a reputation for a reason. But isn’t it a good challenge? You’re working with one of the best."
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "I thought it would be different, you know? I had this idea of him in my head. This brilliant, creative artist who would respect me as a collaborator. Instead, he’s... cold, demanding, and so stubborn."
Minji chuckled. "Sounds like he’s met his match."
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, please. If he’s met his match, he doesn’t realize it. He probably just sees me as another producer he has to tolerate."
"That’s not true," Minji said, shaking her head. "You’re talented, Y/N. He’ll see it eventually."
I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. "I hope so, because right now, it feels like we’re just butting heads. He questions everything I do. And don’t even get me started on his attitude. He’s so... smug sometimes."
"Smug how?"
"Like—ugh!" I gestured vaguely, trying to find the words. "It’s the way he looks at me, like he’s constantly judging whether I’m good enough to be there. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can tell he’s thinking it. And it drives me insane."
Minji laughed, leaning back in her chair. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"
"Bad?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Bad as in annoyed? Yes. Bad as in anything else? Absolutely not."
"Sure," she said, her tone teasing.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You’re impossible."
Minji grinned, nudging my arm. "You know, maybe this is good for you. A little friction can spark creativity. And who knows? Maybe he’s just testing you."
"Testing me?" I repeated, giving her a sceptical look.
"Yeah. Like, seeing how far you’re willing to push yourself. Maybe he’s trying to figure you out."
"Or maybe he’s just a workaholic control freak," I muttered.
Minji laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Point taken. But don’t let him get under your skin too much. You’ve got this, Y/N. And who knows? By the end of three months, maybe you’ll even like him."
I snorted. "Not a chance."
But as much as I hated to admit it, her words stuck with me.
*** The following week was no easier than the first. Yoongi and I worked tirelessly in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, experimenting with melodies, and layering sounds. For every step forward, there seemed to be two steps back.
"This bassline isn’t strong enough," Yoongi said on Tuesday, frowning at the speakers.
"I think it works," I argued. "It’s subtle, but it adds depth to the track."
"Subtle isn’t what we’re going for," he countered.
"And what are we going for, exactly?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "Something better than this."
I wanted to throw my notebook at him.
By Wednesday, we’d managed to salvage some of the earlier work, only for Yoongi to suggest another round of revisions.
"You’re kidding," I said, staring at him.
"Do I look like I’m kidding?" he replied, completely serious.
"Do you ever smile?" I shot back.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"
The tension between us was constant, a tug-of-war where neither of us was willing to back down. And yet, beneath the frustration, there was a strange kind of rhythm to our interactions. As much as I disliked him, I couldn’t deny that he was brilliant. Watching him work was like witnessing a master at his craft, every decision precise, every movement deliberate. But that didn’t mean I liked him. And I certainly wasn’t going to let him know just how much I respected his talent.
*** The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the studio, casting soft golden stripes across the equipment. I was at the workstation, tweaking some samples on my laptop while Yoongi stepped out for a meeting, or whatever it was he disappeared to.
The door opened suddenly, and I assumed it was him coming back. "Did you finally decide to—"
I froze mid-sentence as someone entirely different walked in. The man was tall, with a warm smile and an unmistakable energy that lit up the room. His eyes scanned the studio until they landed on me, his confusion immediately evident.
"Uh
 hi?" he said, his smile faltering slightly. "I’m looking for Yoongi. Did I walk into the wrong room? I am pretty sure this is the right one though..." he started scratching the top of his head, clearly confused.
"No, this is the right place," I replied, standing awkwardly. "He just stepped out for a bit."
His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "Wait—who are you? Why is there
 a girl in here?"
I frowned, crossing my arms. "What’s that supposed to mean? Girls aren’t allowed in studios now?"
His hands shot up defensively, and he chuckled nervously. "No, no! That’s not what I meant! It’s just
 Yoongi didn’t mention working with someone new today. And you’re clearly not Jihoon."
"Clearly," I said dryly.
He laughed again, but this time it sounded more genuine. "Okay, let me start over. I’m Hoseok, but you probably know me as J-Hope."
Ah, then it clicked , of course it was J-Hope. His sunny demeanour didn’t match the grumpy energy Yoongi radiated, though, which was a refreshing change.
"Nice to meet you," I said, offering a polite nod. "I’m Y/N."
Hoseok’s expression didn’t change for a moment as if he were trying to process something. Then he grinned, leaning slightly closer like he’d just discovered something exciting.
"Wait a second," he said, his tone playfully suspicious. "I’m not even supposed to be here, you know. I heard Yoongi was working with the producer K who doesn’t even disclose their identity, but I just couldn’t resist. I love the music that K has done, so I had to come meet him. Will sign an NDA and everything."
I felt a twinge of amusement at his enthusiasm but kept my expression neutral. Something told me it was okay for him to know. "Well, congratulations. You just met
 him."
Hoseok blinked, and then his jaw dropped dramatically as he pointed at me. "No way!"
"Way," I said, trying not to laugh.
His hand flew to his chest as if he were clutching imaginary pearls. "That’s why Yoongi didn’t even say anything when I begged for details! He just said, ‘There’s an NDA in place’ and refused to elaborate."
"Pretty much," I replied with a shrug.
Hoseok stared at me for a beat longer before a wide grin spread across his face. "You’re good. Like, really good. I’ve been following your work, but I never would’ve guessed you were
 Well, you!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Is that a compliment or a subtle way of saying I don’t look the part?"
"No, no, definitely a compliment," he said quickly, waving his hands. "It’s just
 Yoongi’s been extra secretive about this whole thing. And now I see why."
"Yeah, well," I said, gesturing vaguely around the room, "he’s not exactly a ray of sunshine to work with."
Hoseok laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Trust me, I know. But if you’re still here, that means you’re tougher than most. Or really patient."
"Or both," I muttered under my breath.
Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock salute. "Well, K—er, Y/N—it’s an honor to meet you. Seriously. Your work speaks for itself."
He continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, when I say this, Yoongi wouldn’t work with you if you weren’t talented. He’s picky about these things. So if he’s giving you a hard time, it’s probably because he knows you’re good enough to keep up with him."
I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "That’s
 nice of you to say."
"Just calling it like I see it," he said with a shrug.
Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Yoongi walked in. His eyes flicked between me and Hoseok, his expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Hoseok, his tone laced with mild irritation.
Hoseok grinned, completely unfazed. "Came by to check on you, of course. But I see you’re in good hands."
Yoongi’s gaze shifted to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—annoyance? Curiosity? It was hard to tell.
"Don’t you have your own schedule to worry about?" Yoongi asked, walking over to his desk.
"I’m on a break," Hoseok replied cheerfully. "And besides, I wanted to meet your mystery producer. You could’ve mentioned she’s not a guy, by the way."
Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on the stack of notes in front of him, clearly dismissing the conversation.
"Well," Hoseok said, standing up and stretching, "I’ll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Y/N."
"Nice meeting you too," I said, watching as he strolled out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Yoongi and me alone again.
"You’ve been busy making friends," he said, not looking up from his papers.
"Is that a problem?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Just don’t let him distract you. We’ve got work to do."
"Wouldn’t dream of it," I said, turning back to my laptop with a hint of sarcasm.
Yoongi didn’t push further, but I could feel his gaze linger on me for a moment before he returned to his papers. But as I settled back into the project, I couldn’t help but think about what Hoseok had said. Maybe Yoongi’s high standards weren’t a bad thing. Maybe, just maybe, they were proof that he saw something in me worth pushing for. *** The next day, I walked into the studio, ready to dive into the work, but there was something off in the air. Yoongi was sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, tapping his pen rhythmically on the surface. It was a subtle change, but it didn’t escape me, he wasn’t his usual, calm and collected self.
I sat down at my workstation, glancing over at him. He was clearly deep in thought, but there was an edge to his silence today that felt... different. More charged. I wondered if it had anything to do with yesterday’s interaction with Hoseok. Yoongi didn’t acknowledge my arrival, which was typical, but today his lack of response felt unusually pointed. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke without looking up.
“Didn’t you want your identity a secret?” His voice was cold, almost accusatory.
I froze.
“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance creeping up my neck.
“Talking to Hoseok yesterday," he continued, now looking at me with an unreadable expression. "The whole 'I can’t reveal my identity' thing. So why are you suddenly so comfortable with him knowing?"
I felt a flash of irritation surge through me, but I kept my voice level.
“I never said I was ‘comfortable’ with it,” I replied. “I’m just doing my job. And I don’t owe you an explanation about my personal decisions”.
He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read between the lines, but said nothing more. The tension hung heavy in the room as he returned to his screen, though his fingers seemed to hesitate over the keys. I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath. What did he think? That I just decided to throw away years of carefully cultivated anonymity for fun? Minji had already alerted me that J-hope had also signed the NDA. I glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Let’s just get to work,” I said, my tone clipped, trying to deflect from the awkwardness of his question. “You said you wanted to tweak the second verse.”
“Yeah," he muttered, still not meeting my gaze, "but now I’m wondering if I even want to keep collaborating with someone who can’t keep things private.”
There it was again. That little jab. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. I gritted my teeth, my patience thinning.
“I’ve been working in this industry for years, Yoongi,” I said, fighting to keep my composure. “Long before this project. I know what’s at stake. Don’t lecture me about privacy.”
He finally glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something, was it guilt? But he quickly masked it with his usual indifference.
“Right,” he said, standing up and walking toward the soundboard. “Let’s get this over with.”
The rest of the session passed with both of us avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Despite the friction, we did manage to make some progress. I’d never admit it aloud, but Yoongi was damn good at what he did. Even when he was being insufferable. After a while, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples like he was trying to stave off a headache.
“You’re not what I thought you’d be,” he muttered, half to himself.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you expect?”
He gave me a sideways glance, not quite meeting my eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Maybe someone more... calculated. Or quieter.”
“Is that so?” I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Because I thought you liked chaos in your music.”
He smirked at that, but the tension still lingered between us, thick and unresolved.
As the day wore on, we continued to push through, though it was clear neither of us was really in the mood for any small talk or the usual banter. The chemistry that had started to form in previous days was gone, replaced by an almost uncomfortable distance. I finally stood up to stretch, my back aching from sitting for so long. Yoongi glanced at me, his expression unreadable.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice cool, as though he didn’t care.
“Yeah. I’m going to grab something to eat,” I replied curtly, gathering my things.
Halfway through gathering my things, for a split second, I thought I saw Yoongi open his mouth as if he was about to say something. Maybe it was the exhaustion on his face or just the weird tension between us, but for a brief second, I thought, just maybe, he was going to offer to grab something to eat with me. Instead, he just turned away, his back to me as he focused on his work. I blinked, swallowing the unexpected disappointment that bubbled up. What was I even expecting? It wasn’t like we were friends. Shaking off the weird feeling, I grabbed my bag and left the studio, the door clicking shut behind me.
*** Once I got to the company’s cafeteria, I was finally able to relax. The soft buzz of voices and clinking silverware was a welcome break from the tension in the studio. I grabbed a tray and found a seat by the window, trying my best to shove aside any thoughts of Yoongi.
He was a talented producer, no doubt, but the way he treated me was... irritating. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. This was business, not friendship, and I had no time to be distracted by someone who probably saw me as just another collaborator, nothing more.
I opened my notebook and jotted down a few ideas for the next two songs we still needed to work on. The first song was nearly done, but we’d been working on it for two weeks, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It was slow progress, and I could already feel the deadline creeping closer.
I was so deep in thought, sketching out some melodies, that I didn’t notice Hoseok standing in front of me until he waved his hand in front of my face.
“Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.
I jumped a little, then glanced up at him. “Oh, hey, Hoseok. Didn’t see you there.”
He slid into the seat across from me, still grinning like he knew something I didn’t. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning me curiously. “So, how’s it going? He’s not making it too hard for you, is he?”
I almost snorted at the question. “Hard? That’s an understatement. But yeah, I’m surviving. We’re getting somewhere.”
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to get along with Yoongi so easily. He’s a bit... stubborn, right?”
I shrugged, taking a bite of my food to avoid answering too directly.
“You’d be surprised what I can tolerate,” I said, feeling defensive for some reason.
Hoseok tilted his head, his gaze sharp. “I guess so. But you know, it’s funny.”
I looked up from my food, confused. “What’s funny?”
Hoseok smirked. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to be such a fan of Yoongi’s music.”
I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What do you mean?”
Hoseok just pointed at my phone on the table, where I’d left it open to a playlist of Yoongi’s songs.
I froze, then quickly reached to hide it, but it was too late. Hoseok’s grin widened.
“You know, I really didn’t expect that,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his tone teasing. “I mean, I always knew Yoongi’s music was good, but seeing you listen to it like that... I got to admit, I’m curious what you think of it.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m just... trying to learn more about him, okay? It’s part of the job.”
“Sure, sure,” Hoseok said, still grinning. “I mean, I get it. He’s got a certain... appeal. But hey, don’t let it distract you too much. He’s not the easiest person to get close to.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I muttered, returning to my food, trying to act like I wasn’t the least bit fazed.
Hoseok studied me for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
“Well, if you want my advice...” He grinned again, his eyes mischievous. “Try not to fall for the music and the man, yeah?”
I choked slightly on my food, coughing. “What?!”
Hoseok laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’m just saying, Y/N, don’t get too swept up in it all. Yoongi’s a complicated guy. He’s not someone who’ll make things easy.”
I scowled, but there was a small part of me that couldn’t help but appreciate Hoseok’s frankness. “I’m not falling for anything, Hoseok. I’m just here to do my job.”
Hoseok just winked and stood up. “Whatever you say. But if you do need to talk about him... I’m always around.”
Hoseok paused, about to turn around before he shot me a sly grin over his shoulder. “Actually
 I don’t know if you’re comfortable with all this yet, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m known for throwing some pretty epic parties around here,” he said, his tone playful. “I’m throwing one at the company soon, gathering the staff, and some of the BTS members will be there too.”
I raised an eyebrow, confused at where this was going. “A party?”
“Yeah, and I can introduce you as the ‘Assistant of Producer K,’ so you won’t have to expose your identity if you’re worried about that. It’ll be low-key, just a way for you to get used to the vibe here. Who knows? You might even get a chance to chat with Yoongi... outside of the studio.” He smirked, his gaze lingering on me as if he could see through the walls I’d built up. “You can bring a plus-one too, if you want.”
It was tempting, especially with the idea of getting out of this studio for a while. Plus, Hoseok seemed genuine, and I didn’t want to just keep hiding away in my little corner of the world.
Still, I was cautious. This wasn’t my scene, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to step into the spotlight, especially if it meant running into Yoongi in a setting like that. The thought of it made my stomach flip.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to sound neutral.
Hoseok grinned, clearly satisfied with my answer. “Take your time. You know where to find me if you decide.”
With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sat there for a moment, turning the invitation over in my head. A party? An opportunity to get used to the vibes, meet people, and possibly see Yoongi in a completely different light. It could be good for me to step out of my shell, get out of my head for a bit. But... was I ready for that?
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. There was no need to make decisions in a rush. I’d think about it later. I finished eating in silence, trying to push all the thoughts about Hoseok’s offer out of my head. It wasn’t like me to just drop everything for a party, but something about the idea of getting out of the studio, meeting people, and maybe getting a chance to see Yoongi in a less... tense environment intrigued me. But I couldn’t focus on that now.
I stood up, pushing my tray toward the dirty dish bin, and made my way back to the studio. As I walked through the hallway, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of dĂ©jĂ  vu. It was like I’d just left, but already it felt like I’d been away too long. The faint hum of the studio's equipment reached my ears before I even stepped through the door.
When I entered, the first thing I noticed was Yoongi, still at his spot, but now with a bowl of noodles in front of him. The faint smell of the broth hit me, and I couldn't help but cringe. Didn’t he ever leave this place?
Yoongi looked up from his meal, barely acknowledging me as I entered. "You’re back," he muttered, his voice a little muffled by a mouthful of noodles.
"Yeah," I said, letting the door close behind me. "Still working, I see."
“Of course,” he replied, the tone in his voice sounding almost too casual. "The faster we finish this, the sooner we can move on to the next track."
I dropped my bag onto the table and pulled my chair out. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep rushing through everything, thinking you can just ‘move on’ from one song to the next. But this isn’t a race, Yoongi.”
He looked at me sharply, his brows furrowing. "I'm not rushing anything. We need to get this done before the deadline, and you can’t expect me to just waste time on something that isn’t working."
I stared at him, my patience thinning. “You’re not even open to trying something new. Every idea I suggest gets shot down, but you’re so attached to this ‘perfect’ vision of yours. Well, guess what? Perfect doesn’t exist.”
Yoongi set his bowl down, the chopsticks clinking against the edge. “So what, you think I’m not doing my best?” His eyes narrowed, and the room suddenly felt smaller. “You think I don’t care about the quality?”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “It’s not about that, Yoongi. You’re too set in your ways. You think your way is the only way, but this is a collaboration. I can’t just keep following your orders. I’m not your assistant.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead, like I was the last thing he needed in his life right now. "I never said you were my assistant."
“Then stop treating me like one,” I snapped, feeling my annoyance rise. "I’m not here just to cater to your ideas. If we’re working together, we need to meet in the middle."
The silence stretched between us for a few long moments. Then Yoongi glanced away, exhaling sharply as if trying to push back his own frustration. "Fine," he muttered. "We’ll figure it out. But don’t expect everything to happen overnight."
“I don’t,” I replied dryly. "But I expect respect, which is something you seem to be lacking in."
He didn’t answer right away, just went back to staring at his noodles. For a moment, I thought it might be best to just call it a day and leave, but something about the lingering tension kept me rooted to the spot.
"By the way," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess myself. "Hoseok invited me to a party. At the company. I’m thinking about going."
Yoongi’s head snapped up at the mention of Hoseok’s name, and I caught the flash of something in his eyes—a mix of surprise, confusion. It was hard to tell. But whatever it was, it was there, even if he quickly masked it with a smirk.
“Hoseok?” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “What’s he got to do with you going to a party?”
"I don’t know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe I’ll go. I might need a break from the studio. Get out of here for a bit. And who knows? It might be nice to talk to someone who isn’t you."
Yoongi didn’t seem pleased with that, but he said nothing. Instead, he shifted in his chair and looked at the screen in front of him, ignoring me completely.
“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” he asked, his voice low.
“I don’t know,” I replied, leaning forward on my elbows. “You’ve been pretty hard to work with lately. Maybe a break is exactly what I need.”
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask you not to take a break. I’m just... trying to get this done.”
I tilted my head, studying him for a moment. "Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to actually collaborate. You can stop being so defensive for two seconds."
There was another tense silence before I stood up to leave the room. But as I reached for the door, something inside me—maybe frustration, maybe curiosity—made me turn back.
“By the way,” I said, walking back to Yoongi’s desk. “Could you give me Hoseok’s number? I might need it for the party.”
Yoongi froze for a second, his fingers stopping mid-air as if I’d just thrown him off balance. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, he didn’t say anything.
"Why would you need that?" he finally asked, voice tight.
"Because I need to respond to him if I am showing up or not," I replied, my tone sharp.
Yoongi glared at me but didn’t say anything else, a muscle in his jaw twitching. After a beat, he reluctantly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it toward me. “Here. But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.”
I took the paper, glancing at it before shoving it into my pocket. “Thanks. I’ll make sure not to expect you there.”
Without another word, I turned and left, my mind buzzing with more questions than answers. What was going on with Yoongi? And, most importantly... Why did his attitude bother me more than I cared to admit? *** I grabbed my phone, fingers hovering over the screen before I hit send. The past few days had been a blur of studio time and late-night meals. I needed something to break the routine. So, Thursday evening I finally decided to take Hoseok up on his offer.
Y/N: Hey Hoseok, it's Y/N! I just wanted to double-check the party details again. You said it’s at the company building, right? What time should I be there?
The response was almost immediate, Hoseok’s usual energy practically jumping out of the screen.
Hoseok: Yep! It’s at the company building. We’ll start around 7 PM, but feel free to come anytime after that. You know how these things go. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re introduced properly as “Prod K’s assistant” so no one will know who you really are. It’ll be low-key, promise!
I let out a relieved sigh. That sounded like exactly what I needed 
 low-key, no expectations, just a chance to escape the studio for a bit.
Y/N: Thanks, that sounds perfect. I’ll be there. Can I bring my friend Minji? She’d love to come.
Hoseok: Of course! Bring whoever you want. It’s all about having a good time. I’m looking forward to seeing you there!
I grinned at the message, feeling a little lighter. At least for one night, I could just focus on having fun and not worry about my identity or working with Yoongi.
Putting my phone down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The whole idea of going to a party sounded so... normal, so different from the chaos I had been drowning in lately. The studio, Yoongi’s sharp comments, and the constant pressure to produce. Maybe this would be a good chance to just... breathe.
I glanced over at the calendar on my desk, mentally counting the days. The next day, I texted Minji.
Y/N: Hey, I’m going to that party Hoseok invited me to on Sunday. Want to come with me?
Minji: YES YES YES YES. This is going to be so fun! Who else is going?
Y/N: Apparently, all the BTS members will be there too.
Minji: Wait, like ALL of them? Are you serious? We need to plan our outfits then.
Y/N: Just don’t go overboard, okay? Let’s keep it chill.
Minji: You know I can't do “chill” when it comes to parties!
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Minji was always up for an adventure. I knew she’d be bouncing off the walls all weekend in preparation. I didn’t mind though. If anyone could pull me out of my head and get me excited for something, it was her.
When Saturday evening arrived, the studio was buzzing with an unexpected energy. After three weeks of near-constant back-and-forth, I finally felt like we’d made some real progress. The first song was done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as we could get in such a short time, and for the first time in a while, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders.
I glanced at Yoongi, who had been hunched over his computer screen for hours, typing away at the final tweaks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when the last beat dropped into place, he sat back in his chair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"We did it," he said, turning his head to meet my eyes.
It wasn’t much, but there was a slight spark in his gaze. A hint of pride, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual indifference.
“Yeah, we did,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "It’s... good."
Yoongi paused, eyes locked on mine for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess you don’t completely suck at this after all."
I raised an eyebrow, playing along. "I’m glad to know you’re impressed."
We both laughed softly, the tension that had been hanging between us for weeks finally easing. It was a strange feeling, one I wasn’t used to with him, but I couldn’t deny it. It felt... nice. Like we’d just hit a milestone together.
Yoongi extended his hand, and I hesitated for a split second before I went for it, my palm feeling warmer than usual. Our high-five was awkward, neither of us really knowing how to react. But in that brief moment, I realized how unusual it was for us to share something this... simple.
"Congratulations," I said, nodding toward the screen. "We actually did it."
"Yeah," Yoongi replied, his voice softer than I expected. "I’ll see you on Monday, then. We’ll tackle the next one."
I blinked, taken aback for a second. Monday? Just like that, the professional distance came back. I hadn’t expected him to say that so casually, but I guess it was what we were supposed to do: get the work done, pack up, and move on.
But for some reason, as I sat there in the quiet of the studio, a thought lingered. He’s really not coming to the party, huh?
I glanced over at him, but Yoongi was already packing up his things, seemingly focused on getting out of the studio as quickly as possible. He didn’t even look back at me as he gathered his notes and the leftover snacks we had both been snacking on throughout the day.
I stood up and grabbed my bag, deciding it was better to just let it go. No need to dwell on something that wasn’t going to happen. He was Yoongi, professional, distant Yoongi. He wasn’t someone who would show up to a party for fun.
"Alright," I said, the awkwardness settling back into my chest. "See you Monday, I guess."
Yoongi glanced over at me for a brief moment, nodding. "Yeah. See you."
As I left the studio, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but I couldn’t place what. Maybe it was just the relief of finally finishing the first song. Or maybe it was just the weird dynamic between us, the unexpected moments of quiet camaraderie that had popped up over the last few days.
But as I stepped out of the building, I realized how much I was looking forward to the party on Sunday. It was the break I needed. *** Sunday evening came faster than I expected. Minji showed up at my apartment just as I was pulling out a few potential outfits from my closet. She threw her bag on the couch and plopped herself down with a dramatic sigh.
“Finally, a party!” she exclaimed, leaning back and stretching like she’d just run a marathon. “We’ve been cooped up with that brooding genius for weeks. We need this.”
I rolled my eyes, laying a sleek black turtleneck dress over the back of the chair. “It’s not ‘we’. I’m the one stuck with him in the studio.”
Minji snorted. “You say that like I’m not the one dealing with your constant texts complaining about how annoying he is. ‘Minji, he’s impossible. Minji, he’s a perfectionist. Minji, he’s so irritatingly—’”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, throwing a pillow at her. “I get it.”
She caught the pillow with a grin. “Admit it, though. You’re starting to like working with him, aren’t you?”
“Like is a strong word,” I muttered, holding up a dark green dress and then discarding it. “We finally finished one song yesterday. That’s it.”
“But you’re not denying it.” She smirked, standing up to rummage through the pile of clothes I’d pulled out. “Ooh, this one’s cute.”
She held up a sequined gold dress, and I shook my head immediately. “Too flashy. I’m not trying to stand out. Just look professional and approachable.”
Minji rolled her eyes. “You know this is a party, right? Not a corporate meeting?”
“Still. I want to keep a low profile,” I said, picking up the black turtleneck dress. It was tight enough to show some curves but modest enough to feel professional, with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. “What about this?”
Minji tilted her head, considering. “It’s very you. Chic, understated, mysterious. And Yoongi’s probably going to notice you in it.”
I groaned. “Not everything is about Yoongi!“
Minji raised an eyebrow, smirking as she flopped onto the couch. “Oh, really? If it’s not about Yoongi, then why are you quoting him like he’s living rent-free in your head?”
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Because it’s relevant! When I told him Hoseok invited me, Yoongi literally said, ‘But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.’ And yesterday, after we finished the song, he ended with, ‘See you Monday.’” I huffed. “He couldn’t have been clearer about not showing up.”
Minji snorted. “Wow. He really went out of his way to make sure you knew, huh?”
“Exactly.” I tossed the dress onto the bed. “So, can we drop this whole ‘Yoongi might surprise you at the party’ thing? It’s not happening.”
Minji held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No Yoongi talk. But honestly, he sounds so extra about it. Like, what’s his deal? You’re the one who didn’t even want to be there with him in the first place.”
“Exactly!” I said again, throwing my hands up. “I don’t even care if he shows up or not. This is supposed to be my break. I just want to go, enjoy the night, and pretend I don’t have deadlines hanging over my head for one evening.”
Minji smirked knowingly but didn’t say anything more as she got up to sift through her own options for the party. After a moment, she held up a red dress with a dramatic neckline and sparkling details. “What about this for me? It screams ‘I’m the fun friend.’”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t need a dress to say that. Everyone already knows.”
***
A little while later, we were both ready. Minji had gone with her glittery red dress, while I stuck to my black turtleneck one.
As we grabbed our things, Minji gave me a playful nudge. “Okay, so, final thoughts: what if Yoongi does show up, despite everything he said?”
I shot her a withering look. “Then I’ll eat my words. But that’s not happening.”
Minji grinned as we headed out the door. “We’ll see.”
*** The energy of the party was already palpable as Minji and I entered the venue. The music was loud enough to drown out any awkward thoughts, and the lighting cast a warm, celebratory glow. Before we could get our bearings, a familiar figure spotted us and made his way over with an enthusiastic wave.
“Welcome, welcome!” Hoseok beamed, his smile as bright as the room itself. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d ditch last minute.”
Minji laughed. “Not with you hosting, J-hope. She couldn’t say no.”
I shot her a quick glare but turned to Hoseok with a polite smile. “Thanks for inviting us.”
As we exchanged pleasantries, a small group approached him, each handing over neatly wrapped gifts or gift bags.
“Happy birthday, Hobi!” one of them exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before leaving the gift with him.
I blinked, taken aback. “Wait... birthday?” I turned to Hoseok, brows furrowed. “Is this... your birthday party?”
Hoseok gave me a sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. Kind of.”
I stared at him, stunned. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”
“Of course, I didn’t,” he replied, laughing. “If I told you, you wouldn’t have come. Admit it!”
I opened my mouth to protest, then paused, realizing he wasn’t entirely wrong. “
Okay, fair. But now I feel terrible. I didn’t bring you anything.”
He waved it off with a casual flick of his hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Your presence is enough of a gift.”
Minji rolled her eyes playfully. “Wow, smooth.”
I ignored her, offering Hoseok a tentative smile. “Well, if that’s the case, I owe you dinner. My treat. Birthday special.”
Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock bow. “I’ll hold you to that.” As the party carried on, my mind wandered, unbidden, to Yoongi. If it was Hoseok’s birthday, then surely Yoongi would be here, right? They were bandmates, practically brothers. Despite everything he’d said, it felt impossible that he wouldn’t show up to celebrate.
Right?
Hoseok, catching my distracted expression, nudged me lightly. “Come on, let me introduce you to the guys.”
As Hoseok led me through the crowd, I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts about Yoongi. I couldn’t help myself, though; the idea that he wasn’t here, despite everything, gnawed at me. Was he really just going to stay out of sight, like he’d said? Or had something else kept him away?
"Hey, over here," Hoseok called, his voice cutting through my thoughts as he pulled me toward the others. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Minji, the assistant and the manager of Producer K!"
The guys all turned to look, some with grins on their faces, others with more curious expressions. I gave a small wave, trying to maintain the composure I knew I needed for moments like this. Being around people like them—BTS—was something I wasn’t used to, but I was starting to adjust, or at least, I hoped I was.
"Y/N and Minji, huh? Nice to meet you," Jimin said first, flashing me a grin that lit up his whole face. "Hoseok's always talking about Producer K’s work. You must also be a pretty big deal if you’re working with him."
"Yeah, I've heard about his skills," Taehyung added, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nice to meet some of the brains behind the scenes." He gave a slight bow, which I returned awkwardly.
"We've been hearing a lot about you guys," Namjoon said, his deep voice steady and reassuring. "It's nice to finally put a face to the names."
"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep the mood light. "We just do our part in the background."
They all nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. But it was clear that Hoseok’s introduction had piqued their interest, and the attention felt overwhelming. I quickly shifted my gaze to see if Yoongi had come in yet, but the crowd was thick, and I didn’t spot him immediately.
"Minji," I whispered, trying to keep my voice low, "Do you think Yoongi’s coming?"
Minji raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you hoping he does?"
I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed, nudging me playfully. "Relax, Y/N. If he’s coming, he’ll show up eventually. For now, just enjoy the party. You’ve earned it."
I sighed and nodded, trying to push the thoughts of Yoongi aside. There was no point in stressing over something I couldn’t control.
As the introductions continued, Hoseok pulled me into a more private corner of the room, away from the group for a moment. "You’re doing great," he said with a genuine smile. "I know this might feel like a lot, but you’re handling it well. The others are just excited to meet you. They’ve heard a lot about producer K."
"Thanks," I replied, a little surprised at his sudden encouragement. "I’m just trying to keep a low profile, honestly."
"Yeah, I get it," Hoseok nodded knowingly. "You know, though, if you want to meet some more people, I can introduce you around. You don’t have to worry about your identity being exposed here. "
I just nodded, grateful for his understanding. But part of me was still wondering, was Yoongi going to show up? Or had I been right all along? Was he truly not interested in stepping outside of the studio for something like this?
At that moment, Jungkook stepped over to join us. "What’s up, guys?" he said with a smile.
Hoseok grinned and gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, you! This is Y/N, Producer K’s assistant. You’ve heard a lot about her, right?"
Jungkook looked at me, his expression slightly puzzled at first before breaking into a smile. "Ah, yeah, I’ve heard a little. Nice to meet you, Y/N." He gave a casual wave, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
"Nice to meet you too," I replied with a slight smile.
Jungkook seemed to sense the tension in the air, glancing between Hoseok and me. "So, Hyung, who else did you invite?"
Hoseok grinned, looking around the room. "A lot more people, but ah, yes, Y/N—the only member you haven’t met yet is Jin. He’s in the military, so it’s just the rest of us holding down the fort tonight."
I nodded, trying to mask my surprise. "Ah, I didn’t realize. That must be tough for you guys."
Hoseok shrugged, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in his eyes. "Yeah, but it is what it is. We’re all proud of him, of course. We just miss him, that’s all."
Jungkook nodded in agreement. "It’s been a while, but we’ll manage. He’ll be back before we know it."
I felt a pang of empathy for them, understanding how difficult it must be to have someone so important absent from events like this. But the conversation quickly shifted as Hoseok directed it back to me.
"So, Y/N, now that you’ve met the guys, are you having fun? No pressure, just curious." He raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for my reaction.
I forced a smile, trying to get out of my own head. "Yeah, it’s been good. Just a little overwhelming."
"Totally understandable," Jungkook said, giving me a reassuring smile. "But don’t worry. It’s just a party. No big deal."
I chuckled softly, grateful for the small bit of comfort. But my thoughts still drifted back to Yoongi. Would he really not show up?
Just then, I spotted Minji on the dance floor, looking like she was having the time of her life. Without a second thought, I nudged Hoseok. "I think I need to join her," I said, already pushing my way through the crowd.
"Go ahead," Hoseok replied with a grin. "I’ll be around if you need anything."
I made my way over to Minji, and we quickly fell into the rhythm of the music, letting the beat carry us away. The drinks were flowing, and before I knew it, the atmosphere shifted into a carefree, almost electric vibe. As more people showed up, the party grew livelier, and from time to time, some of the BTS members would come over and join us on the dance floor. It was fun, it was wild, but... my mind kept drifting back to Yoongi.
Unable to hold it in any longer, I pulled Hoseok aside when I caught him by the bar. "Hey, Hoseok... Where’s Yoongi?"
Hoseok glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, then shrugged. "Oh, he was here earlier, literally before you showed up. Now that you mention it, though, I haven’t seen him since."
I felt a strange mix of disappointment and... relief? I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was better this way, but somehow, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing from the night.
Minji and I were having a blast, drink after drink, dance after dance. The music, the energy, everything was a blur of fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had let myself enjoy the moment so freely, and for a while, it was exactly what I needed. But after a few more songs, I started to feel a little dizzy, the world spinning just slightly out of focus.
"Minji, I’m going to head somewhere quiet for a bit," I said, my voice a little unsteady. "I just need to lay down, get myself together. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?"
She shot me a playful grin, still bouncing to the beat. "Take care of yourself, girl! I’ll be here if you need me!"
With that, I slipped away from the dance floor, trying to stay steady on my feet. I remembered the studio I’d worked for the past weeks had a cosy sofa tucked away in one of its corners. It was the perfect place to rest for a bit until the dizziness passed.
I made my way to the studio, feeling the coolness of the hallway against my skin. The noise of the party seemed to fade as I pushed open the door, the silence of the room a welcome contrast to the chaos outside. I sank onto the sofa, closing my eyes for a few moments, hoping to just let the room settle.
I was only half-aware of how long I’d been there when I heard the door creak open. My eyes fluttered open, and I instantly tensed. Had someone followed me in?
There, standing in the doorway, was Yoongi. He looked surprised to see me there, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced around the room before fixing his gaze on me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone still as clipped as ever.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?" I shot back. "I thought you weren't even coming to the party."
His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he seemed to shrug it off. "Well I did. But, I don’t exactly need to announce my presence to everyone." His voice was colder than usual.
I bit my lip, frustration rising in my chest. "Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you're so indifferent about the party, why are you hiding out here?"
His shoulders tensed slightly as he crossed his arms in front of him while standing next to the coach, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "Not hiding. Just... thinking." He sighed. "I could ask the same thing."
I crossed my arms too, feeling the heat of irritation flood my veins. "I’m just getting away from the noise for a bit, okay?"
He didn't seem convinced, his lips forming a faint, sarcastic smile. "Right. Just taking a break. From everything, including the party, in my studio huh?"
Before I could respond, the unease that had been building between us finally snapped thanks to the alcohol. I pushed past him, moving toward the door. "Fine, I’ll leave. You can have your privacy too, Yoongi."
I turned sharply, my frustration boiling over, and reached for the door. The cool metal handle felt solid beneath my fingers, offering a small comfort. But as soon as I used it to crack the door open, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. A hand shot out, and in one swift motion, Yoongi’s arm stretched across me, pushing the door shut and blocking my escape.
I froze, my pulse quickening as I felt the warmth of his body close behind me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a moment, caught in the tension of his presence. His arm hovered just inches from my face, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he braced himself against the door. I could feel the faint shift of air from his movement, the pressure of his proximity filling the space between us. He was so close, but he didn’t touch me.
His breath was warm against the back of my neck, his presence so tangible that it almost felt suffocating. I couldn’t help but stiffen, the tension in the air thick and heavy. My hand, still gripping the door handle, trembled slightly, and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.
"Let go," I muttered, my voice low, tight with a mix of anger and something else that I couldn’t quite place.
But Yoongi didn’t budge. He was silent for a long moment, his body pressed just behind mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his every movement, his breath still brushing over the back of my neck.
"No," he said, his voice soft but firm’’...stay.” There was no hesitation in his tone, as though he had made up his mind about this. About me.
I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t. But I could hear the subtle shift in his tone. It wasn’t just the frustration from before—it was something else now. Something quieter.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though my hands were still shaking, my fingers gripping the door handle as if it might ground me. "Why should I stay?"
Yoongi’s breath seemed to hitch at that, and he shifted slightly, his chest brushing against my back as he leaned in just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. "Because," he started slowly, his voice almost a murmur, "I didn’t tell you to leave."
His words were unexpected. I hadn’t anticipated this, whatever it was, this softness in his tone, this tension building between us.
I could feel myself bristling and I turned around to face him. "Why should I listen? You didn’t even want to work with me in the first place. Why should I stay here with you now?"
"Who told you that?"
His voice, quieter now when his eye caught mine, but the words still stung. "I overheard you that day, talking to Jihoon on the phone, during the first week. You said you should've argued harder with your company to not work with me... and you said it was because I’m a woman."
I could feel my chest tighten as the words left my lips. The tension in the air thickened, and before I knew it, I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Yoongi’s face faltered. His eyes softened.
"I didn’t say that." Yoongi's voice was quieter, almost apologetic now. "If you heard me properly that day... I said I knew you were talented. And I knew how much you value your privacy. I know this whole thing is risky for you. That’s why
 if I had known you were a woman, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to work with you. I didn’t want to blow your cover or make you feel uncomfortable around me the whole time".
I blinked, my heart dropping. I felt like I had heard those words, but it was as if I hadn’t truly processed them until now. Not in that context. I could feel my breath catch in my throat. I didn’t know what to say. His words were so different from what I had thought. My mind was swirling, and before I could stop it, a few tears broke free and slid down my cheek.
Without a word, Yoongi stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek gently, his thumb swiping away the tears while holding my face.
I froze, staring up at him, unsure of what was happening, but the proximity, his nearness, was overwhelming. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and his touch was so soft it almost made my heart ache.
His eyes met mine again, searching, lingering. We were so close now. His breath mingled with mine as he looked down at me, and I could feel the heat between us.
"Can I..." He started, his voice low, almost hesitant, but before he could finish, the door suddenly jolted behind me.
I jumped, both of us stepping away instinctively, my heart racing. The air between Yoongi and me shattered in an instant.
It was Hoseok. He stepped inside, a playful grin on his face, but his eyes didn’t seem to notice me. "Yoongi! Where’s Y/N? She was looking out for you earlier, and then she just disappeared on me."
I couldn’t look at either of them. I just stood there, my back to the door, trying to breathe normally.
Hoseok stepped further into the room, a confused expression crossing his face as he noticed me and the way Yoongi was standing. He glanced between us, his gaze flicking back to Yoongi. "Everything good here?" he asked, sounding half-serious, half-playful.
I quickly moved, my cheeks flushed, and hurried out of the room, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. Hoseok called after me, but I didn’t look back. I just needed to get away, to breathe, to think.
But as I walked away, I couldn’t stop the images of Yoongi’s eyes on me, his breath on my skin. What had just happened? I wasn’t sure, but my heart was pounding in my chest as I moved further from that room, from him. *** When I finally made it back to the party, I spotted Minji chatting away with Taehyung. She looked up and waved me over, her usual bright energy making her stand out. But I couldn’t shake the feeling from earlier. Yoongi's words, his actions. I knew I needed to leave.
"Minji," I said, cutting through the conversation. "We need to go." She blinked, surprised at the abruptness of my tone, but nodded without questioning me. I turned to Taehyung, who had been listening to Minji ramble on, with a smile on his face.
"Tell Hoseok I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I'll see him again soon," I said, my voice steady. "And remind him that I still owe him that dinner."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He just gave me a knowing smile. "Alright, take care. I’ll let him know."
Minji and I made our way out of the venue, the lights of the party fading as we stepped into the cool night air. The moment we were in a taxi, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
Minji glanced at me, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief as she read me like an open book. “Wow. So you did meet him. What happened? Tell me everything. Now."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You’re relentless, you know that?"
Minji threw me a playful look. "You're not getting away with it. I need to know all the details. Was it awkward? Did he talk to you? What did he say? Was it... was it like, a moment?"
I groaned, leaning back against the headrest. "Honestly, it was... complicated." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "We had a bit of an argument, and then, out of nowhere, he blocked the door when I tried to leave. He didn’t want me to go. And then, he... he said some things. I don’t know. Things about me being a woman, about my privacy... It just felt like it was all crashing down in one moment."
Minji’s face shifted from excitement to concern. "Wait, what? He said what about your privacy?"
I sighed deeply, recalling the mix of emotions from that moment. "I told him I overheard him on the phone saying he didn't want to work with me because I was a woman. I was mad. And I think I was hurt, too. He didn’t deny it. He said... he said that he knows I’m talented and that he wouldn’t have worked with me if he knew I was a girl because it could’ve blown my cover. I... I didn’t know what to think."
Minji stared at me, processing everything I’d just said. "Wow. That’s a lot. But it sounds like he really didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I mean, he doesn’t want to blow your cover, and he’s not the type to just say stuff for no reason. I think he might’ve been trying to protect you in his own way."
I shook my head, still not fully understanding it all. "Maybe. But it doesn’t make it easier. He’s so confusing, Minji. One minute, he’s mad at me, then we’re... closer than I thought. I don’t even know if I want to deal with it."
Minji placed a hand on mine, her expression softening. "You’re allowed to be confused. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. He’s not the only one with walls up, you know? You’ve got yours too."
I sighed, leaning back again. "Yeah, but this... this is different. He’s not supposed to make me feel like this."
Minji didn’t say anything at first, but then she shrugged slightly. "Look, I can’t tell you what to do. But whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do."
Her words were comforting, even though I wasn’t sure if I agreed. I wanted to know what Yoongi wanted from me, if anything. But for now, I had to focus on what came next.
***
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I was moving through a fog. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol from the night before or the confusion swirling around my thoughts, but I had to get up, get ready, and go to work. It was just another day. I was a professional, after all.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened between Yoongi and I the night before. The words, the tension, the way he blocked the door... It all felt like a surreal dream now. I quickly pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. I’d told Minji last night that I wouldn’t mention it again. That was the plan. I was going to walk in, act normal, and get through this day like nothing had happened. I had a job to do.
I dressed quickly, choosing something that felt both comfortable and professional, jeans and a simple blouse. Nothing too attention-grabbing. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I headed out.
The drive to the studio was quiet, my mind a little too preoccupied with what I’d left behind. I thought about texting Minji again, but I didn’t want to be that person who overanalysed everything. I’d deal with it.
The moment I stepped into the studio, I immediately spotted Yoongi, already seated at the desk, headphones on, his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. The familiar quiet hum of the place seemed to swallow up any lingering awkwardness between us.
I set my bag down on the sofa and made my way over to the desk, trying to appear as casual as possible. I could feel Yoongi’s eyes flicker briefly in my direction, but he didn’t acknowledge me right away. That was fine. No need for anything weird to happen today. I wasn’t going to let it.
“Morning,” I said, offering a neutral smile, willing myself to act as though last night had never even happened.
Yoongi just nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Morning."
I took my seat and opened my notebook, flipping through the pages as if the routine of it all would help settle the tension that had been gnawing at me since our confrontation the night before. The silence between us felt a little less suffocating, though. It wasn’t that we were talking more, it was just that Yoongi didn’t seem as harsh on his tone today. No biting comments yet, no sharp observations either.
He adjusted the volume on the speakers and clicked around on the computer for a few seconds before speaking again. "You finished that beat you were working on Saturday?"
“Yeah, it’s done,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were focused on the screen, but I noticed there was a slight change in his demeanour. The tension from before, the coldness, seemed to have faded. It wasn’t gone completely, but it was much more subtle now.
He didn’t respond immediately, just tapped a few keys on the keyboard before nodding. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”
I slid the flash drive with the updated track across the table. Yoongi took it, plugged it into the system, and started the track without a word. The room filled with the sound of the beat I had been perfecting, and I waited, watching his reaction closely.
As the beat played, Yoongi’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t make any negative comments this time. He just let the track play all the way through, his eyes scanning the waveform on the screen, listening intently.
When the track ended, he leaned back in his chair, finally looking over at me. “Not bad.”
I couldn’t help but feel a small relief wash over me. "Not bad" from Yoongi was a compliment, even if it didn’t sound like one. At least he hadn’t outright criticized it.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel my nerves creeping back up again. “Anything you want me to change?”
Yoongi scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a little too clean. Add some grit, something to make it stand out more. We need it to hit harder.”
I nodded, taking mental notes. “Got it. I’ll work on that.”
It felt almost normal, the way we interacted. No lingering animosity, no mention of what had happened the night before.
As the session continued, the vibe between us remained steady, calm and professional, with just a touch of the underlying tension we hadn’t addressed. We worked for hours, tweaking the track here and there, going back and forth on the sound and rhythm until everything was just the way we wanted it.
At some point, Yoongi stood up and stretched, letting out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want anything?”
I blinked, surprised. He’d never offered to get me anything before, not like this. His tone was casual, though, like it was no big deal.
“I’ll take an iced coffee,” I said, half-smiling at the unexpected gesture.
Yoongi didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked out of the studio. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It wasn’t like everything was magically fixed, but there was something about this new, less tense dynamic that felt... better. More comfortable, even.
As I sat back in my chair, I tried to focus on the track again, but my mind kept drifting. What has changed between us? I knew I wasn’t imagining it, there was definitely something different today. But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
When Yoongi came back with the coffee, we fell back into the routine of the session, but now, it felt almost easy. We were working smoothly, and I caught him glancing over at me once or twice, his eyes lingering a little longer than before.
Still, neither of us brought up what happened the night before. Not yet. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Or maybe it was something neither of us wanted to revisit.
***
As the day came to a close, I packed up my things, feeling the weight of the day lifting off my shoulders. I had managed to get through the session with Yoongi without any more awkwardness, which was a small victory in itself. As I grabbed my bag, I looked over at Yoongi, who was already absorbed in his work again.
“See you tomorrow,” I said casually, ready to leave the studio.
Yoongi gave me a small nod, his focus not wavering. “Yeah, see you.”
I left the studio and stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling in the distance. I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off everything that had happened with Yoongi.
I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a text to Hoseok.
Y/N: Hey, are you free tonight?
Hoseok: Yeah, I’m free. What’s up?
Y/N: I told you I owe you dinner. Want to grab some barbecue tonight?
Hoseok: Haha, of course I didn’t forget! Even Taehyung reminded me about it last night after you left! So yeah, sure, let’s do it. When and where?
Y/N: How about at 7 at that popular spot in Gangnam?
Hoseok: Perfect! I’ll see you there. I’ll be starving by the time we meet!
Y/N: Same here. I’m ready to eat my weight in meat.
Hoseok: Haha, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N!
Y/N: See you soon!
I smiled as I read our conversation. Hoseok had a way of lightening the mood, and the idea of spending the evening with him, laughing and eating good food, felt like the perfect way to unwind.
When I arrived at the restaurant, the smell of grilled meat hit me as soon as I stepped inside. I scanned the room for Hoseok and spotted him right away. He was sitting at a table near the back, looking up at me with a wide smile as always.
"Y/N!" he greeted me, standing up to wave as I approached.
"Helloo!" I said with a grin, taking my seat across from him.
He immediately grabbed the menu, flipping through it. "So, what are you in the mood for? Meat, meat, and more meat?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
"Definitely," I replied, laughing. "I’ve been craving barbecue all day."
We both ordered a few different cuts of meat, and as we waited for the grill to heat up, Hoseok leaned back in his chair, looking at me curiously.
"So, what happened last night?" he asked casually, the question catching me a bit off guard.
I hesitated for a second, my fingers tapping on the table. "What do you mean?" I asked, pretending not to understand what he was getting at.
"You know... I could tell something was a little off when you left the party, after i caught you with Yoongi at the studio.." Hoseok said, his tone soft but inquisitive. "Everything okay between you two?”
I shrugged, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything’s fine," I said, though the words didn’t feel entirely true. "We finished the first song. Two more to go, and then we’ll be done."
Hoseok didn’t seem convinced. He nodded and took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Well, that’s good. I’m glad to hear you’re making progress. But, uh... are you sure everything’s okay with him? You know... since you’ve been working really closely together."
I looked down at my hands for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "It’s fine, Hoseok. Really. Just... we have our days, you know?"
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. "If you say so."
The food arrived, and the sizzling sounds of meat on the grill distracted us both for a moment. Hoseok was quick to start cooking, flipping the pieces of meat with ease. The smell was intoxicating, and I could already feel my stomach growling in anticipation.
We continued to eat, talk, and laugh, the mood light and easy. Hoseok was a great conversationalist. We talked about music, our favourite songs, and his plans for the future. It felt so natural, like we’d known each other for years instead of just a month.
At one point, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, I’d like you to hear something," he said, tapping away at the screen. A moment later, his phone was playing a new track, a smooth, upbeat melody that instantly grabbed my attention.
"This is one of my newer tracks," Hoseok said, watching me closely as the music played. "I’m really proud of it so far, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. What do you think?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me. "This is really good, Hoseok," I said, smiling. "It’s got such a great vibe. It’s... it’s got that perfect energy."
He grinned, clearly pleased with the feedback. "Thanks. I’m hoping it’s going to be a hit. But, you know, it’s not finished yet. Still got a bit of work to do."
"Well, I’d be happy to help with anything you need," I said, my tone sincere. "I think you’re on the right track. I can already picture it in a club."
"Yeah? You’re the expert," he said, leaning back in his chair with a proud smile. "Maybe I should bring you on as a collaborator someday."
I raised my eyebrows at the suggestion. "Collaborator? That would be interesting."
Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "I’m just saying... if you’re up for it
"
"Maybe," I teased, taking a sip of my drink.
As the night went on, we continued to enjoy the barbecue, the conversation flowing easily between us. It was a welcome distraction from the confusion that had been hanging over me lately. It was hard not to feel at ease around Hoseok. He was kind, funny, and genuine in a way that made me feel like I could let my guard down.
Eventually, after we’d eaten our fill and were lounging in our seats, Hoseok pulled out his phone again. "Come on, let’s take a photo," he suggested, grinning. "You know, for the memories."
I nodded with a smile and he grabbed his phone, opening the camera. We both leaned in, the grill between us, holding our drinks up like we were toasting. "Best birthday gift ever," Hoseok said dramatically as the picture snapped, before quickly typing something into his phone.
"Done!" he said proudly. "I posted it to my close friends on Kakao Talk. You know, just in case anyone wants to know how I spent my special days."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You’re crazy."
"I know," he said with a wink, taking another drink from his glass. "But seriously, Y/N, this has been fun. Thanks for asking me to come out tonight. You’re a lot of fun to hang out with."
I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. "Of course. I’m glad we did this. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a night like this myself."
"Same here," Hoseok said with a smile. "We should do it again sometime."
As the night wound down to an end, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. It had been a good night, and it felt like I’d finally had a chance to breathe again. The pressure I’d been carrying, the weight of my thoughts about Yoongi and everything that had happened, seemed to lighten a little as I had sat there across from Hoseok, laughing and eating with no other worries.
When the bill arrived, I was quick to grab it, remembering my promise. "It’s on me tonight," I said, pulling my card out before Hoseok could protest. I shook my head, giving him a playful look. "I owe you dinner, remember?"
He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your moment." He watched me pay, his expression softening into something more genuine. "But next time, I’m the one picking the place and bill."
"Deal," I said, with a smirk. "But only if it’s something equally as good as tonight."
"Haha, I’ll try," he replied, still laughing.
As we walked out of the restaurant, we decided that the evening had been a success, and that we would definitely plan another time to hang out. It was nice to have a real moment with him, away from all the stress and confusion, it had been exactly what I needed, an evening of laughter, food, and friendship. And for that, I was thankful. ***
The next day, I walked into the studio feeling lighter than I had in weeks. My relationship with Yoongi seemed to had softened after yesterday, and dinner with Hoseok had been a bright spot in an otherwise chaotic schedule. I was ready to tackle the second track with a fresh perspective.
As always, Yoongi was already in the studio when I arrived, sitting at the mixing desk, adjusting levels with his usual quiet focus. He acknowledged me with a small nod as I set up my things. His demeanour seemed normal at first, calm and business like.
We dove into the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. At first, everything felt fine, normal even. But as the hours ticked by, Yoongi’s feedback became sharper, his tone more clipped.
“Can you take this seriously?” he snapped suddenly after I made a suggestion about the arrangement.
I looked up, startled. “I am taking this seriously. What’s going on with you today? You seemed fine yesterday.”
“Nothing’s going on,” he said curtly, not looking at me. His fingers tapped at the keyboard with more force than necessary. “You just need to focus more on the job you’re supposed to do.”
I frowned, confused by his sudden change in attitude. “We’re making progress,” I said cautiously, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m confident we’ll meet the deadline.”
Yoongi spun his chair to face me, his eyes narrowing. “If you really cared about the deadline, you would focus on the work instead of going out to dinner with Hoseok and wasting your energy there.”
His words hit like a slap. I blinked, completely taken aback. “How do you even know about the dinner?”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “He posted it on Kakao Talk. All the guys were talking about it in the group chat.”
I froze, trying to process what he was saying. Of course Hoseok had shared it, but it was a perfectly innocent dinner, and he’d been excited about it. Still, I felt a strange pang of guilt under Yoongi’s intense gaze.
“I invited him because I felt bad about going to his birthday party without bringing a gift,” I explained, my voice steady but defensive. “I just wanted to make up for it.”
Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable. “It’s interesting,” he said coolly, “how close you are with him. I’m the one you work with every day. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you?”
I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. Before I could gather my thoughts, Yoongi waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Let’s just get back to work.”
The room fell into an awkward silence. I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to make sense of his reaction, but his posture was closed off, his focus fully on the screen in front of him. With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my notes and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The rest of the session felt strained. Yoongi’s usual calm, measured feedback was replaced with sharp, almost impatient remarks. It wasn’t just the work, something else was clearly bothering him, but I couldn’t figure out what.
Then, halfway through a take, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. Without a word, he stood and began gathering his things.
“What’s going on?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.
“Nothing,” he said shortly, not meeting my eyes. “Let’s cut this short today.”
“Yoongi—” I started, but he was already slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his tone final.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the studio. I stared at the door for a long moment, my emotions a mix of confusion and frustration. Whatever had just happened felt personal, even though I couldn’t understand why.
As I packed up my things, my mind kept circling back to his words, to the way he’d looked at me. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you? What did that even mean? Why did it sound like he cared, like it bothered him?
Shaking my head, I gathered my bag and left the studio. No matter how much I wanted to make sense of it, I wasn’t going to let Yoongi’s mood derail the progress we were making, or my own peace of mind. I had a job to do, and I wasn’t about to let this strange tension get in the way.
*** The next day, Yoongi and I exchanged only a few words when I arrived at the studio. His mood seemed calmer than yesterday, though still a little distant. I decided not to push it.
We worked steadily through the day, both of us falling into the rhythm of our tasks. It wasn’t awkward, just focused, like two professionals determined to meet their goal. The hours passed in a blur of music, notes, and adjustments. By the time Yoongi looked up from the computer, his face was lit with mild surprise.
“Ah, shit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock. “It’s late,” rubbing the back of his neck. “We should stop here for today. It’s good progress.”
I nodded and stood up, but as soon as I tried to take a step, my legs wobbled beneath me. I reached out to steady myself against the desk, my vision spinning slightly.
Yoongi was already on his feet, stepping toward me with concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I think I’m just a little dizzy. Now that I think about it
 I didn’t even eat lunch.”
Without a word, he reached for my wrist and tugged gently. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, caught off guard. “Go where?”
“To eat,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I tried to protest as he led me out of the studio and toward his car. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll grab something on the way home.”
Yoongi ignored me, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in. Reluctantly, I slid into the seat, and he shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side.
The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I glanced at him a few times, wondering why he was going out of his way like this, but his expression was unreadable.
We arrived at a small, cosy restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. Yoongi parked the car and got out without a word, waiting for me to follow.
Inside, the warm lighting and inviting atmosphere made me relax a little. We were seated at a corner table, and soon, the smell of grilled meat and savoury dishes filled the air.
“About yesterday,” he started, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
I glanced up, momentarily stunned. He wasn’t looking at me; instead, his gaze was fixed on his plate, as if the words were hard to push out.
“I was out of line,” he admitted, exhaling sharply, almost like the confession itself was a weight lifted.
I blinked, my chopsticks hovering mid-air. Yoongi rarely, if ever, admitted fault. This was unexpected.
“I took a lot of things out on you,” he continued, his tone laced with a hint of self-reproach. His chopsticks moved idly, pushing food around on his plate as if it could somehow distract him from the vulnerability of the moment. “Things that weren’t your fault. And for that, I’m sorry.”
The sincerity in his voice made my breath catch. This wasn’t the stoic, sharp-tongued producer I’d been working with for weeks. This was Yoongi stripped of his usual defences, and it threw me off balance.
“You... You’re apologizing?” I finally said, a mix of disbelief and teasing slipping into my tone.
His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I mean, how can I not?” I said, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms in mock astonishment. “Min Yoongi admitting he’s wrong? I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”
Despite his attempt at brushing it off, I could tell the apology mattered to him. He wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and the effort behind his words wasn’t lost on me.
“Look,” he continued after a moment, his voice steadying. “Yesterday... I just have been under a lot of pressure, and I let it get to me. That wasn’t fair to you. You’ve been working hard, and I should’ve recognized that.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer now. “That means a lot.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us melting away. As the meal went on, we started to relax, trading small talk about work and life. Yoongi even ordered a bottle of wine, and soon we were sipping glasses of it, the conversation growing lighter.
For the first time, it felt like I was seeing a different side of him, one that wasn’t guarded or buried in his work. And for a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the studio, the deadlines, and everything else that had been hanging over us.
By the end of the night, my cheeks ached from laughing, a rare, warm contentment spreading through me. Yoongi had surprised me, not just with his apology, but with the way he let his guard down, even if just a little. Maybe he wasn’t as closed off as I’d assumed. Maybe there was more to him than I’d ever expected.
As we stepped outside the restaurant, the crisp night air greeted us. "Hey, you can’t drive now since you’ve had a drink," I said, glancing at Yoongi. "Should we call a taxi or something? Or maybe Hobi? I saw his stories, he was bored at home, he could probably come pick us up."
Yoongi’s expression shifted, and he immediately shook his head. "No," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll handle it. I’m calling Jihoon." I raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment but let it slide. The warmth from the alcohol in my system faded quickly, leaving me shivering slightly in the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stave off the chill.
Yoongi noticed. “It’s getting cold,” he said, almost to himself. Before I could respond, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.
The unexpected gesture made me pause. The weight of the jacket and the faint scent of his cologne caught me off guard. I looked up at him, my eyes wide. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said softly.
He waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m not cold.”
I tilted my head, sceptical. “Really? Your hands must be freezing,” I said, blowing warm air over my own hands and rubbing them together in a futile attempt to warm them.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to my hands, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his hands gently over mine. The sudden warmth of his touch stopped me in my tracks.
His hands were warm, enveloping mine completely. I glanced up at him, startled. He didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on mine, intense yet unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us standing there, connected by something unspoken.
My breath hitched, the moment heavy with tension neither of us dared to break. But before it could go any further, the sound of a taxi pulling up snapped us back to reality.
“Jihoon’s here,” Yoongi said, his voice steady as he stepped back, letting my hands go.
I quickly pulled my hands behind my back, hiding the tingling warmth that lingered from his touch. Jihoon stepped out of the car, waving casually as he approached.
“Thanks for coming,” Yoongi said, handing him the keys to his car.
“No problem,” Jihoon replied with a grin. “You guys look like you had a good night.”
Yoongi nodded and gestured for me to get in the backseat. He opened the door for me, waiting until I was seated before climbing in beside me.
The ride was quiet, with Jihoon humming along to the radio in the front seat. I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling as I replayed the events of the night. The warmth of Yoongi’s jacket around my shoulders and the memory of his hands over mine lingered, leaving me more confused than ever.
Unable to resist, I flicked my gaze toward him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, the strong line of his jaw catching my attention. Why does he have to look like that? My eyes drifted downward, landing on his hands resting casually on his lap. Those veiny, capable hands that had so effortlessly wrapped around mine earlier.
My face grew warm as I recalled the moment, a rush of heat spreading through me. Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I quickly snapped my gaze back to the window, determined not to look at him again for the rest of the ride. ‘Focus on something else, anything else,’ I told myself, even as my heart stubbornly refused to settle. When we pulled up in front of my place, Jihoon parked smoothly, and Yoongi stepped out of the car before I could say anything. He stood there for a moment, looking composed as ever, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
“Bye,” he said simply, his voice even but low enough to make my stomach flip. “See you tomorrow.”
I managed a small smile. “Okay. Bye.”
He watched me walk to my door, and when I turned back for a second, he was already getting back into the car. Jihoon gave a small wave before driving off, leaving me standing there, suddenly alone.
Once inside, I leaned against the door, the events of the evening replaying in my mind like a whirlwind. Dinner, the jacket, his hands over mine... It was all too much. I sighed, pulling the jacket off to hang it up, only to freeze mid-motion.
“Oh no.” My voice echoed in the quiet space. His jacket. I still had it.
I grabbed my phone, typing quickly.
Me: I just realized I still have your jacket. Did you guys leave already?
His reply came faster than I expected.
Yoongi: It’s fine. You can give it back another day.
I stared at the screen, his words making me bite my lip. For a moment, I debated responding, but what else was there to say? Sighing, I put my phone down and folded the jacket neatly. The faint scent of him lingered, a mix of something warm and clean, distinctly Yoongi.
I groaned softly, shaking my head. “Don’t overthink it.”
But as I walked away, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, my flushed cheeks betraying my effort to play it cool. ***
The next day, everything felt smoother. The tension from the past week seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a productive atmosphere in the studio. Yoongi and I worked through the second track effortlessly, the beats and lyrics falling into place with surprising speed. By lunchtime, we had made significant progress, and the track was nearly perfect. Yoongi gave a brief nod of approval before leaning back in his chair.
"One more to go," he said, his tone casual, but I could tell he was feeling a sense of accomplishment too.
Just then, the door to the studio opened with a loud creak, and Hoseok walked in, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted us.
"Hey, look at you two," he said, his voice light. "I come in, and it’s all quiet. Something going on huh?"
Yoongi and I exchanged a glance. "The second track is done, so we're almost there. One more track, and the album’s done."
Hoseok leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening slightly. "Damn, it’s hard to believe we’re almost there." His eyes flickered toward Yoongi, then back at me. "I’m excited, but... also a little nervous. You know, with everything happening soon."
I raised an eyebrow, curious. "What’s going on? What are you talking about?"
Hoseok sighed dramatically, walking further into the room. "Well, since you two are now so close to wrapping up, I need to tell you something." He sat down on the edge of a nearby desk, his eyes locking on me. "I’m going to the military soon."
For a moment, there was silence as I processed the information. My stomach dropped slightly as the reality of it set in. "Wait, you’re leaving already?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could think.
Hoseok smiled gently, his eyes a little softer than usual. "Yeah. It’s going to happen soon. So..." He leaned forward, his tone turning playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "I’m going to use that to guilt-trip you two into hanging out with me tomorrow night. I’m hosting a little get-together at my place. Come along, since you’ve worked hard on this album, you deserve a break. You know you want to. Let’s have one last hurrah before I disappear for a while."
Yoongi, who had been silent until now, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "You really think you can just guilt-trip us into going out?"
Hoseok nodded with a sly grin. "Yup. It’s my last chance to make you guys hang out with me before I go. Please?" He looked at both of us, his expression softening, almost pleading.
Yoongi shot me a glance, and I shrugged. "I mean, we’re done with the second track, so it wouldn’t hurt to let loose for a night."
Yoongi looked hesitant for a moment, but Hoseok wasn’t backing down. "Come on, it’s just one night. You can relax and have some fun. Besides, you two need a break, right?"
I chuckled, the tension in the room starting to melt. "Alright, alright. I’ll come, Hoseok. You don’t need to keep trying to guilt-trip us." Yoongi also nodded.
Hoseok’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t regret it. I’m inviting a few people, and we’ll just hang out, eat, talk, maybe play some games."
Yoongi grunted, but there was no denying the slight curve of a smile on his lips. "Fine. One night. But don’t expect us to get drunk or anything."
Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "Who said anything about getting drunk? I just want to spend some time together, that’s all. We’re all so busy, and before you know it, I’ll be gone."
He was right. As much as we all had our own things to focus on, this was a moment to come together before everything changed. And honestly, after working so hard on the album, I could use a little time to relax.
"Alright, we’re in. What time should we be there?" I asked, already feeling a little more at ease about it.
"7 PM. Don’t be late," Hoseok said with a wink. "I’m going to make sure there’s food, so just come hungry."
"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "See you tomorrow, then."
As Hoseok left the studio, I glanced over at Yoongi, who was already back to his work. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite everything, the day had been productive, and now we were going to take some time for ourselves. I didn’t know how often I’d get moments like these, where things felt normal, light and easy.
"Guess we’re going to Hoseok’s," I said, trying to keep things casual.
Yoongi gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as always, but there was a faint sense of relaxation in his posture. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered again, almost as if to convince himself.
***
The next day, Yoongi and I had somehow hit a streak, two days in a row of working together without any tension. We finished everything we had planned for the day, and as the evening rolled around, we were both in a surprisingly good mood.
As the last song for the day played out, I looked up from my computer and caught Yoongi’s eye.
"Guess that’s a wrap for today," I said, stretching out my arms. "See you at the party, yeah?"
Yoongi gave me a small nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, see you there."
I stood up to grab my things, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. It had been a long time since we’d gotten along this well, and I wasn’t going to overthink it. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to relax.
"Try not to get too drunk," I teased lightly as I started toward the door.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Could say the same thing to you.” "Uh-huh," I shot back, laughing as I left the room. "Sure."
As I walked out, I could feel the lightness in my step. For once, it felt like things were moving in the right direction. The night ahead felt full of possibilities, even if it was just hanging out with the rest of the team.
When I got home, I quickly changed into something casual, not wanting to overdo it for Hoseok’s party. I kept it simple, a pair of jeans and a loose top. Around 7 PM, I made my way to Hoseok’s place, and when I arrived, I found the others already there.
The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, the smell of food filling the air. The place was buzzing with laughter and easy conversation. I caught sight of Yoongi sitting at the corner of the room, his usual calm demeanour in place, but there was something different about him tonight. His hair was styled, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to fit him just right, accentuating his broad shoulders. There was an easy confidence in his posture, and as I studied him for a moment, I realized he looked
 hot.
I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to get caught staring. The last thing I needed was to get all flustered over him again. I turned my attention to the rest of the room and spotted Hoseok in the middle of a conversation with a few other guests. He seemed to be doing his usual thing, laughing and talking animatedly, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt just yet.
Instead, I made my way over to where Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were chatting near the food table. They were all mid-laugh when I approached, and Jungkook waved me over with a grin.
“Y/N! Come join us, we were just talking about the new choreography for a music video,” he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Oh? What is it about this choreography?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Taehyung leaned in with a mischievous grin. “We’re learning this really complicated move that involves, like, spinning and flipping, but it looks ridiculous when we try it,” he said, laughing.
Jimin jumped in. “Taehyung’s over-exaggerating, it’s not that bad. But we’re definitely working on something new for the next video, and it’s going to be fun.”
“Yeah, we’re going to have to rehearse a lot,” Jungkook added with a playful smirk. “Taehyung might need extra practice though,” he teased.
I chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll all manage. You guys are pros, after all.”
Taehyung pouted but then grinned again. “Yeah, but you should see us try. We look like a bunch of drunk chickens. Maybe we’ll film it for behind-the-scenes footage.”
“Please do, I’d love to see that,” I replied, laughing along with them.
As we were talking, I noticed Hoseok making his way over with a big smile on his face. He clapped his hands together and announced, “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a drinking game! Who’s in? It’s going to be fun, I promise!”
Jimin immediately jumped up, grinning. “I’m in! Let’s do this!”
“Count me in too,” Taehyung said, raising his hand. “I’m ready to win this game.”
I glanced at Jungkook, who gave a playful nod. “Let’s go. This should be interesting.”
With that, the four of us headed over to the designated table where the drinks were already set up. Hoseok was already grinning, ready to start the game, and I couldn’t help but feel a little excited about just having fun and not overthinking things.
The game started with some light-hearted activities, rapid-fire questions, and silly tasks that made everyone laugh. It was a great way to break the ice, and before long, we were all feeling more relaxed, enjoying the playful atmosphere.
Then, the game shifted into something a bit more daring: Love Shots. The concept was simple: when the bottle spun, it landed on a couple who had to take a shot together. The catch? You had to show the best “couple moment” before drinking.
I glanced around at everyone as the bottle spun, my heart racing a little at the thought of it landing on someone I knew. Of course, it landed on me and Hoseok first. He flashed me a grin that was as mischievous as it was charming.
"Well, looks like we're the first couple for the night, huh?" he said, winking.
I laughed and leaned in slightly. "Guess so. Let’s make this quick, yeah?"
We took our shot in sync, laughing after, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Hoseok’s eyes sparkled when he was having fun. It made me a little giddy.
The game continued, and once again, the bottle spun, this time landing on Hoseok and me again. A few people around the table groaned, teasing us about being the “official couple.” We just grinned at each other, ready for the next round.
I quickly glanced over at Yoongi, who had been quiet all night, sitting at the table but not participating. He wasn’t drinking either. His gaze was locked on Hoseok and me, and there was a strange tension in his expression. He wasn’t judging, but he wasn’t engaging either. It was hard to ignore, and I wondered if he was actually bothered by us being partnered up for the game.
Earlier, I had briefly talked to him when the game first started. I asked why he wasn’t drinking, and he had simply said, “Not feeling like it tonight.” There was something about his tone that made me want to ask more, but I didn’t push it. He wasn’t the type to open up unless he was ready.
"Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn again!" Taehyung called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
The bottle spun again, and this time, it landed on Hoseok and me again. We both burst into laughter, but this time I noticed Yoongi’s eyes briefly flicker towards us. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t speak either. He just observed, his hands folded in front of him as the game carried on.
Hoseok, being a bit more playful, shot me a grin and said, “Guess we’re really the perfect couple, huh?”
I smirked, playing along. “Yeah, looks like I’m stuck with you, Hobi.”
We drank again, and I could feel the warmth of the alcohol creeping through me, loosening my nerves and making everything feel lighter. But despite the fun, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Yoongi’s quiet presence at the table was adding a certain weight to the game. His lack of participation made the contrast between us even more noticeable.
The game finally came to an end after what felt like hours of spinning bottles and laughing until our sides hurt. But as the night wore on, a lot of people were either passed out, waiting for their turn, or feeling too sleepy to continue. I noticed the energy in the room starting to wind down, and with work to do tomorrow, I figured it was best to leave.
I stood up, scanning the room for Hoseok. I spotted him laughing with a few of the other guests, his eyes bright and full of energy despite the late hour. I made my way over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
“Hey, Hobi,” I said, offering him a warm smile. “I think I’m going to head out now. I’ve got work tomorrow.”
Hoseok turned to me with a disappointed but understanding expression. “Aww, already? Well, it was really fun having you here. You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I shook my head, grateful for the offer but knowing he had a lot of guests to attend to. “Nah, you stay and enjoy. I’ll just grab a taxi. I’ll be fine.”
Before Hoseok could respond, there was a shift in the air. Yoongi, who had been quiet all evening, stood up suddenly from his spot at the table. His voice was calm, but his words caught us both off guard.
“I’m leaving. I’ll take Y/N with me,” he said, tone firm but casual.
The room fell a bit quieter at his declaration. Hoseok blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Yoongi to step in. There was an unspoken tension as we all stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react.
I quickly turned to Hoseok, offering him one last smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks for everything tonight.”
Hoseok smiled back, still a little surprised by Yoongi’s sudden intervention, but he nodded. “Alright, take care. See you soon.”
I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I quickly made my way toward the door, following Yoongi. I couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. What just happened? Why did Yoongi suddenly decide to take me home?
“Yoongi, wait up!” I called out, catching up to him as he made his way outside.
Yoongi was already ahead, his long strides purposeful. When I caught up with him, I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi
 you didn’t have to do this, you know
”
He didn’t look at me as he continued walking, but his voice was calm. “It’s fine. You’re not going to take a taxi alone this late. It’s safer this way.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I stopped myself. There was something in the way he said it that made me not want to push back. Instead, I just followed him outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we made our way to the car.
I had no idea what this meant, or what was running through Yoongi’s mind, but for now, I was just grateful that he had decided to take me home.
The drive back home was quiet but comfortable, with only the hum of the car filling the space between us. It wasn’t awkward, though. There was something peaceful about it, something unspoken that made the silence feel easy.
When we arrived at my apartment block, Yoongi stepped out of the car first, walking around to open the door for me.
“Thanks,” I said softly, already preparing to say my goodbyes as I stepped out.
But before I could, Yoongi spoke up, his tone surprisingly serious. “Actually
 Can I have my jacket back?”
I blinked in confusion, not entirely sure I’d heard him right. “Seriously?” I asked, laughing a little at the unexpected request. “You’re really asking for it back now?”
He glanced at me with a small shrug, his eyes hiding whatever thoughts were going through his mind. “It’s cold,” he said simply.
I let out a sigh. “Okay, follow me. I took it from the dry cleaners today, and I was planning on bringing it to you tomorrow.”
I stepped inside my apartment, Yoongi following and standing halfway between the living room and the corridor. I quickly scanned the room, searching for the bag with the jacket in it. The silence stretched on as I fumbled through a few things, but Yoongi broke it, his voice unexpectedly blunt.
“So, you and Hobi, huh?”
I paused for a second, confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What about me and Hobi?”
“Well, all the dinners, the flirting today with the love shots
 is there anything I should know about?” His gaze was steady, but I could see something flicker in his eyes.
I shook my head, trying to keep my tone light. “No, we’re just friends. He’s actually a nice person who respects me and my work.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just me overthinking things, but Yoongi’s next words caught me off guard. “But I thought these past few days we were on good terms as well.”
I felt a little defensive at that. “But I’m not working with Hobi. I’m not under a contract with him.”
Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied. “Besides all that, I still felt like we could be more than just coworkers.”
I blinked, not sure if I understood him right. “What? Do you want us to be friends?” I joked, trying to deflect the tension.
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly, but I continued “Do you even hear yourself right now? If I had told Min Yoongi two months ago that he’d be asking me to be friends, he would’ve laughed in my face.”
Yoongi’s expression darkened for a moment. “Hell no, I don’t want to be friends with you.”
I crossed my arms, trying to hide the sudden heat rising to my cheeks. “Pff, then I don’t want to be friends with you either,” I shot back, scoffing. “Besides, you’re the one who brought it up in the first place. You were the one sulking about me being friends with Hobi and not with you.”
Yoongi’s eyes flickered with irritation. “I’m not sulking because you are friends with him, I am because you are close to a guy that’s not me.” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.
Yoongi took a step closer, his expression darkening. “Let’s cut the crap. You’re telling me that after everything that’s been happening these past two months, the tension, the lingering touches
 you never felt anything?” His eyes were locked onto mine, searching for something in them.
My breath hitched in my throat, but before I could respond, he continued. “And after what happened at Hobi’s birthday party
 you didn’t move away from me. Hell, you were practically begging me to kiss you with the way you were looking at me. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it too.”
I froze, my mind racing, trying to process his words. I hadn’t expected him to bring up that night, let alone accuse me of anything. My pulse quickened as I searched his face, unsure of what to say. Yoongi watched me closely, waiting for my response, but all I could do was stare at him, caught in the web of his words.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, stepping back slightly, trying to play it cool, but my heart was pounding in my chest. Yoongi’s gaze was intense, his expression unreadable, and I couldn’t help but feel exposed under the weight of his words. Was he serious? Was I imagining all of this? I didn’t want to admit it, but everything he said was starting to make sense, whether I liked it or not.
Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied with my denial. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine with a new intensity. “Oh really?” he murmured, his voice low and steady, but there was a hint of something sharper in it now. “Then tell me to stop.”
Before I could process the situation, before I could even think about what to say, he was on me. His lips crashed into mine with a sudden force that caught me off guard. The kiss was hard, desperate, as if he was trying to prove something to both of us. His hands gripped my arms firmly, pulling me in closer.
For a few seconds, I froze, not sure how to respond. His lips moved against mine with an urgency that made my mind race, but my body just
 didn’t react. I couldn’t. My heart was beating so fast, my thoughts tangled in confusion. Was this real? Was he really kissing me?
Yoongi pulled back suddenly, his hands dropping from my arms. He stepped away, his expression flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. His breathing was heavier now, and he seemed to be searching for something in my eyes, a sign, maybe, of whether or not I felt the same.
“I— maybe I misunderstood,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter, as if the weight of his actions was suddenly dawning on him.
His words trailed off into a shaky breath, and for a moment, it felt like the room held its breath, everything hanging in the air between us. I stood there, wide-eyed, my lips tingling from the kiss, not knowing how to process what had just happened.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the ground for a second, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “Fuck
I’m sorry
 I actually thought
” He cut himself off, looking at me like he was trying to gauge my reaction, like he was waiting for me to say something, anything.
The silence between us stretched on, thick and heavy, and I could feel my chest tightening with every passing second. I couldn’t let him walk away thinking he had made a mistake. I couldn’t just stand there and let this moment slip away.
Without even thinking, I stepped forward, my hands shaking slightly, but I reached for him. I grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to me until there was no space left between us. My heart was still racing, but this time, there was no hesitation. I kissed him back, pressing my lips to his with the same urgency that he had given me.
Yoongi stiffened at first, but after a second, he responded, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His kiss was deep, full of everything he hadn’t said, all the things that had been building up between us. His lips moved against mine, his fingers threading into my hair as he pulled me closer, if that was even possible.
I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the way his heart seemed to be racing just as fast as mine. The world outside of us faded, and for the first time in a long time, all I could think about was him, Yoongi, and this moment we were sharing.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I was left reeling. My mind was spinning, but there was something in the way Yoongi looked at me, something that made it all feel right, even if it didn’t quite make sense yet. I took a step back, trying to catch my breath, still processing everything that had just happened. "What’s happening?" I asked softly, my voice a little unsteady. "Are you sure tomorrow you're not just going to act like none of this happened?"
Yoongi didn’t say anything right away. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully, like he was searching for the right response.
Then, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us once more. His eyes were intense, but there was a softness in them now, something that made me feel like I wasn’t just some passing thought. "Nah," Yoongi finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Let me show you how much I've been stopping myself from anything happening."
Before I could process his words, his hands were on me again, pulling me back toward him with an urgency that caught me off guard. He kissed me again, this time it wasn’t rushed, but full of something more than just desire.
Yoongi’s hands were gentle yet firm as he backed me toward the living room, the heat of his body practically radiating against mine. I could feel my pulse quicken with every step he took. When my backside finally met the armrest of the sofa, a shock of electricity shot through me, my heart hammering in my chest.
He didn’t give me a moment to breathe before his hands were on me again, this time lifting me effortlessly, laying me down onto the sofa. I gasped slightly as I landed, and Yoongi followed, his body pressing over mine, his presence suffocating in the best way.
His eyes never left mine, and the way he hovered above me, his weight just barely touching me, made my stomach twist with anticipation. "Are you gonna tell me to stop, Y/N?" Yoongi's voice was rough, but there was something almost challenging in it. He leaned in slightly, the tip of his nose grazing mine as he waited for my response. "Or are you actually gonna admit how much you want this? That this is actually happening."
I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. I was caught between every instinct screaming at me to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, and another side of me that wanted to give in, to feel everything he was offering without hesitation.
His lips hovered just inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, making my heart race. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just looked at him, trying to understand what this all meant.
The silence between us was almost suffocating now, the tension thick as I weighed my next move. Yoongi didn’t pull away, didn’t pressure me further. He just waited, giving me space, but still holding me in place with that unyielding gaze of his.
For a moment, I thought I might choke on the words I wanted to say. But the truth was, I already knew. I couldn’t deny it anymore.
"I—" My voice faltered, and I quickly cleared my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. "I want this," I admitted, the words coming out breathlessly, almost as if they were ripped from me. It was scary, letting the truth hang in the air between us, but it felt... necessary.
Yoongi’s eyes softened, just a little. He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine once more, but this time, it wasn’t a question. It was an answer, his answer to everything we had left unsaid.
Despite the clothes still between us, I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him closer, craving more of the intimacy building between us. Yoongi’s voice was low and dripping with desire as he whispered, “Good, because I’ve been dying to know how you taste
”
Smirking, he lowered himself further, letting his breath ghost over my pants. My heart raced as I gave him a silent nod, granting permission. Slowly, he unzipped them, his movements deliberate and teasing. My breath hitched as he slid my pants down my legs, throwing them on the floor. Just as he hooked a finger under my panties to remove them, I gently stopped his hand.
“Wait
” I whispered, my voice shaky. Gathering what little confidence I had, I added, “It’s only fair you lose a piece of clothing too.”
His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. “Desperate to see me naked already, Y/N?” he teased.
“Huh, you’re the one who just claimed you’ve been dying to know how I—”
Before I could finish, Yoongi silenced me with a kiss, his lips rough and insistent, leaving me breathless. His tongue swept against mine, teeth grazing in just the right way. When he finally pulled back to let us catch our breath, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Smirking, he stood before me, his torso now bare, revealing his defined muscles despite the soft lines of his body.
“There. Happy now?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
This man. Such a tease.
“Much better,” I quipped with a smirk of my own.
“Now, let me finish what I started,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. “Let you experience my famous tongue technology...
” His lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he lowered himself between my thighs, his hands trailing down to hook under the waistband of my panties. He slipped them down with tantalizing slowness, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
“Who calls—” I started, but the words dissolved into a gasp as his tongue made its first bold stroke, fast and deliberate, over my folds. My head fell back against the sofa, a moan escaping before I could even think to stop it.
He didn’t give me time to recover. His tongue moved again, sweeping over me with precision, eliciting another sharp cry. Each stroke was firm, purposeful, and maddeningly good. My body arched into him, instinctively chasing the pleasure he so expertly provided.
“Yoongi,” I managed to whisper, my voice shaky and strained, but he didn’t respond, not with words at least. Instead, his lips and tongue continued their relentless exploration, the wet heat of his mouth driving me to the edge of reason.
My hands shot to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, pulling lightly, not to guide him, but to ground myself. His name fell from my lips in fragmented pleas, each one blending into the next. His low hum of approval vibrated against me, sending an electric shock straight to my core.
He reached for one of my knees, pushing it further aside to open me up to him completely. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the shift only deepened the intensity of his attention. His tongue flicked, swirled, and teased, hitting every spot that made my body tremble.
The room was thick with the sound of my ragged breathing and unrestrained moans. Each cry seemed to fuel him, urging him on as his pace quickened. I gripped his hair tighter, the sensation building with every stroke. A hand reached for his shoulder, my nails grazing the smooth heat of his skin.
“Yoongi
” I whimpered, my voice shaky and raw, a desperate plea in the form of his name.
He pulled back briefly, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a devilish smirk. “That was to answer your question,” he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips, collecting anything he’d missed, and the sight alone sent another wave of heat through me.
I couldn’t let him have the upper hand, not entirely. Tugging at his hair, I directed him back between my thighs. “Less talking,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, “more doing.”
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating against me as he dove back in without hesitation. This time, his movements were even more determined, his tongue working with an intensity that made me cry out. My body writhed against him, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I clung to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through me.
Yoongi’s hands gripped my thighs firmly, keeping me in place as he worked his magic. His tongue alternated between long, teasing strokes and quick, precise flicks, sending me spiraling closer to the edge.
He was relentless, unyielding, and devastatingly good. Too good. If he could do this with just his tongue, the thought of what else he could do made my head spin. The heat pooling low in my belly grew hotter, tighter, until it felt like I might combust.
“Yoongi,” I gasped, my voice breaking as my body tensed beneath his touch. “I think I’m gonna—”
“Cum on my mouth, baby,” he murmured against me, his voice low and commanding, the vibrations sending me over the edge.
I shattered, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my head falling back as his name tore from my lips in a broken cry. My vision blurred, and for a moment, all I could feel was the overwhelming heat of pleasure washing over me.
He didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me, drawing out every last tremor until I was trembling beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his face was smug, his lips glistening as he swiped his tongue over them again.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he murmured, and my cheeks flushed at his confession. How many times had this man fantasized about this? It wasn’t like I hadn’t entertained some dirty thoughts over the past weeks, but hearing him say it out loud, so unabashedly, felt different.
Before I could reply, Yoongi leaned back up and kissed me passionately, sharing the taste of myself on his lips. The kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine with deliberate slowness. Then he trailed wet kisses down to my neck, biting softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. It was possessive in the most exciting way.
As he toyed with the hem of my shirt, I decided to turn the tables. My hands moved to the waistband of his pants undoing his zipper. He froze for a moment, his eyes wide, searching mine. “Y/N
 you don’t have to. Just because—”
“I want to,” I interrupted, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. His breath escaped in a shaky exhale at my words.
“Besides,” I teased, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear, “let me show you what other sounds these hands can produce.”
I bit my bottom lip as I pulled his pants down completely, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. My hand brushed over him, his length already hard and straining against the fabric. My fingers lightly grazed over him, stroking just enough to tease. Yoongi hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration.
“Y/N
 don’t tease me,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.
“Me? Tease you?” I feigned innocence, grinning up at him as my hand continued its slow, deliberate motions. He let out a shaky breath, his hips instinctively bucking toward my touch.
I leaned up to capture his lips again, all while my hand maintained its slow, torturous rhythm. “Y/N
” Yoongi moaned, the sound low and drawn out. With that, I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. My hand wrapped around him, the heat and hardness startling me for a moment. Pre-cum was already dripping from his tip, and I swiped my thumb over it, spreading it along his length as he trembled beneath my touch.
His hips instinctively bucked forward, chasing the friction as a low groan escaped his lips. My fingers moved deliberately, starting with slow, measured strokes that made his thighs tense beneath me.
“Y/N
” His voice was barely above a whisper, a strained mixture of need and restraint.
I leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his jawline before murmuring, “Relax.” My breath was hot against his skin, and I could feel the shudder it sent through his body.
One hand worked up and down his length, my palm twisting slightly with each stroke, while the other cupped and teased his balls, massaging them gently. His body responded to every touch, his muscles taut and trembling as he fought to stay in control.
“Fuck
” he groaned, his brows furrowed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.
The intimacy of it all had my own heart racing, my body reacting to the sight of him unraveling beneath me. My hand picked up speed, stroking him faster and firmer, my thumb gliding over his sensitive tip with each pass.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough and breathless.
“Good,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his collarbone, my lips trailing over the sharp lines of his neck. “That’s the idea.”
His hips lifted again, chasing the rhythm of my hand. His groans deepened, each one more desperate than the last. The sounds he made were intoxicating, sending heat pooling low in my belly.
“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice cracking slightly. One of his hands reached out, gripping my thigh tightly as though he needed something to anchor himself.
Yoongi eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine with a fiery intensity. “I’m—”
“I know,” I cut him off softly, my hand never slowing.
His half-lidded eyes met mine, his skin glistening with sweat. “Where
?” he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I went to my knees and opened my mouth, holding his gaze. His expression faltered for a split second, a mix of desperation and awe flashing across his face.
Yoongi adjusted slightly, taking his cock in his own hand, his body hovering over mine, and with a few more strokes, he spilled into my mouth. I took everything, swallowing it down as I maintained eye contact. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel the slight tremble in his legs as I kissed the tip of his cock, making sure nothing was left behind.
When it was over, he sank down, his body pressing against mine. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” Yoongi’s hand trailed lazily across my skin, finding the thin strap of my bra under my shirt. “Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I’ll make sure you’re not wearing anything at all.”
He hooked a finger under the strap, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back against my skin with a soft smack. I gasped, half-laughing, and swatted at his chest, but he just grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
With a satisfied sigh, he stood up, stretching slightly before scanning the room. His pants and boxers lay crumpled on the floor a few steps away. “As much as I love this view,” he teased, casting a lingering look at me sprawled on the sofa now, “we might want to at least partially dress before someone accidentally walks in.” Rolling my eyes, even though I lived alone, I reached down to grab my panties, slipping them on with a quick movement. “Happy now?” I quipped, arching an eyebrow as he smirked at me.
“Not entirely,” he shot back smoothly, already heading to the smaller sofa across the room. He grabbed the folded blanket and returned to the larger couch where I laid, tossing it over us as he sat back down and pulled me toward him.
“And why is that?” I teased, arching a brow as I snuggled into his chest.
He smirked, his arms wrapping securely around me as he scooped me into a comfortable position against him. His warmth enveloped me, and I felt myself relaxing despite my teasing words.
“Because, I’ve been messing up so far,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “ but I’m not letting you go away this time.”
I blinked, startled by the quiet sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t just a playful remark; it felt like a promise, one that made my heart flutter and my chest tighten all at once.
“You’re stuck with me now, Y/N,” he added, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Hope you can handle that.”
I couldn’t help but smile, burying my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “We’ll see,” I replied softly, my voice muffled away.
For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. Wrapped in his arms, I allowed myself to close my eyes, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.
***
The next morning, I woke up to an unsettling emptiness. The warmth of Yoongi’s embrace from last night was gone, replaced by the coolness of the sofa beneath me. Disoriented, I blinked against the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. Everything about last night had felt surreal—like the universe had finally shifted into place. But now, as I sat up and looked around the room, it all felt like a dream.
My gaze darted to the floor, where his shirt had been tossed haphazardly, and the hallway where his shoes had been kicked off. They were gone. Every trace of him had vanished. A sinking feeling settled in my chest.
Did he regret this? Was it a mistake for him?
I couldn’t stop the questions from flooding my mind, each one louder and more insistent than the last. For me, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not even close. Last night had been a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a night that felt like it had shattered every barrier between us.
But had it meant the same to him?
Frustration began to bubble up, mixed with a touch of anger. If he had regrets, he should’ve said something. Leaving like this? That was low.
Determined not to let him get away with it, I marched to my room, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a casual shirt. If he thought he could disappear without a word, he had another thing coming. The moment I was tugging on my shoes, ready to storm out and demand answers, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I snatched it up, my frustration spilling over as I saw Minji’s name on the screen. Great, this better not be about work, I thought as I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I said curtly.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Minji’s tone was brisk but edged with concern.
“What do you mean?” I asked, more annoyed than curious.
Minji sighed heavily on the other end. “That’s good. You’re fine. I was worried for a second. Didn’t you hear? Someone raided HYBE last night. A crazy fan broke in and they believe they were trying to expose Suga’s album.”
“What?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat as her words sank in.
“Yeah, it’s all over the news this morning. Security’s gone into overdrive,” Minji continued. “Anyway, just wanted to check if you were caught up in any of it.”
“I have to go,” I said abruptly, hanging up before she could respond.
My mind raced. If HYBE had been raided and rumours about Yoongi’s album were true, then that meant he must be there. I grabbed my car keys and drove as fast as I could, keeping just within the speed limits. My mind buzzed with thoughts about Yoongi and everything Minji had said. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of HYBE.
I stepped inside, my pulse quickening as I made my way through the familiar halls. When I reached the studio, I stopped in my tracks. Yoongi was pacing back and forth, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He hadn’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in his conversation.
“Please make sure they’re caught and thoroughly questioned about what they saw,” he said, his tone firm but composed. Whoever he was speaking to replied, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know we had contracts here. Honestly, I don’t care about the album, it’s going to get released soon anyway. What matters is that Producer K’s information stays protected. Make sure no sensitive details leak, okay?” He paused to listen again. “Alright. Call me as soon as you have any updates.”
As he ended the call, his gaze finally landed on me. I was frozen in place, trying to process the past 24 hours, the intimacy, the sudden emptiness when I woke up, and now this chaos.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”
Yoongi’s expression softened when he saw me, but the stress in his posture remained. He sighed and motioned for me to sit down, but I stayed standing, waiting for answers.
“Someone broke into HYBE last night,” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “They managed to get into a secure area. Luckily, nothing was taken, at least nothing physical, but there’s still a risk of leaks.”
I blinked, processing his words. “So
 this morning—”
He cut me off with a sheepish smile. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you up, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you. When I got the call, I panicked. I didn’t even think, I just grabbed my stuff and rushed over here. I had to make sure everything was locked down. The NDAs, your information, everything. But I think we’re okay. Nothing seems to have been compromised.”
My chest loosened at his explanation, relief washing over me. “So
 you didn’t leave because you regretted it?” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “It felt like
 maybe you didn’t care about anything that happened yesterday.”
Yoongi’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer to me, closing the distance between us in just a few strides. “Ahh, baby,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? How could I ever regret it?”
He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, soft and lingering. The kiss was brief, but the warmth of it stayed with me. As he pulled back, he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. Without another word, he scooped me up effortlessly, his hands firm on my thighs as he lifted me.
“Yoongi!” I squealed, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You’re stuck with me now,” he teased, his smirk deepening as he carried me toward the door. My back pressed against it as he gently pushed me, one of his hands leaving my body just long enough to twist the lock. The soft click echoed in the quiet room. His eyes flickered with something darker, more intense, as he leaned in closer.
“And don’t even think about doubting me again,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Before I could respond, Yoongi moved us again, carrying me to the producer’s table, the one we’d spent countless hours working on together. He placed me on top of it, the cold surface pressing against my thighs. My body shifted slightly, the edge of the keyboard beneath me accidentally activating a few buttons with soft clicks and beeps.
A mischievous smirk spread across his face as he leaned over me, caging me in with his arms on either side. “Looks like we’re making more music, Producer K,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.
Immediately his lips captured mine, soft and demanding all at once. The kiss deepened almost instantly, his hand threading into my hair to tilt my head for better access. I gasped against his mouth as his other hand slid down, gripping my waist firmly to keep me anchored to him.
The kiss was electric, slow, and yet so full of intensity it left me breathless. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing me into a rhythm that made my heart race. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then slid up behind his neck, pulling him even closer.
Yoongi let out a low hum of approval, the sound vibrating against my lips. The tension in the room grew thicker with every passing second. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, tugging gently before he soothed it with another kiss.
“You taste soo good,” he whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and tantalizing. He kissed me again, harder this time, as though he was trying to erase any lingering doubts from my mind.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” I asked, my voice laced with impatience and desire. Enough with the teasing, I wanted him, here and now.
A smirk played on his lips as he looked at me. “Yes, right here on this table,” he murmured, his voice deep and full of promise. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”
Slowly he reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His dark eyes lingered on me as he kept his promise from the night before. He leaned down, gently biting one of my bra straps and pulling it down with his teeth, the act equal parts sensual and possessive. Then his hand slid the other strap off my shoulder, his fingers brushing over my skin in a way that sent shivers racing down my spine.
His hands unclasped my bra, letting it fall away completely. The cool air of the room ghosted over my now-bare skin, goosebumps forming in its wake. His gaze was hungry, appreciative, as he took me in.
He didn’t waste a moment, cupping both of my breasts in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing them until they hardened under his touch. Leaning in, he wrapped his lips around one, his tongue swirling and flicking while his other hand kneaded the other.
A soft moan escaped my lips as my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. My legs around his waist instinctively pull his body closer and flush against mine. The hardness of his arousal pressed against my clothed core, teasing me further.
Yoongi groaned softly against my skin, his breath hot as he alternated between kissing and sucking on my sensitive flesh. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening as he grinned down at me.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. He stood upright and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion.
The sight of his toned chest and the way his muscles moved as he tossed the shirt aside made my breath hitch. My hands instinctively trailed over his bare skin, feeling the heat of him beneath my palms.
He proceeded to slide my pants down along with my panties in one smooth motion, leaving me bare beneath him. My cheeks flushed as I turned my head to the side, shying away from his gaze. The reality of the moment hit me, this was happening, in the studio no less. Something I had never done before, especially not with a co-worker. I had always been professional, keeping clear boundaries. But Yoongi? He was different. He was so much more.
Before my thoughts could spiral further, two of his fingers gently grasped my chin, tilting my face back toward him. His dark eyes softened as they met mine, a faint smile curling his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine adoration.
He leaned down and kissed me deeply, his lips moving against mine with a passion that made me forget all my worries. When he pulled away, I was left breathless, my body trembling.
Without breaking eye contact, he stepped back and slid his boxers down, his cock springing free in a way that had my stomach tightening with need. He reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a condom. The sight of him, so confident and focused, made my mouth water.
I whimpered softly, my body arching toward him. “Please
” I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation.
Yoongi smirked at my plea as he rolled the condom over his length slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He moved closer, his cock teasing my entrance as he pressed the tip against me, applying just enough pressure to drive me wild.
Then he pulled back, a devilish grin on his lips.
“Yoongi!” I cried out, my hands gripping his shoulders in frustration. Yoongi chuckled softly at my frustration, his deep voice resonating in the quiet studio. “Patience, baby,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I want to savour this.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, but my body was anything but patient. My legs tightened around his hips, trying to draw him closer. He gave in just a little, letting his tip press further against my entrance, his cock teasing me.
“Please
” I whimpered again, my voice trembling.
“God, you’re so needy,” he murmured, but there was no mockery in his tone, only a mixture of desire and affection. He pressed forward slightly, just enough to stretch me, and the sensation made my breath hitch.
He paused, his hand brushing over my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his gaze searching mine.
“Yes,” I breathed, nodding. “I need you, Yoongi
 all of you.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he pushed into me, his cock filling me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way, an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that made me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he slid himself fully inside me, both of us pausing to catch our breaths.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, his head dropping to my shoulder. His lips brushed against my skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he began to move.
The first few thrusts were slow and deliberate, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that made me lose all sense of time and place. My moans filled the room, blending with the soft sounds of his breathless grunts and the quiet creak of the table beneath us.
“Yoongi
” I gasped, my hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. His movements grew more intense, each thrust hitting deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
His hand slid down to my thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle, and the new position made me cry out. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”
I clung to him, my body arching into his as the tension built to an unbearable peak. Every movement, every touch, was driving me closer to the edge. His name fell from my lips in a breathless chant, and I could feel his body tensing too, his control slipping with each passing second.
“I’m close,” I managed to gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed my forehead against his.
“Not so fast
” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. In one swift motion, he pulled out completely, leaving me trembling and desperate for more. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down and guiding me to turn around. His hand on my back guided me to lean forward, making my chest press against the cool surface of the studio desk. I tried to make myself stable, hands roaming over the desk for support when I accidentally hit a button on the keyboard that sounded like the recording audio one.
“Yoongi, I think I—”
“Leave it on,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my hips firmly as he aligned himself behind me. Without another word, he thrust into me again, harder this time, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.
The new angle was overwhelming, his movements fast and relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves through my body. My hands scrambled for something better to hold on to, finding the edge of the desk as I felt my climax building faster than ever before.
“Yoongi,” I moaned, my voice trembling. “I’m going to—”
“Me too,” he groaned, his pace quickening. His fingers tightened on my hips, pulling me back to meet every thrust.
The tension inside me snapped like a rubber band, and I shattered around him, a cry escaping my lips as waves of pleasure consumed me. His name fell from my lips in broken gasps, my body trembling with the force of my release.
“Fuck,” Yoongi hissed behind me, his movements growing erratic as he followed me over the edge. With a low groan, he stilled, his hands gripping me tightly as he emptied himself into the condom.
We stayed silent for a moment, both of us catching our breaths as the studio filled with the sound of our laboured breathing. Yoongi’s hand slid up my back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss between my shoulders.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice softer than before, filled with a mix of affection and satisfaction.
I turned my head slightly to glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the lingering haze of pleasure. “You’re pretty perfect yourself,” I replied breathlessly.
His lips quirked into a smirk as he helped me straighten up, his hands still lingering on my waist. “You keep driving me crazy when there’s work to be done,” he said, his voice still low, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Work?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.
We both laughed softly, the tension replaced by a comfortable warmth as we started dressing up together. After fixing ourselves up, Yoongi and I sat back at the desk, quietly adjusting to the shift from intimacy to professionalism.
A sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened as I glanced at the screen. The red "REC" light was still blinking, the audio still rolling.
"Wait," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing. "Yoongi... the recording
"
Yoongi's gaze followed mine to the screen.
I stifled a laugh, trying to process the situation. "We... we didn’t just—"
"We did," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the mouse, clicking the stop button on the recording. The sudden silence felt almost louder than the chaos that had just unfolded.
There was a long pause before either of us spoke, and then Yoongi burst into a fit of laughter, the tension completely evaporating. "I can't believe you hit the record by accident," he said between chuckles, shaking his head. "That’s... that's going to be something to remember."
I shook my head, laughing despite the embarrassment that was slowly creeping in. "Oh my god, I didn’t mean to! What if—what if someone listens to that? You have to delete it
"
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. "Relax, I’m pretty sure the only one who’s ever going to hear that is you... and maybe me, when I’m in need of some... inspiration."
I shot him a mock glare. "You’re terrible."
But the laughter between us continued, as if we’d both just acknowledged the absurdity of it all. "Alright, alright," I said, regaining some composure. "So, do we actually erase it... or keep it as a very private memory?"
Yoongi eyed the screen for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think we keep it," he said with a smirk. "Just in case we ever need to prove who’s really in charge around here."
I raised an eyebrow, a challenge in my smile. "I still have to work with you..."
Yoongi leaned closer, his smirk widening. "We can always record something else to balance it out."
My face flushed again, but this time, it was the shared humour that made the tension feel lighter. The teasing, the jokes, the way we were able to slip back into this comfortable space of banter, it made the moment feel normal again. *** As time passed, Yoongi and I quietly navigated our secret relationship, keeping things low-key while indulging in countless late-night dates after work. Between stolen moments in the studio, quick getaways to his place, and intimate sessions that blurred the line between work and personal time, we found our rhythm. Every touch, every kiss, every fleeting glance became a quiet promise, a bond that only grew stronger despite the secrecy. The sexual tension between us was undeniable, and we gave into it time and time again, the boundaries between us disappearing with every heated exchange. April 17 arrived, and Yoongi and I were standing in J-Hope’s living room. It was a quiet evening before the storm of emotions that would come the next day, J-Hope was leaving for the military, and Yoongi was going to see him off tomorrow. As much as I wanted to be there for the farewell, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. My identity had to still stay hidden, my relationship with Yoongi too, at least for now.
Yoongi caught my eye from across the room, a soft smile playing at his lips as he walked over to where I was standing by the window. "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his gaze.
I forced a smile, trying to hide the tension I felt. "Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow," I said, glancing over at J-Hope, who was still chatting with some of the others in the room. "You’re going to see him off right?"
"Of course," Yoongi replied, his voice warm but heavy with the realization that things were changing. "He’s my brother. I’m not going to let him go without saying goodbye properly."
I nodded, feeling a pang of longing. "I wish I could be there, but... you know why I can’t."
"I know," Yoongi murmured, squeezing my hand. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "It’s just... it’s tough for both of us, huh?"
I nodded again, my chest tight. "Yeah. It’s not just about J-Hope going. It’s about the secrecy, the not being able to show anyone who we are... it gets exhausting."
Before Yoongi could respond, J-Hope called out from across the room, his voice teasing. "Yoongi, Y/N! You two are awfully quiet over there. What’s going on?"
I looked up and forced a grin, trying to act casual. "Nothing, just—"
J-Hope walked over with a playful glint in his eyes, crossed his arms. "You know, I’ve always seen the tension between you two," he said with a teasing smirk. "That’s why I kept pushing Y/N to hang out with me when Yoongi was around. I had to give him a little nudge."
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by J-Hope’s words. "Really? You were the one pushing her?"
I laughed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, it worked, didn’t it?"
J-Hope chuckled, but his smile softened as he looked between the two of us. "I get it now. You two are like an open secret. But listen," he continued, his tone more serious, "tomorrow, when I’m gone, make sure you both take care of yourselves. Yoongi, I know you’ll look after her. And Y/N, be good to him, alright?"
I nodded, the words heavy in my chest. "I will. You just... you just be safe, okay? Come back to us soon."
Yoongi echoed my sentiment, his voice steady and sincere. "Take care of yourself, man. We’ve got your back. Always."
J-Hope smiled at us both, his eyes a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I know. Thanks, guys. I’ll miss you both."
*** The next day, after Yoongi returned from seeing J-Hope off, we somehow managed to finish the last track just before the deadline. It felt like a weight lifted off our shoulders. The album, which had been months in the making, was finally ready, set to release on April 21st with nine tracks. It was a huge achievement, and that night, we celebrated in typical Yoongi fashion, with whiskey at his place, and, well, sex. The kind of passionate, no-holds-barred kind that made me forget about the stress of the last few months.
The following days leading up to the album release were a whirlwind. We couldn't spend much time together, since Yoongi had a full schedule of promotional activities. Meanwhile, I was at home, taking the rare opportunity to relax and mentally prepare for the next project Minji had set up for me. Life was moving quickly, and I knew the grind would start again soon.
That night, as I was settling into my evening routine, my phone buzzed with a notification. Yoongi's live stream was about to start. He had mentioned earlier that his company would have him livestream his full album for his fans to celebrate the release. I was excited, though admittedly a little nervous to hear how the tracks we worked on together sounded to the public.
I clicked on the stream and watched as Yoongi greeted his fans, his usual cool demeanor giving way to the warmth of being surrounded by people who admired his work. I listened closely as he played the first six songs, the ones he had worked on solo. Each track was a piece of his soul, his sound so distinct and raw. Then came the three songs we collaborated on, and I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing them in front of thousands of fans was surreal, but in a way, it felt like we were still connected. Every note, every lyric felt like a reflection of the quiet moments we shared, the time we spent creating together.
As the ninth track played, I expected the stream to wrap up, but then Yoongi’s voice came through again. It was softer this time, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say the words that were coming.
“This last song is a very last-minute addition to the album,” he began, his tone low and a little more introspective. “Making this album have a total of 10 tracks. I felt like this album was missing something... and this track summarizes everything that’s been going on with me lately. It’s called SDL.”
I froze, heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t known about this last-minute addition to the album. I thought everything had been finalized. But here he was, introducing a track that was somehow more personal than any of the others. My stomach tightened as the beat dropped, and the chorus rang out:
"Yeah, somebody does love
But I'm thinking 'bout you."
The lyrics hit me like a wave, each word carrying a weight that I couldn’t ignore. It felt so raw, so vulnerable. Before I could process it all, I grabbed my stuff and rushed out the door. I knew Yoongi would still be at HYBE, where the livestream was taking place. Without thinking twice, I jumped into my car, determined to get there. The song had caught me completely off guard, and I needed to see him. I needed to understand what this song really meant.
It wasn’t just a track—it was a message. A message that had left me reeling, and I wasn’t going to wait to figure it out. I arrived at HYBE, my heart still racing from the drive. As I stepped out, I caught sight of Jihoon leaving the building, and without thinking, I called out to him.
"Is Yoongi still here?"
"Yeah, last time I saw him, it was just a few minutes ago at the studio," Jihoon replied casually. I didn't even say goodbye as I ran inside toward the studio, my mind set on finding Yoongi. When I reached the door and pushed it open, I could tell it wasn’t the same as the first time we met, where his eyes had been skeptical and full of surprise. This time, when our eyes met, I saw something completely different, softness, warmth, and love.
I closed the door behind me and moved closer to him, my breath still catching up from the run.
"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Yoongi asked, his voice laced with concern. He came to me, his hands instinctively reaching up to fix my hair, his touch gentle as he noticed my flustered state.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "That last song, I saw your live... where did that come from? I thought the album had only 9 tracks."
Yoongi paused, his hands lingering in my hair as he gave me a soft smile. "As I said on the live, that song is what’s been going on in my head these past couple of months."
I raised an eyebrow, still trying to piece it together. "So, you mean to tell me... I’m your inspiration?"
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes. You know I’m not great with my feelings, and better than anyone, you understand how hard it is for me to express myself. With everything that’s been going on between us lately
 I thought this would be the clearest way to show you how I feel, the way we know best: through music."
“Why didn’t you play it for me before? In private?” I asked, my voice soft but laced with curiosity.
“I wanted it to be a surprise, like a big romantic gesture that only we would recognize,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I felt like I needed to redeem myself for how I acted at the start. To be honest, we were so good together that I’m sure we could’ve finished those tracks in less than a month. But I kept being a jerk, nit-picking everything just so we’d have to restart. It was selfish, but I wanted to steal every last minute with you. You walked into this studio and captured my heart and soul with everything you are, and I wasn’t ready to let that go so easily.”
His words hit me with full force, my heart pounding in my chest as the weight of his confession settled. I stepped closer, my emotions bubbling to the surface, and before I could think or say anything more, my lips found Yoongi’s. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if I were trying to tell him everything I couldn’t put into words. It was a kiss full of everything: love, apology, understanding, and a promise for more. We didn’t need more words, just the closeness, the music, and the quiet understanding between us. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, we both knew: this was just the beginning.
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neinyasficrecs · 28 days ago
Text
Love & Lullabies | Part 3
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Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader
Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)
Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie
Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.
Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly
 watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)
Word count: ~7k
Posting date: November 21, 2024
Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 
I am a clown đŸ€Ą and a liar đŸ€„ From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |  Masterlist
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“She’s Haneul’s mom.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut.
“What?”
“Sung Kyung and Yoongi
 they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”
You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left
?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.
Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”
Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate. 
He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”
“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself. 
Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day. 
Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.
“Joonie
” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”
Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?
Spoiler alert: you can’t.
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When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.
“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.
“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.
“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”
Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”
Of course he is siding with her.
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You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.
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You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.
He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.
“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.
You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”
“Can we talk?”
You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.
He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.
“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”
The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.
“She and I
 we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just
 disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just
 ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”
“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”
The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.
“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”
You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”
“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing
 that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him
 she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”
Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”
He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”
“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly
 I don’t know what to do.”
You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just
 I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”
The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”
Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”
The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.
“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”
Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”
Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”
“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.
You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?
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The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting. 
You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.
The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.
It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”
You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.
Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.
But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.
Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now
 now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.
Because the truth is, you’re nothing.
You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.
But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.
And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.
The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.
The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.
You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.
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Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:
Namjoon: You okay? Namjoon: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.
That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.
The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.
Yoongi: Can I come over?
You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:
You: No
You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.
For the next few days, you ghost him.
It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.
His messages come sporadically at first:
Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.
You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.
The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.
Yoongi: Haneul misses you
The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.
Yoongi: Still missing you
Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:
A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:
“Sa-ra.”
Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.
And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.
You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.
“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.
You exhale shakily. “Hi.”
There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”
You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul
 he said sarang.”
“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”
You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi
 about
 us.”
“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.
“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”
Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But
 he needs you, too.”
Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.
There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”
It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just
 okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.
You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.
You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.
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You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms. 
Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.
“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.
Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.
He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”
“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.
Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”
“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.
Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.
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A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.
You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.
Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”
“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.
She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just
 not a good time.”
“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.
“My dear girl, please listen—”
But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.
When you step into the living room–
Fuck.
There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.
Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she? 
Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”
His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.
“Wait—Y/N!”
You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”
Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.
It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.
You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.
Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”
He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?
You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.
“Because I thought
 I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.
Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.
You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.
But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.
Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere. 
God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back. 
But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.
Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—
“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.
Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.
“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I justïżœïżœ I can’t.”
And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.
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My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem
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Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago. 
You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.
“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”
“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.
Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something
”
You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”
“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.
You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.
“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.
“You’re an idiot.”
Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”
You shake your head.
Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there. 
But it’s Yoongi.
Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.
“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.
Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”
Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”
Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”
Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just
 fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”
Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.
“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.
You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”
Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.
Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.
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The first step is always the hardest.
Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”
You hated hearing it, but he was right.
So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.
Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.
You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.
At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.
You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.
Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.
Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.
And then there was Yoongi.
He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:
Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.
Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.
Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.
Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.
Yoongi: I’m an idiot.
Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.
Then came the texts about Haneul:
Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.
Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.
Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]
Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.
And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.
Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.
Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoon says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!
Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoon.
Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.
They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.
Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.
But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.
Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.
But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.
You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.
Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.
You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.
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One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”
“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.
“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”
Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”
“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just
 apply. The worst they can do is say no.”
You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”
“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”
So you did. And a week later, you got the call.
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Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.
Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?” 
“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.
Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”
Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.
“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.
“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.
You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”
“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”
Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”
“What?” you blink, confused.
Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.
“What the
” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”
Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”
You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”
The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. 
Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.
His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.
Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.
“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”
You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.
The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.
“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.
You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”
The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.
For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.
And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well
 you just chalk it up to coincidence.
(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)
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That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.
Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!
You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.
You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)
His reply came almost immediately.
Yoongi: You deserve it
And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.
You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr
:)
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A/N: 
Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕
I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. đŸ€—Â 
If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo
Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ đŸ€­
P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕
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& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.
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Taglist:
@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld
@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos
@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97
@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025
@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk
@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen
@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake
@flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond
@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne
@eurydiceofterabithia @diame93 @welcometomyworld13 @wonh0oe @lilkittenjenjen @jalexad
@jkkkkkay @chimmisbae @angellekookie @jovanaprime @txtsoobean @joonlovely
@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve
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neinyasficrecs · 28 days ago
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Moonglade (m) | kth
You’ve always been captivated by the sea—a love as deep and endless as the tides. But when tragedy strikes, that love turns bittersweet, and you find yourself drawn to the very thing that stole a part of your soul. Night after night, you pour your sorrows into the embrace of moonlight and whisper your pain to the stars. Then, one fateful evening, a merman surfaces from the depths—a being of myth and wonder. Will you dare to believe in fairytales and the magic of second chances? In hope, love, and the possibility of forever? Perhaps, he’s here to show you that even in the darkest corners, beauty and light can still thrive.
→ Pairing: taehyung x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / angst / romance / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 15.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of an accident at sea (doesn’t happen to reader), technically Tae’s first time with a human, this is again somewhat of a crackfic. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (stay safe!), breast play, fingering, multiple orgasms (yes, it’s very very vanilla). → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: this one takes place before Seokjin’s ‘When it Sinks In’. To be honest, I don’t know what I feel about this one
 like I like it, but.. I’m so sorry that the smut turned rather short and ehh
Yeah, I don’t know. I might be too hard on myself. But here it is! And I hope you like it, please let me know đŸȘž
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[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though đŸ€­
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Taehyung adores his underwater world—his home, the ancient and wondrous city of Naraeum, nestled deep in the sea beneath the waves. Though Naraeum stretches vast and magnificent, with coral spires and shadowed grottos echoing songs of old, his heart has always been tugged by a strange longing for the world above, the realm of humans. For Taehyung is a curious soul, drawn to the mysterious trinkets cast into the sea from distant shores. He loves nothing more than to seek out these treasures, to hold them in his hands, to wonder at their history, and to dream of what stories they might hold.
Today, he’s joined by Namjoon, his friend and fellow collector, whose fascination lies not in human relics but in the jeweled stones and sea-polished crystals that glimmer beneath the sands. Together, they comb the seabed, weaving through a forest of swaying kelp, their laughter rising like bubbles through the emerald currents. The seafloor is dense and rich with secrets, the sands thick with memories of shipwrecks and forgotten eras.
Suddenly, Taehyung catches a glint—a flash of something golden hidden beneath the silt. With a quick flick of his shimmering tail, he dives down, his fingers sifting eagerly through the cool, coarse sand until they find purchase on the small object. It’s a locket, tarnished and weathered by time, yet beautiful, its surface etched with delicate engravings that seem to whisper stories only the waves remember.
“What did you find?” Namjoon’s voice is soft with wonder as he swims close, his own satchel bulging with crystals and fragments of shells.
“A locket,” Taehyung murmurs, gazing at the relic in awe. Reverently, he loops it around his neck, letting it rest against his chest like a secret that has finally found its keeper.
“Are you just going to wear it like it’s yours? You don’t even know who it belongs to. What if someone’s searching for it?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms, one brow lifted in mild reproach.
Taehyung huffs, clutching the locket as if it might vanish from his grasp. “I doubt any human misses it,” he mutters, voice carrying a soft defiance. “They’re the ones who cast it to the sea. Besides—finder’s keeper.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes but follows along, his own curiosity piqued, as they drift along the sandy seabed, sweeping their gaze over shells, stones, and hints of hidden treasure. Gradually, their winding path carries them back to the heart of Naraeum, their bustling city, where ancient, towering coral spires glow softly in the filtered light. They spot Seokjin waiting by the marketplace, chatting with a mermaid they don’t recognize.
“Hi, guys!” Seokjin waves as they approach, his face bright with a rare excitement.
Taehyung, always one for meeting new souls, looks curiously at the girl beside Seokjin, though he notices a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she clings to his friend as if his presence alone anchors her. “Who’s that?” he asks softly, nodding toward the mermaid, whose gaze flits away, half-hidden by a veil of long hair.
“This is Soo-ah,” Seokjin explains, voice gentle. “I found her wandering near the outer reefs. She seems to have lost her memory—she doesn’t know where she’s from or which Cove she belongs to. I thought it best to bring her here.”
Understanding fills Namjoon’s eyes, while Taehyung’s expression softens with sympathy. He stretches a hand toward her, a warm smile on his lips. “Welcome to Naraeum, Soo-ah. I hope you’ll feel at home here.”
Soo-ah returns his smile, faint but genuine, her fingers brushing his in a tentative greeting before Seokjin nudges her forward, eager to show her the city’s wonders. With a soft laugh, Taehyung watches them go, feeling a flicker of something unplaceable in his chest as they disappear into the crowd.
A few days pass, and Taehyung is thrilled to have roped his friend Jimin into joining him for another treasure hunt. They swim beyond the city’s edge, far into the open sea, until the distant shore is visible, a shadowed line against the water’s surface. Jimin grumbles, claiming they’ve been swimming forever, but Taehyung only grins, his heart thrumming with anticipation. In the depths, beneath the waves, he knows more secrets wait to be uncovered.
“Look! A tiny mirror!” Taehyung squeals with delight as he catches a glint of light reflecting from the seabed, his eyes wide with childlike wonder.
“Big deal. We have mirrors at home, you know,” Jimin replies with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. But he can’t hide his curiosity as he follows Taehyung deeper into the water, pulled along by his friend’s infectious enthusiasm.
They glide past a sunken shipwreck, its wooden bones stretching toward them like the fingers of an ancient ghost. Diving down, they slip through broken windows, marveling at the corroded cannons and the shadowed halls, their hands skimming over fragments of a life lost long ago. In one darkened cabin, Taehyung spots gleaming jewels and slips them into his bag with reverence, like they’re not just trinkets but pieces of a forgotten story. They pass skeletal remains, likely crew members left here by the merciless pull of the sea, and Taehyung feels a pang in his chest, a whisper of sorrow for those whose journey ended here, swallowed by the depths. But he presses on, the mystery pulling him further, and Jimin trails behind, loyal and watchful.
Eventually, with their search exhausted, they swim back out, drifting toward the distant shoreline, reluctant to head home just yet. The water grows darker, the sun having long ago slipped below the horizon, casting the world in an indigo glow. The stars above are a faint shimmer, barely visible through the shifting waves, and Taehyung knows that night has fully settled over the land.
“Shouldn’t we head back? Aren’t you tired yet?” Jimin mutters, his tone laced with fatigue, though his eyes still follow Taehyung’s every move.
Taehyung turns to him with a grin as wide and bright as a rising moon, his boxy smile full of boundless energy. “Tired? Never,” he laughs, his voice a spark in the endless sea, as he dives toward a narrow, shallow path, leading them further on into the night.
“I’ve never been here before
,” Taehyung whispers as he glides along the narrow, winding path and finally breaches the surface. He blinks, momentarily stunned, as he takes in the world above: towering trees cloaked in emerald leaves, their branches reaching toward the darkening sky. Fireflies drift like tiny stars, casting a gentle glow over the small forest lake, as if the night itself were holding its breath. Everything about this place feels enchanted, suspended between dreams and reality, and he stares in wonder, feeling the stillness settle into his bones. Even the air tastes different here, crisp and earthy, laced with secrets of the forest.
Jimin surfaces behind him, equally mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced by silent awe.
Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, to share his amazement, when a faint sound catches his attention—a low, quivering hum that drifts over the water like a ghostly echo. He tilts his head, straining to hear, and the sound grows clearer, shaping itself into soft, broken sniffling. Realization dawns, a pang of worry blooming in his chest. Someone is crying. The sadness in the sound pulls at him, mysterious and raw, urging him to go closer, to uncover the source of the sorrow.
But before he can move, Jimin’s hand clasps his shoulder firmly, a silent warning in his eyes. “It’s time to go back,” he says, his voice a low murmur that barely breaks the surface of the lake’s hushed silence.
“But
 I think someone’s crying!” Taehyung protests, his voice urgent, almost pleading. A tug in his heart urges him forward; he’s certain it’s a human voice, fragile and alone in the shadows. What could a human be doing here, by a hidden lake in the depths of night?
Jimin doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens, pulling Taehyung back toward the water, his gaze steady, unyielding. Though Jimin is shorter and smaller, he’s surprisingly strong when he’s determined, and Taehyung, reluctantly, lets himself be led away. They dive beneath the lake’s surface once more, leaving behind the strange, moonlit forest and the sound of that lonely, haunting cry echoing in Taehyung’s mind all the way home. 
Even as the water wraps around him, soft and familiar, Taehyung can’t shake the image of that lake, of the fireflies and the trees like silent guardians. And most of all, he can’t shake the thought of the sad, unseen figure he left behind, and the mystery that still calls to him from above.
Resolute and drawn by a mystery he can’t shake, Taehyung returns to the hidden lake a few nights later, gliding through the darkened sea alone. The moon casts a silvery glow upon the water, guiding him back to the narrow path he discovered before, and he slips through the shadowy reeds, his curiosity mingling with an unspoken caution. 
He lifts his head just above the surface, the cool night air prickling his skin as the faint sound of quiet, broken sobs fills his ears. The sound is unmistakable, stirring something deep within him—a sadness so raw it seems to seep into the very air around him. He swims closer, yet stays hidden in the veil of darkness, and then, he sees you.
You sit hunched over on a small island of grass, surrounded by the lake’s gentle embrace. The weeping willows arch overhead, their slender branches draping the earth like curtains drawn to guard this secret moment. Moonlight filters through the leaves, casting delicate patterns across your trembling form. From his hidden vantage, he watches as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with each quiet sob. The ache in your cries is almost palpable, as if you are mourning something or someone lost to you, and Taehyung can feel the weight of your sorrow, heavy and consuming.
He longs to comfort you, to reach out and tell you you’re not alone beneath the stars. But he hesitates, recalling the whispered warnings of the elders: merfolk must never reveal themselves to humans. And yet, he can’t pull himself away; something in your sadness binds him here, helpless yet watchful. He stays, his heart aching with each tear that falls from your eyes, his gaze soft and steady as he remains a silent guardian under the moon’s gaze.
The hours pass in this suspended quiet, the lake holding its breath alongside him. He wonders if you might need help, if you’ll fall asleep there, alone and exposed beneath the vast, indifferent sky. It feels wrong, somehow, for you to be here in this vulnerable state, with no one but the stars to witness your sorrow.
Finally, you stir, lifting your sleeve to wipe away your tears, and he sees your face—tired, puffy-eyed, but beautiful in its fragility. With a sigh, you gather your bag and rise to your feet, sniffing softly, unaware of the silent figure who watches from the water. As you walk away, Taehyung sinks lower, letting only his eyes peek above the surface, mesmerized as you vanish into the night, your soft footsteps fading into the shadows.
Even after you’re gone, he lingers, the memory of your sorrow imprinted on his heart like a delicate bruise. He doesn’t yet understand why, but he knows he’ll be back—drawn to this secret, to this mysterious, solitary figure who has turned his world upside down with a single, silent night of tears.
The following night, as darkness settles over the world, Taehyung finds himself returning to the lake. It’s as if an invisible thread pulls him there, some magnetic force in the quiet forest that he can’t resist. He has to know if you’re alright, if you’ll be there again. And you are—still alone, still crying softly into the night, a solitary figure wrapped in sorrow.
He lingers, hidden within the water’s embrace, watching you through a screen of willow branches that sway like ghostly fingers. He wonders what sorrow could be so deep, so relentless, that it brings you back here each night, spilling your heart into the midnight air. Part of him aches, wishing he could understand, that he could share even a fragment of your pain to ease your burden. The night around you is hauntingly beautiful with fireflies drifting like fragments of stardust, casting soft glows, and delicate stars wink down through the sheltering branches. It’s a scene of quiet magic, but he can see that you are lost within yourself, too consumed by sadness to notice the wonder all around you. 
Each night he returns, telling himself it’s only to ensure your safety, to make sure you’re not alone in your sorrow. Even though he knows nothing of your life—your name, your story—he feels drawn to you with an intensity he can’t explain, as if he were meant to watch over you, to shield you from some unseen hurt. Though he doesn’t know what shadows he’s protecting you from, he knows he cannot leave you to face them alone.
Night after night, he watches, until he’s lost count of the hours spent in silent vigil. In the quiet depths, he waits and watches, close enough now to see the details of your face, the way the moonlight catches on the tear-streaks, casting an ethereal glow over your delicate features. Even as you cry, he marvels at the beauty within your pain, the vulnerability that makes you shine like a rare treasure hidden in the night.
But his heart grows heavier each time he sees you, crouched and clutching your hands, lost in what seems an endless grief. He can feel the depth of your pain, a sadness that’s woven itself into the fabric of your being, yet he doesn’t know how to help or why you keep coming back to this hidden, enchanted lake. 
Though he knows the risks of venturing so close, of revealing himself to a human, he can’t keep himself from returning. And as he watches you once more, he feels the quiet stirrings of a promise within him, a silent vow that he will stay, night after night, until he finds a way to bring you peace—or at least until he’s certain that you’re not alone beneath the stars.
You lift your gaze to the sky, eyes reflecting the silver glow of the moon and the scattered dust of stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, catching the light, and Taehyung aches to reach out, to brush it away with the soft edge of his finger, to bring you comfort, if only for a moment.
But before he can act on the impulse, he feels a stirring in the water beside him. Gently, he swishes his tail, trying to nudge the small creature away. The silence of the night is broken when, suddenly, a sharp nip jolts him from his reverie. He turns to find an irate crab, its claw clamped tightly onto his tail. Biting back a curse, he shakes the little creature free, muttering under his breath as he pulls it loose. But in his flurry of movement, he hears the soft murmur of silence fall over the lake.
The crying has stopped. 
All around him, an eerie quiet settles, heavy and expectant. 
And then, drifting on the night air, a soft whisper trembles through the silence. “Hello? Who’s there?” 
The sound of your voice—fragile, uncertain, sweet with a hint of fear—strikes him still. His heart beats a little faster, and he pauses, debating with himself, caught between a desire to reveal himself and a need to stay hidden. He can sense your apprehension, see the way your form tenses as you look around, seeking the source of the noise in the shadows.
Before he can stop himself, he finds he’s already swimming closer, his curiosity overcoming his caution. His face breaks through the surface right in front of you, moonlight gleaming on his skin and you wide, startled eyes locking with his. The world holds its breath for a beat, until you release a piercing scream that echoes through the forest.
He flinches, shocked, and a nervous laugh bubbles up despite himself. Not quite the reaction he’d hoped for—but at least you’re not crying anymore, right? In that moment, he’s unsure if he’s brought wonder or fear to you, but he knows one thing for certain: the boundary between your worlds has shattered, and there’s no going back.
A scream rips from your lungs, raw and sharp, your hand flying to your heart as if to keep it from leaping out of your chest. But the sound dies in your throat as your eyes lock onto his, wide and brimming with disbelief. He stands there before you, framed by the moonlight, arms raised in a gesture of surrender, his gaze steady and soft, hoping to convey a harmlessness that transcends words.
You squint, brows furrowing as if he’s a puzzle to be solved, a creature from dreams suddenly come to life. In a quiet, almost reverent whisper, you ask, “Are you
a mermaid?”
“A merman,” he corrects with a gentle quip and a smile that flickers like sunlight on water. He slowly lowers his arms as he sees you relax, a tentative curiosity overtaking your fear.
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, though there’s still a trace of wariness in your stance. “You’re not here to
hypnotize me and drag me down to the bottom of the sea, are you?” you ask, arms crossing as you take a cautious step back.
He gasps, genuine alarm flashing across his face as he stumbles back a bit himself. “What? No!” he protests, voice pitching higher with surprise. “I’m a merman, not some Siren or Banshee!”
“What are you doing here, then?” you ask, voice edged with a fire he hadn’t expected, a fierceness that makes him certain you could hold your own if he meant any harm. But he doesn’t—and he aches to find the words that will ease the spark of worry in your eyes, to somehow convey that he’s here out of care, not threat.
“I
I’ve been watching you for a couple of weeks,” he begins, his words spilling out in a rambling rush, like a river suddenly freed of its banks. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he adds, and too late, he realizes the impression his words might leave.
Your brow arches, your expression shifting to something between suspicion and shock. He feels his heart drop, an unwelcome warmth rising in his cheeks. “I—I mean, not watching you like that!” he stammers, lifting his hands in a flustered attempt to take back what he’s just said. “I just
saw you out here, and I was worried. You looked so
lost. I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”
A silence stretches between you, broken only by the soft rustle of willow branches and the distant call of a nightbird. He watches your chest rise and fall, sees the guardedness in your gaze slowly soften, the wary lines of your shoulders easing just a little, though you still hold yourself at the ready. 
“Alright
” you say slowly, still scrutinizing him with cautious eyes. “Let’s say I believe you. If you were so worried, why didn’t you ever try to
to comfort me?”
The question hangs between you, quiet and unexpected. He blinks, taken aback by the vulnerability in your words. When he speaks, his voice is softer, laced with the sincerity that has been tugging at him all this time. “I didn’t want to frighten you,” he admits, almost whispering. “I thought if I came too close
you’d be scared.”
For a moment, you both stand in that enchanted hush, the forest lake around you holding its breath. You see something in his face then—a tenderness, a yearning as deep as the water itself. And as you meet his gaze, a flicker of understanding passes between you, a fragile connection that neither of you can name, but both can feel.
“But you just did,” you say, the faintest chuckle slipping from your lips—not quite laughter, but something softer, tinged with a warmth he’d only dared to hope for. The sound pulls a smile from him, a quiet thrill sparking in his chest.
“True enough,” he murmurs with a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to be sure you were safe. I’m
so sorry for any fear I caused.”
You take a deep, steadying breath, letting the tension slip away as you exhale. “It’s okay,” you reply, your voice gentle as a breeze over the water.
Slowly, you sink back onto the cool, dewy grass, crossing your legs and glancing up at him with wide, searching eyes. “So
merfolk really exist?” The words come out with a hint of disbelief, your gaze taking in his green, shimmering tail with a sense of wonder barely concealed.
“We do,” he replies simply, watching your eyes rove over him, lingering in equal parts curiosity and awe. But as your gaze lands on the glint of gold against his bare chest, your expression shifts—your eyes widening, bright and incredulous, until he nearly laughs at the sight.
“That’s mine!” you gasp, pointing at the golden locket resting between his pectorals, your voice ringing with surprise. His hand moves instinctively to the locket, his fingers brushing its cool, familiar surface as he looks back at you, eyes widening in realization.
“This locket?” he asks, almost reverently, his fingertips grazing the delicate chain as if it were fragile, precious. In that moment, something stirs in him—a connection, a story he doesn’t yet know, that seems to flicker to life between you both. 
“Yeah,” you breathe, your voice softening, as if the very air around you has shifted into something gentler. The tension in your shoulders melts away, and a sense of ease settles over you like a warm embrace.
You rise slowly, your movements graceful as you step closer, and without thinking, you stretch your hand toward the locket. But instead of touching the cool metal, your fingers brush the warm skin of his chest, sending a shiver through both of you. The touch is gentle, fleeting, but it lingers in the space between you, a silent understanding passing in the moment. Your skin is warm, and the contact, soft as a whisper, sends a soft flutter in his chest.
“If you open the locket,” you say, your voice almost a hush, “it’s engraved with a poem. It reads: ‘I am the moon; Queen of Night, a riddle wrapped in borrowed light, a silver spool where dreams unwind, an ancient orb as old as time’.” You recite the words with a quiet reverence, and when you finally realize your hand still rests on his chest, you jerk it back as if burned by fire, your cheeks flushing with sudden heat. “Sorry,” you murmur, your voice faltering in the slightest, a quiet apology hanging in the air.
Taehyung, his curiosity piqued, slowly opens the locket, his fingers tracing the delicate engraving you’d shared with him. As he reads the poem aloud in his mind, something stirs deep within him, an unspoken connection to the words. He looks at you with awe, as if the very essence of the poem were now tangled with the mystery of who you are. “A human... actually lost this?” he murmurs, a spark of wonder and disbelief in his eyes.
“How did you lose it?” he asks, his voice gentle but filled with the kind of curiosity that can only come from a heart that’s already begun to care. He carefully slips the locket from his neck and extends it toward you, offering it back with an open hand.
The moment your fingers close around the locket, you freeze, and for a fleeting second, the sadness he’d seen in you before resurfaces, washing over your face like a shadow. It pulls at something in him—something tender, something raw. 
Your gaze drops to the grassy earth, and the air between you grows heavy with the silence of unanswered questions. You don’t speak, your lips pressed tight, but the weight of what’s left unsaid hangs in the air, thick and palpable. The sadness is back, clinging to you like a second skin, and Taehyung can’t help but wonder: what lies behind that silence? What is it that haunts you?
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung says softly, his voice a quiet balm to the growing tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to soften the weight of the moment. “I found it underwater. I didn’t think anyone would miss it.”
You offer a smile, fragile as the morning mist, barely lifting the corners of your lips. “It was a gift... from my grandmother,” you murmur, your voice dipping with the weight of time and loss. “She passed away many years ago. Thank you... for finding it.”
His heart tightens as he feels the atmosphere shift, like a delicate thread about to snap. The air feels heavier now, laden with unspoken sorrow, and he can’t help but sense the deep ache in your words, in the quiet sorrow that clings to you.
You settle back down onto the damp earth, and Taehyung sinks deeper into the water, the cool embrace of it helping to mask the vulnerability in his heart. He keeps his tail hidden, letting the water lap gently around his arms, his hands resting just at the edge of the shore, fingers brushing the cool grass as if grounding himself to the moment.
Then, your voice breaks the silence, soft but aching. “I lost it at sea
” The words fall from your lips like a whispered confession, each syllable heavy with grief, as though the sea itself had taken not just the locket, but a part of your soul.
Taehyung doesn’t speak right away. He only watches you, his eyes holding you with the quiet understanding of someone who knows that sometimes, silence is the only answer. In that silence, he feels the weight of your loss as if it’s now his to carry too.
“I was out on a yacht with my friends... one of them fell over, and she... she died,” you whisper, the words trembling in the air, and your breath catches, thick with the weight of grief. A sob escapes you, raw and unguarded, as the sorrow that has festered for so long finally surges, breaking free like a tide that’s impossible to hold back.
Taehyung’s heart lurches, and he leans in, his voice a soft, steady echo in the heavy silence. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says, his words wrapped in the deep sorrow he now shares with you, as if your pain has wound itself into his very soul. “You never found her?”
You shake your head, the motion slow, like each rejection of hope pulls you deeper into the abyss of loss. “We just assumed she drowned. But it was our fault... we didn’t even search for her... not long enough
” You pause, your gaze drifting out toward the water, your voice barely a whisper, yet so full of the weight of what’s unsaid. “That’s why I come out here
” The words falter as the tears begin anew. “I don’t know if I hope she’ll... magically appear, or if I just want to be closer to her—closer to the sea.”
The quiet understanding in Taehyung’s eyes deepens, and he nods, silently acknowledging the unspoken grief that binds you to the endless waves. 
“But it’s funny,” you continue, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips as you rub your face, trying to quell the storm inside. “I’m afraid of the ocean now.”
His heart aches at the contradiction—how the sea, which once held the promise of freedom, now holds only the echoes of a life lost, a fear that cannot be soothed by the tides. He says nothing, but his gaze speaks volumes, as he shares the silence of your struggle—caught between love and fear, between longing and loss.
He blinks, trying to fathom it—how you, who braved this quiet patch of land in the middle of the lake, could be encircled by the waters that both call to you and haunt you. The vast, endless sea, once a place of freedom, has become something fraught with sorrow.
“I could help you fall in love with the ocean again,” he murmurs, the words slipping out as naturally as the currents beneath him. He doesn’t know why he’s offering, doesn’t fully understand this urge to soothe your fear and restore what’s been taken from you. But he feels it—a pull to guide you back to the sea that you once cherished, to help mend the bond between you and the water.
When he sees your eyes widen with apprehension, he raises his hands gently, adding, “Only if you want to.” 
You ease a little, though the uncertainty remains, and in a barely audible whisper, you murmur, “I don’t know... I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”
He nods, understanding the weight of such a decision. “That’s okay,” he says softly. “Honestly, I just don’t want to see you cry anymore.” He offers a gentle smile, one that he hopes brings warmth and a touch of calm, like sunlight filtering through water.
You return the smile, albeit faintly, your expression softening. “Talking to you... it’s helped a lot,” you say, your voice filled with a quiet gratitude.
And in that shared moment, with only the stars and the whispering willows as witness, a fragile peace settles between you.
“But... I think I should get home now,” you murmur, pulling your phone from your bag. Its glow lights your face in the dimness. “It’s gotten really late.”
Taehyung nods, understanding, though a quiet pang tugs at his heart as he imagines this clearing falling silent again once you leave.
Then, to his surprise, you glance back at him, your gaze soft yet hopeful. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
The question catches him off guard; he stares at you, blinking, feeling for a moment like he’s been swept up by a wave. “If... you want me to?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he’s dared to hope too much.
A hint of color blooms on your cheeks, and you smile, gaze dipping shyly. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like to know more about you... and the merfolk. Maybe you could tell me some stories?”
His own grin spreads wide, an earnest promise shining in his eyes. “Absolutely. I’ll be here tomorrow—I promise.”
You rise, stepping lightly over a shallow stretch of water, your feet skimming the surface with a graceful leap. At the other side, you pause and turn, offering a small, lingering wave. He raises his hand in return, smiling as he watches you slip into the night, your figure fading into the shadows beneath the moonlit trees.
For a while, he simply remains, feeling as if the air is alive with all that was left unspoken, the night sky his only witness. And even as you vanish into the distance, Taehyung remains rooted, heart swelling with the promise of a tomorrow colored by your presence.
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Thoughts of the brown-haired merman with the shimmering green tail have drifted through your mind since yesterday, haunting you like a half-remembered dream. It suddenly dawns on you that you don’t even know his name, and yet the memory of him fills your chest with a quiet, unshakable pull. Now, with night draping the town in deep blue shadows, you find yourself alone on the bus heading toward the outskirts, the only passenger riding out to the edge of the world. 
The hum of your playlist whispers through your earphones, blending with the rhythmic pulse of the bus engine as scenes of darkened fields and silhouetted trees slip by in the windows. Each mile draws you closer, heightening the anticipation tingling beneath your skin, until finally, the bus slows to a stop, releasing you into the night.
You step onto the gravel path and feel a strange comfort in the solitude. The night is vast, the air tinged with the earthy scent of pine and soil, and there are no streetlights to guide your way—only the faint glimmer of starlight scattered across the heavens above. Yet you know this path by heart; your feet follow its familiar curves as though led by an invisible thread. It’s just a kilometer and a half from here to the lake, but each step feels like a journey through realms unknown.
As you approach the grove, you see the willows, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, graceful arms weaving an entryway to something almost sacred. Your heart begins to race as you brush aside the delicate, trailing branches, slipping into the secret world they protect. The lake opens before you, quiet and timeless, bathed in silvery moonlight that dances over the water’s surface. Here, beneath the ancient watch of the willows, you enter a place where magic feels like it lives in every ripple and breath.
With a deep breath, you step closer to the lake’s edge, wondering if he’ll be there, waiting in the shadows between the water and the sky.
In the soft darkness, you quickly realize you’re alone; the lake is still, the merman nowhere in sight. With a small leap, you cross the shallow strip of water, landing on the tiny isle in the center of the lake. You settle yourself down, hugging your knees, feeling the hum of fireflies flickering around you, their gentle glow brushing the air with a living, golden warmth. 
Just as your mind begins to drift, a sudden ripple stirs the water before you, and then—there he is, his head emerging from the lake in a tumble of dripping, tousled brown hair. You flinch, nearly letting out a scream, your pulse skipping a beat at the surprise. But the alarm dissolves in a heartbeat as you recognize the familiar face smiling up at you, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.
“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, giggling as he smooths back his wet hair, his green tail flicking playfully above the water’s surface. The moonlight catches the emerald scales, each flicker a tiny flash of silver and jade. He uses his hands to wipe water from his face, looking all the while like he’s trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh.
“You didn’t scare me!” you insist, though the quick flush of heat in your cheeks tells otherwise, and you can tell from his grin that he sees right through it. You tilt your chin a little higher, hoping to hide your embarrassment, but he only chuckles, the sound warm and light as it drifts across the water.
“Well, I’ll believe you this time,” he says, smiling at you with a kind of open joy, as if the night was made for moments just like this. You smile back, feeling the tension melt away, replaced by a soft thrill in the air between you.
“Anyway,” you say with a playful glint in your eye, “I forgot to ask your name yesterday.”
He chuckles, low and warm, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. “I’m Taehyung,” he says, his voice rich as velvet.
“I’m Y/N,” you reply, offering a soft smile that he mirrors, a kind of light passing between you in the moonlit stillness. 
“So
 will you tell me stories about merfolk?” you ask, curiosity woven into every word.
“Of course,” he says, his gaze turning mischievous, “but first, I have something to show you.” With a grin, he lifts a soaked, weighty bag from beneath the water’s surface, droplets glistening like tiny jewels as they cascade off the bag. You blink, leaning forward in wonder, trying to guess at the strange, heavy contents.
He pats the bag with a pride that makes you smile. “This,” he says, with a dramatic flourish, “is some of my collection of things I’ve found from the depths. I think most of it is from your world—the things you humans let slip beneath the waves. I thought you might help me make sense of it all, tell me stories about these objects. And in return,” his eyes twinkle, “I’ll give you stories about the world of merfolk.”
You smile at the offer, enchanted by his plan. “Deal,” you say, nodding as you gesture to the bag. “Can I look inside?” 
“Yeah, go ahead,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes glimmering as he watches you rummage through the bag. Your fingers curl around a heavy, ornate candelabra, its blackened metal arms twisting elegantly like frozen vines. You lift it out, chuckling as his gaze widens with childlike wonder. 
“What’s that thing called?” he asks, his curiosity unguarded, like a boy discovering treasures in a world he’s only dreamed of.
You laugh again, unable to help yourself, quickly hiding it behind the back of your hand as if to stifle the sound. “It’s a candleholder,” you explain, tracing one of its three arms. “You put candles in it to light up the dark.”
He nods, a thoughtful look crossing his face, though you suspect he has no idea what a candle even is. Gently, you set the candelabra down and reach into the bag once more, this time pulling out a pair of glasses. Their frames are thick and black, chipped slightly at the corners—worn with use but still sturdy.
He leans closer, fingers brushing yours as he takes the glasses and slides them onto his nose. They sit awkwardly on his face, far too large, but somehow, they suit him in that effortless way that makes you pause. He blinks, looking around, and then bursts into laughter, a sound as warm as sunlight on water. 
“Wow,” he chuckles, adjusting the frames that threaten to slide off. “I can’t see a thing.” 
The sight of him—eyes crinkled in amusement, wearing something so distinctly human—makes your heart catch for a moment. A creature of the ocean trying on the world of men, and somehow making it his own. 
You giggle softly, reaching forward to slip the glasses off his face, your fingers brushing the warm curve of his cheek. “That’s because they’re prescription glasses,” you explain, setting them down gently. “They’re made to match someone else’s eyes. Sad, really, that someone lost not just these, but maybe even the ability to see clearly.”
He nods, the curiosity in his eyes flickering like candlelight as he watches you tuck the glasses carefully back into the bag. Reaching in again, your fingers close around something sturdy and familiar. When you pull it out, your breath catches—a Nokia 3310. 
The sight of it pulls a laugh from your chest, bright and unrestrained, spilling into the night air. It’s the kind of laugh that folds you in half, clutching your stomach, until tears prick the corners of your eyes. Taehyung stares at you in bewilderment, his head tilting like a puzzled bird, as though you’d just grown fins.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern, as if your laughter might be some kind of human affliction. 
“It’s a phone,” you finally manage to say between giggles, holding up the clunky, ancient relic. “Though it’s
 very old.” You run your thumb across the faded tactile buttons, memories bubbling to the surface like a tide returning to shore. “I used to have one just like this. It was one of my first phones, back when my parents finally trusted me to have one.”
His eyes widen, and he leans closer, curiosity sparkling like the fireflies around you. “What do you use it for?” he asks, reaching out to study it, his webbed fingers brushing yours as he takes the small, unassuming device into his hands. 
“For talking to people,” you reply, a hint of nostalgia softening your voice. “Texting, calling
 staying connected. Although, this one isn’t exactly great for anything more than snake games and indestructibility,” you add with a grin. “It’s like the dinosaur of phones.”
He turns it over in his hands, fascinated, his tail flicking gently under the water. “Humans carry pieces of their voices in these tiny boxes,” he muses, half to himself, marveling at the strange, forgotten artifact. “How peculiar. And yet
 how precious.” 
His words linger in the air between you, weaving something timeless into the quiet magic of the moment. 
“Oh,” he muses, lifting the phone to his ear as if it holds some kind of magic. “Hello?” he says, his voice laced with playful curiosity, pretending to talk to you through the tiny relic. 
Unable to resist, you pull out your own phone and press it to your ear, mirroring him just for the fun of it. “Like that,” you say, laughing, your voice light and airy as it drifts across the water. 
Taehyung smiles, wide and genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling with boyish joy. The way the moonlight catches the sparkle in his gaze makes your chest feel lighter, as if you’ve inhaled the cool night air too deeply. 
He hands you the phone with a careful reverence, and you tuck it gently back into the bag, your fingers brushing against something new. With a slight tug, you pull it free—a lone shoe, scuffed and worn by time.  
Taehyung’s brow furrows, his expression tilting toward amused confusion. “What’s that? Do you
 put it on your hand?” he asks, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he’s already imagining some ridiculous scenario.  
The thought makes you laugh, the sound bubbling up like the ripples in the water. You picture him proudly sporting sneakers on his hands, his green tail swishing beneath him. “No,” you say through giggles, “it’s a shoe. Humans wear them on their feet—for walking.” 
He hums, a deep, velvety sound that reverberates through the air, and the richness of it stirs something strange and unbidden in the pit of your stomach. You ignore the feeling, shaking your head as you examine the shoe more closely. 
“Sad that there’s only one,” you muse, holding the sneaker in your palm like it’s a piece of some unsolved puzzle.  
“Why is that sad?” he asks, his voice genuinely curious. 
“Because we need two,” you explain, “one for each foot. Without its pair, it’s... incomplete.”  
Your words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning you didn’t intend, and you quickly place the shoe back in the bag. Yet, as you glance at Taehyung, you wonder if he heard something more in what you said—if he noticed the quiet ache that flickered through your voice, the unspoken longing for things to feel whole again. 
Your hand brushes against something cold and metallic at the bottom of the bag, and it rattles faintly as you pull it out. The moment you register what it is, a flush of heat rushes to your cheeks.  
Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity immediate and innocent. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  
It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. He doesn’t know. How could he possibly understand that a simple pair of handcuffs could mean so many different things—some harmless, others... not so innocent?  
Your grip tightens around the cuffs as they dangle from your fingers, the faint clink of metal against metal feeling louder than it is. His wide, unguarded eyes search your expression for answers, his confusion palpable. “What?” he presses again, his gaze flickering between you and the offending object.  
“They’re handcuffs,” you finally stammer, the words tumbling out as you desperately try to steer your thoughts away from the implications. You clear your throat, willing your heart to stop its frantic drumming.  
His brows knit together as he studies them, and then he looks back at you. “What do you use them for?”  
Your mouth goes dry. There’s no telling how much he knows about... well, things like that. And there’s no way you’re about to be the one to enlighten him. The blush spreads deeper across your cheeks, hot and unrelenting.  
“The police use them,” you blurt out, seizing the first explanation that comes to mind. “They use them to, uh, catch bad guys.”  
He blinks, processing this, then asks with genuine curiosity, “What’s a police?”  
“They’re people who keep the world in order,” you explain hastily, hoping your answer satisfies him as you lower the handcuffs back into the bag like they’ve burned you.  
Taehyung hums softly, his deep voice laced with thought. “Order
” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “I suppose merfolk don’t really have anything like that. The ocean tends to sort itself out.”  
His answer is innocent, but something about it pulls at you. The idea of a world where chaos is natural and balance finds its own way feels... strange, almost liberating. You glance at him, and his green tail flicks gently beneath the surface of the water, shimmering faintly like a piece of living art.  
“Well, up here, we’re a bit messier,” you say, smiling faintly, though your cheeks are still warm.  
He chuckles, the sound rich and comforting, and you realize, despite your embarrassment, that you don’t entirely mind explaining things to him. His curiosity is sincere, untouched by judgment, and somehow that makes all the awkwardness easier to bear. 
You sigh, the weight of your patience thinning, eager to get through this final item so the stories of the sea can take center stage.  
“There’s only one thing left,” Taehyung says with a sly smile, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes like sunlight on water.  
Thank god, you think, nearly rolling your eyes as you reach into the bag. But the moment your fingers wrap around the last object, you freeze. The shape is unmistakable, and a flush creeps up your neck as realization sets in. Yanking it out, you take one horrified look before letting out a sharp shriek and dropping it as if it’s burned you.  
“What? What is it?” Taehyung asks, wide-eyed and concerned as he scoops up the item you just cast away like cursed treasure. His fingers turn it over curiously, the innocent tilt of his head at complete odds with the very not innocent object in his hands.  
Your mind races as you stare at him, slack-jawed, while he inspects the bright pink rabbit vibrator with the studious attention of an archaeologist uncovering an ancient relic.  
Why would anyone throw that into the ocean? you manage to think, your inner voice barely louder than the pounding of your heart. The question burns in your mind: How the hell am I supposed to explain this to him?  
He looks up at you with a grin that could melt glaciers, utterly oblivious, and the sparkle in his eyes seems almost too amused. The corners of his lips curve just a touch more, and for a fleeting second, a traitorous thought worms its way into your head: Does he know what it is?  
“Do you know what that is?” you ask, your brow arching sharply as you try to mask your embarrassment with skepticism.  
He blinks, shaking his head with a childlike earnestness that you don’t entirely trust. “No.”  
But there’s something in his expression, a faint glimmer of mischief that makes you wonder. Could he possibly know what’s currently resting in his slender fingers, a bright pink beacon of mortification? Surely not. How could he?  
“So
 what is it?” he asks again, his deep voice smooth and unbothered as if he’s holding a piece of driftwood instead of—that.  
You stammer, words failing you as you try to claw together an explanation. “It’s... it’s a—a toy,” you finally spit out, the word awkward and foreign on your tongue.  
“A toy?” he repeats, his curiosity piqued even further. He looks at it again, squinting at the smooth curves and the dual protrusions like he’s deciphering an ancient riddle. “For children?”  
“No!” you yelp, your voice far too loud as heat blooms across your cheeks. You clasp your hands over your face, groaning. “Not for children. Definitely not for children.”  
He raises a brow, clearly unsatisfied with your vague response. “Then what kind of toy—?”  
You gulp, your cheeks blazing a crimson so fierce they rival the setting sun. The word catches in your throat, but you force it out in a mortified whisper: “It’s... a vibrator.”  
Taehyung tilts his head, his expression innocent, as if the word carries no weight. “Oh, like a massager?” he asks, his long fingers fumbling with the object. The moment it buzzes to life, a low, mischievous hum filling the air, you nearly leap out of your skin.  
The sound seems impossibly loud, vibrating not just in your ears but in the marrow of your bones. He holds it up, studying it with an inquisitive squint. “Where do you use it? Your neck?” he muses, moving to press it behind his back like it’s some magical cure for tension.  
“No!” you shriek, lunging forward in sheer panic. The idea of where it’s been—god, where it’s definitely been—makes your skin crawl. Sure, it’s been submerged in saltwater for who knows how long, but still, the thought is mortifying.  
He pauses, blinking at your outburst, the vibrator buzzing innocently in his hand. His gaze settles on you, expectant, waiting for an explanation you’re loath to give.  
You clear your throat, the heat in your cheeks now spreading to the tips of your ears. “It’s for women,” you mutter, your voice barely audible, “for their... vagina. Now, please, turn it off and put it away.”  
To your immense relief, he does as you ask, clicking it off with a soft whir. But instead of letting it go, he looks at you with wide, curious eyes. “Oh,” he says simply. A beat of silence stretches between you before he tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Have you used one before?”  
Your stomach drops, and for a moment, you swear the earth could crack open beneath you and swallow you whole. Your fingers fidget nervously, and you refuse to meet his gaze. “I... have,” you mumble, your voice so quiet it’s almost swept away by the breeze.  
“Was it good?” he asks, his tone so casual it borders on maddening.  
Your heart pounds so hard it might shatter your ribcage. You feel the blush deepen, a fiery bloom spreading across your face as you croak, “Yeah.”  
His curiosity, however, is relentless. “What do you know about sex anyway?” you huff, folding your arms and glaring at the lake to avoid his amused gaze.  
He grins, that devilish sparkle dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I know plenty,” he says, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver up your spine. “My friend Seokjin told me all about how humans have sex.”  
He waggles his eyebrows in a way that’s both infuriating and utterly ridiculous, and you feel your mortification morph into fury.  
“Wait a minute,” you fume, narrowing your eyes at him. “You knew what the handcuffs and vibrator were from the start, didn’t you?!”  
His grin grows wider, unapologetically mischievous. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lilting like a playful melody. “But watching you explain them was way more fun.”  
You glare at him, seething, but there’s no denying the way his laughter dances across the air, warm and infectious. Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upward, because even in your mortification, there’s something oddly endearing about his teasing.  
“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, shaking your head.  
“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he counters, his tail flicking in the water, sending ripples out to the edges of the lake.  
And though you’re still burning with embarrassment, a small part of you can’t help but be grateful for the way he makes you laugh—even at your own expense.  
Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, your face blazing like the setting sun, and he just throws his head back, laughter erupting from him in a way that feels alive. It’s full-bodied, unrestrained, his boxy smile lighting up his features as his hands clutch at his stomach, right where shimmering scales meld seamlessly into the emerald sweep of his tail.  
You shake your head in disbelief, unable to fathom how he managed to fool you so effortlessly. But then, it’s impossible to hold onto your indignation when his laughter is so contagious, so you let it pour out of you too—a melody that dances through the night. The sound makes his laughter falter for just a moment, his eyes softening as he looks at you like he’s discovered something rare and wondrous.  
If only you knew, Taehyung thinks, how your laughter could make even the coldest depths of the ocean feel warm.  
The weeks that followed your first meeting have felt like a dream—magical. Night after night, you find yourself drawn to the lake, a place where the lines between your two worlds blur. Each time, Taehyung emerges with treasures gathered from the ocean floor, and you sit together, exchanging pieces of your lives—your world above the waves and his far below.  
“And that’s how Jungkook and I pranked Yoongi,” he says, his laughter spilling into the quiet night as he recounts his mischievous escapades. “He was so pissed, he didn’t talk to us for a week.”  
You laugh too, the image vivid in your mind—Taehyung and his friend causing an octopus to release its ink, staining this poor Yoongi guy’s skin entirely. The chaos, the yelling, the grumbling that followed—it all paints such a comical picture you can’t help but giggle.  
“I mean,” he adds between gasps of laughter, wiping at the corners of his eyes, “Yoongi didn’t say much. He just grumbled a lot... after shouting every curse word he could think of.”  
By now, he’s laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill, his cheeks flushed and his voice trembling with mirth.  
“Oh, don’t cry,” you tease, grinning as you reach out instinctively, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch surprises both of you, and his laughter fades, replaced by a gentler smile as he leans ever so slightly into your hand. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, smooth and soft where it meets his scales.  
“I’m not crying,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the depth of it resonating like a gentle current. His dark eyes hold yours, reflecting the scattered stars above. “But I’m glad to see you laughing more.”  
The words hang in the air between you, delicate and sincere, like the faint glow of the fireflies flitting around the lake. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something in the way he looks at you now, something tender and unspoken, that makes your heart race.  
For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the soft rustling of the willow branches swaying in the breeze and the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. In his gaze, you see more than curiosity or mischief—you see wonder, connection, and something that feels achingly close to magic.  
“Is there more I could do to cheer you up?” he asks, his smile boyish, eager, and filled with a kind of tenderness that seems to spill effortlessly from him. You’ve noticed how much he wants to see you happy—how his every word and action feels like a quiet offering meant to lift the weight you carry.  
You hesitate, your mind swirling with possibilities, but one thought rises above the rest. It’s ridiculous, improbable, and utterly reckless, but it’s been there, simmering in the back of your mind since the night you first met him. He stirs something in you—something unspoken, electric, and undeniably human. Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out, bold and wild, carried by the wind like a confession.  
“Sex would totally cheer me up.”  
For a moment, everything stops. His eyes widen, an ocean of surprise rippling in them, before a smirk curves his lips—a little hesitant, a little mischievous. Then, in a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him, he says, “I’ve never had sex with a human before.”  
The quiet sincerity of his response steals your breath. You were half-joking, throwing the words out as a way to tease him, to distract yourself from the fluttering chaos he always seems to spark in your chest. But his honesty hits you like a wave, and now you’re drowning in the thought—was he taking you seriously?  
Was he considering it?  
Your heart beats like a drum, your cheeks burning as you search his expression for some clue, some sign that this is all just a playful exchange. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, the way his gaze holds yours, curious and unflinching, that makes your pulse race even faster.  
In a voice barely above a whisper, you ask, “Do you
 want to have sex with me?” Your words hang in the air, delicate and trembling, but before he can respond, you falter, retreating into the impossibility of it all. “I mean—how would that even work? Can you even have sex with a human?”  
His laughter comes then, rich and warm, breaking the tension like sunlight spilling over water. “I’d just have to turn human,” he says with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, the teasing glint back in his eyes. “And don’t worry—Seokjin’s already told me everything I need to know.”  
You blink, your mind struggling to process the words, the sheer audacity of them. Turn human? Was that even possible? And what on earth had Seokjin told him?  
“Wait—are you serious?” you manage to say, your voice caught between disbelief and something else, something dangerously close to hope.  
He leans in slightly, his face alight with a playful kind of mystery. “Why don’t you find out?” he murmurs, his voice a velvet thread that winds its way into your chest, tightening the knot of emotions there.  
For a moment, you’re lost—in his eyes, in the tantalizing possibility of the unknown, in the way he makes the world feel both infinite and impossibly small. And beneath it all, you can’t help but wonder: could he really mean it? Or was he just as caught up in this strange, electric pull between you as you were?  
“You really want to have sex with me? And you’ve never told me you could turn human?” you exclaim, your hand instinctively landing on his chest with a light slap. His skin is warm under your touch, the smooth planes of muscle glistening faintly in the moonlight.  
He chuckles, a low, velvety sound that sends ripples through the night air. “Yeah, I want to,” he says without hesitation, his gaze steady and unwavering. “And if it’ll cheer you up, that’s all the more reason.”  
Before you can fully process his words, he begins to rise from the water, his powerful arms pulling him closer to you. Each movement is deliberate, almost hypnotic, his biceps flexing effortlessly as he drags his weight onto the land. When he finally settles next to you, you’re keenly aware of the space—intimate and charged—between you.  
Unable to resist, your fingers reach out to graze his tail. The scales are cool and slick beneath your touch, shimmering faintly with an otherworldly sheen, and you marvel at how something so strange can feel so natural to you now.  
“By the way,” you murmur, suddenly self-conscious, “I was joking when I said it would cheer me up.” The words come out softer than you intend, as a realization settles over you like the whisper of a tide. What if this actually happens? What if he’s doing this only to make you happy? A knot twists in your stomach—you don’t want this just for you. You want him to want this, too.  
But before you can say another word, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath and floods your senses. He moves with a bold tenderness, his tail slipping between your legs, his fin brushing against your feet with a feathery caress.  
And then, the air around you shifts.  
A sudden burst of light swirls between you, glittering like a thousand stars spilling from the heavens. The world tilts as the sparks dance and cascade, wrapping you both in a cocoon of shimmering magic. It’s like something out of an anime—a transformation unfolding in real time, and you’re at the center of it all.  
When the light fades, you blink, your breath hitching as you realize what’s happened.  
He’s no longer a merman.  
He’s human now, entirely, gloriously human, and he’s in your arms—warm skin pressed against yours, lean legs sprawled over yours, and oh god, utterly naked.  
“Oh my god,” you gasp, your voice breaking into a startled shriek as your eyes dart over his form. He’s
 breathtaking. Sculpted shoulders, a chest that looks like it was carved from marble, thighs thick and strong, and—  
You gulp, your gaze snapping up to his face as heat floods your cheeks. “You’re completely naked,” you manage to stammer, though your eyes betray you, flickering downward for just a fraction of a second. His cock is thick and wide, making your pussy clench around nothing with need.
A mischievous grin spreads across his face, completely unbothered by his nudity. “You seem surprised,” he teases, his voice warm and teasing, yet carrying an edge of something deeper, something magnetic.  
“Surprised?!” you exclaim, your hands flying up to cover your face, though it does nothing to erase the mental image seared into your brain. “You didn’t warn me there’d be sparkles—or that you’d be
 be
”  
“Naked?” he supplies, his grin widening as he shifts, sitting up fully now, his confidence evident in every movement.  
“Yes, naked!” you blurt, peeking through your fingers before quickly looking away, though the heat pooling in your stomach betrays you.  
He chuckles again, a sound so rich and unguarded it makes your heart flutter. “Well, you did say you wanted me human,” he says, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Didn’t think you’d mind the details.”  
And as you sit there, utterly flustered and yet inexplicably drawn to him, you realize that everything about him—his laughter, his boldness, his very existence—is impossible and wonderful and so entirely him.  
You can’t explain it, but he feels impossibly firm against your fully clothed body, his presence electric, igniting something deep inside you.  
“Are you sure you want this?” you ask, your voice trembling with anticipation as he moves closer, his heat radiating like a flame that threatens to consume you.  
He nods, his gaze unwavering, filled with earnest longing. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”  
His words are a confession, each syllable laced with reverence, and the look in his eyes—adoring, worshipful—makes your heart stutter. It feels like magic, a spell binding you to him.  
“Okay,” you whisper, the word a contradiction—both weighty and featherlight, heavy with unspoken desire yet liberating in its surrender. “Me too.”  
And that’s all it takes. You move, pulling him into you, your lips colliding like the meeting of two storms. His kiss is both a promise and a claim, as though you’re the air he needs to live, and he the fire you’ve long craved.  
Slowly, with a patience that speaks of devotion, he begins to undress you. Each garment falls away as if he’s unveiling a masterpiece, his hands reverent, his movements deliberate. When you’re bare before him, his gaze darkens, his eyes almost black with desire.  
“Beautiful,” he breathes, the word half-hissed, as though the sight of you has stolen the air from his lungs.  
His hand follows the curve of your body, his touch like a whisper of silk. He starts at your face, tracing your jawline with tender precision, down your neck to your collarbones, his fingers pausing there as though savoring their discovery.  
When his hand reaches your breasts, he marvels, his eyes lit with something almost holy. He cups you gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple with deliberate care before giving the softest pinch. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes your lips.  
Your breathing quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heart, and for a moment, the world narrows to his touch, his gaze, the unspoken symphony of longing between you.
“Beautiful and soft,” he murmurs, his voice a low caress that seems to reverberate through your very soul. His hands move with reverence, each touch deliberate as he plays with the sensitive bud, his thumbs circling slowly, then firmly, coaxing pleasure to bloom within you like wildflowers in moonlight. Your back arches, surrendering to the heavens, the stars and moon bearing witness to your abandon.  
A moan escapes you, unbidden, as a delicious heat prickles along your skin, pooling low in your core. Your body clenches with a desperate, aching need, the anticipation winding tighter, a tether you’re helpless to sever.  
Leaning in, he captures one of your peaks with his tongue, the wet warmth making you gasp. He laps and sucks, teasing the sensitive bud, alternating between delicate flicks and firm pulls that make you shiver. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, your breathing fractured, chest heaving beneath his attentions.  
The pleasure courses through you, each wave leaving you more undone. His hand glides downward, slow and purposeful, until his fingers find the slick heat between your thighs. When he touches your clit—softly, tenderly—you cry out, the sensation a spark igniting the kindling of your desire. He rubs in slow, steady circles, his movements measured, drawing your body taut like a bowstring.  
You open yourself to him, your legs parting further, an invitation, a plea for more. He obliges, his touch deepening, pressing just enough to send your mind spiraling. Your lips part as his name falls again, broken yet fervent:  
“Taeh—”  
He releases your nipple with a wet pop, the sound somehow sinful and divine all at once. His mouth captures yours in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, his fingers never faltering as they continue their dance, coaxing you toward the edge of bliss.  
“Oh, damn—I’m coming,” you gasp, the words barely coherent as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming. Your body trembles, arching and writhing beneath him as he keeps his fingers pressed to your clit, guiding you through the storm.  
The world dissolves, nothing remaining but the feel of him—the press of his hand, the warmth of his lips, and the intoxicating scent of crushed grass and wildflowers mingling with your release. You shatter, and he holds you there, steady and unyielding, until every last tremor has subsided, leaving you breathless, boneless, and utterly his.  
You pant, lost in the haze of bliss, when his lips find yours again, deep and searching. He pulls back, his breath hot against your skin, and whispers, “Lay down.”  
Everything seems to blur and quicken as you lower yourself to the cool, soft grass, your body now bare beneath the endless expanse of the night sky. You gaze up at him—his silhouette framed by a sea of stars, the moon casting a halo around him. He looks almost otherworldly, his form glowing with an ethereal radiance that makes your heart race. He is a creature of light and shadow, of dreams made flesh.  
“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your pulse quicken. His finger traces the delicate line of your most intimate place, circling your entrance slowly, gauging your arousal. You nod, biting your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.  
“Yes,” you whisper, and the word feels like an offering, a surrender.  
“Okay,” he breathes, his own desire evident in the strained sound of his voice. He grabs his cock, guiding it toward your trembling pussy, his eyes dark with longing.  
He enters you in one slow, deliberate thrust, filling you completely. The stretch is delicious, his thickness causing you to gasp, your body trembling with the sensation. It’s a sweet burn, a delicate ache that soon blooms into pleasure so intense you can hardly contain it.  
“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, as he buries himself fully inside you. His breath hitches in your ear, and you smile up at him, your fingers lightly brushing his face. “You can move,” you murmur, your voice laced with both permission and longing.  
And move he does. He snaps his hips into you, a rhythm fast and unforgiving, each thrust driving deeper, harder, until it feels like the world is collapsing around you. You arch into him, your back lifting off the ground, the fire of his touch igniting every inch of your body. His gaze is fixed on you, unblinking, as though he’s memorizing each beautiful movement you make. You feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like you belong to him, body and soul.  
Above you, fireflies weave a dance of light, their tiny bodies glowing like stars that have fallen to earth, illuminating the scene with an otherworldly magic. Everything feels heightened, suspended in a perfect, timeless moment.  
His thrusts become faster, more urgent, and he grunts, the sound of it raw and desperate. “Does it feel good?” he asks, his voice hoarse, as if the question alone is a prayer.  
You can only nod, your words lost in the haze of desire, the world around you fading until it’s just him, just this—his body moving against yours, his love, his devotion, filling every corner of your being. The stars burn brighter, the moon shines sharper, and the night is alive with the pulse of your passion.  
“Yeah, fuck, keep going,” you gasp, your voice strained with pleasure as one hand drifts between your legs, your fingers pressing against your clit, adding to the fire building within you.  
“If you hadn’t told me this was your first time, I never would have believed it,” you moan, a light laugh escaping your lips at the irony, the sound breathless and full of delight.  
“I’m a quick study,” he replies, his voice thick with desire, the words almost lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, which grow faster and harder, filling you with a sweet, burning ache.  
“I can tell,” you chuckle, the sound laced with arousal as your body tightens around him, waves of pleasure building relentlessly. You feel your pussy pulse, clenching around him, your mind spiraling deeper into lust. You know it's coming—the release.  
And then it hits, a wave of ecstasy so powerful it consumes you, making you tremble beneath him. Your body contracts around him, pulling him deeper, and you can’t help but watch the way his face contorts in bliss, as he too is undone by the intensity of it. His own release is mirrored in the expression he wears, raw and breathtaking.  
His breath catches, a strained groan slipping past his lips as he pants your name. “Shit... I think I’m coming too.” 
With a few more desperate thrusts, he pushes into you, then pauses, his body tense, his warmth flooding you as his release spills deep inside. He falters, his chest heaving as he gathers his breath, his hands resting on your body, feeling the heat of the moment linger between you.  
“Holy shit, that was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice ragged, as he gently pulls away, a mixture of your essences slipping from you. You lie there, still breathless, feeling the aftershocks of your climax.
“Yeah,” you chuckle softly, your voice light, your mind floating in a haze of pleasure. The world around you feels like a distant echo, the only reality is the sensation of your skin against his and the shared stillness between you.
He falls beside you, pulling you close, his arm draped over you as the two of you gaze up at the sky. The moon casts a gentle glow over you both, and the stars seem to shimmer with a quiet promise, as if the universe itself is watching over this moment—a perfect, fleeting connection.  
Together, you breathe in the night air, wrapped in the softness of each other, lost in the beauty of the silence and the stars above.  
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“Okay,” you whisper, the tremor in your voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the night. “I’m only doing this because you’re a great swimmer.” You pause, searching his eyes for reassurance, then add with a nervous smile, “And in return, I’ll take you into town and show you the human world, yeah?”  
Taehyung nods, his boxy grin softening into something earnest, something that feels like a promise. His hand is warm in yours, grounding you as your feet hover over the edge of the water. The lake stretches before you, dark and endless, the moonlight spilling across its surface in molten silver. It looks almost too serene, as if the stillness is holding its breath just for you.  
His words from before echo in your mind: “Let me help you. Let me bring you back to the sea you loved so much.” And though fear thrums in your chest, louder than the cicadas singing in the trees, you want this—you need this.  
Steeling yourself, you take a step forward. The water laps at your toes, cold and sharp, sending a cascade of goosebumps along your arms. You grip Taehyung’s hand tighter, his skin smooth and cool beneath your fingers, and he squeezes back, a silent gesture of encouragement.  
The moon seems to follow your every movement, its light dancing on the rippling water as you wade further in. Your breath quickens as the chill seeps into your skin, prickling and biting, but you push through. Each step feels monumental, each shift of your weight a battle between fear and the yearning to reclaim what you’ve lost.  
“That’s good,” he murmurs, his voice like a lullaby in the quiet night. His tail flicks softly beneath the surface, the faint ripple of green scales catching the moon’s glow.  
The lake deepens around you until the water clings to your shoulders, wrapping you in its cool embrace. And then, almost unexpectedly, the fear begins to ebb away. The weight of it dissolves into the lake as you exhale, replaced by a gentle calm that fills the spaces where terror once lived.  
You look up at Taehyung and meet his eyes, wide and filled with wonder. He’s smiling again, that signature grin of his lighting up the night in a way the moon could never replicate. You can’t help but smile back.  
“Do you want to go further out?” he asks, his voice impossibly soft. The question hangs between you, fragile yet full of promise. “Into the ocean?”  
You bite your lip, your heart pounding—not from fear this time, but from the exhilaration of possibility. Slowly, you nod.  
Without a word, he tugs you gently, his hand guiding yours, his tail slicing through the water with an effortless grace. Your legs begin to move, kicking hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence. He keeps you close, his touch steady and protective, and together, you leave the lake behind.  
The lake falls away into the vastness of the open water, the air thick with salt and magic. The stars scatter above you, a million glimmering diamonds against the velvet sky. The water, now alive with bioluminescent trails from Taehyung’s tail, shimmers with an ethereal glow.  
You’re weightless here, suspended between the heavens and the depths, and it feels like stepping into a storybook. The world is no longer fractured or frightening—it’s whole, alive, and breathtaking.  
And beside you, Taehyung glides effortlessly, his presence a soothing balm to your once-shattered heart. In this moment, with the ocean opening up before you and the stars watching over, you know one thing for certain: you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.  
“You’re doing really good,” Taehyung says, his voice warm and soothing. “Try kicking more with your legs.”  
You follow his advice, your legs cutting through the water with newfound confidence, and before long, you’re pulling him along behind you, laughing as the cool waves ripple against your skin. You knew from the start he couldn’t truly teach you how to swim—his tail was no match for human legs—but Taehyung doesn’t need to. His presence is grounding, steadying, a quiet assurance that you’re safe.  
You realize now what he meant by helping you: not instruction, but support. The kind of unwavering belief that holds you together, even when you feel like falling apart.  
As you let go of his hand and strike out on your own, a rush of elation courses through you. You’re not just swimming—you’re reclaiming a part of yourself you thought was lost. The ocean, once a source of dread, now feels like an old friend. The fear that gripped you for so long begins to dissolve as you glide through the water, your laughter mingling with the soft lapping of the waves.  
Memories rise, bittersweet and unbidden, of why you were scared to return to this vast expanse. The sea had taken something from you, something precious—the storm that swept in like an uninvited guest, the yacht pitching, and the moment your friend was lost over the railing. For so long, you blamed the ocean for that night, as if its depths had swallowed your joy. But now, floating under the gentle gaze of the moon, you see it differently.  
The sea is not cruel, you think. It’s wild and untamed, yes, but not malicious. The storm wasn’t its doing—it was just a fleeting chaos in a vast, timeless rhythm. And in this moment, it feels too grand, too beautiful to carry hatred for.  
“Look at you!” Taehyung giggles behind you, his voice buoyant and bright. “You’re a natural!”  
You beam, the cool water cradling your body as you bask in your rediscovered love for swimming. “I’ve always loved this,” you admit, your voice soft with wonder.  
He swims alongside you, his tail carving shimmering paths through the water like brushstrokes on a dark canvas. The stars overhead seem to dance in approval, their reflections glittering on the surface around you. This—this moment—is everything. Swimming beneath the moon, the world hushed save for the symphony of waves and distant cicadas, feels like stepping into a dream you’d never dared to live.  
“Thank you,” you say suddenly, your voice carrying all the weight of your gratitude. You swim closer, throwing your arms around him in a hug that’s both wet and warm, your lips brushing his cheek in a soft kiss. “Thank you so much, Tae.”  
He smiles, his boxy grin full of affection, and he pulls you close in return. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead that feels as soothing as the water surrounding you.  
And then you’re off again, splashing and twirling, laughter spilling from your lips like a melody carried by the wind. Taehyung follows, his laughter joining yours, the two of you creating ripples in the starlit expanse. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel free—weightless, unburdened, as if the sea has forgiven you, just as you’ve forgiven it.
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It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun casting dappled light through the willow trees as you make your way to the lake. The air hums with the sound of cicadas, and the gentle rustle of leaves parts like a curtain as you step through, revealing him waiting on the shore. Taehyung’s gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he forgets the world around him.  
You’re dressed simply—skin-tight jeans that cling to your curves and a silky blouse that catches the light, its neckline teasing just enough to leave him utterly captivated. The way the sunlight dances off your skin makes his chest tighten, though he’s not entirely sure why.  
“I brought you clothes,” you say with a bright smile, lifting the bag in your hand. The way your voice lilts makes him feel as if you’ve given him a gift far more precious than mere fabric.  
He slides up to the shore with effortless grace, his tail shimmering as it transitions from water to grass. For a few moments, he lies there, waiting for the transformation. And then it happens. Sparkles swirl around him, catching the afternoon sun like scattered diamonds, and when the magic fades, he’s there—human, bare, vulnerable, and utterly breathtaking.  
You feel your cheeks heat but quickly hand him the bag to spare yourself further fluster. He takes the clothes with a sheepish grin, his fingers brushing yours as he does.  
The trousers hang loose on his lean frame, and the dark shirt pools around his shoulders, but there’s something charming about the way he wears them, as though he’s stepped from another world into yours. The sneakers are slightly too big, but he doesn’t seem to care. With each article of clothing, he seems more human, yet no less ethereal.  
As you both set off, walking hand in hand toward the bus stop, the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s a companionable quiet that speaks of trust, of connection. His thumb brushes yours absentmindedly, and though neither of you says a word, the unspoken is enough.  
When the bus arrives, its brakes hissing like a sleepy beast, Taehyung’s eyes widen with curiosity. He steps on cautiously, his hand tightening around yours as if the bus might lurch away without him. Once seated, he leans into the window, his breath fogging the glass as he watches the world rush past.  
The hum of the engine vibrates through the seats, and the tires drum a rhythm against the dirt road. His wide eyes follow the transformation outside—fields giving way to neat suburban houses, their gardens dotted with children’s toys and bicycles. As the bus turns toward the city, his wonder grows.  
Apartment buildings rise like mountains on the horizon, their windows glittering in the sunlight. Storefronts flash by, their signs alive with color and light. People crowd the sidewalks, their lives a blur of motion and chatter.  
He glances at you, his lips parting as if to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a soft, awestruck curve of his lips that warms your chest. You squeeze his hand gently, grounding him in this moment, reminding him that he’s not alone in this strange, thrilling world.  
For Taehyung, the city is a symphony of sights and sounds, but nothing captivates him more than the simple fact that you’re here, guiding him through it all. And for you, watching him discover this part of your world feels like seeing it anew—through his eyes, it’s not ordinary; it’s magic.
You start your evening simply, leading him to a quaint little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The atmosphere is warm and intimate, a soft hum of conversation filling the air as the golden glow of hanging lights dances off the walls. Taehyung sits across from you, marveling at the human ritual of shared meals. He takes his first bite, his eyes widening at the burst of flavor, and you can’t help but smile at his boyish delight.  
But it’s not just the food he’s savoring—it’s you. The way your eyes glimmer with an unspoken invitation, calling to him like the moon calls the tides. He feels it then, that pull he’s been ignoring, the one that started the moment he first saw you by the lake.  
When the meal is over, you step out into the cool night air, walking side by side under the glow of streetlights. Laughter spills from nearby pubs, and Taehyung watches as groups of drunk revelers weave their way through the streets, their joy unrestrained and contagious. He chuckles when his gaze falls on couples pressed into shadowy corners, stealing kisses like they’re the only two people in the world.  
“You humans are so bold,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement.  
You laugh softly, tugging his arm.
You pass by the flashing neon signs of different clubs, their thumping music spilling into the streets like siren songs. Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity piqued, and asks if you should step into one. You shake your head, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Not yet. Trust me, you’ll love where we’re going.”  
When you finally arrive, the club you’ve chosen feels different from the others. It’s darker, sultrier, with low lighting that shimmers like moonlight on water. The music is a steady, hypnotic rhythm that seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat. You guide him to the bar, ordering drinks for the both of you. Taehyung sips hesitantly at first, but the sweet taste lights up his face, and you can’t help but laugh.  
“Good?” you ask, and he nods, licking his lips.  
The tension melts from your body as the alcohol warms your veins, and soon, the music pulls you both to the dance floor. The crowd is a sea of movement, bodies swaying and turning in time with the beat. You guide Taehyung, his hands finding your hips as you press yourself closer to him.  
You move together, your body a tide and his a willing wave. The space between you disappears, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away—just the two of you, lost in the rhythm, the charged air between you humming with something electric.  
He feels it too, a spark that ignites into a slow-burning fire. His hands tighten on your waist, his breath hitching as his thoughts spiral into places they shouldn’t in the middle of a crowded club. You sense it, the shift in his energy, and it sends a thrill down your spine.  
Leaning close, your lips brush his ear, your voice a whisper that cuts through the music. “Let’s go back to my place.”  
His gaze meets yours, smoldering and intent, and without a word, he lets you lead him through the crowd, out into the cool night once more. The street feels quieter now, the distant sound of music fading as the two of you walk side by side, the tension between you a palpable thread pulling tighter with every step.  
And for Taehyung, the city lights and human rituals fade into the background, because tonight, the only thing he wants to discover is you.  
He lets you guide him through the labyrinth of streets, his footsteps light as if tethered to the ground only by your hand in his. When you reach your apartment, the city lights framing you in a warm glow, you turn with sudden intensity, capturing his lips in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from his lungs. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like a storm breaking against the shoreline, and he is helpless to do anything but let himself be swept away.  
Inside, the air crackles with something electric as you push him onto the bed, a playful glint in your eyes as you reveal the purpose of the handcuffs he had once puzzled over. The hours blur into each other, a symphony of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the exploration of one another until the world outside feels like a distant dream. When it’s well past midnight and the city sleeps, you slip your hand into his and insist on walking him home, your care wrapping around him like a warm tide.  
As you wait at the bus stop, the quiet hum of the night settling over you both, your fingers entwine with his in a silent gesture of connection. He glances at you, your profile softened by the faint glow of streetlights, and feels his heart swell with gratitude. You are extraordinary, he thinks, and he’s unsure what he’s done to deserve this moment, this person.  
The bus arrives, a gentle roar breaking the stillness, and carries you both back to the edge of the city. As the wheels roll closer to the lake, the stars above seem to multiply, glinting like scattered diamonds on velvet. When you disembark, the familiar scent of earth and water greets you, and he feels an ache deep inside, not wanting this night to end.  
The willow trees part for you like curtains drawn back on a stage, revealing the magical lake shimmering under the fireflies’ dance. Their golden lights swirl in the darkness, casting soft halos around the two of you. Your hands remain clasped, neither of you willing to break the fragile spell.  
He notices you biting your lip, nervous, as though searching for the right words. When you look up at him, your eyes glimmer with something unspoken, and your voice comes, hushed and thick with emotion. “Today’s been really amazing,” you confess, the sincerity in your tone wrapping around him like a warm embrace. “I love spending time with you. And everything you’ve done to help me
” Your voice catches, and you squeeze his hands, grounding yourself in him. “I’m so grateful.”  
Your words hang in the air like a soft melody, resonating deep within him. He holds your gaze, his chest tightening, knowing he feels the same but unsure how to say it without stumbling over the weight of what he feels. The night wraps around you both like a shared secret, and in this moment, the lake, the stars, and the world beyond seem to exist only for you two.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, his voice warm and steady, laced with genuine appreciation. “I’ve cherished every moment with you and all you’ve shared of the human world.” His gaze lingers on yours, the weight of his sincerity weaving a soft glow between you.  
“Will I see you again?” The words escape your lips like a breath of wind, fragile and light, as though you fear his answer might shatter you. But the gentle smile that touches his face erases your doubt.  
“Always,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your hand, grounding you in his presence. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it feels like a promise written in starlight. When he pulls away, his eyes linger on yours, sparkling like the lake behind him. “This will always be our secret little spot,” he whispers, his voice carrying the weight of eternity, before sealing his vow with another kiss.  
The cool night air brushes against your skin as he begins to disrobe, handing the clothes back to you with a playful smirk. You fold them carefully, tucking them into the bag, which you place against the base of a willow tree. His movements are unhurried, deliberate, as though savoring these final moments of shared stillness. Then, with a fluid leap, he disappears into the water, and the transformation begins.  
Your breath catches as his form shimmers under the moonlight, the emerald-green of his tail emerging from the surface like a dream come to life. The water glints where it cascades from his body, the lake embracing him like it’s welcoming its own. He turns to you, the playful glint in his eyes softened by something deeper, something unspoken.  
You crouch at the edge of the lake, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his lips, the coolness of the water mingling with his warmth. When he pulls away, a radiant smile graces his face, and you feel your chest flutter, as though your heart has been kissed by the night itself.  
As he swims away, his tail slicing gracefully through the water, you watch with awe, unable to look away from the way the moonlight dances across the ripples he leaves behind. A quiet smile settles on your lips, and as the willow branches sway gently overhead, you feel it—the deep and unshakable knowledge that this is not an ending but the start of something wondrous, something infinite. 
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→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle → Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Author’s endnote: hiii! What did you think? I’m working on the last 3 mermaid stories as well, though I feel unsure about the plot, but, I’ll try to make them good for you. I hope you liked this one, and thank you so much for reading ✹
© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story đŸ„°
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neinyasficrecs · 28 days ago
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(ch.3) NORMALITY | jjk high school AU
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Preview: anticipation is inevitable
Present
Maria scanned her new classroom, her eyes lighting up when she spotted a familiar face across the room. There, sitting casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder, was Jungkook. She felt a rush of excitement, knowing they'd be sharing classes together this year. Her mind buzzed with anticipation. She'd been hoping they'd cross paths again, and now that he was here, she couldn't wait to talk to him. Maybe he'd even join the dance extracurricular club with her, something she'd dreamed of for months.
As Maria settled into her desk next to Dani, Mr. Park, their homeroom teacher, continued on with his PowerPoint presentation. His voice faded in and out as she glanced back at Jungkook, planning exactly what she'd say once the class was given free time. Finally, Mr. Park announced they could chat with each other, and Maria was ready to spring out of her seat when the loudspeaker crackled to life.
"Attention, Year 7 students," the principal's voice boomed through the speakers. "Please make your way to the courtyard for your orientation."
Maria slumped in disappointment, watching as her classmates started gathering their things. She shot a longing glance at Jungkook, but there was no time for conversation; the teachers ushered them out of the classroom toward the courtyard.
~11:30 AM~
The orientation was mid at best. Maria found herself in the middle of a team-building activity. The courtyard buzzed with nervous energy as teachers divided students into random groups, assigning them icebreaker challenges meant to foster camaraderie. Unfortunately, luck didn't place her in the same group as Jungkook or Brenda, but instead with Mia and Clara. At this point she'd rather be placed with the new students that looked freakishly similar like the weird art kiddos from Mean Girls (sorry Janis and Damian).
She took a deep breath, summoning her patience as they dove into the first activity: a dressmaking contest using newspaper. The group was supposed to come up with a creative costume, but Maria quickly realized that she'd need to take charge to avoid chaos. Mia was a bit of a perfectionist, trying to fold every sheet with precise creases, while Clara kept throwing out wild ideas that derailed their progress. Maria plastered on a polite smile, trying to keep the peace and help them focus.
'No wonder why they didn't win the dance competition', she thought.
Next up was an art challenge called "Paint and Pass," where each student added a brushstroke to create a shared masterpiece. Maria contributed her part, but it was hard to feel inspired with everyone painting in clashing colors. The artwork looked like an explosion of randomness by the end, though the teachers seemed delighted.
Afterward, they had a "goals and dreams" discussion session, which felt long-winded and forced. Maria found herself nodding along to everyone's aspirations without any real connection. Though she smiled and made polite small talk, deep down, she couldn't wait for the orientation to end.
Finally, it wrapped up, and they were allowed to head back to their classrooms. She let out a sigh of relief, her energy drained from hours of trying to be friendly and engaged. As she met up with Brenda, she couldn't help but vent.
"Ugh, can you believe our recess got pushed back because of that? I'm starving," Maria muttered, rubbing her stomach dramatically.
"Yeah, I know!" Brenda replied, rolling her eyes. "We might as well skip straight to lunch now since the lunch break is at 1:15. I heard the food's actually decent here."
They walked toward the cafeteria, glancing over the menu as they waited in line. The options looked pretty appetising compared to what they'd had in primary school. Brenda opted for an extra-spicy, Asian-inspired pasta aglio e olio, while Maria went for a simple piece of fried chicken. As they started to walk back to their table, a teacher stopped them.
The teacher's name tag read Mrs. Isidora. She looked at Maria's chicken sadly wrapped in a brown bag, eyebrows raised.
"Just a chicken? Will you be full from that without rice?" Mrs. Isidora asked, her tone somewhere between bewilderment and disapproval.
Maria bit back the retort that instantly sprang to mind—Well, Mrs. Isidora, I can't afford to buy rice and I need protein more than anything—but forced a polite smile instead. "It's okay," she replied, keeping her voice neutral.
Mrs. Isidora shook her head in disbelief. "Right, you young people are weird, eating meat without rice? Makes no sense."
Maria just chuckled, more out of politeness than anything, and walked away before she said something she'd regret. Brenda, catching the interaction, raised her eyebrows as they sat down at their table.
"Geez, what's her deal?" Brenda muttered, rolling her eyes as she took a bite of her pasta.
Maria shrugged, stabbing her fork into her chicken with slightly more force than necessary. "No fucking idea, but she could chill with the unsolicited opinions before I shove this drumstick up her-"
~2:45~
The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Maria packed up her things, stretching as she stood and looked around the bustling hallway. Just an hour longer than primary school, yet somehow it felt like an eternity.
"Lord, it's only one hour extra from primary school, but somehow it felt longer," Maria groaned as she walked out with Brenda.
Brenda chuckled. "Eh, I just don’t pay attention—that's how you make time pass quickly."
Maria laughed, shaking her head. She can't wait for her first dance club meeting next week, where she'd finally get the chance to show off her moves and meet others who shared her passion. As they walked together, Maria realized she hadn't actually gotten to talk to Jungkook that day, despite all her plans that morning. Welp, that's a tomorrow problem. Today had been enough of an adventure on its own, and all she wanted now was to go home, recharge, and get ready to dive headfirst into dance.
With a final wave to Brenda, Maria hopped into her bus, her mind already spinning with thoughts of routines, music, and the thrill of performing.
'I really hope Jungkook considers joining the dance club.'
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neinyasficrecs · 29 days ago
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(ch.2) NORMALITY | jjk high school AU
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preview: when they go low, we go lower
"Oh please, would you mind?" Jungkook asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. The piano was his passion, just as dance was Maria's, so he couldn't hide his thrill at discovering a friend who shared his love for music.
"I'm not that great, honestly," Maria replied, a little self-conscious.
"Come on, you can't be that bad. No parent would invest in a proper piano for their kid if they were terrible at it," Jungkook laughed.
He was right in a way. Maria had become quite good, thanks to Ana who'd spent half her life savings on a high-quality second-hand piano so Maria could have a proper instrument rather than just a basic keyboard. Yet things hadn't turned out quite as planned. Maria had lost interest in piano back in 2012, around the same time she discovered her passion for dance. She had left piano school during her third year to pursue dance, but Ana was hesitant to support this new dream, fearing Maria's enthusiasm might waver. Ana insisted Maria practice on her own until she proved her dedication. Maria did go on to win a few dance competitions, enough to show her potential, though Ana never mentioned enrolling her in a dance school. Maria understood why; she knew her mum couldn't afford it, so she kept practicing solo, learning only so much on her own.
"Honestly, I'm not great. Don't judge a book by its cover," she said, almost backing out.
"Then let me be the judge," Jungkook persisted, giving her an encouraging smile.
Maria, shy but eager not to disappoint, finally gave in and pulled out an old sheet music from her piano lessons.
"Wait, you're in grade two?" Jungkook asked, laughing when he saw the sheet.
"Wow, way to make me want to play," Maria replied, rolling her eyes.
Jungkook's laughter faded as he realised he might have offended her. "Sorry! You don't have to play if you don't want to," he offered gently.
Maria sighed in relief, then shared her story about how her passion had shifted and how her mum's limitations had affected her dance pursuits. Jungkook listened, a bit disappointed as he'd been hoping they could become "piano buddies." He smiled softly. "I bet you would've been an amazing pianist if you'd kept going."
That evening, after Jungkook went home, Maria lay in bed feeling unexpectedly happy. She'd shared a piece of herself with someone new and felt understood.
June 10th - The Performance
It was finally the day of the talent show, and 'The X Team' - as Alaina insisted on calling it - consisting of Maria, Alaina, Brenda, Jimin, Jungkook, Isabella, and Jayda was ready to bring energy and a little chaos to the stage. Their performance was a wild medley of songs, starting with an intense dubstep beat that immediately grabbed the audience's attention. They transitioned smoothly into Primadonna Girl by Marina, followed—unexpectedly—by the quirky Korean song Gwiyomi, which threw the crowd for a loop. Next up was a dubstep remix of PewDiePie's most iconic quotes, pushing the audience to the edge with the sheer variety. They wrapped up the set with I Don't Care by Icona Pop, the crowd's favourite part, as they broke out into dance tricks that had everyone on their feet, cheering for more.
Their unpredictable choice of music might have overwhelmed a casual listener, but the energy was undeniable. The audience was left buzzing, clapping, and calling for an encore.
When the results were announced, The X Team came in third place and, to their delight, also won the Audience Favourite award. Meanwhile, the other team—consisting of Hoseok, Mia, Clara, Maddie, and Faye—walked away empty-handed. While all of them were phenomenal dancers, their performance lacked stage presence as well as the unity and chemistry that The X Team's had, making it less memorable.
Just as the day seemed to be wrapping up on a high note, chaos erupted. The losing team accused The X Team of cheating, furious over the results. What started as whispers quickly escalated into a heated argument, with the 15-year-old dancers launching into a full-blown shouting match.
"Cheating? What the hell could we have done?" Maria shot back, holding her ground as her teammates rallied around her.
"Yeah, we fucking worked just as hard as you!" Alaina added, crossing her arms defiantly.
"You guys probably paid off the judges!" Clara sneered.
"Oh, please, just say you're mad you didn't win anything," Jayda chimed in, rolling her eyes.
"Maybe if you actually worked as a team instead of a bunch of solo acts, the judges and the crowd would have liked you better!" Isabella shot back, her voice full of sass.
Hoseok scowled. "We're better dancers than you by miles, that's for sure."
"I didn't say that dingbat," Jayda pointed out before getting accused of anything.
"Everyone calm down," Jimin said, trying to diffuse the tension, though he too was visibly annoyed.
The bickering continued until a teacher finally intervened, breaking up the squabble. Jimin sighed in relief, he really didn't like drama, let alone being involved in one.
As they left the venue, Maria's team couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and exhilaration. They'd pulled off an unforgettable performance, won over the crowd, and proven that sometimes, it's not about individual talent but about how you work together.
"Damn, if putting myself on stage means I'd be able to witness juicy drama like this, I'd gladly do it everyday." the unproblematic Brenda mumbled.
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neinyasficrecs · 29 days ago
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(ch. 5) NORMALITY | jjk high school AU
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Preview: her cheeks red, his flags redder.
"Yeah, no, I really need to catch one of your dance comps one day," Jungkook said casually, leaning against the wall with that relaxed grin Maria had come to know all too well.
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "You didn't even come to my first high school performance..."
Jungkook shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, I know. It's just—"
"If you couldn't make it to that, which was practically on your doorstep, why should I believe you'd travel an hour or two for a comp?" Maria raised an eyebrow, cutting him off.
Jungkook's gaze softened, almost serious for once. "Look, you know I would've watched if I could, right? I had something to take care of—"
"Someone to take care of," Maria quipped, unable to hide the tiny smirk creeping up her face. She'd seen him around school with some girl after that unpleasant encounter with Angela, and Jungkook's expression told her she'd hit a nerve.
The two of them stood at the entrance of the classroom, their words mingling with the low hum of other students passing by. The usual morning sounds. But this conversation felt different.
Weirdly enough, instead of looking annoyed, Jungkook chuckled, a low, quiet laugh that made her stomach do a weird flip.
"What's so funny?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes, suddenly self-conscious.
"Oh, nothing," he replied with a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously.
"Bruh, I don't get it. You're pissing me off," Maria huffed, turning away, ready to leave him in the hallway and go inside. She took a step forward, but before she could make it through the doorway, Jungkook reached out, stopping her.
With unexpected gentleness, he pressed her against the door with his right hand then cupping her cheek with the left, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. She froze, her heart pounding.
"Don't worry, princess. You'll get your turn." He chuckled as he released her, opening the door and darting into the classroom ahead of her to greet his mates, leaving her in the hall, speechless.
Princess? My turn? Her mind raced, replaying his words, her cheek tingling where he'd touched it. What is he on about? Is this the kind of guy Jungkook really is? If it was, she was in trouble... deep trouble.
And with that, her cheeks turned red... so did the flags waving around him.
———
Was she too forward? Too needy? She wondered if she should've brushed it off, acted cool, pretended not to care whether he'd shown up for her performance or not. But that wasn't her style—she was direct, a total "yapper" as her friends liked to say. She'd always been the type to speak her mind, no filters. Yet today, for the first time in a while, she felt uncharacteristically... quiet.
Maria couldn't stop replaying the scene from this morning, every moment echoing in her mind. What was up with Jungkook? He'd always been playful, sure, but this... was different. He'd actually been a little, well... flirty. Or whatever the right word was. Now, in the middle of maths class, she found herself alone at her desk, without her usual seat mate, staring blankly at her textbook, her thoughts chanting his name in an endless loop.
Jungkook...
Jungkook...
Jungkook...
"Maria, I'll ask again—what's the answer?" Mrs. Widya's voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back to reality.
Maria blinked, glancing up at the board, completely lost. "I'm sorry, I don't know, Mrs. Widya."
Mrs. Widya raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "No, you're a smart girl; you would've known the answer if you paid attention—"
"My grandma's sick," Maria blurted out. It was true, technically—her grandma had caught a cold from one of the cooks at her restaurant, so did all the other customers probably. But that wasn't the reason she'd blanked out.
Mrs. Widya's expression softened slightly but remained firm. "Alright, well, you can worry about that later. This is important information you should be focusing on."
"Give her a break. Where's the empathy?" came a voice from the back. Everyone turned to see Jungkook, arms folded, his body slouched as if he'd been in the middle of joking with his friends a second before.
Mrs. Widya narrowed her eyes at him. "You want empathy? You can show it yourself—say goodbye to your mates and and you can sit next to her for the rest of the class."
Oh, God, Maria thought, cringing. Why did he have to open his mouth?
Jungkook didn't seem to mind in the slightest. With a small grin, he scooped up his books and practically bounded over to the empty seat that was supposed to be Christopher's next to her, his giddiness annoyingly obvious.
He leaned over, his voice a whisper. "Is your grandma really sick?"
"Yeah," Maria replied, short and simple, keeping her eyes glued to her notebook.
"But that's not why you blanked out, is it?" he asked, his tone soft but knowing.
Maria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, he'd catch on. "Can we just not talk about it now? I need to focus—I'm struggling as it is."
"Mkay." To her relief, he settled into his seat without pestering her further, which was a nice change from his usual persistence, especially after the piano incident.
With Jungkook now quiet beside her, Maria felt a strange sense of relief, even if the distraction had made things awkward. She managed to turn her focus back to the lesson, glad, at least for now, that the morning's drama was momentarily out of sight.
———
I should actually pay attention more in class, huh? Maria thought, feeling a small sense of accomplishment as she finished the last question of the maths booklet. She still had 25 minutes left before the lunch bell, though it would've been more if Jungkook hadn't kept pushing her to finish faster just because he'd already completed his.
"Faster, faster! Omg, Maria, you're so slow," he muttered, leaning over her shoulder with exaggerated impatience.
"For fuck's sake, Kook. Bugger off," she hissed, rolling her eyes.
"But I want more free time! Don't you want it too?" he pleaded, half-joking, half-serious.
"Of course I do, but I get even slower under stress, so for the love of god, shut up."
Finally done, she checked the clock: 12:50. Cool. She double-checked her answers by cross-checking them with Jungkook's, catching a few small errors he'd made along the way. With a satisfied nod, she handed in her booklet to Mrs. Widya, who scanned through it briefly and gave her a nod of approval, marking it a perfect 100. Jungkook, however, had scored a 92, which she knew was due to a few careless mistakes, like forgetting to write down the units.
Maria twirled her pen, staring blankly at the sheet of paper in front of her. What can I do to pass the time? With Mrs. Widya’s over-the-top classroom rules—no phones, not even novels—there wasn’t much. She still couldn’t understand the logic behind banning books. What kind of teacher thinks to ban books? Maria shook her head, muttering under her breath as she began scribbling on a blank piece of paper.
“What you writin’?” Jungkook’s voice came from beside her, breaking her focus.
“Nun ya bizz,” she replied without looking up.
“Man, I’m bored. Just tell me. You’re not writing your diary, are you?” he teased, leaning closer.
“Why the fuck would I write a diary out in the open, especially next to you?”
“Fair. So, what are you doing then? Let me join!”
Maria rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smirking. “Fine, I’m writing character ideas and plot prompts. Lately, I’ve been into reading novels, and since we’ve got nothing else to do, I figured, why not start a story?”
“Oh, nice. I’ve never read a novel in my life. Haha.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” Maria quipped.
They both laughed as Maria continued jotting down ideas, letting Jungkook read over her shoulder. She described the male lead first: a 25-year-old fit barista who owns his own coffee shop. He’s the very definition of a gentleman—chivalrous and kind, but secretly unsatisfied with his life. She named him John.
The female lead, on the other hand, was a 24-year-old cybersecurity intern juggling two part-time jobs and an IT degree. She’s too busy for a love life but dreams of finding a man who’s masculine and not toxic about it, someone secure enough to show his softer side.
“Hmmm, how should I make them meet?” Maria mused, tapping her pen against the desk.
“Oooh, I know! I’ve got an idea!” Jungkook said, his eyes lighting up.
“Jungkook, no. This is my story.”
“Come on, it’ll be good! So John—”
Before he could finish, the lunch bell rang, cutting him off. Maria casually packed up her stuff, ready to meet Casie for lunch. But before she could leave, Jungkook grabbed her arm.
“Can we finish this together sometime?” he asked, his voice unusually earnest.
Maria chuckled, her heart skipping a beat if she was being honest. “Haha, Jungkook, I wasn’t serious about writing a story. I was just bored. You can steal my ideas, though.”
“The best part would be doing it with y—I mean like, with someone, ‘cause like- you know, the more, the merrier,” he stammered, his cheeks slightly flushed.
Maria raised a brow. “Oh, well, maybe you can get your girlfriend to help you, then?”
“She’s not my g—”
“Maria! Come on, I’m starving!” Brenda called out from the doorway, rushing in and grabbing Maria’s arm to drag her out.
“Oh! Um—hi, Jungkook!” Brenda added hurriedly.
“Hey, Brenda—”
“Bye, Jungkook!” Brenda said, cutting him off as she practically dragged Maria out of the room.
“Text me on Insta after school!” Maria called over her shoulder, flashing Jungkook a quick smile.
Jungkook stood frozen by Maria’s desk, staring after her. His mind raced. What just happened? Writing? Since when was he interested in writing? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
With a sigh, he returned to his seat, mumbling under his breath, “Maria, what are you doing to me?”
This time, his cheeks turned red.
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neinyasficrecs · 29 days ago
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VIENS BÉBÉ, VIENS!
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Girl You Loud; “I’m ‘bout to get up on that ass right now — just love me, love me down, now.”
‱ Pairing: Jungkook x afab reader ‱ Genre: smut
‱ Contains vulgar language & sexual themes, pwp, dom/sub dynamics, nicknames, teasing, dirty talk, couch sex, unprotected sex, implied hair pulling, big dick jk, daddy kink, squirting, wap LMAO, clichĂ© fluff at the end.... i’ll fix grammar errors if i remember to :)
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“j-jungkook—oh, fuck!” you yelp. he lowly hisses behind you, a large hand pushing your head further against the plush cushion, your cheek pressed against it as jungkook teasingly probes his tip inside your drooling pussy. fuck, he was so big. you practically see stars every time his unreasonably fat tip grazed your soaking walls.
horny and helplessly, you lay on your stomach atop the huge couch that smelt of laundry softener. your legs are pressed together by your boyfriends’ own, barely able to move ‘cause he’s so fucking strong, jesus.
the man who you’re begging for clenches his jaw, mindfully sinking every inch of his huge cock into your pussy, creating an ungodly squelch. as his inked fingers tangle into your hair, his other hand rests against our pudgy ass cheek, breath becoming ragged as your pussy engulfs him whole.
“y’re so fuckin’ tight baby,” he gruffly mutters, letting you adjust to his girth. no matter how many times he fucks you, you always struggle to take him in one go. “mmh, j
 ‘m so wet for you; want your big fucking cock
 want you so badly.” you mewl with a sweet little whimper.
jungkook curses, fingers beginning to dig into the flesh of your ass. his hips slowly roll into your heat, and a groan rumbles within his chest as he bottoms out. you coat him with your essence as he seeps in and pulls out until his tip’s left in.
you moan at the little friction he purposefully provides, making you whine for more. “shit, baby
 pussy’s fuckin’ creaming f’me; so fucking warm ‘n tight,” he slurs, slow pace fading into something faster, deeper. you turn into a mess underneath him, but all your noises are muffled as soon as his palm covers your mouth.
all you can do is merely and weakly nod your head to tell him how good he’s fucking you; how good his huge cock feels between your hot walls. you raise your hips a tad, trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock, lazily meeting his thrusts.
“yeah, fuck.. just like that. y’ hear that, ma? hear how wet this lil’ pussy is f’me?” jungkook swallows harshly, overwhelmed by ecstasy. you clench around him, and he becomes a weak man as he sloppily slams into you, hands grasping onto your hips.
“yes, yes, gguk! keep fucking me, daddy—shitt, wait! t-too much! ‘m gonna s-squirt!” you scream, feeling his tip brush against your cervix, resulting in your pussy spasming with juices. you squeeze your eyes shut with a scream, and jungkook’s eyes roll into his skull and his head lolls back, brain completely empty and hazy.
he loses his senses before they retreat, feeling a nonstop gush of liquid washing upon his thighs and lower abdomen that flexes with rapture. he momentarily slips out and his cock’s replaced by two, long fingers. he fucks them them in and out, repetitively curling them for yet another wave of squirt to gush out of your cunt.
you cry, a little louder this time, limbs ready to give up due to how spent you are; clear as drool spills from your mouth and tears spill out of your eyes.
gingerly, jungkook lets you flop face first into the couch before his hands push your thighs together and traps them in between his legs once again, grabbing his shaft to slap it against your pussy. you draw out a frail moan, feeling his hand stroke the side of your waist.
then, he slips back in, plunging into your heat with ragged pants. “fuckin’ love this little cunt, baby
 ‘s good. it’s moulded f’ my fat cock, isn’t it?” he breathes out, the energy within slacking as your walls squeeze his cock, coating it with more of your ivory crùme.
jungkook paints your walls white, body shuddering as his orgasm takes over, arms eagerly wrapping around your waist and his firm chest weighs atop your wildly arched back. your manicured nails claw at the charcoal-coloured, seat cushioning. you whimper, telling him it’s too much, so he pulls out with a shaky breath through his nose.
“jungkook
” you murmur, and you’re suddenly rotating as he flips you over. now, he lies on his back with you atop him, a loose, sleazy grin on his mouth. “y’did so good f’me ma,” jungkook says, hand reaching up to cup your cheek.
you fondly smile down at him, ass meeting his thick thighs with a loud clap, causing you two to burst into a fit of laughter. oh, how much you loved this filthy, doe eyed man and how much he loved you right back.
“i love you,” you murmur, girlish hands holding his face as you messily peck his lips. jungkook beams against your mouth, completely pulling you down onto him. “i love you too, baby.”
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© ckhaine; refrain from reposting, translating, or modifying my work.
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