#I haven’t drawn in a hot min but I needed to draw them

[raindays11]

[hamsterclaw]

Replay

Taehyung's your roommate - you get along fine, you do your own thing and stay out of each others' way. Your relationship works perfectly the way it is, you don't want or need anything more out of it.

Pairing: Taehyung x F! reader, Yoongi x F! reader

Word count: 11k

Genre: College AU, smut

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut, swearing

You’re standing in a corner of the kitchen of the house party you’re at with your roommate Taehyung. 

You’re aware of the looks you’re attracting. Taehyung’s hot when he’s lounging around half-dressed in your living room, but fully dressed? When he’s made an effort? 

He’s devastating. 

Dark hair, dark brows often drawn together when he’s looking at someone, like they’re a puzzle he’s dying to work out, lips curled in a smirk. 

He dresses carefully, even for hastily thrown together house parties, but even the loosest of shirts don’t hide his broad shoulders, the lines of his torso tapering to hips that he knows how to move. 

Your roommate’s a sexy man. 

You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself, especially today, when your hair’s doing what you want it to and your eyeliner’s sharp enough to cut glass. 

Together, you draw attention, and you’ve taken full advantage of it in the past. 

Your shared apartment with Taehyung has two bedrooms, set on opposite ends of a hallway with your living room in between, which is just as well. You’ve got no desire to hear your sexy roommate’s pillow talk, nor for him to hear you getting off with your man of choice. 

Taehyung sips his drink and tilts his head at you. 

‘I might go early,’ he tells you. ‘I haven’t even started Monday’s assignment.’ 

‘You’ve got the weekend,’ you say, easy. 

‘I don’t want to lose tomorrow too,’ he says, shrugging. ‘You don’t need me, anyway.’ 

You’re distracted by the arrival of the basketball team. ‘Hmm?’ 

Taehyung dips close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. You lean back, startled. You rarely touch each other, you know some friends do but you’re not a touchy person and you didn’t think Taehyung was either. 

‘Now that I have your attention,’ he says pointedly, rolling his eyes, ‘I’m gonna go. Say ‘hi’ to Yoongi for me. Don’t fuck in communal spaces.’ 

‘Stay for a bit,’ you plead, grabbing his shirt as he turns away. 

Taehyung looks down at your hand. ‘Pick up brunch for us tomorrow and I’ll wing you.’

‘Deal,’ you say. 

You both turn as you’re approached by Kim Namjoon, basketball captain and the most promiscuous man you know.

‘Hey,’ he says, leaning against the counter, dimpling at you. 

‘Hi Namjoon,’ you say. 

Taehyung raises a brow as Namjoon acts like he’s interested in your drink.

You’re about to offer Namjoon a sip when there’s a huff of breath, then a gravelly voice.

‘Y/N, Tae,’ Min Yoongi says, nodding to both of you in greeting.

‘Hi Yoongi,’ you say. You smile at him, and he gives you a long look that makes you feel flushed, warm.

Kim Namjoon captains the basketball team, but Yoongi’s the only person you ever watch on the rare occasion you find yourself at a game. 

He’s ethereal, with his beautiful skin and dark eyes, and his hands and forearms have featured in all your nastiest fantasies.

You have needs, and tonight, you want Yoongi to see to them.

Taehyung’s already hustling Namjoon away, throwing you a smirk over his shoulder as he leaves you with Yoongi.

Yoongi watches you take a sip of your drink.

‘Want some?’ you ask, tipping your plastic cup towards him.

Yoongi says, cool, so confident you can already feel yourself melting at his feet, ‘yeah.’

He downs what's in your cup and sets it down on the counter.

‘Let me get you a better drink,’ he says, hanging his head, looking up at you, lips curled in a smirk.

You wonder what his lips might feel like on you.

‘I have wine at mine,’ you say, bold.

He keeps looking at you, smile playing on his lips. 

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you say.

Yoongi tilts his head. ‘Lead the way.’

***

Yoongi’s got your skirt hiked up, panties by your ankles, and his mouth on your cunt. 

He licks another stripe along your folds, slow, deliberate.

You reach up, grasp his forearm.

He snickers, following it up with another long slow lick.

‘You want my fingers?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you plead. ‘Want you.’

You’re arched back against your headboard, trying not to scream when there’s a knock at your door.

‘Hey,’ Taehyung calls through the door. ‘You ok?’

Yoongi looks up from where he’s poised over your cunt, sees your hands covering your own mouth.

‘We’re good, bro,’ he answers, sliding his fingers into you.

Your mouth opens to moan, and Yoongi’s other hand comes up to cover your mouth. 

Taehyung knocks again, more insistent this time.

‘I want to hear you, Y/N. Are you all right?’

Yoongi’s fingers start moving in and out of you as he shrugs and uncovers your mouth.

‘Yeah,’ you say, trying not to moan again. ‘I’m good, Tae, thanks for checking.’

Taehyung says, ‘Yeah. I’m in my room if you need anything.’

‘Damn,’ Yoongi murmurs as you hear Taehyung walking away. ‘You guys look out for each other like that a lot?’

You whimper as Yoongi shoves his jeans down, moves on top of you.

‘Can’t be too careful,’ you say, breathless.

Yoongi’s unrolling a condom on his pretty dick, nudging into you slowly.

He groans as he eases into you, letting out a breath when he’s all the way in.

You clench around him helplessly, the stretch of him’s so damn good you could come from this alone.

Yoongi rolls his hips, grinding, hitting you so deep you see stars behind your eyelids every time he thrusts.

‘You good?’ he asks. He’s genuinely waiting for an answer, and your heart flutters a little when you realise.

‘Yeah,’ you affirm, smiling up at him.

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, mutters something that sounds like ‘so fucking pretty’, that you would ask him to repeat if he wasn’t fucking you so well.

You cry his name as you come, tightening around his cock.

‘Good girl,’ praises Yoongi, the gravel in his voice somehow both sexy and soothing.

His thrusts slow, his rhythm changes, and he groans ‘baby, fuck, fuck!’ as he comes.

He pulls out, ties off the condom and tosses it with a careless flick into your bin.

‘All in the wrist,’ you comment. 

Yoongi, now flat on his back on your bed, arm over his face, chuckles. 

‘You’re an idiot.’

Then, he sits up, scanning your face like he’s worried he’s upset you.

‘I’m just teasing you,’ he tells you.

You’re already getting up to use the bathroom. 

‘I know, Yoongi,’ you reply. ‘Want some water?’

‘I should get going,’ he says.

You shrug. ‘You can stay if you want.’

‘I’ve got basketball in the morning,’ he replies.

‘Sure,’ you say.

You walk him out, bid him goodbye at the door.

There’s crockery rattling in the kitchen, Taehyung’s smoky tenor caressing the notes of a jazz classic.

You stop in the doorway to listen.

Taehyung’s got a stunning voice, the first time you came back early from classes and heard him, you’d thought it was a recording.

He turns his head, spots you, doesn’t miss a beat.

You pour yourself a glass of water and take a seat at the kitchen counter.

Without asking, Taehyung lays a bowl in front of you, chopsticks together angled at a skew. 

‘Thanks,’ you say, gratefully. 

You eat quietly as Taehyung sings. The song segues into another, words crooned low over the tinkling of an accompanying piano. 

He joins you at the counter eventually with his own bowl.

‘You good?’ he asks.

You have a sudden flashback to Yoongi buried inside you, asking the same.

You give Taehyung a half-smile.

‘Yeah good.’

‘How come Yoongi didn’t stay?’ Taehyung asks.

‘He said he had basketball in the morning,’ you reply. 

You don’t want it to sting but it does. 

Taehyung shrugs. ‘Maybe you’re just not that interesting out of bed,’ he says, deadpan.

‘Yeah,’ you agree, just as deadpan.

‘It’s probably more that he’s an idiot,’ Taehyung continues. 

You shrug. 

‘Wanna watch TV, Tae?’

‘Yeah. Go set it up and I’ll bring us ice cream.’

You’re curled up in your corner of the couch, blanket pulled over you, when Taehyung enters.

He hands you a tub and a spoon and settles in his corner. 

‘Are you really ok?’ he asks, not looking at you.

‘Yeah.’

You wait for him to say something else, but he just hums. 

Predictably, he’s asleep before the opening credits have even finished, but his presence is comforting all the same.

***

You’re at the diner with Taehyung the next morning when he says, ‘don’t look now, your fuckboi’s here with his teammates.’

You grimace. ‘Think they might not see us?’

Taehyung says, ‘he’s heading over here.’

You don’t have time to ask who before Min Yoongi’s standing by your booth.

‘Hey,’ he says, tilting his head at you.

You smile at him, grateful you’d at least taken the time to do your skincare this morning before coming out.

‘Hey Yoongi.’

‘Can I get your number?’ he asks.

You reel off your digits, voice steady even though your heart’s beating triple speed.

‘Ok,’ Yoongi says. The tip of his tongue pokes through his lips briefly, and your phone vibrates in your pocket.

‘Can I call you later?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Sure,’ you say, light, casual.

Yoongi nods at Taehyung, and then he’s off.

You pick up a forkful of pancakes to give your hands something to do.

‘Guess you’re not that uninteresting after all,’ Taehyung teases.

‘Yeah, and guess he’s not that much of an idiot,’ you agree.

Taehyung laughs. ‘At least now you can stop sulking.’

You’d deny you were ever sulking but Taehyung knows you too well.

***

It’s another Friday night, and you have a date with Yoongi. It’s only a movie, but he’s picking you up and you’re excited and there’s that.

You’re pouring yourself a glass of water in the kitchen when Taehyung walks in.

‘Wow,’ you say, impressed.

Your roommate’s sharply styled tonight, his hair away from his face, shirt falling perfectly against his lean frame. The chain around his neck glints in the light as he moves. He smells good, fresh.

‘Wow yourself,’ he replies. ‘Date with Yoongi?’

‘Going to the movies,’ you tell him. ‘You?’

‘I’ve got a dinner date,’ he says. ‘We’ll probably come back here after.’

‘I’ll be out late,’ you say. ‘No sex in communal spaces.’

Taehyung laughs at the mantra you’ve got into the habit of tossing at each other instead of a goodbye, and waves as he leaves.

When the doorbell rings you hurry to open it.

Yoongi’s standing in your doorway, all longish dark hair and silver earrings, smile crooked.

‘Hey pretty girl,’ he says, like he practised it, and butterflies flutter in your stomach anyway, because you’ve always been a sucker for a compliment from a gorgeous guy. 

‘Hey,’ you say. You grab your keys off the hall table and step out. He doesn’t move back like you expected him to, so you end up pressed against him as you shut the door behind you.

You look at him and raise an eyebrow.

He smirks at you. 

‘I’d like popcorn,’ you say.

Yoongi slips his arm around your shoulders. 

‘Yeah? I’ll get you some,’ he promises. 

You lean into his chest as you head for the lifts. 

‘I heard the movie’s scary,’ he says, as you get into the lift. ‘Are you gonna hold my hand?’

‘I like horror movies,’ you tell him.

‘But what about me? I might get scared,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry, I can hold your hand at the scary parts.’

Yoongi says, ‘yeah?’

‘Promise,’ you say. 

Yoongi grins at you. ‘We’d better practice holding hands now.’

You have to laugh at his expression. You push at his chest lightly, but when his hand comes up to grasp yours, you don’t pull away.

***

By the time you and Yoongi get back from the movie, the living room is dark but the kitchen light’s on.

‘Want a drink?’ you offer. ‘I have beer.’

You enter the kitchen and are confronted with your roommate’s bare chest, sweats slung low around his hips.

He mumbles a greeting, turns to grab a cup, revealing scratch marks all over his back.

‘Fuck, are you ok? Your back.’

Taehyung’s grin is boxy, wide, reminding you why he has the reputation he has around campus.

He passes you a couple beers, cracks one open for himself. 

‘Gigi’s still here,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Brunch?’

‘Brunch,’ you agree. 

He tilts his beer at you in a toast, and saunters out.

You can hear him greeting Yoongi as he heads back to his room.

Yoongi raises a brow at you. ‘Is he high?’

‘Possibly,’ you reply. ‘Are you still scared from the movie? Do I need to hold your hand again?’

Yoongi nods so seriously you’re almost fooled.

He takes your hand and tugs you into your room, onto your bed.

‘What should we do now?’ you ask, feigning innocence.

Yoongi laughs, tugs gently at the strap of your dress with his teeth. 

He pulls down, letting the strap fall off your shoulder, exposing the top of your left breast.

He brushes his lips over your rounded flesh, tongue flicking between to lick, and you shiver.

‘Cold?’ Yoongi asks, watching you intently as he blows over your exposed nipple.

You can’t stop the moan from spilling out as he flicks your nipple with his tongue.

Yoongi’s breath is warm on your skin, like his palm as he slides it over your bare thigh, under your skirt. 

The tips of his long fingers brush between your legs, and you let out an involuntary hum. 

‘Yeah, you’re cold,’ Yoongi says, confident, decisive. 

He leans over you, pushing you down on the bed under him. ‘Come on, I’ll warm you up.’ 

Fuck, he does. 

***

You and Taehyung are halfway through your breakfast plates at the diner before you even speak to each other. 

‘If this place ever closes we’ll be fucked,’ Taehyung says, mouth full. 

‘You’ll be fucking regardless,’ you say, unable to resist. ‘But yeah, we need this place to stay open.’ 

‘Why does fucking make me so hungry?’ wonders Taehyung. ‘I don’t feel this hungry after the gym.’ 

You snort. ‘When do you ever go to the gym?’

‘Jungkook’s been dragging me there.’ 

Taehyung flexes his arm. ‘See? This definition isn’t just my natural shape.’ 

You pretend to squint. ‘What? You mean being a noodle-armed weakling isn’t natural to you?’ 

Taehyung looks at you, mouth in a straight line. ‘You mean being a short ass isn’t natural to you?’

‘Ha ha ha ha,’ you scowl. 

‘Gigi says she likes your style,’ Taehyung says, shoving another forkful of sausage into his mouth, chewing open-mouthed. 

‘Yeah? I like hers too, apart from her taste in fuckbuddies,’ you retort. 

‘She says you have a great ass.’ 

‘Oh my god, can you shut up and let me eat in peace,’ you grumble. 

‘Does Yoongi say anything about me?’ Taehyung asks. 

‘Yeah, he’s always asking if you’re high.’

Taehyung snorts. ‘Rich coming from a scrappy athlete with a bad reputation.’ 

‘He doesn’t have a bad reputation.’ 

‘Please. If he wasn’t the biggest fuckboy around you wouldn’t even be interested.’ 

‘What? I don’t just date fuckboys,’ you protest, weakly, trying to remember the last boy you actually dated. 

‘You live with me,’ Taehyung reminds you, rolling his eyes. 

‘You don’t have a bad reputa –’ 

You cut yourself off midsentence. ‘Yeah ok. And?’ 

‘And nothing. I like living with you. You’re easy.’ 

Your eyebrows lift and you toss a napkin at him. 

‘Easy to live with,’ Taehyung amends. 

He laughs. ‘Can you get the waitress’ attention, we’re gonna need more potato waffles.’

‘Get her yourself,’ you say. 

‘Don’t be mad,’ Taehyung coaxes. ‘I’m easy too.’ 

You look at the way he’s sitting, leaning back, legs spread wide in his grey sweats, the neck of his t-shirt so wide you can see all of his collarbones, and your fit of pique fades. 

‘I like living with you too,’ you say. 

You tip your juice towards him, and he brings his own drink forward to toast. 

‘To cheap breakfasts,’ he says. 

‘And easy lays,’ you reply. 

Taehyung’s grin flashes at you, the wide boxy grin he reserves for when he’s genuinely amused, and you can’t help but smile back. 

***

The thud that comes from the living room is muffled, like whoever made it is trying to be quiet. 

You’re only half awake, and falling back asleep again when you hear another sound, the thump of a knee against the edge of the sofa. 

You pick up your phone, squinting at the time. 

3am. 

You sit up. 

‘What are you doing, Tae?’ you mutter to yourself, getting up. 

You stumble to the living room, eyes trying to adjust to the dark. 

You can see him standing in the middle of the living room, and have a sense of unreality when you can hear a key in the front door. 

Realisation pierces through you, and you turn back to the intruder in your living room. 

Your mouth opens, and the intruder flees, heading straight for your balcony doors, which you’ve just noticed, are ajar. 

Taehyung walks in, startled to see you. 

‘Tae! There’s a man in our apartment!’ you blurt out. 

Taehyung and you rush for the balcony but by the time you get there there’s no trace of the man. 

‘Shit, the lock’s broken,’ Taehyung says. 

‘I’m gonna call the police,’ you tell him. 

‘Are you ok? What happened?’

Taehyung takes your arm.

‘Shit Tae, you smell like —’

Taehyung grimaces. ‘Yeah, sorry. The guys were going hard tonight.’

By the time you’ve made your report, Taehyung’s showered and made you both tea. 

‘I don’t think anything’s missing, all our stuff’s still here,’ you say. 

‘Yeah,’ Taehyung agrees. He shivers. ‘Sorry I wasn’t here.’

‘Fuck, that was scary,’ you say. Now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, you’re starting to feel sleepy. 

You glance at the balcony door. ‘What are we going to do about that?’ 

‘We should set a trap,’ Taehyung says, authoritatively. 

You glare at him. ‘Are you still high?’ 

‘Shit, not when you look at me like that,’ Taehyung replies. 

You sigh. ‘Go to bed, Tae.’ 

‘No, I can fix it,’ Taehyung insists. He goes to his room, and is gone for so long you’re about to go and check on him when he returns. 

‘What the fuck, Tae?’ 

Taehyung just raises an eyebrow at you. 

He walks over to the balcony doors, snaps them closed, and ties the handles together with the red silk ties he came out with, deftly. 

He tests the knots with an expertise you’re almost afraid to ask how he acquired. 

You find yourself smiling, reluctantly, for the first time since you woke up. 

‘Fucking hell, Kim Taehyung.’ 

Taehyung turns to you, completely straight-faced, apart from a tell-tale quiver of his lips. 

‘I have some left over,’ he tells you, feigning innocence. 

‘Fucking hell, Kim Taehyung.’ 

‘If you’re not feeling safe, I can sleep in your room with you, for tonight,’ he offers. 

‘Get the fuck out, Tae.’ 

‘I don’t have to bring my ropes.’ 

‘Shibari.’ 

‘Actually, it’s Kinbaku.’ 

Taehyung drops the ties on the couch and walks carefully around it. 

He puts a hand on your back. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you to your room, ok?’ 

Against your better judgement, you let him lead you to your bedroom. 

Taehyung pulls the covers back, helps you get settled in and rearranges them over you. 

Fully dressed, he lies on top of the covers next to you. 

‘Go to sleep,’ he says, rolling on his back, closing his eyes. 

His quiet, easy breathing fills the silence, and before you know it, you’re asleep. 

***

The sun’s setting, so you go out on your balcony to watch. It’s chilly still but more spring than winter.

Your heels rattle against the grate as you make your way to one of the garden chairs you and Tae picked up at the flea market when you first moved in together.

Yoongi’s coming to pick you up in a half hour, a proper date you think, you’re going to pick up food together before a house party.

The front door to the apartment opens, you can hear Taehyung humming to himself.

A moment later he’s peering out the balcony doors at you.

‘You look nice,’ he tells you.

You’re surprised by his compliment. ‘Thanks Tae Tae.’

‘Hot date with a fuckboy?’ Taehyung asks. He takes the seat across the balcony from you, long legs stretching out in between. He tilts his face up to the setting sun, and for a moment you admire the beauty of his profile, cast in rosy golds and brilliant orange.

Your roommate is genuinely one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever met.

You realise he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for you to say something. 

‘Sorry,’ you say, smiling. ‘I got distracted by how pretty you look.’

Taehyung snorts. ‘You look pretty too. Your legs look as long as mine in those heels.’

You scoff. ‘Yeah, I’m as tall as you.’

You stand, and Taehyung stands too. 

For a moment you look up at his face.

Your hand reaches up to touch his shoulder but you veer off at the last minute.

You never touch him, really, but for some reason you want to, now.

Taehyung’s standing with his hands behind his back, face tilted down to yours.

His voice, when he says your name, is that low baritone you hear rumbling though the walls sometimes when he has someone in the bedroom with him.

More vibration than words.

Taehyung’s gaze is intent on you. 

The doorbell buzzes, and you step back, spell broken.

‘It’s probably Yoongi. Have a good night, Tae Tae.’

He’s already turning away.

***

Your friend Dahyun nudges you at the house party you ended up at. 

‘How are things with Yoongi?’

You shrug. ‘We’re still seeing each other. We just went to dinner before this.’

‘He took you to dinner? Good Christ, you’re practically married,’ Dahyun teases.

‘Got me dessert and everything,’ you deadpan.

She laughs. 

‘How’s Hobi?’ you ask.

‘He’s good,’ Dahyun replies. 

Dahyun’s been dating Hoseok on and off since first year. Personally, you’ve always liked him, he’s always treated her well and he’s always seemed kind hearted to you.

Speak of the devil.

Hoseok walks up to Dahyun and slides his arm around her waist with a possessiveness that makes you feel a pang of envy.

You can’t imagine Yoongi ever doing that to you.

It’s not that you don’t think he’d be proud to be seen with you, but he’s just not the kind of guy who’d want people to know his business.

You sip your drink as Hobi and Dahyun excuse themselves, probably to go make out in a dark corner.

It’s only when you get to the last mouthful that you realise how strong your drink is.

Shit. Why did you decide to wear these heels?

You teeter your way to the kitchen and nearly trip on a step.

There’s a warm hand on your arm, steadying you, Yoongi’s voice in your ear.

‘You ok?’

‘Yeah,’ you reply. 

‘I’m gonna go grab some food with Jimin and Namjoon, Jimin’s going through some shit.’

It takes you a moment to understand. 

‘Oh, ok. Sure.’

‘Can you get back home ok?’

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Sure.’

Yoongi looks at you a moment longer. 

‘I saw Taehyung here earlier, want me to see if I can find him for you?’

You straighten up. ‘Nah, I’m fine.’

Yoongi’s still got his eyes on your face. You’re glad it’s dark enough to hide how warm your face is.

You wave a hand, careless. ‘Don’t baby me, Yoongi.’

Yoongi snorts, but he leaves, casting a final glance at you before he exits with Jimin.

You wait a beat, then decide to look around for your friends.

You wander through the living room, spotting Hoseok and Dahyun cuddled up on one of the couches.

Near the stairs you spot Taehyung, leaning against the wall with a very tall girl with gorgeous hair draped over him.

He sees you, tilts his chin, his dark brows in a straight line, his expression unreadable.

You’re heading over to him when the girl undrapes herself and slinks towards the bathroom.

You stumble a little, and Taehyung reaches out to steady you.

‘Tipsy?’ he teases.

‘A bit,’ you confess. You slump against the wall next to him, trying to ignore the way the room’s spinning lazily.

‘I’m going home,’ you tell Taehyung.

‘Sure. Who’s taking you?’ Taehyung asks.

‘Taxi,’ you reply, waving your phone.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. ‘You can barely stand. Here, wait a bit, Tina and I will go with you.’

He pushes off the wall. ‘Stay here.’

‘Nah, I’m ok,’ you reply.

Taehyung just gives you a look.

‘I’m getting Tina, wait here.’

As soon as he disappears you look down at your phone. The screen’s all blurry. You swipe at it and give up, deciding it’s not your fault the screen’s wavy and swirly.

Shit.

You press back against the wall as some tall guy walks past. 

You vaguely recognise him as one of Yoongi’s teammates. Wonho? 

He stops next to you.

‘Hey, you’re Y/N, right?’ 

His voice is deep, not as deep as Yoongi’s or even Taehyung’s, but it’s got a pleasing mellow tone to it you like.

‘Yep,’ you say. You wish you could see his face better, but your eyes don’t seem to be working that well right now.

‘I like your dress,’ he says.

‘I don’t think it comes in your size,’ you tell him.

He laughs. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘Nah, I’m good,’ you say. 

‘Want to sit with me for a bit?’ he asks, leaning so close you can smell his shampoo. He smells good, but you think you’ve had enough.

Time to go home. 

‘I can’t sit in this dress,’ you inform him. ‘It’s too short.’

‘Shit, come and sit with me, I won’t look.’

He sounds like he’s flirting but you’re not really interested right now.

‘My roommate’s here. I need to find him,’ you say, apologetic.

You push off the wall and go off to search for Taehyung.

You just catch sight of him being dragged upstairs.

Damn.

Sighing, you try and pull out your phone, only to not be able to find it.

Double damn.

You find yourself at the door of the house, and decide there’s nothing for it. 

You’re going to have to walk home.

***

It’s still dark by the time you trudge the last few blocks home. 

You’ve sobered up some from walking around in the early morning chill, at least the pavement isn’t wavy anymore.

You pull your key out of your bag with cold hands,  and are trying to get your fingers to work enough to unlock the door, when it opens on its own.

‘What the fuck!’ Taehyung says. He grabs your arm and drags you inside.

You stare at him, uncomprehending. 

‘Where the fuck were you?’ Taehyung asks.

You realise he’s angry.

‘Uh?’ you mumble unintelligently.

You lean down to undo your heels and nearly tip over.

Taehyung catches you, helps you straighten up. 

‘You walked home like this? Are you stupid?’

You’re hurt at his tone.

‘What do you want, Tae?’ you ask tiredly.

You sit on the floor and start unbuckling your heels.

God, you’re sure they weren’t this difficult to get on. 

Taehyung makes an impatient sound and pushes your hands away.

You sit as he undoes your heels and pulls them off.

‘I told you to wait for me,’ he scolds. 

You glare at him, hoping the feeling returns to your feet soon so you can get up.

‘It’s dangerous to walk alone —- wait! Where the fuck are you going?’

You turn your head to look at him as you crawl away. 

‘Stop scolding me, my head hurts,’ you complain.

Taehyung sighs. 

Then he holds out a hand. ‘Come on, I’ll help you into bed.’

You give him your hand and nearly fall onto your face again.

Taehyung swears, then pulls you up. 

He’s stronger than he looks. Maybe he wasn’t lying about going to the gym with JK.

You mull this over as he helps you to your bedroom.

Taehyung deposits you on the bed. ‘Stay here.’

‘Ugh, get out,’ you complain as he heads for your dresser.

Taehyung rummages through your top drawer and turns to you, holding out a soft tee.

As he walks towards you there’s a soft thud on the carpet. 

You give him your best innocent look as your purple bullet vibrator rolls on the floor towards you, stopping at the foot of your bed.

Taehyung ignores it and hands you the tee. ‘Can you get changed on your own?’

You shrug. 

He rolls his eyes. ‘Get changed. I’m gonna bring you some water.’

You decide it’s not worth the energy arguing with him.

By the time Taehyung comes back with a glass of water, you’re in bed.

He sits on the covers next to you and hands you your phone.

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask.

‘Some dude, Wonho had it,’ Taehyung says. He runs a hand over his face. ‘Fuck! I nearly got into a fight with him, I thought he’d done something to you.’

This is news to you. 

You frown at Taehyung. ‘I saw you going upstairs with Tina.’ 

‘Fuck that, you’re drunk as fuck, you should have waited for me,’ Taehyung scolds. ‘I was only a few minutes.’

‘Two minute man?’ you ask. For some reason this strikes you as hilarious.

‘Obviously,’ Taehyung says, like he’s reaching the end of his patience, ‘Tina and I didn’t fuck because I l knew you were waiting for me.’

You’re still giggling. 

Taehyung stares at you, then he scoffs. ‘Are you hungry? I can fix us ramdon.’

You fall asleep considering his offer.

***

You’re looking up train times when there’s a knock on your door.

Taehyung pokes his head in. 

‘Going somewhere?’ he asks, raising a brow at your overnight bag.

‘It’s my dad,’ you tell him. ‘My mom called, he’s in the hospital.’

‘Shit,’ Taehyung says. ‘Is he ok?’

Concern’s written all over his face as he steps further into your room.

‘He’s had a heart attack,’ you say. 

You’re trying to stay calm but it’s hard, your nerves have been shot since your mom called.

‘Can you drive me to the train station?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Taehyung says instantly. ‘Give me five and I’ll take you.’

Taehyung loads your bag into the trunk along with his and gets into the car. 

‘What’s the hospital address?’ he asks.

You stare at him blankly. ‘Tae, it’s hours away.’

‘So I’ll drive you, you shouldn’t be alone,’ Taehyung tells you. He looks oddly serious. 

‘Thanks,’ you say finally.

Taehyung just nods. ‘Get your belt on.’

You lean back in your chair as he pulls out of the space. 

Outside, a light rain starts to fall.

***

It’s still raining when you get back home after seeing your dad at the hospital.

Your mom fusses over you and Taehyung, probably because of how incredibly kind he’d been at the hospital.

Your roommate’s showing a side to him you’ve never seen before.

You’ve seen glimpses of him being nice, of course, in the months you’ve been living with him, but you’ve never thought about him as anything more than a casual friend. 

And here he is being so supportive you could cry. 

Your mum’s gone up to her room when he catches you looking at him over your food.

He raises an eyebrow at you but doesn’t stop eating.

‘Thanks,’ you say, feeling like you need to say something. ‘Thanks for driving me here, and being so nice.’ 

Your throat closes on the last word, and you take a sip of water, trying to hide the prickle of tears behind your eyelids. 

‘You’re my friend, I’m just doing the same as you’ve done for me,’ Taehyung says. 

His voice is so warm, quiet, that it’s getting harder to hold the tears back. 

‘Yeah?’ you ask, voice trembling as you try valiantly to pull humour in. ‘I don’t even have a car, and you don’t fit on the back of my bike.’ 

You cast a glance at him, but he’s not looking at you either. 

‘You made me soup when I was unwell earlier in the year. You always cook extra for me.’ 

Taehyung’s big hand reaches out, plays with his glass. ‘You don’t mind washing some of my clothes when they accidentally get in your wash.’ 

You snort. ‘I knew it wasn’t an accident.’ 

‘They’re always so much softer when you wash them,’ Taehyung says, on a pout. 

Your eyes meet.

‘It goes both ways,’ Taehyung says. 

‘Like your dick?’ 

‘Shut up, your mom’s upstairs,’ Taehyung retorts. 

‘She knows about the birds and the bees,’ you say. 

You both laugh, and for the first time since you found out about your dad, the tightness in your chest eases a little. 

The tears that threatened to fall are long gone, which is just as well. 

You feel like you’re on the edge of a precipice, like you’re barely a step from big feelings about Taehyung that you don’t have the headspace to unpack right now. 

You glance at Taehyung, and realise he’s looking back at you. 

‘It’s a lot,’ you say. 

‘Yeah. We’re tired.’ 

He seems to understand. 

***

When you wake, Taehyung’s buried under the covers, the second duvet you’d grabbed from the linen closet wrapped snuggly around him. 

You’d known he was a blanket hog. You’d called it. 

You don’t have an excuse for the way you’re looking at him right now whilst he’s asleep, and you know you should stop. 

But his face, like this, is so beautiful it makes your heart flutter. His eyelashes are so long you wonder why you never noticed them before. 

He stirs, and you avert your gaze as he opens his eyes. 

He’s the first to speak. 

‘I like –’ 

You wonder how he’s going to finish his sentence. 

He clears his throat. 

‘I like your bed.’ 

‘Yeah?’ you ask. ‘You hog all the blankets.’ 

Taehyung turns over, onto his back, so he’s no longer facing you. 

‘I’m not wearing a shirt,’ he announces. 

You stare at the ceiling whilst you process this. 

‘I’ve seen you shirtless before,’ you point out. 

‘I’m not —’ 

He stops. 

‘Christ, Taehyung, you’re not naked under there are you?’ 

Taehyung starts humming as he uncovers himself, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s parodying a striptease. 

You burst out laughing. 

‘Stop, stop. I’m not drunk enough for this.’ 

Taehyung stops with his hand over the sheet covering his waist and waggles his eyebrows at you. 

You roll your eyes. ‘What do you want for breakfast? We’ll go and pick up something for my mom.’ 

You end up at the bakery near your house.

The woman behind the counter, Mrs Jeong, is a friend of your parents’. She presses a box of fresh pastries on you, waving you off when you offer to pay. 

‘I put extra in there for your man,’ Mrs Jeong says, nodding to Taehyung. 

‘He’s not my man,’ you reply, automatically. 

‘Thank you, auntie,’ Taehyung says, beaming as he takes the box. 

‘You’re such a slut for a bun,’ you complain, as soon as you’re out of the shop. 

Taehyung shrugs as he sips his coffee. ‘I drove you here, I’m looking after you and your mom. I’m your man.’ 

You sip your own coffee and adjust your sunglasses on your face. ‘Ugh. Come on, we should pick up some fruit too.’ 

By the time you get home, your mother’s up and preparing breakfast. 

It’s weird seeing your roommate like this, fully dressed and sitting up straight on a Saturday morning instead of shovelling pancakes into his mouth, slumped and hungover. 

You wonder if it’s weird for Taehyung to see you like this too. 

After breakfast, your mother heads to the hospital whilst you see Taehyung off. 

You pack him some pastries for the drive back and watch as he loads his overnight bag into the car. 

‘Hey, drive safe, ok?’ you say. 

He snorts. ‘I’ll definitely be safe, unlike you stumbling home drunk the other day.’ 

‘I didn’t want to cockblock you,’ you say, shrugging. 

Taehyung opens his car door, turns to face you. 

‘I can get laid anytime. It’s not everyday I find a roommate who has the same taste in food and shit TV as me.’ 

You furrow your brow. ‘You’d better wait until I get back to watch the next episode.’ 

Taehyung pretends to consider it. ‘Yeah we’ll see.’ 

He smiles at you. ‘Are you gonna be ok?’ 

‘Yeah,’ you promise. You almost feel like hugging him, but you never touch. 

It would be weird, right?

Taehyung’s turning back to his car, anyway. He gets in, rolls down the window. 

‘See you in a couple weeks?’ 

‘Yeah. Don’t fuck in —’ 

‘Communal spaces,’ he finishes. He laughs softly, and then he’s rolling up the window. 

You watch him drive down your road, until he turns the corner and you can’t see him anymore. 

***

You nudge the front door of your apartment open with your foot. Your mother had insisted on packing food for you and Taehyung when you left the house. You’d had to convince her you couldn’t possibly carry any more on the train with you. 

Your father’s back home and on the mend. 

You’ve got finals coming up soon, and although you’ve been keeping up to date with assignments whilst you’ve been at home, it’s good to be back. 

The apartment’s dark, you’re not sure if Taehyung’s home. 

You put your food down in the kitchen and head to your room. 

It’s exactly the way you left it.

You pull off your coat and head to the bathroom to take a shower. 

You’re back in the kitchen, heating up food, when you hear a key in the door. 

You step out to greet Taehyung, and realise he’s not alone. 

A pretty brunette in a green dress is standing next to him in your entryway, holding on to his arm as she slips her shoes off. 

‘Hey,’ Taehyung says, warmth in his voice. 

You smile, not sure why your heart feels like it’s in your mouth. 

‘Hey.’ 

You share your smile with the girl, and Taehyung says, belatedly, ‘This is Kira.’ 

‘Hey, nice to meet you,’ Kira says. She grins at you, and dimples pop in her cheeks. 

Damn, she’s cute. 

‘My mom made food for us. You guys should help yourselves,’ you say. 

You head back to the kitchen. 

Taehyung wanders in behind you with Kira. 

‘You want to eat something, babe?’ he asks, and there’s a pang in your chest at the endearment, a feeling you can’t name. 

You need to change the subject. 

‘You kept the place clean whilst I was away, I’m impressed,’ you say lightly. 

Taehyung looks pleased. ‘I’m glad you noticed. I even did some of your laundry.’ 

You feign shock. 

Kira giggles. 

Taehyung hands you a plate, and you sit to eat. 

‘How’s your mom and dad?’ he asks, quietly. 

‘They’re good. My dad’s back home. My mom’s feeling better about it all,’ you tell him. 

‘What happened?’ Kira asks. 

You explain as Taehyung heats up food for him and Kira. 

Your phone lights up on the kitchen counter. 

Taehyung glances at it. 

‘Yoongi was asking after you,’ he says, ‘last weekend. I told him about your dad.’ 

‘Yeah. He texted me a couple times.’ 

‘You gonna meet up with him?’ Taehyung asks. He’s looking at you now, an unreadable expression on his face. 

You shrug. ‘Maybe?’ 

Taehyung changes the subject. 

‘I was thinking we should have a party here next month,’ he says, sitting down opposite you at the kitchen table, next to Kira. 

‘Yeah. Right after finals?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Sounds great, Tae.’ 

Your phone lights up again. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at it. 

‘Looks like Wonho’s really trying to get in touch with you.’ 

You roll your eyes. ‘I don’t even know how he got my number, honestly.’ 

‘Probably from that time he found your phone at that party,’ Taehyung says. 

‘He’s cute,’ Kira says. 

‘I don’t like guys with muscles,’ you say, dismissive. 

You flick your eyes at Taehyung. ‘Just noodle arms.’ 

Taehyung laughs so hard he snorts broth through his nose. 

‘I’ve missed you,’ he says. 

‘I’ve missed you too, Tae.’ 

It’s the truest thing you’ve said today. 

There’s a fizz of something in the air between you as you lock eyes with Taehyung.

Kira’s looking at you and Taehyung thoughtfully. 

You get up. ‘I’m gonna go to bed. Nice to meet you, Kira.’ 

***

You’ve been busy the last few weeks, with finals and year end assignments. 

Taehyung and you have organised a schedule between you, there’s always food and you know when each other’s exams are so you can make sure you wake up on time. 

You haven’t seen Yoongi since you got back, which is just as well.

Once the semester ends you’re moving to another city, joining a publishing firm. 

It’s the end of an era.

Honestly, you’re more than a little apprehensive about moving out of your place with Taehyung, moving on with your life, but it’s starting to feel like it’s the right time.

If you never go to another club night in some dive with sticky floors, you think you can live with that.

You’re sitting in someone’s backyard at some house party, ass on the grass, with Taehyung sprawled out next to you.

Taehyung reaches out, flicks your bare thigh.

You ‘ouch’ exaggeratedly, move your leg away.

‘What are we gonna do when we’re not doing this every Friday?’ Taehyung asks.

You sip your drink, look up at the stars. 

You realise he’s waiting for an answer.

‘Not sure, Tae. We can do this on Friday nights if you want.’

‘Yeah I’ll come to your new place and we can drink together.’

He pokes your leg again, and you nudge his hand with your thigh.

You glance over and catch him looking at the hem of your short skirt.

‘You horny, Tae Tae?’

You expect him to make a joke of it, but he asks, voice low, ‘have you ever wondered what it might be like if we slept together?’

Your eyes meet, and he still seems completely sober.

‘I know you have fantasies about me,’ you say carefully, giving him another chance to make a joke of it, to stop before he crosses that invisible line between you that you both have always toed. 

Your roommate traces his finger along the line of your thigh, and your cunt tightens.

You let out a breath.

‘I do think about you,’ he says. He turns on his side on the grass, facing you, turned away from everyone else. 

His finger strokes another line down your thigh, then travels up, over the front of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

You look straight at him as you let your thighs fall apart slightly.

Taehyung moves his hand, off the taut hem of your skirt. He bites his lip, and then reaches under, sliding between your legs with a confidence that makes your cunt tighten again.

The tips of his long fingers brush the fabric of your panties.

‘Are these those pretty purple panties?’ he asks.

‘You like those?’ you ask. 

He moves a little closer, pulls your thigh closer to him to make room for his hand.

It’s dark in this backyard, you doubt anyone can see anything.

As long as you can keep quiet.

Taehyung dips his head, brushing his lips against your bare thigh. You have the barest instant of warning, a flash of teeth, before he nips at your flesh.

‘Fuck, Tae,’ you breathe.

His hand between your legs has moved up so that his thumb can slide along your slit, his fingers braced on your upper thigh.

His face is so close to your cunt you can feel his breath on your thigh.

‘Not here,’ you say, grabbing his arm.

Fuck are you really doing this?

With Taehyung?

Taehyung gets up, adjusts himself and takes your hand.

When he looks at you, his eyes are dark with intent.

Unlike you, he seems pretty sure he wants this.

When your roommate commits to anything, he goes all in.

You guess you’re in too.

You follow Taehyung around the side of the house. 

He stops by the wall, backs up against it, pulls you to him.

‘Should I kiss you?’ he asks.

It’s enough to snap you out of the lust and booze fuelled haze you’re in.

The words come out before you can stop them.

‘Don’t you want to, Tae?’

Even you can hear the hurt in your voice.

It’s wrong, it’s too much.

Sadly, it’s not nearly enough.

Taehyung holds out his hand, says your name, but you’re too drunk and too raw to even look at him.

You stumble away, and Taehyung doesn’t go after you.

***

You wake in stages. 

Blink. 

There’s bright sun shining through the crack in the curtains, so it’s daytime.

Blink.

There’s the silky dress you wore last night draped over the chair, your tiny underthings laid carefully across it, so you got undressed yourself.

Blink.

Your head is full, your mouth dry, your stomach already growling its discontent, so you’re hungover.

You groan and sit up.

Blink.

Taehyung and the events of last night come back to you.

You nearly fucked your roommate, would have fucked him, if he hadn’t made it so obvious that you were just another body to him.

The only girl on campus he hasn’t fucked. 

Blink.

Wincing, you swing your legs onto the floor and get up.

Your head throbs. 

You pick up the glass of water by your bed and down it.

By the time you’ve showered and done your skincare, your stomach is making it impossible to concentrate on anything.

You step out your room and are startled by Taehyung standing just outside your door.

‘Shit,’ you say.

Taehyung says, ‘let’s go to brunch.’

***

It’s weird, to think that this is one of the last times you and Taehyung will do this.

You use your hunger as an excuse to avoid talking, and Taehyung doesn’t seem like he’s in a rush to say anything either.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you,’ he says, muffled over a mouthful of pancakes.

You grimace and spear a bite of sausage.

‘It’s fine, Tae, I was drunk and emotional.’

‘Don’t hide behind it, you weren’t that drunk.’

His voice rings out, clear as a bell. 

You look at each other. There’s frustration in his face, in the way his brows are drawn together, in the way his lips are in a straight line.

‘What are you saying, Tae?’

Your voice is soft, a vulnerability in it that you tend not to show.

You think Taehyung notices, because when he speaks again, his voice is soft too.

He sounds like when he speaks to you sometimes, when you wake up in the middle of the night still on the couch, the TV still on and he tells you to go to bed.

He sounds like when you’re out on the balcony some evenings after a tough day when only nicotine and talking shit will ease the tightness in your chest.

You’re so fucking fond of Taehyung, you realise now. 

He lives his own life, separate to you, but he’s always been there when you’ve needed him.

You don’t spend that much time talking, but you know him intimately all the same. 

You know he likes when you look after him a little, putting out food for him.

You know he hates leaving washing up for the next day and that he’s got a secret love for sports films and anything where the underdog triumphs.

You know that although you never see him go to the gym, he loves a team game. 

You know he plays jazz when he’s sad and that his eyes look like wet velvet when he cries.

Taehyung’s opening his mouth to speak, but he stops when you get up and slide into the booth beside him.

You have no words left, so you kiss him instead.

It’s chaste, the way your lips touch, but then his arm slides around you and he tilts his head, and a thin line of heat unfurls inside you. 

You never touch, and now he’s lighting little fires under your skin wherever he touches you.

Taehyung says your name on a breath, like smoke.

When you finally pull away, he dips his head, steals another kiss, before he’ll let you go.

‘I’ve been thinking about this for a while,’ he says, face still inches from yours.

‘Me too,’ you admit.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck, I’m embarassingly hard,’ he tells you, shifting his hips.

‘Let’s go do something about it,’ you say.

***

When you and Taehyung reach your apartment, there’s half a basketball team waiting outside.

Yoongi steps forward. ‘We thought you might need a hand carrying things for the party later.’

You’re surprised, but you rally quickly. 

‘Yeah, we need muscles,’ you say, glancing at Taehyung, wondering if he’s organised this.

Taehyung looks as surprised as you do. ‘Yeah ok, let’s go pick some stuff up.’

He adjusts himself again, and for a moment the outline of his erection in his sweats is so clear you have the sudden strong urge to drop to your knees and worship his cock.

Yoongi’s got his head tilted, he’s looking at you, and you wonder how much of your filthy imaginings show on your face.

Then he gives you a half smile. 

‘Y/N, you can ride with me.’

***

You end up alone in the car with Yoongi.

You watch idly as he drives, forearms flexing, big hands hooked over the wheel.

‘You look good, Yoongi,’ you say.

He casts a glance at you. ‘Yeah, you too, pretty girl.’

He raises an eyebrow at you. ‘So you and Taehyung?’

‘Would’ve fucked if you hadn’t turned up today,’ you confess.

Yoongi looks amused. ‘Shit, yeah?’

‘I don’t know how I feel about it,’ you tell him, looking out the window at the buildings flashing past.

Yoongi shrugs. ‘You’re hot, he’s hot, you’re moving out soon. Sometimes sex is just sex.’

‘Like us?’

Yoongi says, teasing, ‘when did you get so needy? You barely even say hello when I see you these days.’

He signals, turns into the store car park. ‘Anyway, you know that’s not true, I take you out all the time.’

You climb out the car, wait for him to walk to the store together. 

‘Wanna hold hands?’ you ask.

Yoongi laughs. ‘I want to turn around and take you back to bed right now.’

You lean into his side. ‘Might take you up on that.’

‘Yeah,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘Wear those silk panties for me tonight.’

‘And Tae?’

Yoongi looks down at you, that familiar smirk on his face. ‘He can join in if he wants.’

You consider this.

‘Shit, you dirty girl,’ Yoongi says, but he doesn’t sound mad about it.

He squeezes you into his side as you walk into the store.

***

You catch Taehyung in the living room before the party.

He looks stunning tonight, his hair styled, his skin glowing.

His beautiful face is as perfect as it ever was.

‘Like my shirt?’ he asks.

He stops in front of you, closer than he usually stands.

You wonder how many other norms are going out the window tonight.

You’re wearing the silk panties Yoongi requested, a silky dress that barely covers you.

‘Like my dress?’ you ask.

‘You’re perfect,’ Taehyung tells you. He smiles at you affectionately.

You say, ‘wait, I have something for you.’

You go to your room, pull out the record you picked out for him. 

It’s a jazz piano piece that had played a lot in the coffee shop you spent a lot of time in when you were back home for your dad.

It’s sad, the notes drawn out and stark. It’d reminded you of the many nights you’d spent, on your balcony with Taehyung.

Taehyung puts the record on.

He doesn’t ask you to dance, not verbally anyway, but he holds out his arms and you step into them and he holds you close as he sways.

You lean your head against his chest, and his breathing stays slow, even.

He feels warm, and safe.

He feels an awful lot like someone you’re meant to be with.

You wonder why it’s taken you the whole year to realise. 

Next week, you’re moving to another city. 

It’s too late for regrets now.

Taehyung’s body moves with yours. He presses his cheek to your head.

The notes surround you, plaintive and wistful.

You wish there was more to say.

Taehyung holds you until the record plays out. 

***

Your and Taehyung’s party is teeming with people, half of whom you don't even know.

Jimin and Jungkook have done something to your sound system, the music’s playing loud enough to raise complaints from half the city.

You don’t give a fuck, not today, when the bass fills the void of longing inside you.

Yoongi’s leaning against the railing of your balcony, facing out.

You’re facing the opposite direction, pressed close to his side.

Taehyung’s against the wall across your living room, looking straight at you as Yoongi drapes an arm around you and pulls you between him and the railing.

He kisses you. He tastes sweet, you wonder what he’s been drinking.

He murmurs, close to your ear. ‘Did you get dressed for me, pretty girl?’

‘Yeah,’ you tell him. ‘You gonna undress me?’

‘I’ll undress you,’ Yoongi promises. There’s a glint of something in his eyes. ‘Is your roommate going to watch?’

You say, ‘ask him yourself, he’s coming over here.’

Taehyung approaches you and Yoongi. He takes his time, a deliberate languidness to his movements that reminds you of a panther stalking its prey.

Yoongi doesn’t move as Taehyung slots himself in next to you.

‘Hyung,’ Taehyung says. ‘Can you give me and Y/N a minute.’

Yoongi eyes him. ‘Don’t 'hyung' me now. You can say what you need to say with me here.’

‘Come with me,’ Taehyung says to you. ‘If this is the last chance we have then I want to take it.’

Both men look at you. 

Your heart’s beating, fit to burst, in your chest.

You take both men by the arm and lead them to your room.

***

The lights are low, the thumping bass vibrating through the wall.

In contrast to the rest of the apartment, your room is cool, the hallway leading to it long enough to put distance between you three and the crowd in your living room.

Yoongi, with the easy confidence of a man who knows exactly how this goes, takes your mouth. His kisses are designed to tease both you and the man watching, open-mouthed, tongue openly licking into your mouth.

‘Want to watch how I please her?’ Yoongi asks, directed at Taehyung. He slides his hands over your bare back. 

‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’

Yoongi’s speaking to Taehyung, but he’s looking at you.

He turns you so your back is to Taehyung, who’s sitting in your chair. 

He lifts the hem of your slip dress, the silken fabric rustling against the silk of your panties.

He cups your ass as he kisses you, long fingers tracing the cleft of your ass.

He’s lifting your dress higher and higher.

‘Arms up,’ he tells you, and you comply.

Yoongi tosses your dress onto the floor. 

He admires your bare tits with a flattering intensity.

He wraps an arm around you, cupping your breast as he turns you around to face Taehyung.

You cast a glance at Taehyung, and you’re transfixed.

His eyes travel from Yoongi’s arm across your chest to your face.

He says, quietly and with feeling, ‘you’re so fucking pretty.’

His voice is hushed, reverent. 

Yoongi’s thumb flicks over your nipple, and Taehyung bites his lip as Yoongi lets go of your breast to cup the other.

His other hand kneads your ass until you’ve moving your hips against him.

You’re wet, and as Yoongi slides his hand between your legs to cup you, he grunts his approval.

‘You like that, pretty girl? You like how we’re both so hard for you? My dick hurts, and I’m sure Taehyung’s does too. Look at how he’s touching himself.’

Your gaze flies to Taehyung. He’s stroking over the clear outline of his erection, grinding against his own palm as he watches Yoongi touching you.

Yoongi hooks his fingers into your panties. 

‘Wore these for me, didn’t you?’ 

He tugs them down, and you step out of them. 

‘Go give them to Taehyung, baby.’

You turn your head to look back at Yoongi.

He’s looking back at you, cool, expressionless. 

‘I’ll give these to Tae, then can I come back and suck your dick?’

Yoongi grins at you. ‘All yours, baby.’

You walk over to Taehyung, his eyes following your every move.

He takes your panties, then asks, ‘can you kiss me?’

Your thoughts flash back to when he asked if he should kiss you. 

Taehyung doesn’t wait for a response this time.

He tugs your face down to his, and he kisses you, warm and sweet.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed, and as first times go, it’s perfect.

Taehyung’s lips mould to yours like he was made to fit against you.

You forget that you’re completely nude, that Yoongi’s watching, and you kiss him back.

You drown in him.

By the time you pull away, you’re both breathless.

‘Why did we wait so long?’ he murmurs, face pressed to yours still.

‘You’re an idiot,’ you say, but you feel so much affection for him you’re giddy with it. ‘I’m an idiot.’

Taehyung tweaks your breast, and you cover yourself with a squeal.

He sneaks a hand around your hip to pinch your ass. 

‘Show me how you suck dick,’ he says. ‘I’ve been fantasizing about it.’

You can’t stop your smile as you turn back to Yoongi.

Yoongi gives you a cocky half-smile. ‘Come get comfortable, baby.’

He’s manspreading on your bed, hand curled around himself. He strokes his cock as you position yourself, even though he already looks plenty hard.

He pats your hip. ‘Ass up, let’s give Taehyung a show.’

You kiss the head of his cock and take him in. He grunts his approval as you suckle him. He’s thick, hard like velvet over stone, and as he glides into your throat he moans.

You tug at his balls, and his hips move. 

‘Fuck, you’re good at this,’ he groans, voice a rasp, muscles in his thighs taut under your hands.

You press your tongue firmly to the underside of him, and Yoongi groans again. 

‘Come ride me,’ he says. 

He curls his hands around your hips, helping you balance on top of him.

You slide his cock along your cunt. You’re so slick with arousal now the slide is easy. 

Yoongi says, ‘want to give us a hand?’

Taehyung climbs onto the bed behind you. He must have taken his clothes off along the way, because all you can feel is his bare chest pressed against your back as he curls an arm under your breasts, his bare cock nudging the curve of your ass.

Yoongi’s flat on his back but somehow he still has complete control.

‘You’re a dirty girl aren’t you? So greedy.’

He grunts as you grind against him. ‘Go on, pretty girl, put it on me.’

You unroll a condom onto his length and line him up.

Taehyung’s nibbling along your shoulder, touching your breasts as Yoongi’s cock fills you.

You moan when he’s in all the way.

‘Fuck, you feel so fucking good,’ Yoongi tells you. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow now as he helps you grind on him.

His cock’s angled so beautifully you gasp with each thrust of his hips.

Taehyung’s stroking his thumbs over your nipples, moaning as he rocks his cock against your ass.

You don’t realise you have your eyes closed until Yoongi says, voice strained, ‘open your eyes, baby, look how well you take me.’

You’re panting now, every movement sending waves of pleasure through your core. 

‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck,’ Yoongi chants.

He bucks his pelvis under you, squeezing your hips hard as he comes.

His deep groan pulls you over the edge with him.

You’re coming, fuck, and it’s so good you’re blinded. 

Behind you, Taehyung’s moaning, grinding into your ass. 

Someone says your name, but you have no idea who.

***

Yoongi’s murmuring your name into your ear. 

The lights in your room are low now, the music fading out. 

You don’t know how much time’s passed since you fell asleep between Yoongi and Taehyung.

Yoongi says, ‘I gotta go, baby. Taehyung’s getting people to leave.’

You try to sit up, but he stops you. ‘Just rest a bit. Everything’s handled.’

He passes you a glass of water.

‘Heard you were moving out next week,’ he says, watching you drink.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

There’s a sort of wistfulness in his tone. ‘I guess I’ll text you if I’m ever in your area.’

You put your hand over his. ‘You know how to get hold of me,’ you remind him.

His half-smile makes your heart burn bright in your chest.

‘Answer your phone,’ he says.

‘You answer yours,’ you retort.

You both laugh. He pulls you into a half hug, and too soon, he’s pulling away. 

‘See you around, pretty girl.’

He gives you one last smile, then he’s leaving your room, closing the door quietly behind him.

You lie back down, but the urge to speak to Taehyung’s too strong.

You don’t want to wait.

You slip on clothes and step through your now empty apartment. 

Taehyung’s standing on the balcony, looking out.

‘Hey,’ you say.

His smile is brilliant, beautiful, perfect.

He’s everything you want, and you’re sad it’s taken you this long to realise.

‘Hey,’ Taehyung says. 

He reaches for you, and you slide into his arms, like a key sliding into a lock.

It feels right.

Taehyung buries his face in your hair.

‘Feels like a lot,’ he says.

‘Too fucking much,’ you agree instantly.

He’s looking at you so intently you feel shy.

‘Let’s not talk about it,’ you say, tipping your face to his, putting your finger across his lips like you’re shushing him even though he hasn’t said anything.

Taehyung dips his head to kiss you. It’s even better than the first time.

***

This time, Taehyung and you take your time.

You’re in his bed, lying on your back, giggling as he blows raspberries on your belly.

He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties, tugs playfully. 

‘I once used these to jerk off,’ he informs you.

You stare at him incredulously. ‘These? They’re not even a sexy pair.’

‘It was when you wore these with those low waisted jeans,’ he reminds you. ‘I spent the whole day staring at them.’

You put your hand on his cheek, rubbing against the stubble on his jaw. 

‘You didn’t,’ you whisper.

Taehyung nudges closer, lips against yours.

‘Did. Came so hard thinking about you wearing these with my cum in them,’ he tells you. His voice is so low it makes you shiver.

He’s kissing down your neck now, making small rumbling noises as you press yourself to him. You can’t get close enough, his skin’s so warm.

He pushes closer, hand under your thigh, making you open up for him so he can fit in between.

His cock, deliciously hard, nudges between your legs.

‘Take these off?’ you ask, and he nods.

You slip your panties down past the curve of your ass, but when you try to move your leg off his hip, his grip tightens.

‘Stay,’ he says. 

He nudges forward, and the head of his cock pushes into you.

He feels so good you’re biting your lip, trying to move, to take more of him in.

He clutches your thigh, tight, and you both stop as your panties rip at the seam.

‘Shit, Tae,’ you gasp, giggling. 

He’s already pushing into you, stretching you on his cock. 

‘Ah, fuck,’ he groan, voice thick, slurred with want.

He grasps your hip, and pulls you under him. Sinks in all the way.

He fits between your thighs so beautifully you’re halfway to coming even before he starts rocking into you.

‘Taehyung,’ you gasp. 

He’s still holding your hip, holding you down so he can slide his cock into you. 

He’s so hard and heavy you’re lost, opening yourself up to him.

There’s nothing but the sounds of your breathing, jagged and irregular, the slap of skin against skin, the weight of him on you, the smell of his shampoo.

His hair’s so soft, why have you never touched it before? 

Taehyung’s dragging his mouth over your skin, holding you tight, and he groans, deep in his chest, as you come. 

He circles his hips, grinding against you, grunting.

He says your name, a shout, and then he’s pulling you closer, arms around you, face in your neck.

It’s a while before either of you can let go.

***

When you stir, wriggle a bit, Taehyung’s big hand tightens on your ass.

‘I’m kind of hungry,’ you confess.

‘What time is it?’

You roll over, grab your phone and tell him.

‘The diner’s probably open, we can get breakfast,’ Taehyung suggests.

You look at each other.

‘For old times sake,’ he continues.

You’re distracted by the flex of his arm as he puts it behind his head, props himself up.

You think you have enough memories of you and Taehyung getting hungover brunch in the diner on your road.

You think it’s time to make some new ones.

‘Or we could just fuck instead.’

Taehyung laughs, slaps your hip.

‘Come ride me then.’

You don’t make him ask twice.

***

Your things are packed up, every physical trace of you removed from this apartment that you’ve shared with Taehyung for the last year.

Taehyung’s loaded the last of his things into his car, and in an hour your parents will be here to help you move too.

You’re on the balcony, watching Taehyung as he shuts the trunk, locks his car. He looks up at you, then he disappears into your building.

Then he’s back in the apartment, standing in the doorway, head tilted as he looks at you and the empty space between.

You’ve said a lot of things to each other in the last week, and now all that’s left is an odd kind of longing for what might have been.

You don’t want to romanticise it just because it’s ending, but fuck, you’re going to miss him.

Taehyung’s holding you now, you have no idea when he closed the gap between you.

There’s sadness in his eyes, but a smile on his lips and it’s enough for you.

‘Don’t fuck,’ he says.

‘In communal spaces,’ you finish.

Neither of you laugh, but you can feel his lips curving against yours.

It’s still the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

***

A year later

You’re frowning at an email you’ve just received when your colleague stops by your desk.

You look up.

Jihyo says, ‘these are the new members of the design team who have just been hired.’

You smile automatically as you greet the three people standing in front of your desk.

You make eye contact with each person in turn, and when your gaze falls on the last person, a fluttery heat starts in the middle of your chest.

Dark brows drawn together like he’s trying to work you out, a husky low voice that you know as well as your own.

Kim Taehyung steps forward, hand out.

‘I’m Kim Taehyung,’ he says.

Your smile is brilliant, a match for his.

‘Y/N L/N,’ you reply, clasping his hand.

‘Are you free for dinner tonight?’ he asks. ‘I’ve just moved to this city and would love for someone to show me around.’

‘I think I can help you with that,’ you reply. 

He still hasn’t let go of your hand.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you say.

You’re aware the others are staring, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Taehyung smiles at you, lazy, devastating. Perfect.

‘Ok,’ he says. ‘Let’s try this again.’

©hamsterclaw 2023

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[themfchase]

raven unit II (m) jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ raven unit. (m) chapter two: red hawk. ✎  [11k words]

genre: political!Au, taskforce!Au, warcrime!Au

warnings: smut, angst, gore, violence, drug mentions, alcohol mention, graphic description of violence, death, fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk.  With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. masterlist. chapter one. chapter three.  chapter five.

Although you had woken up a few times gasping in fear and sweating, when you had left the warehouse, you felt rested. Taehyung had joined the unit and as you walked through the waking up city with a scarf around your face and four strong and dangerous men escorting you, you felt safe. The plan was to walk to an extraction point where one of Taehyung’s connections would be waiting with a vehicle to take you to the next point, Red Hawk. Jungkook walked in front of you, his eyes and ears alert as were the other men. Behind you was Yoongi. He wore a snapback so that his hair didn’t draw too much attention. As you walked through the crowd, you could feel your leg starting to hurt. You huffed as you tried to keep up, extending your hand just as Jungkook was looking back, you gripped his shirt tightly and he looked down, instead, taking your hand in his. You blushed.  “You’ll draw a lot more attention if you’re gripping my shirt like an endangered animal.” He said in a sharp tone. You pursed your lips, his grip on your hand tight as he pulled you along. His other hand hovering over his other side, just where his gun was. You walked for about half an hour before Taehyung was turning around.  They all stopped, but Jungkook didn’t let go of your hand.  “Ok, this is it, we have one car, they gave us armory and supplies, we have a six-hour drive, taking the more secluded highways before we have to ditch the car and walk.” Jungkook nodded and Taehyung resumed walking. As you followed you were in an alley, a black jeep waiting for you with a few armed men around it.  As you approached, Taehyung greeted them, they all nodded as they watched over your group, Hoseok took the driver’s seat, Yoongi the passenger and Jungkook got in the car, pulling you along with him, soon after, Taehyung got in shutting the door.  “Let’s move.” He said and Hoseok was driving off.  After a few minutes of silence and Taehyung handing Hoseok a map with the path drawn, Yoongi spoke.  “How long before the news spreads?” He asked.  “There is no way to access that. All I know is that Red Hawk, Seamore and Armstrong are still reliable,” Jungkook said, void of emotion.  “Of course they’re reliable, they would never not be reliable, Jungkook.” Taehyung sounded offended. Jungkook didn’t respond.  “Jungkook, you should get some rest, you haven’t slept in two days,” Hoseok said, and only then you noticed that your hands were still intertwined.  “I’m fine.” He said.  “You know damn well that she needs you with all your attention and senses sharp, fucking sleep,” Hoseok argued. Your grip around Jungkook tightened, making him look at you.  “I’ll be ok.” You whispered at him and he sighed, giving up, resting his head back he pulled your hand onto his lap along with his. That was his insurance that you wouldn’t disappear while he rested.  “Wake me up in an hour.” He said and the rest of the unit was silent. In less than a few minutes, Jungkook was fast asleep.  You looked ahead at the road, your head void of thought as you pushed the fact that you had to come up with something for when you got to the safe house.  You had an idea of who could be behind these attacks, of who would have been the culprit of it all, and if you were right, the only way of making sure this would end, would be exposing everything, even your father. As you tried your best not to think about it, Taehyung’s voice brought you back. “So...” He started. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, and even if you knew that for some reason Taehyung cared about you, you knew there was a deeper meaning to his question.  “Uh, yeah, as much as I can be.” You answered honestly.  “I’m sure Jungkook is going to take good care of you.” The man said, looking to see if that elicited a reaction from you. You were quiet for a while... After everything that had happened, you felt safe with Jungkook and you knew he would do everything in his power to keep you safe you just wondered why. What could he possibly owe Phillip to make him go through all this trouble for someone he barely knew? You looked back at your intertwined hands.  “Oh, I know that look, that’s doubt,” Taehyung said, and you looked at him. “Sweetheart, Jungkook is... A difficult man, he has many demons and many scars, but he is a man of integrity.” Taehyung said, looking out the window again.  “I don’t doubt he is a man of integrity.” Your voice was low.  “And besides, I would be quite inclined to protect you at any cost too if you hung onto me for dear life like that, it does things to a man you know?” He looked back at you a brow quirked up and a smirk on his face.  “Tae, shut up,” Yoongi said, but you missed the shared glace between him and Hoseok. When silence took over, you felt your sleep-deprived body start to take over, and you slowly fell asleep. With your hand on Jungkook’s, you slept with no interruption, only waking up after a few hours to the sound of his voice. “So, you’re telling me that you’re not hypnotized by the power of pussy?” Hoseok questioned, you heard them clearly but didn’t open your eyes, you noticed your head was rested on Jungkook lap, you couldn’t remember when you had moved, but it felt good regardless.  “Hobi, can you please stop saying that kind of shit?” Jungkook argued.  “Oh, come one, we can see you, man,” Hoseok said. “Helping her through her breakdown, killing a man for just hinting at the idea of killing her, she’s sleeping on your lap as we speak, your fingers are tangled together.” Hoseok didn’t seem annoyed, he just wanted to make Jungkook admit that he was taking the job personally now. “If you tell me you have done this for other protection jobs, I’ll drop it.” Jungkook was silent. Was he giving you special treatment? You wondered with your eyes closed.  “I just want her to feel safe, she’s been through enough, she’ll be traumatized for life,” Jungkook said.  “Ah-ha! I knew it, the fucking power of pussy, man.” Hoseok chuckled in the driver’s seat.  “Hobi has a point, Kook, I mean, you’re clearly taking this personally and to be honest, we don’t mind, but remember that when the job is over she goes back to being a politician and we go back to... Well, war.” Yoongi added. “Just don’t let it get too serious, it could compromise the whole operation.” He said.  You furrowed your brows, not understanding what they meant, but even the slightest movement was enough for Jungkook’s attention to shift to you.  “She’s awake.” He said, and the car fell silent.  “Rise and shine, pretty bird.” You heard Taehyung’s voice. Fluttering your eyes, you looked up at Jungkook, his same dark eyes looking back at you.  “Hi.” You said and once again he didn’t answer.  “We’re almost there, you should drink some water, take your meds,” He said, and you nodded, slowly getting up and sitting back in your spot. You looked at the men in the car, all of them quiet and you noticed Jungkook’s hand had let go of yours, it felt cold all of a sudden and you rested it on your lap.  As you drank water and took your meds you avoided Jungkook. Maybe he was making this personal and maybe he regretted it.  “So, Y/N, any boyfriend back in at home?” Yoongi questioned, and you almost choked on your water. Closing the flask and wiping your mouth, you stuttered.  “U-uh, no... I never had the time to think about dating after my second year of college.” You said.  “But you surely had some fun for two years?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. You chuckled, looking away.  “I guess, you know, frat parties and sorority ones,  I had my good share of... Experience.” You felt Jungkook shift beside you but didn’t look. “Must be intimidating for men to date the president’s daughter,” Yoongi said.  “Oh, yeah... It was difficult trying to bring a boy back to my dorm when I had five security guards walking with me every second of my day.” Hoseok made a face and Taehyung chuckled. Jungkook didn’t move a muscle, he knew what they were doing.  “Is American college life just like the movies?” Taehyung asked.  “To some sort, only there is a lot more alcohol poisoning and people getting pregnant.” You shrugged. The three men laughed.  “Jesus, imagine if a frat boy got the president’s daughter pregnant.” Yoongi mused.  “I took good care of myself, and besides, I stopped hooking up with people when I got into my second year, I had a goal set and I just tried hard to reach it.” You thought back to those days, they were quiet and calm. No imminent danger surrounding you. If only the girl you were back, then knew what you’d be going through now.  “Interesting, so you’ve graduated in what major?” Yoongi asked.  “I haven’t graduated yet, I’m in my last year, I graduate in six months... Well, if I ever get the chance to.” The conversation took a depressing turn, and the car went silent.  “You’ll get the chance to,” Taehyung said, lips pursed in a shy smile.  After what seemed like an hour, Hoseok slowed down the car. “We’re here.” Jungkook’s voice brought you back.  Hoseok parked the car behind an abandoned gas station and you got out. The sky was cloudy and even if it was hot, the lack of sun made it easier to endure the heat.  Jungkook made sure you had everything you needed before he was gearing up, he took a black rifle gun from the drunk and slung it across his body, the other did the same, tying his camo long-sleeved shirt around his head he was dressed in a light brown shirt that hugged his body slightly, you tried to look away, but you suddenly wanted to know what he looked like underneath. As they all finished gearing up the men rounded around Jungkook.  “Ok, Hoseok will lead us for the first couple of hours, then Yoongi, and when the sun sets, we make camp. Eyes sharp, we have no vehicles, if we’re ambushed we engage with full power, protect her at any cost.” You gulped down. “Ok, little dove, time to go,” Jungkook said, looking at you before he was walking off. A similar formation from before settled, only Hoseok was now leading and Taehyung was behind Yoongi, Jungkook was in front of you following Hoseok.  The heat seemed to swallow you for the first three hours. Your eyes were low and heavy as you walked limping behind Jungkook. Then, as your body released sweat, the air that rushed through the desert cooled you down.  The whole walk was silent, and you had time to think about everything.  Your father was a loyal man, honest and kind. But he had friends in power that weren’t and being kind-hearted, he believed that people could change. When one of his closest friends decided to run for the next election four years ago, your father felt betrayed. Of course, he didn’t win and your father secured his position. But that came with a cost. Jefferson Jhon was a petty man, and he lifted campaigns and spread lies and tried his best to taint your father’s reputation as if he had forgotten what your father had done for him in the past. Jefferson was a wealthy man, he owned several business companies and had an estimated annual income of around 2 billion dollars. He tried to buy people around him to help bring your father down, but your father had a card under his sleeve.  It was probably one of those nights where men of Wallstreet would hire prostitutes, snort cocaine, and spend the cash made out of the backs of desperate people. He tried to make a girl do something even though she wasn’t a prostitute, just an employee. She said no; he got angry; he choked her to death in a drug neurotic rage. The police were surely called and you still remember the phone ringing in the dead of night when you were just a teenager. The skinny man being brought to the Whitehouse by the police while your security made sure he was taken away. Your father did his best o hide it, making sure that the woman’s family was taken care of financially and that Jefferson got clean in exchange for the favor. It was headlined for a long time in the media since in the end, she was the daughter of an economist college professor and eventually; it was ruled a cold because of the lack of evidence. But you didn’t know all that because you saw everything go down that night, or because your father told you. No, you heard your father bring it up in a meeting Jefferson had called with him to try to bully your father into submission. You were standing by the door, ready to storm in and scream at the man that was bringing so much stress to your father, instead, stopping in your tracks. You felt ashamed of your father, ashamed for him doing such a thing, it took a few years for you to get over it, but you still remember Jefferson’s venomous laced words.  “I will fucking destroy you, do you hear me, I will take everything you love away from you, I will fucking destroy you.” He threatened.  A while after that, you decided you needed to make a difference in politics, studying so that you could be someone just as important as your father, just as influential, and soon you were taking on small diplomatic meetings on his behalf.  You didn’t let what you knew go by without confronting your father about it. And you remember that day as if it were yesterday.  “And you call yourself a man of integrity, where is your integrity, dad?” You shouted at him.  “Y/N, I understand your concern, but you have to understand that it was the choice I decided to make back then and one I regret most deeply, but that now can make things very bad not just for Jefferson, but for both of us.” He reasoned.  “I don’t care, dad! He killed a woman! And you covered for him! That makes you an accomplice, and your hands are just as dirty with blood as his hands are.” You swallowed back the tears that threatened to leave you.  Your father sighed, shoulders slumping down.  “You’re right...” He said, defeated. “I’ll have my people prepare a statement and we’ll make this right.” He said, and you nodded at him.  “Good.” Was all you said before you left the room.  A month later you were off to the diplomatic trip your father had set up last minute, one that was very important to you since it was an environmental cause. You had been in your temporary home for almost a month before everything happened. So your only conclusion was that Jefferson had found out about your father writing the public statement, one that you had read and known the lines very well. ‘My brave, just and loyal daughter convinced me that if I were truly a man of kindness, I should no longer allow this cruel act go unpunished, even if cost me my own position.’ That was enough for Jefferson to know you were a threat as well, and he fought hard to eliminate any trace of it. How he could do it without being discovered was what you wondered. But you knew that there were few people in this world that couldn’t be bought, and if he was willing to pay a year of his company’s profits for your head, you knew that people’s silence cost a lot less. “You’re pretty quiet, everything ok?” Yoongi’s voice brought you back from your thoughts.  You huffed, feet digging into the sand as you struggled to walk.  “I think I know who’s behind this.” You said, and all eyes shot in your direction.  “Who?” Taehyung questioned.  You tilted your head to the side.  “If I tell you, then your head will be worth 1.5 billion dollars.” You said, and somehow, that made Yoongi laugh.  “I mean, even if I don’t want to die, I’m pretty curious,” Taehyung said.  You looked up at Jungkook, his sweat dripping down his chin and the shirt around his head soaked.  “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He said, his face slightly flushed from walking so long.  “As crazy as it sounds, I trust you all.” You said, and Hoseok smiled back at you.  “So, come on, tell us who’s going through so much trouble to have you killed.” Yoongi sounded anxious.  “Jefferson John.” You said, and Taehyung laughed.  “Isn’t that cliche?” He mused. “The president’s adversary.”  “My father had dirt on him, dirt that would not only make him not be able to run, but go to jail.” You said as a strong sting erupted through your leg, all four stopped walking as you hissed in pain. You felt your own sweat soak your tank top as you looked at them.  “It’s ok, let’s keep going.” You assured, and they resumed walking.  They waited for you to continue.  “When I enrolled in college, I overheard a conversation they had and found out about it. A few months ago I convinced my father to make a public statement about it and he must have found out.” You told them.  Jungkook hummed.  “Jesus, what kind of dirt did your father have on him? Was he laundering money or something?” Hoseok asked.  “Worse.” Your voice came out weaker.  “Worse? Did he kill someone?” You went quiet. And that was enough answer they needed.  “Holy shit.” Hoseok cursed, taking in the information.  “You’re the only one alive that knows?” Jungkook questioned.  “I think so... everyone I know that could have known is dead.” Your voice was low now.  It was quiet for a while before Yoongi spoke.  “How is he going to make sure no one knows he was the one that caused the hit?”  “You can make anything seem like a terrorist attack with the right amount of money.” Taehyung pitched in. The rest of the group giving him a knowing look. “He must have hired a private contractor, like Phillips. Although I doubt Phillip would do such a thing, we don’t kill innocent people.” Hoseok said.  “It doesn’t matter, what matters is that she’s the only one that can make this right,” Jungkook said.  Soon, everyone went quiet and as the hours went by, you felt your legs ache in pain, your head woozy and eyes fluttering. You were tired, too tired. Your body suddenly gave out as you tripped and fell onto the sand, just as quickly as your hands met the sand, two bodies where by your side.  “Are you ok?” Jungkook’s asked, lifting your face to look at him, voice stern and worried.  “Jungkook, she’s been walking in the heat for the past five hours, what do you think?” Yoongi said beside you. Jungkook looked at the man, bringing his watch into view and looking around.  “We have an hour till sundown, I would suggest we move till then it’s not safe to make camp during the daylight, we can be spotted.” He said looking back at Yoongi.  “She’s pale, her lips are cracked, her wound is bleeding through the fabric and she isn’t fucking like us. She needs rest now or do you want to fucking carry her for the next hour?” Yoongi said, irritated. Jungkook was silent, answering Yoongi’s question.  “Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.” Your eyes were heavy, and you tried to focus on Jungkook, you blink a few times and felt the water being spread on your lips.  “Drink.” He said, and you obeyed, drinking down the water he was giving you. As soon as he was done, he put the flask away. “Ok, little dove, up.” He said helping your body up and pulsing it onto his back, you wrapped your hands around his neck, while he held onto your thighs, his hand dangerously close to your wound. You hissed in pain as he stretched the skin.  “Hold on to me, we’ll rest soon.” Was all he said, ignoring your hiss.  Jungkook’s body was toned, you could feel his muscles flexing under your body while looking down onto his strong hands that held your legs in place. Your hands wrapped lazily around his sweaty neck and your chin rested over your arm, your face mere inches from his. You were quiet as you felt your cheeks blush at how your body was flush against his, he would probably feel your heat against his back and the thought alone made you blush harder.  “If you’re right about Jefferson, the only way he’s going to stop is if you’re dead or if you tell the world the truth,” Jungkook said in a low voice, so only you could hear.  “I know.” You said quietly.  You rested comfortably on top of Jungkook, watching as the sun started to set and the sky turn blue. Suddenly he stopped, putting you down and looking around. The other stopped too. You noticed your clothes were soaking in your sweat and his.  “Ok, this seems good, let’s set up camp,” Jungkook announced.  There were two tents and as Hoseok and Taehyung put them together Yoongi was helping Jungkook with the portable stove. You looked at the men working, feeling useless once again.  “Hey Y/N, come here,” Taehyung called. You walked in his direction. “Help me out with this, will you?” He asked, even though he seemed to know how to do it himself.  There was the crazy aura about Taehyung, as if he always knew the right things to say. You smiled softly at him in a silent ‘thank you’ and helped him put the tent together. You watched as Yoongi and Jungkook stripped from their shirts, a gasp being trapped between your lips. Taehyung chucked, you looked back at him in embarrassment.  “We’re all human here... little dove”. He teased, and you bit your lower lip.  You didn’t know why Jungkook called you that, but you knew you liked it ever since he had said it back in Gallaticus. It had felt endearing and made you feel calmer.  “Heads up,” Taehyung warned before you turned around and faced a shirtless Jungkook. You almost squealed when your eyes met his toned abs. It was just as you had imagined, slim and toned and his skin honey-kissed. He had a few scars here and there. But it somehow made him even more appealing.  “Lost anything down there?” Jungkook tilted his head to the side, and you looked up at him, cheeks blushing. He lifted an eyebrow, waiting for your answer, but your mouth opened and closed several times and nothing came out.  “Nevermind. This is your tent, I’ll be with you while you sleep and I’ll take rounds with Yoongi, is that ok with you?” He asked, and you nodded.  “Good, we’re gonna heat up some food, try to change into something dry, it get’s really fucking cold at night.” He said before walking away. You looked back at Taehyung he had an amused look on his face.  “That went perfect, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at him and walked into the tent, bringing your bag along with you. You changed into dry clothes, walking out as the light of the day now was almost gone. There wasn’t a fire, but a yellow light in the middle of the men. You furrowed your brows as you noticed the cans heating up in the portable stove.  “Fluorescent light,” Hoseok answered your silent question. “Drones can’t see it, satellites can’t see it, and conveniently enough, it shoos the bugs away.” The wind was now just a light breeze as the temperature dropped. You sat beside Yoongi, across from Jungkook and Taehyung, Hoseok in the middle of the four of you, handling the stove.  “You hungry?” Yoongi asked, and you nodded.  He gave you a soft smile. “You know, when we started this, I thought you’d be one of those spoil brats that complain about everything.” He said while he leaned in and grabbed one of the cans, wrapping a shirt around the bottom. “Careful, it’s hot.” He handed it over to you and you took it, using the plastic spork.  “I don’t know if I am a brat, I hope I’m not, I’m smarter than to complain about worthless things when my life is in danger.” You say, and the boy’s hum. “Besides, you’re all going through hell and risking your lives to make sure I’m safe. Why would I put you in any more stress?”  “I know a few other jobs that didn’t really care before,” Yoongi said and Hoseok seconds it.  “You kinda are a brat.” Everyone looked at Jungkook, that was concentrated on his food. He looked up, noticing everyone’s stare. “You kinda are.” He shrugged, spork playing with his food. “How am I a brat?” You asked. You couldn’t contain the amused smile on your face. “Well, do you remember in the car before we were attacked. You said this thing about if I had a sad childhood story and if that was the moment, I’d tell it. I was really close to punching you.” He said, and you laughed, making him look at you.  “Well, you’re irritating sometimes. Also, I only thought about the sad childhood story because of that scar you have on your cheek.” You ate without really paying attention to the taste.  He shuffled on his spot, raising an eyebrow. “How do you think I got this scar?” He asked you before looking over at the other men that watched your conversation with amusement.  You slowly sucked on the spoon to get all the sauce off while you thought. You didn’t notice, but all four eyes glinted.  “Childhood bully, foster parents...” You hummed, letting the spork go with a pop, Jungkook’s eyes were darker than before. “Something sad and tragic.” You shrugged and looked back at your can.  Everyone was silent for a while, and when you looked up Jungkook blinked a couple of times.  “My older brother and I had a fight over who was going to play on the computer, I lost. I have no sad childhood story, I had a pretty amazing childhood and my parents were the fucking best.” He said putting down the can and taking his flask.  “Were? Are they...?” You questioned, and he shook his head.  “No, but they think I am, have for the past few years.” Jungkook looked at you and shrugged.  “Oh, I’m sorry.” You said focusing back on your can, where you played with the food. “Can I know why?” You asked, and it was Hoseok’s turn to speak.  “Y/N, when you’re in our line of work, it’s better to not have people you care about in your life, they can easily be used as leverage.” You bit on your lower lip in understanding.  You suddenly saw Taehyung take something out of his jacket, it was a metal flask.  “Is that alcohol?” You asked and Taehyung wiggled his eyebrow, opening it and taking a swing, making a face right after.  “You think I was going to spend almost two days in the desert on a mission I don’t know if I’m gonna come back alive from and not bring alcohol?” You laughed and saw him pass it to Jungkook. He took a swing, to your surprise, making a face and you laughed.  He looked at you before passing it to Hoseok who did the same. When it got to you, you hesitated, eyes looking at Jungkook. “You’re taking meds.” He said and Taehyung scoffed.  “Oh come on Kook, it’s not like she’s going to get drunk from a few fucking swings,” Taehyung argued, taking the flask from Hoseok and shoving it in your hand. Jungkook sighed.  “You’re a bad influence, Tae.” He said, leaning back into his backpack, his legs spread open.  You took the flask and put it in your mouth, tipping it back. It tasted like brandy and not a good kind, but you didn’t complain, just allowed the burning sensations to go down your throat as you made a face.  “And you sound like her parent.” He said back, laughing.  “Oh, god, no, I used to call my father daddy when I was younger.” You joked, and the boys erupted in laughter, Jungkook chuckled. You laughed along with the boys, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s, he was looking at you with his lower lip tucked in his mouth, it made your skin buzz, the way he was looking at you and chuckle he let out when you blushed.  After a while, it started getting very cold and everyone decided it was time to call it a night. You got up and Jungkook followed you into the tent in silence.  “You know...” He started, taking out his gun and making sure it was loaded and ready to go if he needed it to be. “You look pretty when you smile.” He said it as if it was the most simple thing to say. You spun your head around to look at him. His eyes were still dark as before. Your cheeks blushed, and you looked away.  “T-thanks.” You said in a small voice, laying down on the hard floor, using your bag as a headrest. Jungkook hummed, watching as you laid. He turned off the light making everything pitch dark, the only light source was the moonlight shining through the clouds giving it all a blueish hue.  You heard him move, laying down a few inches away from you. You were shivering from the cold, your teeth hitting against one another even though you were using your jacket.  It was hard to sleep as your body shivered. You tried your best to calm your shivering, but after what seemed like half an hour, it felt pointless. Jungkook seemed to notice, his voice making you jump slightly in the darkness.  “Turn around.” He said, and you hesitated for a while before turning on your good side. Suddenly, you felt his arm come around your chest and pull you into his body; he was spooning you, your whole body flush against his and he was warm, so warm. Your shaking got a bit better, but it was still there. As you tried not to move so that he could get some rest while Yoongi took watch, his voice was just by your ear.  “Are you still cold?” He asked, something different laced in his words. You nodded, you wondered why he wasn’t shaking like you and then you remembered he must have done this a thousand times, spend the night in the desert. You jolted when you felt his hand snake it’s way inside your jacket, his rough, warm fingers caressing your skin gently, softly. The act made you unwillingly roll your hips back and Jungkook let out a huff of air, his fingers gripping your waist to hold you still.  You only then noticed that you had ground up against him, you blushed aggressively, not knowing how to apologize for it, but as you opened your mouth to speak his hand grazed the front of your stomach slowly, you gasped, clenching your stomach for how sensitive your felt. Once again, your hips rolled back into him. Suddenly, his other hand was under your head and around your mouth, your eyes opening and he was speaking again, whispering.  “Be quiet, little dove, I’m gonna get you warm.” He said in a husky voice and you melted into him from the nickname, your body betraying you as felt his hand come back and graze your back, all your hairs standing. You didn’t know why Jungkook was doing it, but you weren’t gonna ask him to stop. His touch was something you didn’t know you needed until now, and fuck did you need it. As he touched your skin, you felt the familiar dampness between your legs, a dull ache starting to grow. You turned into putty in his hands, your body reacting to the slightest of touch and he seemed to notice, he seemed to like it. You heard as his breathing started to become a little shallow, his hand only shifting from our stomach to your back, sometimes he would go further up your stomach, make you feel hope that he’d touch you anywhere sensitive, but he would come down again and back. Your hips rolled back again and this time, you felt it. The hard bulge between his legs, large and delicious. You rolled your hips back again, mind already taken over by lust. He gripped your hips, pushing himself into you and you whimpered, his other hand closing around your mouth to muffle it. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel how heavy he was in our hand, but he had other plans for you.  Gently, he grazed his warm fingers up your stomach, higher until he brushed the tip over one nipple. You felt just how wet you got from one simple brush of his fingers, arching your breast into his hand. His mouth was just by your ear, his breathing shallow as he explored you the way he wanted to. His lips grazed the back of your neck, but never moving. Suddenly he was grazing your nipple again, this time longer, harder. You bit down on his hand, a low moan escaping your lips before he finally massaged your breasts. You tried your best to stay quiet, silently whimpering into his hand as you rest your head back on him, it felt so good; he was so good with his hand on your breasts, you could only imagine how good he was somewhere else. And as if he could read your mind, his hand started tracing lower, lower, lower until he breached the hem of your pants. The anticipation was agonizing as you couldn’t see him, only feel. As he grazed his fingers lower, he didn’t hesitate. Hand coming down to slowly cup your heat, your legs parted a little, your body moving and you could almost face him now, but he still didn’t allow you to, the touch of his hand over your core was making small electric shocks go all through your body and when he pushed two fingers to breach your lips and bring them up your folds to your clit, you moaned and he cursed.  “Fuck...” He cursed in a whisper. “You’re fucking soaked.” His lips were on your ear. You couldn’t speak, mind hazy on how desperate you were for him to touch you. Suddenly your back was shoved to the ground, the hand over your mouth beside your head and the other still on your core. You opened your eyes, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, so dark that they could eat you alive. You were flushed, eyes but slits, lips humid and swollen from how much you were biting on them, and the whole picture was making Jungkook lose it. He once again slid his fingers between your lips, from your quivering hole up to your clit and your mouth hung open, no sound coming out. You knew better than to let the others know what you two were doing in there. Jungkook started rubbing gentle circles on your clit, shushing you when he heard you whimper. Your legs opened wider to give him more access, he watched your every reaction, the way your chest rose and fell, your hole clenched around nothing, he knew he was making you feel good. The delicious way he rubbed you was haunting, you were so sensitive and deprived that you already felt a trace of an orgasm in the back of your mind. Jungkook bit his lower lips, trying to contain his own groan, his erection painfully hard in his pants, and when he slid back down and pushed two fingers in gently you arched your back, he leaned down, resting on his elbow as he put his hand over your mouth.  Having him over your body like that was a lot, maybe too much, and the way he was mere inches from your covered lips made you want to kiss him. He started a slow pace of his fingers, in and out, curling as they went out and rubbing at your sweet spot, again and again, his thumb rubbed circles in your clit as he slowly fucked you with his fingers. Your hands came up to grab onto the arm around your mouth, fingers digging into them. He hissed, resting his forehead on yours, eyes never looking away. When you started clenching, you felt your orgasm approach you at an impending speed; he noticed, biting harder on his lower lip.  “I got you, little dove, let go.” He said, and you rolled your eyes back, hips moving along with his rhythm. Soon enough your eyes flashed white. The tingling sensation started from the tip of your toes and rolled in a rush all the way through your body, an electric shock that made you clench violently around his fingers and arch your back into him. You couldn’t control your sounds, whimpering wildly into his hand, he pressed his palm down harder, his head diving into your neck to try to muffle your sounds. He rode it out, his pace slow and gently and when your breathing started getting regular again, he pulled his fingers out, leaning back on his elbow, his eyes trained on your hazy post-orgasm ones. You looked at him with bliss in your eyes, cheeks flushed and a fucked out expression that he took a mental picture of. He brought his cum-soaked fingers up and into his mouth, your mouth opening up in a gasp and his brows furrowing in sweet, sweet torture. As he sucked his fingers clean, he leaned his other hand back down, one on each side of your face. You two were in silence, eyes locked. He eyes your body once, sighing in satisfaction before looking back at you.  “Time to sleep.” He said when he noticed you were no longer shivering. You blinked a couple of times before he moved back to his spot, pulling your body into his like before.  You wanted to help him with his erection; you knew he had one; you had felt it; you whined, and he shushed you, making you go quiet. “You’re warm now, sleep.” Even if you thought you would never be able to fall asleep after that, you proved yourself wrong when you were fast asleep not even ten minutes later.  When you woke up, the sun was starting to rise. Your eyes fluttered, you were on your back looking up at the tent ceiling and you turned your face to the side where another face looked back at you.  “Hi there,” Yoongi said, smiling at you. It seemed innocent, but deep down it also had something with it, almost like a teasing tone. As you smiled back at him and got up, you felt a weird dampness between your legs and everything came rushing back. Your eyes slightly bulged and your cheeks flushed, you had let Jungkook finger you yesterday, not just that, you had let Jungkook finger you and give you a mind-blowing orgasm just with that, his fingers. You got up in a rush, grabbing your things and leaving the tent. “Good morning to you too,” Yoongi yelled from inside.  On the outside was the rest of the unit. Hoseok was packing the portable stove and Taehyung was working on undoing the tent. Your eyes searched for Jungkook and you saw him, sitting on a rock, shirtless, said shirt around his head as he checked the rifles. His eyes met yours for a split second and you looked away.  “Morning, did you sleep well?” Hoseok asked while he walked in your direction. The question seemed genuine.  “Y-yeah, very well, you?” You asked, stuttering as you played with the strap of your backpack.  “Meh, you know, as well you can sleep on the hard floor.” He shrugged.  You glanced at Jungkook, his eyes on you for a split second before his attention was on the guns again.  You needed to distract yourself. Walking towards Taehyung, you decided to help him with the tents. After you had helped Taehyung and everything was packed, Jungkook approached you all.  “Ok, we’re moving out.” His voice was hard and stern, and he barely acknowledged you.  You all walked in silence, a very awkward silence. Taehyung in front, Jungkook behind him, you in the middle and Yoongi and Hoseok came after. You couldn’t help look up at Jungkook, his bare back flexing now and then as he moved. God, why was he so attractive? It made everything harder. You came to the conclusion that God had given you a force task unit from hell. Devil-like killer supermodels. You hated god.  As you walked for the next few hours, no one spoke and as much as it wasn’t an unusual thing for you all to be quiet, after what had happened during the night, you were overthinking a lot.  The quiet spell was broken by no other than Yoongi.  “So, Y/N, you seem pretty well rested.” He said with a teasing tone to his voice. You looked back at him, brows furrowed.  “Yoongi, shut up,” You heard Jungkook spit out, but he didn’t look back.  ”What? I’m just asking her an innocent question” He raised an eyebrow and smirked.  “I slept pretty well, I guess I was tired.” You said, still walking.  “Oh? So, you probably must have blown out some steam, huh?” He teased and this time Jungkook stopped walking. Looking back at the white-haired man.  “Yoongi, I swear if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to shoot you in the foot.” Jungkook had his teeth clenched. The whole unit stopped walking.  “Is there something I’m missing?” Hoseok piped in.  Yoongi looked at him and back at Jungkook.  “I don’t know, Hobi, why don’t you ask lover boy over there.” Yoongi teased.  “Oh my god.” You groaned and put both hands over your face. Of course, Yoongi had heard you.  “What the fuck are you talking about, Yoongi?” It was Taehyung’s turn to question.  “Oh, come on, we’re all adults here, no need to act like a teenager and pretend you two didn’t fuck yesterday,” Yoongi said looking from Jungkook to you.  “Wait, you fucked her?” Hoseok asked, a lopsided smile on his face.  You didn’t know where to hide.  “I did not fuck her,” Jungkook argued.  “Jungkook, if your dick was inside her, you fucked her.” Yoongi nodded.  “Yoongi, oh my god, shut up.” It was your turn to speak. Eyes bulged, cheeks red.  “I heard you two!” He spat back at you and Jungkook.  “We did not fuck!” You said.  “Oh, so you’re telling me I didn’t hear her orgasm last night?” You once again hid your face in your hand. Taehyung and Hoseok amused by the whole thing.  Jungkook was silent. You looked back at him, waiting for him to deny it. He never did.  Yoongi opened his mouth in surprise you opened yours in outrage.  “Listen, I never said I didn’t make her cum, just that I didn’t fuck her.” Jungkook shrugged.  “Jungkook!” You yelled at him.  “What? A man gloats about his battles and his victories.” He smirked at you. Smirked. It was quiet as you gave Jungkook an outraged look.  “How d’you do it?” An unknown voice spoke and suddenly everyone moved, the sound of guns from the four men with you arming and ready to fire. When you looked at the owner of the voice he was covered in a camouflage outfit, one that would allow him to lay in the sand and not be seen. He didn’t even flinch at the guns pointed at him, instead, ignoring them. “Tongue?” He asked, and the men slowly rolled their eyes, putting the guns away with grunts and curses.  You looked around at them in confusion and back at the stranger.  “Fingers,” Jungkook answered, wiggling his fingers in the air. Your head spinning in his direction.  “Hot.” The short man smiled. He was blond, features soft, almost innocent. And dammit, he was gorgeous. One more to the Devil-like killer agenda.  “Shut up, Jimin, you just got here, you’re not entitled to details,” Yoongi said. Oh, so this was Jimin.  “I’m entitled to any information if I’m going to allow your stinky ass into my bunker.” He crossed his arms. You wondered why he was in the middle of the desert, but pushed that thought away as you noticed this conversation had gone too far.  “No one is entitled to shit as long as it regards my private parts!” You finally snapped and all five heads turned to you. “Now, shut the fuck up about it before I shoot you all in the foot.” You looked at each of them, including Jungkook, that had a dark look on his face then back to Jimin. He had an amused smile on his.  “I like her, Kook.” He said and walked towards you. “Jimin.” He said, extending his hand. You took it, the irritation in you fading away slightly.  “Nice to meet you.” You said. “Oh, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung all bet that you’d take some job, something about low pay.” He squinted, hand still shaking yours as he looked around at the men. The three mentioned looking at you with outrage.  ”What are my odds?" He asked, eyebrows rising in curiosity. “Two to one.” You said, and he finally let go of your hand.  “Thanks for the tip.” He winked at you, walking back a few steps and tapping his foot twice on the sand. Only it made a metallic sound. You furrowed your brows in confusion. A hatch was lifted, and the men started moving, Jungkook passed you, turning his head in your direction. “Come on.” Was all he said as he went down the stairs.  Red Hawk was a bunker. But not just any bunker, it was a large military bunker with several armed soldiers and high technology equipment.  “Jesus, is there a war I’m unaware of?” You questioned more to yourself, but Jimin looked back at you as he walked down the low lit hallway.  “There is always a war where there is money involved.” He said.  You didn’t say anything, you were well aware that money was the main cause of war. You tried your best; you convince your father not to be one of those presidents. “How long are you staying and what do you need?” Jimin asked and Jungkook looked around at the men that stared back at the group of strangers walking down the hallway.  “Twenty-four hours and we need a car and ammo, the bullets Taehyung’s connection gave us are rusty, pretty sure they’re from the fifties,” Jungkook spoke.  “Hey, don’t complain,” Taehyung said. “It’s a humble town and mine are marked.” “Whatever.” Jungkook clapped back. “Ok, I have four rooms, one for her and the other tree for the rest, Yoongi and Hobi can share,” Jimin said, turning at the end of the hallway, walking into another one.  “No, she doesn’t stay alone,” Jungkook said, and Jimin stopped walking, looking back at him.  “Just stay with her,” Jimin said, a smile tugged on his lips. “Not like you two aren’t familiar with each other, anyway.”  Jungkook rolled his eyes as he showed you all the rooms, Taehyung and Yoongi went into their own, talking about how they needed showers and rest.  You got into yours; it was a simple bed, a table and a chair and a bathroom, the bathroom had a tower, a shower on the wall that had nothing around, a toilet and a sink. Looking around, you stepped in; you left your bag on the bed, watching as Jungkook spoke to Jimin and Hoseok lingered by their side.  “Do you trust your men?” Jungkook questioned, and Jimin sighed.  “You know damn well that I don’t trust anyone other than the seven,” Jimin answered. You tried not to eavesdrop, but it seemed rather hard when the matter was your safety.  “Ok, we keep watch around the hours, she doesn’t stay alone for a second with anyone other than us,” Jungkook ordered and Hoseok nodded. Jimin looked back at you and you looked away.  “How much are they paying you?” He asked, brows furrowed. Jungkook looked at him, a weird look on his face.  “I owed Philip.” He said and Jimin raised an eyebrow.  “But this isn’t about Philip anymore, is it?” He questioned, arms crossing over his chest.  Hoseok was the one that shook his head, Jimin let out a surprised chuckle. Jungkook didn’t answer. He shuffled on his feet in discomfort.  “Well, that settles it for me, if she’s a priority to you, she’s a priority to me,” no questions asked, Jimin said and Jungkook sighed, shoulders relaxing.  “Thanks, Chim, I owe you one,” Jungkook said lower, hand resting on the man’s shoulder.  “I’ll go arrange the things for tomorrow, we should go shoot after at the ring, catch up.” He said and Jungkook nodded.  As Hoseok went to his room, and Jungkook entered yours you avoided looking at him.  Not only were you still embarrassed about what had happened the night before, but you were also irritated that he had talked about it with the boys while you were right there.  “Are you hungry?” He questioned, you didn’t answer him while you took your clothes out of the bag, shoving it out. “Thirsty?” Once again you didn’t answer. “Come on, Y/N, are you going to give me the silent treatment?” He leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of him. It seemed familiar. You finally looked at him, his strong arms crossed over his chest, his rough fingers just resting there. You gulped.  “Yes.” Was all you answered as you looked back at your things.  “Look, if I didn’t play along they wouldn’t drop it, it was better this way, trust me,” Jungkook said and you looked at him again, irritation written all over your face.  “I don’t care about being teased by grown men acting like teenagers, Jungkook, I care that they all know I allowed you to finger fuck me in a tent in the middle of the fucking desert like a horny teenager while there is a price on my head.” You spat at him.  Jungkook was quiet for a while. He took a few steps into the room, you side-eyed him as he got closer. When he stopped just a few inches from you, you couldn’t ignore just how hard it was to breathe. The warmth radiating from his body brought back just how good you had felt the night before. He lifted his hand, touching your chin and turning your face towards him. “You’re cute when you act like a prude...” He whispered, lips too close for your sanity. “But you look even better when you cum.”  You whimpered. Body betraying you, as it was now very well addicted to Jungkook. The noise seemed to please Jungkook, a smirk showing on his lips.  “Take a shower, little dove, you need to change your bandages.” His voice was still laced with the same velvet it was before. Hypnotizing. You swallowed, eyes low while your tongue darted out to wet your lips, you nodded. “Good girl.” He let go of your chin, stepping away while he walked towards the door and closed it. He turned around, walking back and sitting on the chair across from you. You turned to him, lower lip stuck between your teeth. If he was going to play games with you, you could easily play along. You tugged off your jacket, eyes trained on him, he looked at you dangerously before you gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, your bare breasts bouncing slightly, Jungkook inhaled, he had seen you bare before, but this time you wanted him to and he knew it. Pushing off your boots, you slowly pushed your camo pants down, allowing them to pool at your feet. You were now in your underwear and nothing else, only the bandages that wrapped around your thigh. Slowly, you stepped out of the pants and walked to him, his legs spread open as he leaned back in the chair. You stopped right between them, waiting.  Jungkook didn’t need to be told what to do as his hand snaked up your bare thigh and stopped at the base of the bandages, a shiver erupted through your body, slowly he started unwrapped you, agonizingly slow and you watched as your breath picked up, a heat going through your body. When he was done, he let the wraps drop to the floor, his hand resting on the side of your thigh. You stood there, still, eyes glossy and mind hazy as you had no control over how much you wanted him to touch you. Jungkook looked up at you, his eyes blown out as he saw your perked nipples. He rested both hands on each side of your legs, bringing them up slowly as he watched you. You bit down on your lower lip as a shiver went through your body, Hooking a finger on each side of your underwear he slowly pulled it down, noticing how the fabric stuck to your already damp folds, he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his eyes as he helped you step out of them. He caressed your skin, his palms on your bare thighs as he memorized each curve. He pulled you in, making you straddle him as he sat you down on his lap, his lips hovering over yours and his eyes trained on them. He snuck a hand up, brushing the hair off your face.  “Do you need help in the shower, little dove?” His husky voice questioned, whispered. You nodded, and he nodded along, your hips starting to move on their own slightly.  “How could I ever say no to you,” He grazed his nose against yours, making you whine.  ”What is it, little dove, what do you want?" He cooed, hand caressing down our side, over your bare ass, going back down your thigh.  “K-kiss me, Jungkook.” You whispered, desperately.  Jungkook thought for a few seconds before he closed the gap between your lips.  His lips were warm, soft, molding to yours perfectly. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when you felt his tongue come out, you opened your mouth, allowing him to take control and deepen the kiss. It was hot all of a sudden, hotter than the desert. Kissing Jungkook was like fire, little explosions going on inside you simultaneously. The kiss got hungrier, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you in harder, breathy whimpers and low groans escaping the two of you, Suddenly he got up with you in his lap, walking into the bathroom without ever breaking the kiss. When the water hit your back you jolted in surprise, gasping into his mouth and he took the opportunity to bring his mouth down to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin gently while you two got soaked in water. Jungkook’s clothes stuck to his body as he pressed you against the wall of the open bathroom. Holding your legs, he pressing your body against the wall, his hips rolled into your core, you moaned at the feeling.  “It’s like you want them to hear.” He said, smirking against your neck, you bit your lower lip, trying to hold in your moans. “Is that what you want? Do you want them to hear how I make you feel?” You whined again, unable to answer. The friction from his wet clothes against your core was making you ache. Jungkook let go of one of your legs, snaking his hand in between your bodies, two fingers sliding between your folds.  “Fuck, you’re soaked and I barely touched you, little dove.” He whispered against your ear. A loud whimper escaping you as you felt his fingers where you needed him the most. Throwing your head back against the wall, Jungkook pulled back, looking at you. He slid both fingers inside of you slowly, watching your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open, sinful whimpers leaving you. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you yesterday.” He admitted, between labored breathing. “So tight, clenching around my fingers so hard, must feel amazing to have you wrapped around my cock.” He trusted his fingers hard into you and you arched against them. You wanted to, you wanted to feel him inside of you, god you were desperate to.  “Jungkook.” You whined, feeling his fingers going in and out of you torturously.  “What is it, baby? Talk to me, little dove.” He cooed again.  “Please fuck me.” You begged, the coil in your gut so close to snapping. Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice as he slowly took his fingers out of you. The emptiness made you whimper. He shoves his soaking pants down only slightly, pulling his hard, veiny cock out. You looked down, watching him pump a few times, mouth watering and walls clenching. He was big, girthy, and you were anxious to feel him inside of you. He teased, sliding his cock between your lips and back, his whole length rubbing against your clit. When you squirmed in his hold, he was done teasing.  Jungkook aligned his tip with your entrance, grabbing onto both your hands and holding them above your head, his forehead resting against yours. The water that dripped down his soaked hair made him look even more breathtaking. Slowly he breached your lips, tip entering you torturously slow. Your eyes rolled back as he filled you up until he bottomed out, the stretch a lot more hard to take than his fingers, a groan left him as he furrowed his brows in pleasure. He was still for a while, allowing you to adjust to him, his eyes barely open as he himself was drunk with lust. He started a slow pace, hands gripping your wrists tight against the wall, hips grinding upwards into you as he watched the look of pure pleasure on your face, his mouth slightly open, you clenched hard around him, a groan escaping him as he bucked into you hard, hips snapping. You moaned, high pitched at the feeling of him going so deep inside of you.  He picked up his pace, fucking you so deliciously you didn’t know how long you’d last, he couldn’t go too fast otherwise, he’d hurt you, but he was good at controlling his movements.  “You feel so fucking good, so fucking addicting.” He spoke between breathy groans. “It’s like this pussy was made just for me.” He added.  As you clenched hard at his words, Jungkook lost his cool, letting go of your hands and holding your body again, hips snapping up at an unforgiving pace. You were gone, the feeling of him going in and out of you, the stretch so good, feeling so full, you felt the first sign of your orgasm, whimper picking up.  Jungkook seemed to notice as you started to feel tighter around him. He ground into you again and again, hitting that sweet spot that made you finally snap. Squirming and shaking around him, your orgasm hit you hard, Jungkook held on to your body to try to keep you steady but the violent clenching around his length was too much for him, he stilled inside of you, his release spilling out and painting your walls as he came with a throaty groan, his lips crashing into yours to kiss you messily. As you both came down from your high, Jungkook pulled out and gently placed you on the floor, only then noticing the blood dripping down your leg.  “Fuck..” He cursed. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled, still hazy from your high, He pulled his soaked pants back up.  “It’s ok, it doesn’t hurt.” You said in a small voice, Jungkook looked at you, a satisfied yet small smile on his lips, he leaned in, kissing you softly and taking your breath away. “Clean up, I’ll ask Jimin if he can get someone to look at it.” You nodded, drunk on his taste.  Jungkook gave you another kiss, hesitant to leave, but he did, clothes soaking wet as he made his way out of the bathroom.  You finished your shower, now and then blushing and biting your lip at the memory of what had just happened. You couldn’t deny the massive crush you had developed for him. Heart fluttering like a teenage girl at the thought. After you finished, you wrapped yourself in the towel and left the bathroom, blood still sliding down your leg, outside you were met with Hoseok, he had a teasing grin on his lips.  You tried to hide your blush, but he didn’t let that slide.  “Now you can’t deny that you two fucked.” He teased.  “Oh, bite me, Hoseok.” You rolled your eyes as you took your clothes and went back to the bathroom, hearing him laugh as you closed the door.  You tried your best to clean the blood, but it stubbornly dripped down your thigh, ruining the towel and your clothes. Eventually, you got out, the door to the room open as Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook spoke, Jungkook was wearing dry clothes now, black cargo pants ad boots and a black shirt that hugged his body perfectly. He looked so fucking hot. Jungkook looked at you as you approached. “Jimin and Hoseok are going to take you to the medical center they have here, make sure your wound is closed and healing, I have to take care of a few things it’ll take about half an hour and we can go have some food,” You were still blushing, cheeks slightly red as you nodded at him, he brought one hand up to put a lock of hair behind your ear, a soft smile on his lips.  “I’ll be back before you know it.” He said, and you smiled at him.  “Ok.” You said, and he walked away, leaving you, Hoseok, and Jimin in awkward silence.  “So, they fucked,” Jimin said, Hoseok nodded.  “Yep.” He let out.  “Shut up.” You spat at both of them.  Jimin and Hoseok lead you to the medical center, it was more like a small room with a medical stretcher and medical supplies. Inside was a woman.  “This is Ashe. She did four years of medical school before she joined the army, then joined us. She’s going to take a look at your wound, Hoseok will stay here with you, I have to go meet up with Jungkook.” You nodded at them and looked back at her.  “Hi,” You said shyly.  “Hey, you must be Raven.” She smiled back at you. You nodded. “Where is the wound?” She questioned. “Back of my left thigh, yeah, I think it opened, doesn’t stop bleeding.” You informed her, she nodded, walking back to a surgery table and putting on some gloves.  “Can you take off your pants and lie down on the stretcher, please?” She asked, and you looked at Hoseok. He rolled his eyes before he closed the door to give you some privacy.  As you shoved your pants down and let it hang on a chair, you got on the stretcher, turning on your side.  Ashe hissed when she saw the wound. “This looks painful.” She said, and you chuckled.  “I’m starting to get used to it.”  “How’d this happen?” She sounded curious as she prepared some cotton to clean the wound.  “I was shot.” Was all you answered.  “Yeah, I can tell, looks like you were running when it happened.” You hummed, not wanting to give away too much information, even if Ashe seemed nice. She started cleaning your wound. It still hurt like hell, but less now. You only hissed at the pain. Body cringing as you bit on your palm to try to make the pain bearable.  After what seemed like twenty minutes, she spoke.  “So, how is it you have the most dangerous men in charge of your security?” She asked, she was sowing your wound shut, eyes focused. You knew you shouldn’t talk about it, so you made something up.  “I’m paying them very well.” You said, and she scoffed, getting up.  It took you a few seconds to notice when she locked the door. The handle turning as outside, Hoseok also noticed.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re being paid very fucking well.” Ashe’s voice changed significantly in intention.  “Raven!” Hoseok shouted outside.  “What are you doing?” You asked as you sat up, crawling back and trying to get a good distance between the two of you. She looked at the surgery tray, all types of sharp scalpels before she took one.  “Retiring.” She said before she began to close the distance between the two of you, you screamed Jungkook’s name, throwing at her anything you could find behind you. That only detoured her for a few seconds, as you could hear Hoseok trying to bring the door down. As she launched herself forward on top of you, you rolled to the side, dropping to the floor and kicking the stretcher on her. She stumbled back but quickly jumped over it. You crawled back until you had your back against the wall. She walked in your direction, calmed, as now she could get to you with no trouble. As she stopped in front of you, she crouched down. This was it, you were going to die.  First, three shots were heard. She turned her face towards the door as it swung open, turning to you and stabbing the scalpel on your shoulder. You screamed in pain and next, one last shot, the blood splattering all around you and on you; you opened your eyes to see her head half-open, eyes void of any life as she lolled to the side and fell. Your hand came shakily up to your face and to where the scalpel was stabbed into your skin, there were silent tears rolling down your eyes as you shook violently, there was blood all over, yours, hers. And your view was blurry. You looked up; you saw all five of them, and the one with the gun still pointed at where the woman used to be, Jungkook. Suddenly, you felt weak, so, so weak and tired. Your eyes fluttered.  “Jungko...” You didn’t finish before you were losing consciousness, and everything was dark.  You remember regaining consciousness a few times; the men shouting at each other, Yoongi holding a towel over your wound. Then another memory, you in Jungkook’s arms as they rushed you through the hallways, you looked up at him; him looking down at you, something so desperate in his eyes that it gave you sorrow. The other memory gave you Deja Vu, the sound of a helicopter, you looking out the window and seeing the sky, the sun setting on the horizon, you could hear Jungkook’s voice but couldn’t find him, you made out the words “You have to live.” Then it was all black again.

[smuttymess]

bts astro soulmate reading | for mary

sign: cancer sun | pisces moon | virgo rising

lover: min yoongi | soulmate: kim taehyung

This reading is for Mary, a fellow NYC moot and a huge fan of our sunny J-Hope & Taehyung’s general gorgeousness. I had a lot of fun with this one as I am on a huge Taegi kick right now, so I hope you enjoy <3

Still waters run deep for you, sensitive Cancer. With your sun in Cancer, your super power is intuition. Your strength comes in your emotional intelligence, which you are tapped into at all times. This is only intensified by your Pisces moon, which allows you to feel things on a deeper level than most people. Your compassionate, empathetic nature is felt and appreciated by others, who often seek you out for advice or a shoulder to lean on. You have a strong tendency to get swept up in your emotions and impressions, longing to retreat into your fantasy world and away from the harsh realities of daily life. Luckily, you are blessed with a sharp Virgo rising, which you are allows you to harness your emotions and and utilize them to problem-solve and move things forward. Your reserved and stoic Virgo rising is your outward facing persona, protecting the vast tenderness nestled just beneath. In this way, you sort of have the best of both the dreamy, fantastical world of your mind and the sound, earthly realm which you physically live. 

More than anything, you want emotional security and stability in your relationships, whether professional, platonic or romantic. Your colleagues know you as the get-things-done team player, which means you are highly valued in the workplace. In your intimate relationships, you find balance in both giving and receiving care, and you are exceptionally good at both. In the past, you may have had a fondness for fuckboys in the past (Aries and Libra - here’s looking at you!) who knew how to fuck you but not treat you well. As you get older you truly seek that healthy balance of all things in your romantic relationships, understanding that your emotional range is a gift to be admired, not taken advantage of. While you are certainly attracted to those brooding artist creative types, typically try to stay away from people who cannot give you that sense of emotional security in the long term.

When you meet Min Yoongi at an intimate listening event, his eyes dark eyes fixed as he sips his whiskey, you initially brush him off as just another work-obsessed idol fuckboy rapper your friends warned you about. Your reluctance quickly disappears after he engages you in conversation, pleasantly surprised by Yoongi’s genuine nature and way with words which are simple and deliberate yet profound. A true Pisces with a moon in Virgo, Yoongi has an air of mystery alongside with a sense of both intensity and calm - an intoxicating combination draws you in. There is no doubting your mutual attraction - he can see right through you to your natural delicate inner world. He is one of the few in the zodiac who can match your emotional intelligence, and in that moment he sees everything that you want. By the end of your conversation, you are buzzing with arousal - and not just because of the drinks. You can practically feel his smirk on your body as you add your number to his contacts before he slinks away backstage.

The relationship you have with Yoongi is, at its core, purely emotional and highly physical. It is not even a full month before the initial hardness of your persona melts away and you’re sneaking out of the office to spend time with him. Spreadsheets and menial work tasks seem dull in comparison to evenings spent in the studio with Yoongi fucking you in his work chair. You tend to be relatively traditional in bed, sticking to what you know works and works well, but Yoongi makes sense an almost spiritual endeavor. Through his unabashed sensuality and love for pleasure he is able to bring out an even deeper, kinkier side of you that you haven’t previously explored. You are not the biggest fan of casual relationships, but with him you feel a sense of trust that allows you to fully let go and access a different side of yourself. Only Yoongi could have you acting out of character and answering 1am texts. I have been thinking about you all day. Come to the studio.

Beyond the physical, you two connect emotionally and fall for the beauty of each others’ minds. The Pisces in him all at once sentimental, artistic and sincere in his approach to life and how he thinks about the world. A broad thinker, he does not shy away from impassioned on social justice, philosophy, and society at large - and in being with him, your entire worldview expands, too. But what hooks you is how this operates in tandem with his Aries in Venus, which makes him direct, purposeful and in-charge. This is reflected in his lyricism and music, which he shares with you during long weekend afternoons and late nights in bed. Though you meet Yoongi at a point in his life where he is more career-focused, he proves to be the ultimate lover during this time: providing the hot sex and deep compatibility you crave from a partner. Despite the relationship fizzling out over time, you are happy to know you can look back on this time as a positive experience.

Months later, in a rush to work, you are more than embarrassed when you clumsily run into a stranger, effectively spilling your entire latte in the process. You are instantly reassured by the strikingly handsome face and warm smile that greets you as you scramble to your feet. There is a moment of pause, a purely magnetic pull between you - almost as if you have both met in another life. Tae is an old soul, with a wisdom way beyond his years, and your intuition signals that this is someone who you want to get to know. A prolonged conversation ensues, leading him to ask to see you again - perhaps when he is not covered in coffee. While he slow and trepidatious when picking romantic partners in the weeks that follow (you date for months before becoming official) by the time you do there has been a deep friendship there that is not easily broken. You grow to adore the complexity of his personality as he does yours. Both highly intelligent and social, you are drawn to Tae’s ability to charm a crowd or play it cool as he chooses to. In your relationship it play and create a fantasy for you to enjoy as easily as it is for him to focus on the little details, making sure your affairs are in order. This type of balance, which you try to achieve in your own life, is ultimately exactly what you need in a partner. 

Existing on opposing sides of the zodiac, the term opposites attract aptly applies to your relationship with Taehyung. While he brings spontaneity, whimsy and structure to your world, you help him explore his tenderness and romantic side that exists beneath the surface. As many of his exes could tell you, one could spend a lifetime trying to crack Tae’s emotional code, and it is really only you that is up to the task. Initially, you definitely struggle with the nature of his lifestyle which takes him away from home fairly regularly, and as much as you admire his hustle you can’t help but long for more time with him. With his sun in Capricorn, Taehyung is a caretaker and he values steadfast, hard work. He is relentless in pursuit of his goals, and while he does not expect you to be the same, he does require an understanding of the grueling nature of his profession. This force you to build upon your independence, 

You are far from neglected in this relationship, however. As noted, you need stability and that links directly to reassurance. While Tae is not always physically there, you know that he is always just a phone call away - anytime, anywhere. Thanks to his Aries moon and Sagittarius Jupiter, you also have a freak on your hands. While he absolutely wants to care for you and provide, that desire is not limited to the finances. While he is away often he makes sure to let him know you are on his mind. On your lengthy conversations over the phone, Tae can often sense the neediness in your voice, his tone lowering into a seductive growl as he coos into your ear. He adores making you beg for him as he riles you up from his hotel room, knowing exactly how to make you tick. When Tae takes the drivers seat, you are more than welcome to hop on for the ride. You could get off to his voice alone, your focus waning as he talks through all the ways he wishes he could touch and please you. Ah, so you miss me? Show me just how much, baby. I want to see you - all of you. Yes, he has a folder of your very tastefully taken nudes on his phone, and he adores every single one of them.

You enjoy following his pace, loving nothing more than reuniting after his days and weeks away for work. When he is home, you likely don’t leave for days on end - why would you, when you have everything you need right here? Your home, likely off in the countryside or by the sea, serves as safe haven for the two of you to retreat into at the end of a long day, a place where you can truly be yourselves. You and Tae are both homebodies at heart, and the sanctuary you establish together reflects your fondness for simple comforts and little luxuries. Equally kind and loyal with high moral capacities and integrity, your opposing traits overall complement each other in tandem with your shared fundamental characteristics. Together you act as true partners and best friends, the world you create together described as nothing short of magical. 

[thejollyroger-writer]

Keep Hope Close at Hand - Chapter Six

A/N: Greetings from the Chicago O'Hare airport! My trip has become the hugest fucking mess, but it got you another chapter, so it's all been worth it.

Start at the Beginning: tumblr // AO3

Chapter One: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Two: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Three: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Four: tumblr // AO3

Chapter Five: tumblr // AO3

Tags: @shireness-says @wellhellotragic@flyflyangel@stahlop@superchocovian @kingofmyheart14@drkeldonmd@darkcolinodonorgasm@profdanglaisstuff@pirateherokillian  @captainsjedi

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Driving back from the station to Mary Margaret’s house, Emma is unsure of what to do. Henry seems to be striking up a fast friendship with Hope Jones, and there is something about her father that she finds so… intriguing.

But it’s not a good time. She has enough problems, enough things to patch up with the father of her own child, nonetheless a stranger from Boston who appeals to her curiosity. But there is something so welcoming to her about Killian, something that seems to draw her in, that she just cannot avoid. Mostly, it scares her. She is her own person, with her own life and her own problems, and she doesn’t need a single father and his absolutely adorable daughter to come and throw a wrench in everything she has been building.

“Do you like living in the city, Hope?” she asks, finding the girl’s bright eyes in her rear view mirror. She’d never been to the city, barely been out of Storybrooke since the wind blew her here when she was a teenager who ran away from her foster family, but they always intrigued her. In the city, she could have been whoever she wanted to be, could have joined the mass of people and been anyone other than Emma the orphan. But she still always stayed in this small town, never leaving the city limits.

“There’s always so much to do,” she answers, her voice rife with excitement. “Me and my daddy go on adventures all the time.”

Without realizing it, Emma’s heart begins to ache, both for herself and for her son. Emma never had a parent to take her on adventures; Henry only has a father that does the bare minimum, spending time with him when it’s necessary, a special occasion, but barely more than that.

“What kind of adventures?”

“Well, there’s a really cool ship museum near where we live where he really likes to spend time, and he takes me out on boats on the water when it’s warm outside. We walk to the park, or to the movies, or to the place down the street that has the best ice cream. On the weekends we go buy lots of fruits and veggies from the farmer’s market, and if there are bands playing on the sidewalks, he always stops and listens and gives them some money.”

It all sounds so thrilling to Emma, much more exciting that life in a small town where every day is the same. She’s never outwardly craved a different life, but hearing Hope talk about the excitement of her life in the city makes her realize that she is doing just that.

“What about your mom?” Henry asks, and Emma is too caught up in her own head to hear him right away, or to see the sly smile that covers her son’s face as he asks the question. She wants to say something to Henry, apologize to Hope for his bluntness, but before she can climb out of her own head and put her words in the right order, Hope has already started to answer.

“I haven't seen her since I was just a baby. My dad and I had to leave to keep me safe from a really bad lady and she couldn't come with, but one day it'll be safe again and we can all be together.”

Her story sounds unbelievable, like a lie that a parent would tell their child in place of a much darker truth. But, somehow, Emma believes her. Somehow, she can tell that Hope is telling the truth, not only that she really was separated from her mother, but that she will be back with her someday.

More than that, she feels like she knows the story, like it’s buried somewhere deep down in her memory but that she’s heard it before. Which is, of course, impossible. She’s only just met them, mere hours compared to the years since it must have happened. Totally, absolutely impossible.

Or, is it?

 The rest of her day is a haze, staring at the TV without actually watching it while Henry watching very intently next to her. Every once in a while, he turns to her, reacting somehow to what’s on the screen, and Emma tries her best to play along, but it’s like her mind is stuck. Stuck on trying to figure out why Killian Jones seems so intriguing, so familiar. Why she can’t shake the feeling she’s heard Hope’s story before. Why every time she tries to close her eyes to clear her head, she sees him standing there in his cell, practically falling apart at the seams worrying about his daughter.

Trying to sleep that night isn’t much better. She spends the whole night tossing and turning, and when she dreams, it is of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby girl wrapped up in her arms, of pirate ships and castles and purple smoke, and a man with blazing blue eyes that fades from her memory the closer to consciousness she climbs.

The next morning, her eyes still heavy from her inability to sleep soundly, she walks into the station bearing three cups of coffee from Granny’s in a cardboard carrier. Or, more appropriately, her hot chocolate, Graham’s cappuccino, and a plain black coffee for their guest, who is still asleep in the cell when she enters.

“Anything to report, Graham?” she asks, trying to fight off the yawn that tries to rear its head, but he just shakes his head, taking the cup from her hand.

“Jones here is still asleep, obviously. How he can sleep so soundly on that cot, I’ll never be sure. He’s only got a few hours left before we’re allowed to release him, and I’ve left his paperwork on your desk.”

“Thanks,” she replies, and he grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and is out the door, leaving her alone with Killian.

Slowly, she walks up to the bars of the cell, watching his chest rise and fall with his soft, slow breaths. Not only is he sound asleep on the cot, but he’s laying on his back, the arm with the brace still attached curled up under the pillow and his other hand resting on his chest. How he can be comfortable like that is a mystery to her, but that’s not the thought at the forefront of her mind.

No, instead, she is focused on the his face, the lines and the soft curves stretched out over his features as he sleeps. She notices the specks of red in his beard, the lines of grey visible in the waves of his hair, all as she tries to figure out why he looks so damned familiar to her. She knows it’s not possible; if he’s never been to Storybrooke before and she hasn’t left in almost twenty years, there is no way that they ever would have seen each other before.

But standing there, watching him sleep, she realizes more than ever that he looks incredibly familiar, as if the memory of him is lying in wait to be found at the right moment.

When he starts to stir, she is pulled from her trance with a start, rushing back from where she was standing to take a seat at her desk before he realizes she is watching him. He groans, a noise that comes from somewhere deep in his chest, and raises his arms above his head. Once again, she finds herself watching him, up until the last moment before he pulls his eyes open.

For a moment, he's startled, forgetting where he is. After years of waking up in a bed as opposed to the cot on the ship, the hard surface under his groaning shoulders pulls his memory back to the Jolly — but when he feels the cot beneath him instead of the mattress that his suddenly-aging back has grown used to, he expects to see the bright white wood of his cabin on his ship.

Instead, the dark, bland colors of the jail cell at the police station remind him that he's in Storybrooke, not out on the open oceans of all the realms in the world. Staying put in his spot on the cot, both because he's somehow comfortable and not entirely sure his back would agree with moving so quickly, his arm draped behind his head, brace still strapped around his torso, the first time he's slept with it on for years.

Of course, his attention is drawn to Emma, sitting behind her desk with one headphone in as she pretends to ignore him as best she can — but he knows better, continuing to catch her eyes as they flit away from him. But he maintains her silence, merely smiling at her when she walks over and hands him a cup of coffee. It's been years since he has been able to just stay on a cot, clearing his mind by pretending he can feel the waves churning under him once more.

This lasts for a good part of the morning, a comfortable silence maintained between them.

Until, finally, she breaks, quickly tossing her pencil down onto her desk only to have it clatters to the. floor.

“Why do you look so damned familiar, Mr. Jones?” she asks, her eyes growing wide as her words become louder. “It's impossible for me to have seen you before, but I can't shake the feeling I know you.”

His heart aches for her, and he wants to do is tell her everything, even though he knows she won't believe him. Tell her how much he loves her, tell her about her daughter that she's forgotten about because of the Curse. But he knows he cannot. When the time is right, he knows the curse will be broken and Emma will regain her memories.

But now is not that time.

“I can assure you, darling,” he says, smiling through the bars at her. “I would never forget a face such as yours.”

The words come so easily, the flirty banter that he has gone without for twelve years.

But here again, talking to his wife even though she has no idea that is who she is, he can’t help but flirt with her because he loves her so damn much.

He has questioned for years whether he would ever actually see her again, and having her before him once more, though he wishes he could break the curse, is enough to curb his heart for the time being. Or, at least, it would have to be.  

She waves him off, unaffected by him, and manages to ignore him for a few minutes more while she does some paperwork.

But, finally, as she is filing his release papers,  she comes to a realization, the same realization David made the day before, and turns his eyes back up to Killian, who is watching her from the cot.

“Your daughter, she’s blonde?”

He waits for there to be more to the question, but when there is not, he agrees, simply nodding his head.

“Like her mother, I presume?”

Killian laughs, finding her engagement ring from under his shirt with the tips of his fingers, but his eyes never leave Emma's.

“Aye, just like her mother, my wife.”

“And she’s still alive?”

At first, the question catches him off-guard, but once he realizes what she must mean, Killian can’t help but smile at the irony behind her question.

“Yes, she is.” He's intrigued by this conversation, finally pulling himself to sit on the cot, even as his whole body fights back. “Why, did my little lass tell you otherwise?”

“Well, no,” Emma says, then pulls her lower lip between her teeth before continuing. “She said that you and she had to leave your wife behind to stay safe from someone, but you’re trying to find her.”

“Hope never really had a penchant for anything other than honesty,” he comments with a smile as he pushes himself up of the cot to walk closer to the bars of his cell, leaning up against them to get as close to Emma as he can. “If you don’t mind my asking, love, what’s with your curiosity?”

She does not answer at first, tapping the end of her pen against her front teeth, which have pulled her bottom lip under them again. Her eyes are lowered to the desk, avoiding his for a moment, before they snap back up.

When she starts to speak, her words come slowly. “I just figured that, given I have the resources, if you needed some help trying to find out where she is, I might be able to help you find some answers.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, and though his eye color on his paperwork is exactly what started this conversation, this is the first time she has noticed just how startlingly blue they are.

In fact, they are almost the exact same shade of blue that she has only ever seen one other place: on her own son. She's not sure what to do with this realization, but it remains in the back of her mind as Killian's words surprise her almost as much.

“While I appreciate the offer, love, I know exactly where it is I can find my wife. It’s just a matter of it being the right time to do so.”

She smiles at him, unsure of what his statement even means, but returns it, a sharp contrast to the seriousness of his voice. Unsure of how to respond to that, she turns her attention back to his paperwork, completing it in just a few minutes.

Finally, she pushes herself away from her desk, smiling gently at him as she unlocks the door to the cell. “You're free to go, Mr. Jones.” She hands him his valuables, along with a piece of paper with an address and a phone number. “The address is where your daughter has been staying.”

“And the number?” he asks, his eyes searching into the depths of her with a question that is so shallow.  

He breath hitches in her throat, fairly sure that she might never breathe again when his hand brushes hers as he takes the paper.

“That’s mine,” she says, pulling herself together enough to steady her voice. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

He smiles at her, perhaps the most genuine emotion he has shown since he drove his Subaru into Storybrooke, then thanks her before leaving the station.

After Killian's time in the Storybrooke jail cell, the Jones finally seem to find their place in the town. Much to his surprise, Regina leaves them alone, only running into Killian and Hope in places that are normal for small-town life: the grocery store, the diner.

Killian pays for another week at Granny's bed and breakfast. They spend a lot of time on the Jolly, time on the water that Killian hasn't realized he missed as much as much as he apparently has. But nothing compares to the feeling on the sun on his skin, the salt in the air around him and the sound of the waves crashing against the wooden sides.

He was made to be on the water, a realization that he learned very early in his life. And, though much of the time he was able to spend on the sea was dedicated to piracy because of the darkness of his early years, he was graced with the ability to spend much of his life — his unnaturally-long life — on the open ocean.

And having his daughter beside him, just as excited to learn about the workings of the ship as Killian is to teach her, makes his ability to be on the sea again all the better.

The only thing that could still add to is would be having the rest of his family with him. His wife. His son.

His son, who he has been able to get to know even before the people around him know the truth of his parentage, more than just him, Hope, and Killian. Because over the two weeks that they have spent in Storybrooke, Hope and Henry have become inseparable, fast friends who want to spend as much time together as they can. And Killian will never argue when Hope asks if they can see Henry.

Because seeing Henry means seeing Emma, and even though she may not know the truth, may not know just how important she is to him, she still seems to be warming up to him.

(And Killian has not missed the fact that Neal is almost never present, is never the person who comes with Henry for their play dates, their days at the park and at the movies and then, finally, hopefully today, on the water.

“Please, mom?” Henry asks, turning his face back up to Emma, eyes wide with pleading. “Can we go out on Mr. Jones ship today?”

As much as Killian wants to join Henry's fight, wants to plead with Emma to let him come onto the Jolly. It really is the perfect day, not a single cloud in the bright sky and the sun beating down, particularly strong for Maine.

But when Emma turns to him, asking his opinion through her expression, he can't help but laugh.

“It's a gorgeous day, and it will just be better out on the water.”

She knits her eyebrows for a moment, but then he expression slowly fades to a smile.

“You would say that every day, wouldn't you, Jones?”

He can't stop the smile that begins to take over his face, both in response to her question and to the perfect smile that Emma is flashing at him.

“Of course I would, love. I was raised on the sea, I would choose to spend every day there if I could. But today really is the perfect day to go out on the water.”

“Well, you are the expert, and I can't argue with that.”

“Are you able to join us?”

Emma's smile disappears, her eyes falling to the ground for a moment. “Sadly, no,” she says, then her eyes find his once more. “I have to go to the station. Would you be able to bring him to me when you're done?”

The corner of Killian's lip curls into a flick of a smile, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, her smile now slightly more genuine, and succeeding in eliciting one from Killian, lingering a moment too long before she turns on her heel and leaves him by the park.

Every part of him wants to reexamine that conversation, wants to go through every look she gave him and decode him, but Henry, still standing beside him, is too excited to allow him to linger for another moment, something Killian is thankful for, saving him from the madness of his own mind.

“Let's go!”

Killian can't argue with that, finally able to take Henry out on the Jolly.

Hope is just as excited to have him there, especially when Killian asks her if she wants to help him show Henry the ropes (both literally and figuratively). Unsurprisingly, Henry is a natural, just like Hope was, and before too long, they are standing in front of the helm, looking out over the open water, while Hope sits down on the lower deck paging through the Storybook.

Suddenly, Henry whips around to face him, his whole face painted with excitement, realizing for the first time that he can ask the question he's been wanting to ask Killian for two weeks now, but has never been able to with other people around. “Have you gotten to read the story book?”

“Aye, I have, though I have quite a few questions about it.”

“You know it's all true, though, right?”

Killian smiles down at the boy, the first person who believes his antics without question, because he knows that they are not antics. “Aye, lad, I was there for quite a lot of it. Pages of my life are illustrated in that book, which just makes it more mysterious to me. If you don't mind me asking, how did you come across it?”

“I got it as a present for my birthday. I didn't open the gifts when people were there, but it didn't have anyone's name on it, so I don't know where it came from. It just… appeared there, I guess.”

None of this makes sense. First Hope dreams about Emma, a face that it is impossible for her to remember, then Henry is magically given a book of stories from the Enchanted Forest and the other realms — stories that Regina has made sure no one will ever remember. Killian is still trying to put the pieces together in his mind when Henry speaks again.

“Have you thought about how you're going to break the curse?”

Killian lets out a breathy laugh. “That's the only thing I've been able to think about since I got here, if I'm honest with you, but I seem to have come up blank. I don't imagine you have any ideas, do you?”

Henry's face lights up, finally able to spill all of the ideas that have taken over his mind since the story book revealed its secrets to him. “True loves kiss! It's how Prince Charming woke up Snow White, so it could be how you wake up everyone here.” Apparently, though, he sees no issue with this, an issue that Killian realizes immediately, having had the same thought before.

“There's only one problem with that, lad?”

“What's that?”

“Your mother is already married. What am I to do, assault her just to make her see the truth?”

This does not seem to crush his hopes; instead, he just seems confused, his eyebrows knitted low on his forehead. “Married? My mom and Neal aren't married.”

Now this is news to Killian. “They're not?”

“No, he's never been interested I guess. She kept telling me that when the time is right, maybe, but I guess the time was never right.” He turns his eyes down to the deck of the ship, seemingly embarrassed by this fact. Though it changes the entire situation, Killian senses the change in Henry’s mood, so he changes the subject.

“Well, that changes the whole plan. It might take some time, but I think we can come up with a plan of action, right?”

Henry smiles up at him, excitement returned back to his face. “You mean, like, a mission?”

“If you’d like to call it a mission, lad, then that’s what we can do.”

“But what should we call the mission? Every good mission has a cool name.”

Killian can’t help but laugh at the boy, at his excitement and dedication to getting his family back together. “Do you have any ideas?”

The expression that covers Henry’s face makes Killian believe he’s been waiting to be asked his question for weeks, and when he bursts out with, “Operation Cobra!”, Killian knows he neither desires nor intends to argue with him.

[surveysonfleek]

1442.

Can you remember your first day of school? very clearly lol. i was that kid who cried when their parents dropped them off. Who’s your best friend? my boyfriend. Do you watch the Disney channel? no, we never had cable :( What’s your favourite movie? i have way too many. aladdin, mean girls, white chicks, 40yo virgin etc. Would you rather jump out of an airplane or go scuba diving? honestly the thought of either scares me but i’d probably choose scuba diving.

Do you get bored looking at other peoples’ holiday pictures? it really depends. i love albums that are quality over quantity. my cousin takes photos of absolutely everything so going through her albums of 400+ photos if boring af. Do you give money to charity? i have before but had to stop it coz it was a little too much for me. What can you hear right now? the tv. What does your last received text say? i’m home. Is there anything annoying you right now? not really.  What did you last have to eat? steak. Are you more into music or movies? probably music. Do you like making surveys? i don’t make any. When was the last time you went to a swimming pool? omg i forgot. last year maybe. Can you ride a bike? What age were you were you learned? yes. i was about 5 but was fully confident at about 7 lol. Would you rather have a pet snake or a pet turtle? turtle. Do you have, or would you like to get, any tattoos? no tatts, don’t plan on getting any either. Have you ever seen a band live? Who was the last you saw? yes. majid jordan. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever found in someone’s bedroom? idk lol. Who do you live with? my family. What colour are your socks? not wearing any but i own mostly black socks. When was the last time you went outside? about 30 mins ago. Are you too hot or too cold right now? i’m a little too hot but it’s tolerable. Do you have any musical instruments in your bedroom? nope. Do you like Batman or Robin more? neither. Did you ever love Pokemon? Do you still? yes, i loved it as a kid. i don’t follow it anymore. Do people who use massive amounts of emoticons annoy you? i don’t mind. Have you ever talked to your parents over an IM programme? yes. Do you like painting? i haven’t painted in years. What was the last clothing item you bought? pants and shorts. Do you have any fairy lights in your bedroom? nope. What does your washing powder smell like? like typical laundry detergent. that linen smell lol. Do you have a dishwasher or do you do dishes by hand? dishes by hand. Are there any cobwebs in your room? hopefully not. Do you keep a diary? not this year. What made you laugh last? a video. Have you ever used a pick-up line and had it work? no lol. Do you read Texts From Last Night? How about FML? nope. Are you wearing any jewellery right now? nope. Do American / British spelling differences annoy you? haha. not really. i do british spelling for everything coz that’s how we were taught. Do you like the smell of lavender? i don’t mind it. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? no and no. Did you keep any drawings / stories from when you were younger? yeah basically anything from my school books that i still have. Who did you last have an argument with? my boyfriend. When was the last time you cooked for yourself? last week. When was the last time you wrapped a present? christmas. Do you have a safe? no. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? idk tbh. maybe when i was at the airport and alarms started blaring for 10-15 minutes. i stayed pretty calm though. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) no idea. i never remember my dreams. Do you own a baby names book? nope lol. i used to always look through them at the library though. Do you read TV magazines? no. When was the last time you saw a relative? today. What time is it right now? 12:39am. Do you shout out the answers at quiz shows? haha yes. Have you ever been in a TV audience? yes haha! Have you ever entered the lottery? Won anything? i’ve done it once and didn’t win anything. When was the last time you were so angry you thought you would burst? haha maybe two weeks ago. Do you skip breakfast? sometimes. Are you in anyway close to reaching a personal goal? no. Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? word searches are a ton easier. Have you ever drawn on a wall in your house? no. Felt-tip pens or highlighters? felt tip. Do you like making collages? i did as a kid. Have you ever kept a scrapbook? yes. What’s your favourite video-game? the sims, tekken, gta 5, watchdogs and rdr. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? not from the top of my head. Do you think you’re a geek? no. Have you ever made up a word? no. Do you get nervous speaking to people you don’t know on the phone? yes haha. Are you scared of anything irrational? driving somewhere i’m not familiar with. Can you calm yourself down or do you just get all panicked at things? i panic over everything. Do you need to wash your hair? nope. What are your plans for tomorrow? working. Have you ever forgotten how to spell a really simple word? haha no but if you stare at a word long enough it starts to look weird. Do you have a passport? What’s the picture like? yes. it’s terrible. Have you ever had a full fringe? (bangs) yes. Is there anything you would never admit to liking? not really. What time did you get up this morning? 11am. pretty late. What’s the weirdest craze you can remember? scoobies. Have you ever been so hot you took a freezing cold shower? yes. i do this all the time in summer. it helps. Do you own a plaid shirt? yes. Do you take your own surveys? no. i don’t make them. Do you have a fan in your room? yes. two haha. Do you use bug spray or fly swatters? both. Do you know where your parents are right now? yes, sleeping. What was the last thing you said outloud? bye. Are you a clumsy person? yes. Can you brush your teeth without getting toothpaste all over your face? yes. i’ve had to learn after doing my makeup then realizing i hadn’t brushed my teeth yet lol. Do you have tiled floors in your house? yes. Do you listen to any movie soundtracks regularly? nope. Do you bruise easily? no. What would you love to learn to do? a language or instrument. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? whatever. Do you think you’d be able to survive on a desert island? probably not. Have you ever watched a foreign film without the subtitles? no lol. actually yeah but i understood the language. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? a bit of both tbh. if the trailer is good i’m keen too. Do you have any phone charms on your mobile? nope. Would you ever meet anyone you met online? probably not. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? real life. Are you happy with where you’re going in life? not really. ready to make changes but i just need to motivate myself.

[anghraine]

“per ardua ad astra” - chapter fourteen

...wherein my profound ambivalence about EU material continues unabated.

I really hoped to finish 14 and 15 this month (they go together, and I’ll be very busy after... tomorrow, pretty much), but alas, no. Here’s Ch 14, anyway!

last chapter:

Without warning, without explanation, green light lashed towards the planet. The same horrifying light she’d seen as they fled Scarif, but brighter and more poisonously vivid—Jyn and Cassian’s hands did fumble together now, dread choking her—and with a blinding flash, Alderaan exploded into fire.

this chapter:

Worse, again. By impulse, she pressed a hand to the pocket in her trousers, where the kyber crystal was secreted away. All is as the Force wills it. All is as the Force wills it. All is as the Force wills it.

It couldn’t be, could it? Not this.

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen

Cassian gasped.

Nothing from him, Jyn had thought, could be worse than his scream in the shuttle. But this was. A catch of his breath, barely audible, but out in the open with Imperials clustered all around—

Her own breaths burned, dozens of hot needles stabbing from her lungs to her throat. And though she’d squeezed her eyes shut, Alderaan kept burning, too, the explosion seared against her eyelids.

Papa. Cassian. Papa … the plans, we’ve got to … Force, Cassian.

Did Bodhi know yet? He’d played his tiny part in the construction of this thing, and he was what he was; he would suffer. But not, Jyn hoped, like them.

Perhaps it was a kindness, in a way, that the rest of their team had died. They would never see this, the very thing they’d fought to prevent. They’d hoped to stop it from happening to any planet at all—far less Alderaan, home to so much.

A million languages, she remembered; it had only been a few days ago that she absently scrolled through the databank entry. Some of the languages would survive: the standard Alderaanian that Cassian’s dialect came from, and other tongues preserved by off-planet Alderaanians. But not most, surely. It was nothing to the slaughter of billions, and yet—she thought of the picture she’d seen of the Anduçelos Mountains, of the wreckage of Vaesda, of Aldera. All of it gone, just like that.

Jyn and Cassian had considered the eradication of Aldera a catastrophe. If, by some miracle, she opened her eyes now to only the capital razed, she’d count it a relief. Scarif was nothing to this. Even Jedha was nothing to this.

Not since Saw abandoned her had Jyn felt so desperately alone, swallowed up in a vast, silent isolation. Nothing to compel her to action, no action to take, just a miasma heavy enough to crush her under its mass. The voices around her might as well have been animals or holograms. Even the plating under her feet seemed an illusion, part of this elaborate pretense that she stood firm and upright, unchanged from what she’d been two minutes ago.

Yet she did stand there. She wasn’t alone.

Hesitant, Jyn stilled at the clutch of their gloved fingers—Lyr wouldn’t risk it, would she? Even if she and Willix were lovers, they’d be more careful. But Willix was Alderaanian too, and Cassian’s hand readily curved into hers.

Fuck Lyr, Jyn decided, too tired to make sense of the thought. In the horror of the moment, she could only be Jyn Erso, standing with Cassian Andor.

His comlink buzzed.

It was the long-range com, secured in his jacket, not the short-range one at his wrist. Bodhi wouldn’t need the handheld to contact them.

But he couldn’t know they were so near. Could guess, but in this moment, maybe he hadn’t put it together.

Please let it be Bodhi.

As slowly as before, Cassian withdrew his hand from hers and extracted the comlink.

“Willix,” he said, his vacant tone at odds with the ground roughness of his voice.

“Captain Cassein Willix,” chirped a droid. “Is that your identity? Please confirm.”

For a long, dragging moment, he said nothing. Jyn dared a glance up at him; Cassian was colourless. Even his mouth was, beyond a few streaks of blood drawn by the teeth digging into his lip.

“Yes,” he grated out.

“Your presence is required at a meeting in Quadrant G North, Floor 18, Council Room 11872.”

And worse, again. By impulse, she pressed a hand to the pocket in her trousers, where the kyber crystal was secreted away. All is as the Force wills it. All is as the Force wills it. All is as the Force wills it.

It couldn’t be, could it? Not this.

“According to whom?” said Cassian, in a pale approximation of Willix’s usual arrogance. “I am a captain in his Imperial Majesty’s forces. I cannot be summoned by droid. Who is presumptuous enough to try?”

“Governor Tarkin,” the droid replied, with a distinct note of satisfaction. “The meeting begins in two hours. I suggest you start finding your way, captain.”

It clicked off before Cassian or Jyn could reply. Not that it mattered; they only stared at each other in horrified silence as the seconds ticked past.

“You’re not going to,” she whispered. “You can’t.”

He looked down, and then up again, strained but determined. “I have to obey orders from my superiors. And from Governor Tarkin himself—” Cassian’s voice broke off. After a deep breath, he continued, “You must understand that, for your own sake at least.”

Her own sake. If Willix defied an order from Tarkin himself, it would mean imprisonment at best. Certainly a closer scrutiny of his records, of Jyn herself, perhaps even of Bodhi if they confiscated the comlinks and managed to decode them. It would ruin all hope, instead of merely thinning it.

Jyn swallowed. “I understand, sir.”

“You can retire to our quarters,” added Cassian. “I’ll return when the meeting ends, and … oh, I almost forgot. Your datapad, Lyr.”

He handed over the datapad. His, not hers, full of their memorized notes and codes. If anything happened, and she somehow survived, she would be able to pass the information on.

Of course he would think of that. Her hands trembled under its light weight—but so did his. Despite Willix’s condescendingly pragmatic tone, Cassian looked frightened before all expression closed away.

Gazing back, Jyn could feel the wideness of her eyes, the hot sting behind them. This might well be the last time she ever saw him. And she couldn’t offer any comfort, to him or to herself—couldn’t be seen grasping onto him, kissing him as she’d often wanted to do, embracing him one last time.

It might not be the last. It might … she didn’t know what it might be. No one knew. There was no need to turn alarm into despair just yet.

Jyn mouthed, Be careful.

Solemnly, Cassian nodded.

May the Force be with you.

“Captain Willix?”

Both of them started, turning around to face an ensign, hardly more than a boy. His own comlink hung from a limp hand, his skin ashen and covered in a layer of sweat. After one muddled moment, Jyn managed to recognize the vaguely familiar face. Fiander Zelin, one of the youngest of the Alderaanians moved into the prisons.

“Ensign,” returned Cassian. He straightened into full military posture, hands locking behind his back. Jyn, now standing behind him, eyed the clasped hands. Between one instant and the next, an idea seized her. An impulse, rather. Discreetly, she dropped a hand to her right thigh.

Zelin babbled, “I … do you know about some sort of urgent meeting? For the lower ranks, maybe—a droid just commed me about it, and I’m not sure …”

“It’s real,” Cassian assured him, snapping into full spy mode. “I’ve been invited myself. Governor Tarkin himself ordered it.”

Zelin looked even more sickly. “Governor Tarkin …? But we haven’t—I haven’t done anything!” His voice had gone shrill.

“Mind your tone, ensign,” Cassian said sharply. Then he gentled, a very little. “I imagine it’s to commend us for our loyalty to the Empire. You may accompany me.”

Jyn stepped forward, as close to his back as she could manage without drawing attention. She jostled his hands.

Understanding the hint, his fingers opened. Jyn glanced around; nobody appeared to be paying the slightest attention to them. But she didn’t trust anything. Instead, she stumbled into him and, under the cover of the sudden imbalance, pressed her mother’s crystal into his hand.

Jyn didn’t know what Cassian thought of that, what he believed. If it would mean anything to him at all. But his fingers instantly closed around the crystal, his grip tight enough that the sharp edges must be digging painfully into his palms, his torso expanding with a deep breath. Good enough. She could do nothing else.

Protect him, Mama.

She knew the Force didn’t work that way.

Please.

Few people, in this moment, could appear more suspicious than a known Alderaanian spy walking through the Death Star with kyber in his hands.

Cassian didn’t care. If kyber crystals meant little to him personally, Lyra Erso’s meant a great deal. Jyn had held onto it through all the turmoil of her life, from Saw Gerrera’s prize soldier to the Imperial prisoner who somehow managed to smuggle it into Wobani. She prayed with it on the way to Scarif, and only yesterday, she twitched at the foreign brush of his fingers over the crystal’s edges. Now, it lay within his hand.

He doubted that Jyn cherished any possession more than this one. Yet she gave it to him—a comfort while he lived, irrevocably lost if he died. Had he some relic of Rana’s, would he have gambled with it like this?

For Jyn, perhaps. If he thought it useful. By now, Cassian knew he would balk at very little when it came to helping Jyn. But in all probability, he wouldn’t have thought it helpful, thought that far at all, any more than he would have imagined gaining anything from Jyn’s crystal. In any case, there was nothing left of Rana. Nothing but a child’s bones in a mass grave. No, that was gone, too.

Cassian’s vision blurred. He hadn’t seen it since he was a child himself, perhaps ten or eleven. There’d been little enough to see: cold earth, a wide memorial plaque. It took him a good fifteen minutes to find Llora and Renalia Andor on the long list of names. At the time, he felt little beyond confused repulsion, and he never returned. His mother and sister existed in his memories, not bodies under the ground; the grave meant nothing. Yet something in him shuddered from the truth that it really was nothing, now.

He tightened his grasp on the crystal; through his gloves, it warmed his cool hands. Maybe the lingering warmth of Jyn’s body—even on this march to possible death, he shepherded his thoughts away from that—or maybe something else. He didn’t know. At that, Cassian didn’t know what he believed about the Force at all, beyond the reality of its existence. He reserved his faith for the cause. The dream of liberation, given shape by the Rebellion. And by Jyn. A Jedi could appear before him, and it would matter less than this chunk of rock.

He believed in Jyn. In a way, that mattered more than loving her.

As if from a distant transmission, he could hear the boy beside him chattering on, Willix replying with something of his usual smooth confidence. Cassian couldn’t have reported the conversation for the life of him. Not anything, except that he disliked Willix more than ever. He always had, but in this moment, he seemed less a disagreeable role Cassian was forced to play, and more a person in his own right, stealing Cassian’s skin.

Of course, it was really the other way around.

“Do you—do you know why it happened, sir? Did the queen do something?”

Something? He almost laughed. Breha Organa would have been executed long ago if the Empire had a fraction of Cassian’s knowledge. Yet in the end, it hadn’t been Queen Breha who drew Imperial vengeance to Alderaan, or even Senator Organa. This was retribution against their daughter.

He supposed he could take a scrap of relief from that. The odds of Princess Leia betraying the Rebellion, never high, now hovered about infinitesimal.

“I haven’t heard that she did,” said Cassian. “Calm yourself, ensign. I’m sure the governor will explain everything.”

So far, his feet had carried him with little attention on his part. He forced himself to focus on their surroundings, make sure they headed in the right direction. Yes, remarkably enough.

At the sight of a fresher, he seized opportunity.

“Ah, one moment.”

It was thankfully empty. Cassian slid Jyn’s crystal into one of the pockets hidden in his trousers. He could still feel it, but the chance of failing Jyn and the Rebellion no longer lay in the hands of casual observers. He cared about that, at least.

In the mirror, he checked that the kyber was concealed in the folds of the uniform, then drew near to splash water over his clammy face. Tor was right, he thought distantly. He did look Alderaanian.

He might not have, given an unlucky roll of the genetic dice. His father, he gathered, was some sort of offworlder poverty tourist. But Cassian and Renalia both favoured their mother, Cassian in particular. Everyone said so; one of his uncles (ably aided by Renalia) half-convinced him that he’d come from a cloning factory instead of the hospital, and his grandmother affectionately called him Lloran. He looked what he was: a son of his mother, of Alderaan.

However much he disliked hearing about it over and over—Alderaanian or exotic or interesting-looking or whatever else—he’d never felt anything but pride in that. Now he felt a good deal more than pride. For the first time in a while, his face did him no favours, but … well.

A creak of the door had him washing his face again. And a sniffling moan had him turning about.

“Ensign,” he said tiredly. “Don’t make me report you for unprofessional conduct.”

Cassian had no intention of reporting him, of course. But the ensign might as well paint a target on his back if anyone else saw this. All the more from someone as quiet and obedient as Cassian had found him, until now, and too obscure for any real fallout.

Zelin, Fiander. Ensign. Alderaanian of Vila. Nineteen standard years old.

A boy, he thought once more. Nineteen—but that was Leia’s age. Just a few years younger than Jyn, a few more than Cassian. Old enough to rebel, and old enough to choose the Empire instead.

“I—I—I’m sorry, sir. But I can’t … I don’t understand.” Zelin scrubbed his wet eyes. “We didn’t do anything!”

“We’ll just have to wait for the governor’s explanation,” said Cassian.

Elsewhere, he’d have tried a different tack; Zelin might as well have a giant RECRUIT ME sign hanging about his neck. But if the Rebellion had its way, he would never leave the Death Star. None of them would—Esten, Efrah, the whole lot. Did Jyn realize? She must know, intellectually, but … Force, he hoped so.

Anyway, Zelin might be a spy.

“Alderaan doesn’t have any weapons. Didn’t,” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“You have enlisted in his Imperial Majesty’s fleet,” replied Cassian. “That’s all you need to understand.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, certain his sniffling shadow would follow. He’d met hundreds like him. Sure enough, Zelin hurried to catch up, and remained blessedly silent the rest of the way. Maybe he’d caught the warning; maybe he’d given up fishing for treason.

It didn’t matter. In that hour, nothing much did.

In the elevator, Jyn’s heart stopped racing. It had to, eventually. She no longer heard the rapid patter of her pulse in her ears, or sensed it in her neck or wrists. She sensed only her heart, itself—which sounded saccharine and melodramatic, but was entirely true. It felt like metal walls closed in on the literal organ in her chest, slowly warping and crushing it into a gnarled, leaden lump of dead flesh. Over and over, she forced herself to breathe through the seething pain, through the chokehold of her own circulation. More than once, she had to press her closed fist to her mouth, swallow down bile.

Just once, she reached for her mother’s crystal. But no, she’d given it to Cassian. One more thing the Jyn of a few months ago would never have imagined. The crystal lost not by some mischance, nor—at long last—by force, but freely given away, to a Rebel spy. Perhaps a doomed Rebel spy.

No, Jyn thought fiercely. She would give up hope when her fears became certainty, and not a moment earlier. Cassian was alive, down there. Or up, or … or somewhere. After everything they’d been through together, were together, she’d know. Wouldn’t she?

Jyn was pretty sure the Force did work that way, or could. But she wasn’t Chirrut, or even her mother. In the Citadel, after Cassian fell, she hadn’t known that he lived. Rationally speaking, it was just as possible that she wouldn’t know if he died.

Damn rationality. She would.

Her comlink buzzed.

With a jolt of pure fire in her chest, Jyn fumbled to accept the call. “Lyr speaking.”

“It’s me,” said Bodhi, voice breaking over the two words.

For the first time, she felt a wave of raw disappointment at hearing from him. She swallowed it; Bodhi mattered, too.

“Trooper,” she managed to say.

For a few seconds he didn’t speak. Then, breathless and unsteady, he stammered out, “I … I don’t … I’m not sure how …”

“I know about Alderaan,” said Jyn.

“Oh, thank the stars.” Then he gasped. “I didn’t mean—”

She slumped into the corner of the elevator. “I know.”

“You must have heard right away,” Bodhi said, with the sort of hoarse, desperate rapidity she remembered from those first days after the escape from Jedha. “It just happened, didn’t it? I only found out a few minutes ago.”

Jyn thought of trying to shield him, but she was too tired. Tilting her head back, against the wall, she said,

“I didn’t need to. We saw it happen.”

“Saw?” Without seeing him, she could perfectly envision his blur of shock and horrified sympathy. “Both of you? The captain, too?”

“Yes.” There was nothing else to say.

After a long pause, Bodhi muttered, “Fuck.”

Jyn almost—well, she was nowhere near to a laugh, but her face twitched. “Language, trooper.”

“Uh, Force.”

Her brows rose, though nobody could see it. “Blasphemy, trooper.”

“Right, right. Stars. Star. I don’t know. The captain, is he …” Bodhi faltered. “How’s he taking it?”

Against her will, Jyn’s mind cast back to Cassian’s gasp, the grasp of his fingers on hers, in the middle of a crowd of Imperials. Cassian, who had dared no more than the merest brush of her crystal, clutching it as he left to whatever awaited him.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “He—he’s not here.”

It was lucky, in a way, that they’d chosen the stormtrooper disguise for Bodhi. Given the tremor in his voice, Jyn could only imagine how transparent his face must be in this moment. Not that hers was much better. “He’s not? Why? Where is he?”

“He got called to a meeting,” she said, forcing her own tone to something even and controlled. “With Governor Tarkin himself.”

“What?”

She slogged on. “I think all the Alderaanians did. There was an ensign who got the same order.”

For a good twenty seconds, Jyn heard nothing but his occasional ragged breaths, and then nothing. “Trooper? Are you there?”

“Yes,” he choked out. “I’m … yes. What sort of meeting?”

“We don’t know. But the captain thought—he knew open insubordination would be worse for everyone.” Especially me.

“Right,” said Bodhi faintly. “Do you know—”

“I don’t know anything.” She sounded flat, not harsh, but she felt a flicker of guilt nonetheless. Cassian was one thing, Bodhi quite another. “Neither of us do, beyond that. Or we didn’t. I suppose Captain Willix might know what it’s all about at this point.”

After another long hesitation, he said, “I hope so.”

Jyn envied him. She didn’t know what to hope.

Council Room 11872 (Floor 18, Quadrant G-N) was in chaos. The moment that he entered, Cassian met with a cacophony of at least eight languages, only four of which he remotely understood. Apart from three stormtroopers clustered in a corner, helmets in their arms and faces drawn, Alderaanians mingled with little regard to rank or division. Not far away, a corporal demanded answers of a major. On the other side of the room, a private who couldn’t be much more than eighteen had broken into sobs. So had a colonel. Others wandered together without appearing to much notice it, or anything, their eyes dazed and unfocused. Those Cassian could sympathize with, more easily than the furious or grief-stricken.

Or—no. He couldn’t. They were Alderaanians, fellow mourners, but Alderaanians who had joined the Empire. So few did. These ones were traitors who betrayed everything their planet stood for. They grieved not because a world had been destroyed, but because it was their world. Their homes, their memories—

Theirs more than his. Cassian’s head swam. Not just their homes, the places where their memories lived, but their families. He had no family, hadn’t seen his homeworld in years, hadn’t called it home in much longer.—Hadn’t called anything home, except the Rebellion in an ideological way, and Jyn in a much more visceral one. Alderaan was more a legacy than a place he belonged to in any meaningful sense. The horror of seeing the planet of his birth ripped into fire could only be a fraction of what Leia felt, and even these idiots, too.

Didn’t they realize? The Empire had shattered their world before their eyes and herded its people into one chamber and they thought—what? They’d been brought together out of the kindness of the admiralty’s hearts? Given space to breathe and grieve for no other purpose than that? Absurd. There must be another reason. Someone must be watching, somewhere. Waiting for one or all to betray themselves, most likely.

Surreptitiously, Cassian took in the room again, even as waves of anger still washed through him. Just as absurd as theirs, if less dangerous. They were all going to die, regardless of what happened here. Hopefully.

Not like this, he thought. Not like animals going to slaughter.

He supposed some of the mourners might be plants, but he didn’t think so. Even the general seated at one of the tables, the only person who outranked the weeping colonel, had yet to break his blank stare from the wall beside him. By looks, he might or might not be Alderaanian; provisionally, Cassian assumed he was.

Two majors. Both babbling. And—those four seemed his only superiors here. It made a certain amount of sense, actually. Alderaanians had the lowest enlistment rate of any Core planet, and sooner or later, those few generally found ways to get themselves thrown out. Or defected outright. At the best of times, they tended to be amenable to subversion. It didn’t make for long Imperial careers.

And after this, Draven would have him recruiting up one side of the galaxy and down the other. If they ever got out. Perhaps even Jyn, too—

Selfishly, Cassian wished she were here. Not really here, in danger of her life, but with him in some way.

He flattened a hand against his pocket, the rough edges of the crystal tangible even through his trousers and gloves. She’d done her best.

—People were still crying. Force, did they want to die? It was possible.

They were Imperials, he reminded himself. Servants of the Empire, enemies of the Rebellion. They’d kill him without a thought if they knew what he was. Or send him off to be tortured, more probably. If they had the presence of mind for that much.

Perhaps they thought that would protect them, minutes after the Empire wiped out a planet of Imperial subjects. Perhaps they didn’t think at all. They supported tyranny and cruelty on a vast, careless scale, the subjugation of countless peoples on countless worlds, and never imagined that it might be turned against them. This was their world.

They were his people.

No. That was the Rebellion. His surveys of the room finally took in what he’d been looking for. Expecting, at least: a recess high in the wall, no more than a foot on any side, and something black and blocky within. Cassian kept his gaze moving, and his feet, too, searching for a better angle, and let his glance drift past the recess again. Sure enough, he could see a faint gleam from here. A camera.

He knew it.

Voices still clamoured around him.

“—hundreds of years, and—”

“Who cares about your fucking house? My daughters—”

“I can’t believe it. I can’t. It must be a … a trick, or a test, or … it’s not real. It’s not.”

“Someone’s going to pay for this. Whoever it was. We’ll make—”

Thoughts, emotions, suspicions: they all slipped into alignment, the junction as smooth and exact as the pieces of an engine or a droid clicking into place. For the first time in a long, long while, Cassian set the Rebellion aside.

“Diçelà!”

He’d been thrust into leadership before, if never like this. He knew how to make his voice heard.

The room didn’t go entirely silent, as he’d ordered, but fell quiet enough. Withdrawing to the habits of command, he demanded,

“Are we or are we not soldiers of the Empire?” His own language felt strange on his tongue, almost foreign. “Is this how we conduct ourselves?”

“Conduct ourselves?” a lieutenant repeated incredulously. “The Empire has—”

Cassian interrupted before anyone could incriminate themselves further. “The Empire does not tolerate this sort of display, this ... impropriety. If the admiralty were to see you all like this, at this moment, you’d be lucky to end up in the brig. Remember who you are, men. Remember where you are.”

Nobody said anything, which he considered an improvement. Every eye seemed to be fixed on him.

“Governor Tarkin should be arriving soon,” he went on. “We’ll get an explanation then.”

If he doesn’t have us all killed.

“What could possibly explain this?” demanded the colonel.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I don’t know,” Cassian said. “I don’t know more than any of you. None of us had warning. But many of you are coming very near to open insubordination. How do you imagine the governor, or the admirals, or the Emperor will look upon that? After our people provoked such a response?”

The room was truly silent, now. When the general drew a breath and rose from his chair, the sounds jarred. 

“You heard the captain,” he snapped. “Find some self-control or you’re going to end up in the airlock.”

He made a dismissive gesture, and as the others drifted into more decorous grief, walked straight over to Cassian. Not a scheming type, evidently.

“You’re quite the loyal soldier, captain.”

“Thank you, sir.” Willix, Cassian decided, would be gratified but uneasy. Not something he found difficult to manufacture, given that he felt that exact combination every time he interacted with Draven.

“Who are you?”

“Captain Cassein Willix,” said Cassian. “Sir.”

The general gave a difficult-to-interpret snort. “That so?”

He wouldn’t have thought that his muscles could wind tighter or his brain go on higher alert, but—apparently he’d underestimated himself. Every nerve in his body seemed to fire at the same time, lighting each one into shrieking alarm. His hands were icy under his gloves, his head hot, his feet tingling.

Jyn, he thought desperately, imagining the safety of their quarters. Only safe as long as he lived. For her, and the codes, there was nothing to do but brazen it out.

“Yes, sir.”

The man held out a hand. “General Cassio Tagge.”

Oh.

Allowing himself a cautious smile, Cassian shook the hand and ran through his store of Alderaanian languages. “General. You’re from … Pheled?”

“Xàvilun,” said General Tagge. Cassian had been off by a province. “Serèp for you, Willix?”

“Yes, sir. A small district there—Sereia,” he lied. It was Jyn who had the truth from him: he not only had never seen Serèp, he’d never set foot on its entire continent. Intelligence hadn’t wanted to compromise Willix’s identity, however, so Sereia it was. Cassian dug up as many facts as he could find, and hoped nobody asked for more. Since Willix rarely interacted with any Alderaanians at all, except Leia, he had yet to encounter any particular problems. But now?

Xàvilun, he thought. Not all that close to Serèp, but well out of the mountains. Tagge might know enough to pick up on the discrepancies.

“I haven’t lived there since I was a child, however,” he said. “I barely understand Serepta any more.”

“Well,” said General Tagge, “it’s not likely that you’ll need it, will you?”

As realization struck all over again, they both went pale.

“No,” Cassian said tightly. “I imagine not.”