#like deep dark pools full of secrets and unspoken sadness

[fluffylord]

There’s a certain type I can’t resist.

[out-of-jams]

Gossip Girl

↠ Gossip Girl ↞ Part of my Bangtan Netflix series!

Every year, you and your seven childhood friends spend the holiday weekend together at Jin’s resort in the Alps. It’s always a good time: drinking, the occasional recreational drug, and the divulging of secrets. It’d been another routine, fun weekend with your friends.

Until one of you leaked everyone’s secrets to the city’s biggest gossip site. Should be easy to find out which one of you did it, right? Who was responsible for dragging everyone’s reputation into the dirt? Too bad no one could remember what had happened that weekend. Or so you all say.

Which one of eight, pretty little socialites spilled their ugly truths? Why, that’s a secret I’ll never tell.

                                           xoxo

                                     Gossip Girl

              Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

              Warnings/Genre: Mature themes. Socialite!au. Gossip Girl!au. Explicit language. Fluff. Angst. Backstabbing. Mystery. Drug use. Alcohol use. Light violence. Allusion to criminal activity. Friends to lovers.

              Word Count: 18.5k

A/N: Whew! This was a beast for me to write let me tell ya! But it's also my first one shot of this size and caliber. Well, and my first time writing smut too (cringe). Hopefully it turned out well.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

                               | | Masterlist | |

             Hey Upper-Eastsiders, Gossip Girl here: your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite. And do I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources sent me something that I think you’d all like to see.

Not even the gentle hum of the elevator could drown out the sound of your rapidly beating heart. While you watched the golden lit numbers above the steel doors count up as you ascended, you couldn’t help the shaking of your hands. You had maybe fifteen more seconds to pull yourself together.

Your mascara coated eyelashes tickled your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut. One, two, three. That was all you gave yourself before you opened your eyes and stood up straight. The silk yellow ribbon tied around your neck threatened to strangle you to death, but you ignored it in favor of the elevator doors opening.

Cigar smoke. That was the first scent to assault your nose.  

Fuck.

Jin only smoked cigars when he was overly stressed and on the precipice of a meltdown. He always complained that they damaged his beauty. Like the tobacco would somehow come to life and mar his face. He always was overdramatic.

Now, however, you were almost tempted to steal one for yourself.

The deep vocal fry of Hoseok’s voice met your ears as you stepped out of the steel box. Heels clacking against the glossy wood finish of the penthouse of Jin’s hotel, you rounded the corner of the foyer. The fancy, grey bricked finish of the walls were normally familiar-- comforting. But now it chilled your veins with ice.

Standing at the bar in the living room, Namjoon was pouring himself a generous serving of scotch. His silver colored hair was glossy under the overhead lights. He must have just recently bleached it since it’d been honey blond just a day ago. Namjoon’s back was to you, but at your entrance he turned with a glass of liquor in hand.

Jin paused from where he was pacing a hole into the expensive persian rug he’d purchased last summer abroad. The pink jacket of his suit was discarded on top of the pool table and the long sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows. A fat, half-smoked cigar dangled from one of his slender hands, the other moving to push his dark hair away from his forehead. Jin’s normally grinning plump lips were pursed in irritation, nostrils flared.

From his seat on the long, orange colored couch, Hoseok halted his movements, his fingers halfway to his lips with an unlit joint. Most of the buttons on his light blue shirt were undone and the muscles of his pectorals were peaked through. And his own blazer was flung over the arm of the couch without care.

“Was it you?”

You didn’t even get to take another step before Jin was all over you. He never yelled at you, at least not in the way that he was now. And you couldn’t help your eyebrows from shooting up into your hairline in disbelief.

“Me? Seriously?” An unamused huff left your lips. “Why the hell would I expose myself?”

“She’s got a point.” Hoseok mumbled around the joint pressed between his heart-shaped lips. His eyes were downcast as he flicked open his 18 carat gold Dupont lighter and held it up to the end. The scent of marijuana mixed with cigar smoke with thick tension.

“So it wasn’t any of us.” Namjoon spoke up, knocking back an unhealthy amount of scotch.

“Who was it then?” Jin turned to Namjoon with fire blazing in his eyes. The ash from his cigar threatened to sprinkle onto the rug, but he didn’t notice. Or care.

“How the hell would I know?”

“Where’s everyone else?” You cut in before the frown lines in Namjoon’s forehead could deepen. WIth a click of your heels, you dropped your birkin purse onto the glass coffee table and sat down next to Hoseok, who offered you the joint and a sad, tiny smile. He should have expected for you to decline. You rarely partook.

The heat of secondhand smoke filled your lungs as Hoseok exhaled and your eyes searched over the stressed men in the room. Jin finally made his way back to the pool table and leaned against it with his forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not here yet.”

Footsteps sounded from around the corner on the opposite side of the penthouse entrance. Through the smoky haze filling the room you could just make out the figure of a man that you would recognize almost anywhere.

With long, curly black hair and broad shoulders covered by a black cashmere shirt, Jungkook sauntered into the room with his customary swagger. Three silver hoops dangled from each ear and the heels of his designer black boots knocked against the floor as he approached. His doe-like eyes met yours and he faltered in his stride, golden ringed hand pushing his hair from his eyes.

Jungkook’s mouth parted like he had something to say, but stopped himself and settled for just giving you a silent head nod of greeting instead. You simply shot him a quick, closed mouth smile and grabbed the dangling joint from Hoseok’s hand. You didn’t usually participate. Didn’t normally take what Hoseok had to offer. But damn did you need it. Especially with what was to come.

The sound of the elevator dinging was a grateful distraction from the way Jungkook’s thighs strained against the fabric of his black slacks when he took a seat on the other couch. Everyone in the room looked up at the two men who rounded the corner. One short and the other taller: Jimin and Taehyung. Also known as the Dynamic Duo.

Taehyung had always been someone of ethereal beauty. With his blond hair and perfectly sculpted face, he’d graced more covers of magazines than you owned. His tall, slender figure was covered head-to-toe in nothing but Gucci as he crossed the room. The man’s normally bubbly, cute boxy smile was gone and replaced by a serious look that you’d never seen from him in all your years of friendship.

And at his side, Jimin possessed a beauty that rivaled your own. While Taehyung was handsome, Jimin was pretty. His light pink colored hair complimented his dainty features and made him look like a fairy with plush, kissable lips and tan skin. Even though he was the shortest of the men in your group, Jimin made up for it with his ability to catch and bag any woman he wanted. Or man. Whichever he was in the mood for.

“Well?” Taehyung’s deep baritone voice spoke up before anyone else could. His steps halted once he made it to the center of the room, though Jimin headed straight to the bar. “Who’s going to take responsibility for this? Which one of you did it?”

You’d never seen Taehyung so angry. Not even when Jungkook shaved half his head and eyebrows as a prank in middle school. But now, Taehyung was burning with heat, the steam from his anger mixing with the smoke intermingling in the air.

“Calm down.” Jin huffed. His dark eyes burned with authority while he puffed on his cigar, his teeth holding it in place like some kind of socialite mobster.

Though, you supposed, he kind of was in a way. Whether the people in the room agreed or not, Jin was the unspoken leader of Bangtan. Which, coincidentally, was the most powerful group of socialites in the city. Everyone turned to your group when they wanted juicy gossip, or for the next big fashion trend, or for a leg up the ladder of the elite. All eight of your families ran a different part of New York City, and since you were the next heirs, it fell to you to follow in your parent’s footsteps.

“Calm down?” Taehyung clenched his jaw in anger. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down when the whole fucking city knows that I--”

“Look, let’s just wait for everyone to get here before we start in on each other. Cool?” Namjoon, ever the peacemaker, spoke as he poured both himself and Jimin another full glass of scotch.

Namjoon wasn’t the biggest heavyweight when it came to alcohol, so you were a little concerned for his sobriety.

“Speaking of,” Hoseok leaned back against the couch and stretched his arms along the back. The warmth of his skin brushed against the back of your neck and you met his eyes as he turned to you. “Where’s Yoongi?”

All attention was on you, but all you could do was shrug. “No idea. He left early this morning and didn’t tell anyone where he was going.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Looked like you weren’t the only one wondering what the hell your brother was up to.

“Did anyone try calling him?” Jimin plopped down next to you on the couch so hard that it sent you bouncing into Hoseok’s side.  

The pink haired man ignored your annoyed glare in favor of topping off his glass and setting the bottle of liquor on the coffee table. Jimin’s sweet scented cologne mixed with the aroma of marijiauna in a dangerous cocktail of temptation.

“He said he’d be here.” Jin spared a glance down at the Rolex fixed to his wrist. “Though it better be soon.”

“In a hurry? You have other secrets you need to go sell?” Taehyung buried his hands deep inside the pockets of his Gucci slacks.

He’d yet to take a seat and continued to stand in the middle of the room like the center of attention he loved to be. His blond hair hung across his brow as he sent Jin a dangerous glare.

“Watch it.” With a growl, Jin pushed off the pool table and stalked closer to the blond.

“Why? You gonna send me away too?”

Your fingers found your temples in frustration. Fights would break out occasionally between the eight of you. It was normal. Expected, even. Given how long you’d known each other, the hard-headed determination that you all possessed sometimes got in the way of one another. Backstabbing would happen from time-to-time, sometimes purposeful and others not, but at the end of the day you’d always be there for one another. But selling each other out?

It was a whole different ball game now.

A sigh left your lips as you drowned out the bickering going on back and forth between Taehyung and Jin. Even though the older man liked to play at being a no-nonsense businessman, he was one of the most immature out of all of you.

Looking up from the rug underneath your heels, you just so happened to meet Jungkook’s stare. His lips were pressed together and his doe eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t discern as he refused to break his gaze. Jungkook’s brows pushed together in an attempt to wordlessly communicate something with you. What that was exactly, you had no idea.

Your eyes dropped back down to the rug with pursed lips and the side of your body that still pressed against Hoseok’s simmered with heat. How did you get yourself into this situation?

Well.

                                   Two Hours Ago

“Time to wake up, Miss Min.”

The sound of metal rings being dragged across a curtain rod wretched you out of peaceful slumber. With your mind hovering halfway between the land of dreams and that of the living, you subconsciously turned away from the sunlight that suddenly beamed across your closed eyelids.

“Not now, Yoomin.” You words were slurred into the cool silk of your pillow. Snaking a hand out of the comforter wrapped around you like a burrito, your fingers searched your forehead blindly. Sometime throughout the night your sleeping mask had gotten pushed up and away from your eyes. “I was having the most wonderful dream. Now let me get back to it.”

Yoomin tutted her tongue somewhere behind you, not that you’d bother to look anyway. The older woman should have been used to your morning routine by now. She’d been working for your family ever since you were a baby and if you were being honest, she’d raised you more than your own mother.

“If you don’t get up now, Miss Min, you won’t get to your first day of the semester on time.” Yoomin scolded softly, voice lilting with her hard Korean accent.

“Five more minutes.”

Instead of granting your wish, Yoomin’s feet padded across the shag carpet in your bedroom and ripped the covers from your body. She ignored your grumbled moans of protest and tossed them somewhere you couldn’t easily reach.

“Breakfast is ready for you downstairs, Miss Min.” Even with the sleep mask covering your eyes, you could picture the woman’s stance: hands on hips and lips pursed. “Get ready and come down.”

“Ugh.” Once again, Yoomin paid no mind to your wordless plea and left the room, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, you tore your mask off and threw it somewhere on the other side of your king size bed.

The royal blue walls of your bedroom greeted you as you squinted against the sunlight. And silk sheets caressed your bare legs while you slowly sat up, fingers running through your tangled hair. The clock on your bedside table read that it was only 9 am and you took a moment to mourn the loss of sleep.

You’d gotten back home sometime late last night/early in the morning. The flight that you’d taken back from the Alps had been delayed due to severe weather conditions. Or whatever. Therefore, you’d only been able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep.

“I really should have taken Jin’s offer and used his private jet.” Your mumbles met no one’s ears but your own as you pulled back the door of your closet. Though, you supposed, it was your fault for wanting to take the latest possible flight back to New York.

Fingers pressing a button on the small remote in your hand blindly, you tilted your head to the side as the designer clothes hung up inside your walk-in closet rotated. Pops of color came and faded out of view while you debated what to wear for the day. Just because you were tired didn’t mean that you had to look it.

Well that, and you would be dragged to hell and back on Gossip Girl, the city’s biggest gossip site, if someone caught you looking less than your best.

Which would happen over your dead, decrypt body.

With a hum, you plucked a black and yellow versace dress from the rack, and grabbed a solid dark green overcoat and matching mustard yellow scarf and birkin bag. You only debated for a moment before grabbing a pair of fishnet tights and wandered into the ensuite bathroom.

The heated tiles were warm and welcoming against your bare feet. And as you showered, you couldn’t help but mentally go through your calendar for the day. It was Monday, which meant that you had a full day of classes and then afterwards you’d stop by Jin’s.

He was the oldest of your group, having four years on you and five on the youngest--Jungkook--so he’d already graduated college. Not that he really needed to, since Jin had been set to take over his father’s five star hotel chain since he was in his final year of high school. He had an older brother, Seokjoong, but he was so wrapped up in the party lifestyle that he’d disappeared into Europe ages ago. It was rumored that he’d cleaned out his bank account and changed his name right before going M.I.A.. No one had heard from him since.

And so, Jin was appointed the next heir of Kim Industries.

Lips pursed in a pout, you swiped on a final layer of lip gloss and fluffed your hair. Your reflection stared back at you in the floor length mirror as you gave yourself one last look over. With skin perfect and makeup flawless, you gave a one shouldered shrug of approval.

The stiletto heels of your mustard colored pumps clacked against the twisting marble steps of your high rise penthouse as you descended. It was quiet. Which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in the Min household. So your arrival on the first floor went unnoticed by anyone but yourself.

Right at the bottom of the steps, across the row of red marble pillars, was your favorite sitting room. A healthy selection of fruits were spread across the knee-high table in the center of the room. But you ignored it in favor of the steaming china cup filled with coffee. The hot liquid hit the back of your throat as you plopped down onto one of the four plush couches.

Reaching across the table, you grabbed the newest Vogue magazine and flipped through it. “Yoomin!”

Your shout didn’t go unanswered for more than a few ticks of silence.

“Yes, Miss Min?” The older woman appeared from somewhere else in the apartment, most likely the kitchen. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a low sitting french bun. A lacy black and white maid’s headband sat atop her hair that matched with the rest of her outfit. You weren’t really a huge fan of the whole ‘suppressed woman’ look, but Yoomin liked it for some odd reason.

With your lips pressed carefully to the porcelain cup in order to preserve your lipgloss, you eyed the woman over the rim. “Where’s my brother? Isn’t he usually forced out of his hidey-hole he calls a bed by now? Or is he still cooped up in the batcave?”

“Ah,” Yoomin folded her hands daintily in front of herself. “Mr. Min left earlier this morning. A few hours ago to be precise.”

Now that had your eyebrows shooting so far up into your hairline that you were surprised they didn’t take flight. Your brother wasn’t known for mornings. Or waking up any earlier than 2pm. He usually had to be forced out of bed if anyone needed him before that, which was a job that nobody wanted. While your brother was quite the softy deep down beneath his cold exterior, he wouldn’t hesitate to tear anyone apart who dared to rouse him from his precious slumber.

You lowered your teacup to your lap, the contents already drained. “Yoongi, up early? Being productive? Sounds suspicious. Did he leave to go back to Korea already and not tell me?”

“No, Mr. Min is still in the city. As for where he went, he didn’t say.” Yoomin wet her lips almost nervously and you narrowed your eyes at the action.

“Really, now?” The cup met the surface of the table. “He left and didn’t say a word? Just waltzed right out the door? Very unlike him.”

While Yoongi wasn’t very warm and receptive towards strangers, your brother had a soft spot for Yoomin. Her family had worked for yours for generations. In fact, she’d left everything behind in South Korea to join your family and immigrate to America. That’d all been years ago, before you were born.

Yoongi was three years older than you, so he’d been around one-years-old when your mother packed up and moved her fashion company from Seoul to Manhattan. Your father moved to Italy right after their divorce, and while you only got to see him during certain holidays and summer vacations, you were a daddy’s girl through and through.

Yoomin paused for a millisecond before responding. “Yes, Miss Min.”

“Ah!” You pointed an accusatory finger at the woman. “You hesitated! What do you know?”

“Nothing, Miss Min.” Yoomin bowed her head before glancing over her shoulder. “If you’ll please excuse me, your mother asked me to drop a few things off at her office.”

The woman disappeared before you could respond, the heels of her mary jane’s clacking against the floor. The ding of the elevator richoched, steel doors closing and leaving you alone in a place that held too much silence.

You’d barely had any time to ponder on the woman’s strange actions when the chirp of a text message rang from the pocket of your purse. Absentmindedly popping a grape into your mouth, you slid the device out and glanced at the text on the screen.

         E-girl blast #830: This just in: looks like if you take the Bang out of Bangtan, you get a very bad girl. Rumor has it that our High Rise Princess isn’t as innocent as she portrays herself to be. Someone should really change her name to High Rise Porn Star.

The blood in your veins froze, lungs stopped inhaling breath, stomach dropped down to the floor. With your mouth hanging open and eyes wide in complete and utter humiliation, the color drained from your face. Because there plastered for the whole world to see on Gossip GIrl’s website was a photograph of yourself. But not just any photo, no.  

It was of you, lying beneath the silver silk sheets of a bed. Your hair was flowing free across the pillow, side profile exposed. And you were obviously naked, only the important bits covered by the sheet. Eyes closed in sleep, you were completely oblivious to the person responsible for the photograph.

The room was familiar. You would have recognized where the photo was taken even if it wasn’t. It was in one of the various guest suites at Jin’s lodge in the Alps. Where you’d been less than twenty-four hours ago. Where that exact picture was taken.

But that wasn’t what caused panic to well in your throat.

                But who is the one responsible for the deflowering of our pretty little princess? Take a closer look and you tell me.

Right below that was another photograph. A cropped version of the first that showed an arm poking out from underneath the covers. It was zoomed in just enough to be able to make out the lump of another body in bed with you. Luckily, the identity of the man couldn’t be seen as he’d burried himself under the sheets like a gopher.

“Fuck.”

           But if you think that’s bad, wait until you hear the rest of what I have to say. Looks like Bangtan aren’t as bulletproof as they want you to think. Let’s move on to our Golden Boy, shall we?

The message continued on, but with the way your vision clouded with panic, you wouldn’t have been able to read it even if you tried. Who the hell sent in that photo to Gossip Girl? And how did they even get the picture in the first place?

Hands shaking, you almost didn’t look when another text message pinged on your phone. But thankfully, it wasn’t from Gossip Girl. With a shaky exhale, you read over the text.

     “It wasn’t me, I swear. You know I would never do that to you.”

Your thumbs hovered over the touchscreen keyboard, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you debated messaging back.

                          “Please believe me.”

The chance to respond disappeared as the phone in your manicured hands rang. You hesitated, not wanting to answer, but knowing you couldn’t ignore it either. Not if you didn’t want him to show up on your doorstep fuming. You blew air out of your mouth nervously and swiped accept.

“He--”

“Family meeting. Ditch your classes and get here now.”

                                   Present Time

“What’s with all the screaming?”

The voice drew you from your thoughts and all sound in the room cut off as heads snapped up in unison.

In the wide entrance of the living room dressed like he was fresh off the runway was your brother. Your heart stopped in your chest and you silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike you down. Yoongi was what you would call an overprotective older brother. He’d always held you up on some sort of pedestal with high expectations that you tried so hard to meet. And you really, really didn’t want to see how he would look at you from your new place on the ground.

Yoongi’s cat-like eyes surveyed the room almost lazily, like he couldn’t be bothered to be there. Whether or not he was affected by the leak as much as everyone else was impossible to tell. Or it would have been if you hadn’t been so close.  

The story that the aggressively bitten nails on his fingers told of his anxiety at the circumstances. His messily styled hair spoke of how he’d threaded his hands through the strands over and over again in an attempt to gather his bearings. And the rhythmic way he clenched his jaw let you know that he was trying to hold himself together.

You hadn’t seen Yoongi like that in a long time. Not since he broke the news to your mother that he had no desire to take over the company. That she should give it to you, the one who actually wanted it, so he could pursue his dream of becoming a music producer instead. Suffice to say, she hadn’t taken it well.

“Finally!” Jimin raised his glass in an alcoholic salute. The scotch splashed dangerously around the rim and you side-eyed the man. Hopefully he wasn’t already drunk off his ass. “Welcome to the party.”

“All sunshine and rainbows here.” Hoseok leaned over to dig around in the breast pocket of his blazer draped across the couch and pulled out another joint. He waved it towards your brother with a smile that lacked its usual warmth. “You’re gonna need this.”

Your eyes dropped to the coffee table when Yoongi’s stare flickered over to you ever so briefly. A coward you definitely were. If you couldn’t even look your brother in the eyes, how in the hell were you supposed to face the rest of the world?

“Alright, listen up.” Jin, finally free of his finished cigar, captured everyone’s attention like the charismatic man he was. His dark gaze met each and every eye in the room before he stuffed a hand in the pocket of his slacks and continued. “One of us here is a dirty, backstabbing scumbag--”

“How are we even sure it was one of us?” Jungkook’s voice finally filled the room, dark brows scrunched once again. With a flash of pink he wet his lips and he glanced around at everyone present.

“The secrets that were leaked to Gossip Girl,” Namjoon leaned against the back of one of the couches, scotch glass filled once again. At the rate he was drinking, he’d be passed out face down in less than an hour. “Were only told to the people in this room. Well...”

Namjoon paused and his eyes found yours. “All but one, at least. But that’s not important.”

Your cheeks heated under the heavy weight of your childhood friend’s stares.

“Or were you too high off your ass to realize?” Taehyung addressed Jungkook, thankfully tearing the attention from you. He crossed his legs from his new spot leaning against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen. With his head tilted to the side, he analyzed the youngest with a look that threatened retribution. “Maybe it was you.”

“Why would I expose myself?” The tip of Jungkook’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek roughly. “Or any one of you? It was probably you.”

“Me?” A sharp, humourless laugh bubbled past the blond man’s lips. “I could lose my job for this shit. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at Taehyung condescendingly.

“Arguing isn’t going to solve anything.” Hoseok’s vocal fry spoke over the impending argument before it could start. His eyes were bloodshot and it made you wonder just how high he was. You couldn’t blame him. Not with what he was probably re-living due to the recent exposure.

“Oh really?” Taehyung turned his anger towards the man sitting at your side, lips pressed into a thin line. “This is all your fucking fault. You’re the one who thought it’d be a good idea to drug us.”

Hoseok flinched so hard that you were surprised no one else could feel it. He didn’t respond, instead choosing to cast his eyes down at the persian rug under his feet. The brunette hair that shifted across his forehead did little to hide his crumpled, guilted expression.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.” Junkook’s nostrils flared as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows braced against his knees like he had to physically hold himself back.

“I mean, Tae kind of has a point, as shitty as it is.” From your left came Jimin’s adolescent-esque deep voice. The pink haired man’s stare was captivated by the way the amber liquid in his glass swirled with a flick of his wrist.

“Pointing fingers right now isn’t going to solve anything.” Jin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“What do you suggest then, your royal highness?” No one commented on the sarcasm dripping from Taehyung’s tongue.

Instead, Jin stood tall and surveyed the room once again. “We’re going to sit here and go back over every single last detail of what occurred this past weekend. No one’s leaving until we figure out which one of us is the snake.”

He paused, face dark. “And you better pray to God that it isn’t you.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from glancing at the man sitting near you. His own met yours and reflected the same fear that mixed a dangerous cocktail in the pit of your stomach.

“How will going over details help?” The question came from your brother. He’d been so quiet that you’d momentarily forgotten he was there.

He took a few steps further into the room, shedding his jacket along the way. Yoongi sat down in the empty seat next to Jungkook, who didn’t spare him a second glance.

“We weren’t all together the whole time.” Namjoon half-slurred. The scotch was heavy on his tongue, but you couldn’t really blame him either. “People who went off on their own have the highest probability of being the rat.”

“Okay then, let’s just go through everyone’s texts and emails. See who sent it in to Gossip Girl.” Jungkook leaned back into the couch with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Do you know how easy it is to delete a text or an email?” With a snort, Taehyung spoke slowly, like Jungkook was an invalid.

The youngest clenched his jaw in irritation. “Then we’ll just contact Gossip Girl and ask her.”

“You know she doesn’t reveal her sources.” Jimin murmured into his glass.

“I still don’t see how any of this will help.” Yoongi’s raised eyebrow disappeared underneath his blond bangs. The marijuana smoke from his exhale punctuated his words. “But whatever. The sooner we get this done the sooner I can leave.”

“Somewhere more important to be?” Taehyung crossed his arms across his chest.

Your brother looked unamused. “Unlike you, some of us actually work hard for a living.”

You could see the moment the anger behind Taehyung’s eyes burned deeper with rage. “Modeling is--”

“For fucks sake, shut up! You think you’re the only one with things to do?” Jin rolled his eyes and stepped between the two. Yoongi always knew which buttons to push to send someone right over the edge of self control. The eldest’s withering stare shifted over to a wavering Namjoon. “And stop drinking. You’ll be useless if you’re face down in a toilet.”

Jin’s sharp tone called everyone’s attention yet again as the elevator door dinged. From around the corner emerged one of the hotel’s many staff members. The suit wearing man pushed a large rolling whiteboard into the living room, the type that you usually only saw in crime television shows. The wheels squeaked lightly across the wood floor.

“There is fine.” Jin nodded at the staff member who disappeared with a bow of his head.

The eldest strode up to the board where it was situated in front of the room and picked up a black erase marker. He turned to the group as he uncapped it. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

                                Forty Hours Ago

“It’s cold.”

Turning to peer over your shoulder, you sent your brother a yeah, duh look. “We’re in the mountains in mid-December. What did you expect?”

From the roof of the resort, Yoongi stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the private helicopter pad that Jin had installed years ago for easy travel. His icy blond hair was pushed back from his pale forehead with a black headband and his mouth was pursed in a cute pout. Though he’d deny its existence if you pointed it out.

The daegu accent that he’d picked up from his past two years living in South Korea stretched out his words into one long drag. “I hate the cold.”

It seemed that not even the thick Givenchy coat drowning his smaller frame could keep him warm. And the fuzzy earmuffs nestled in your hair couldn’t protect your ears from his complaints.

“The sooner we get inside, the sooner we can get warm.” Your own gloved fingers wrapped around the padded material on his upper arm. Yoongi followed after you without resistance, though the pout failed to fall from his face.

Behind the two of you, a handful of staff members descended the helicopter pad’s steps with you and your brother’s suitcases in hand. Luckily it wasn’t snowing, but the wind from on top of the resort was harsh and sharp. It turned your nose into a runny, red mess within minutes. Which was why you couldn’t disappear behind the metal roof door soon enough.

A sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of heated air hitting your chilled skin. Yoongi’s own grunt sounded from behind you while your fingers hurried to unbutton your thermal coat. The heels of your boots clacked against the hotel’s floor as the two of you strut down the hallway.

The resort was completely empty, as it always was that time of the year. Not because there was a lack of patrons, but because Jin would block out the weekend so your group could reunite before tackling the New Year. At the end of the hall, your fingers pressed the button to call the elevator. Yoongi, red cheeked and sniffling, leaned against the wall beside the closed steel doors and sighed.

“Something wrong?” Your voice was quiet in the empty hall. It’d been a long time since you’d seen him. And while you still managed to call each other at least once a week, it felt like there was some sort of rift between you. An invisible wall that you weren’t sure how to breach.

“No.” Yoongi’s cat-like eyes squeezed shut around a yawn. “Just tired.”

The dark bags under his eyes were prominent. He’d taken a flight from Korea all the way to New York, just so he could join you on another flight and helicopter ride to the resort. Two years ago Yoongi had moved out of the country to pursue his dream of becoming a music producer. And he liked to hide his failures from you as much as he could, but the dejected way he’d sounded on the phone the past few months told you everything he couldn’t.

He was struggling to make a name for himself outside of your mother’s. Yoongi was crazy talented, but he’d chosen to forgo the connections and opportunities that your family name could bring him to start from the bottom. He wanted to build himself from the ground up to prove to himself that he could do it. That he didn’t need your mother to succeed.

Though you supposed that you couldn’t blame just him for the feeling of separation between the two of you. The secret that you withheld from him threatened to drown you with guilt.

The elevator ride was quick and silent. Yoongi leaned against the corner of the steel box with his head flopped back against the wall. You stood at the opposite end, the handles of your purse dangling lazily. The air was tense, yet barren.

With a ding, the doors slid open and the marble flooring of the obnoxiously large and flashy lobby greeted you.

Past the rose gold pillars and other elevators was a classy seating area. Leather couches formed around a roaring, lit fireplace. And behind that were floor to ceiling glass windows that overlooked the snow-capped mountains. Standing in front of the fireplace and roasting himself like a marshmallow was a familiar head of pink hair.

Jimin turned at the sound of your footsteps, bare collar bones poking out from the top of his unzippered ski-coat. His hair was dripping with melted snow and the usual golden hue of his skin was heated with pink. Jimin’s plump lips pulled back into a grin, flashing you his crooked front tooth.

“Hey! Look who finally decided to arrive!”

Hoseok’s brown hair poked out from underneath the thick wool blanket thrown over his head from his seat on one of the couches. You could tell that someone had managed to get the scaredy cat out onto the ski slopes by the pale complection of his skin. His snow boots were scattered on the floor around the couch haphazardly while his fluffy-socked feet were tucked underneath his thighs.  

“Sorry we’re late.” Yoongi spoke from behind you, though his tone didn’t sound very apologetic.

“You missed the whole first day!” Jimin complained as he approached with his arms outstretched. He enveloped you into his hold first, his damp hair brushing the top of your head and his warm breath ghosting your ear. “It’s been a while, Princess. Glad to see you.”

“You too, Jiminie.”

Your own arms wrapped around the man’s slim shoulders and his sweet smelling cologne cocooned your nose with a scent you could only call Jimin. He gave your waist one last squeeze before parting from you and moving over to your brother. Yoongi wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn’t move away when Jimin crushed him in a hug of his own.

Jimin hadn’t been lying. It really had been a while since you’d last seen each other. Even though you were the same age, you went to university at Columbia in the city and Jimin spent his days performing on Broadway. You’d only get to see each other when he had a gap between shows, or during the holidays when everyone had breaks in their schedules.

“You look miserable.” You smirked down at Hoseok as you stood in front of him. The older man looked like a pathetic, soggy burrito wrapped in the blanket like that. He pouted up at you with his heart-shaped lips and dimples and warm brown eyes.

“You have no idea.” Hoseok replied with a sniffle of his red-tipped nose. His socked feet hit the floor as he stood, towering over you. “But it’s nice to see you.”

If you had to rate your friends based on hugs, Hoseok would be the winner without a doubt. Despite his cold fingers, the rest of him was warm, familiar, comforting. Not counting your brother (though you weren’t so sure nowadays), Hoseok was the one you were closest to. His bright personality and welcoming persona drew you to him like the ray of sunshine he was nicknamed after.

“I just saw you two days ago, Hobi.” Your humor filled words were muffled into his shoulder.

His shrug pulled you closer. “Two days too long, Princess.”  

With a snort and a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away playfully. “You’re lame.”

Hoseok stumbled back into the couch dramatically with a hand pressed against his chest. He shot you a fake wounded look. “Lame? Me? Ouch.”

“You’re both lame.” Jimin butt into the conversation, slithering his way between the two of you to stand back in front of the fireplace. Ignoring the pink haired man, Hoseok darted over to your brother with a squee! His socks skid across the floor as he lifted the blond in the air with a tight hug of greeting.  

Yoongi made a noise of annoyance, though the gummy smile that overtook his face told a different story. Hoseok was one of the only people who were capable of bringing out Yoongi’s playful side. While the two of them had their reunion, you busied yourself with plopping down on Hoseok’s abandoned couch.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked Jimin. The heat of the fireplace brushed the thick padding of your coat and threatened to make you break out into a sweat. With a few practiced movements, you managed to shed your plaid printed coat and scarf, leaving you in a knee-length green sweater dress and black leggings.

“I--”

Like magic, the front doors of the lobby swung open, bringing with it a gust of cold bitter air and the trademarked ha-ha-ha! of Namjoon’s loud laughter. In stumbled the rest of the group: Jin, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

“Is it lunchtime yet?” The question came from Jungkook as he shook out the snow from his hair. A pair of ski-goggles were perched on top of his head, but he ignored it in favor of stripping his hands of gloves. The bottom of his boots tracked in snow like it was his job, but it wasn’t like he noticed.

“We just ate two hours ago!” Jin scolded the younger without heat. His honey colored skin was splotched with shades of red from the cold air. Though somehow it only seemed to accentuate his handsome, angelic features.

“Yeah, but I’m starving.”

“Still a pig, I see.” The group stopped in their tracks at the sound of Yoongi’s voice echoing in the lobby.

With a big, boxy grin, Taehyung yelled in excitement and sprinted across the floor of the lobby, his own blond hair dripping wet. “Yoongi!”

“You’re tracking snow everywhere!” Jin’s shout carried well beyond the lobby.

                                Present Time

“That was way before we even played that stupid drinking game.” Taehyung grumbled in annoyance. His eyes were glued to the whiteboard as Jin neatly wrote out the list of events. He was having each and every person go over what had happened from their own point of view. “So why do we have to go over all the boring shit?”

Jin turned to glare at the blond over his shoulder. “Because what I said goes.”

Taehyung simply raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well no one cares about this. Let’s just cut to the interesting bits.”

Before Jin could rip Taehyung to shreds with his heated scowl, Namjoon spoke around the rim of his glass of water. “I hate to agree, but I do.”

“Third.” Jungkook raised his hand in the air like a child in a school classroom.

“Fourth.” You finally spoke up, fingers toying with the cap of your bottle of San Pellegrino.

“Fifth.” Surprisingly, Jimin’s voice came out clear and uninfluenced by half the bottle of liquor he’d downed.

Yoongi just grunted his own agreement, eyes lidded with what looked to be exhaustion, but what you could tell was anxiety.

“Seriously?” Jin waved the marker in his hand around wildly. His eyes landed on Hoseok who just shrugged silently. He hadn’t spoken ever since Taehyung made that comment to him almost an hour ago. “Whatever. Fine. We’ll move on.”

The eldest took a swig out of his glass of scotch and turned back to the board. “We’ll start with the night of the game, then.”

                         Thirty-Two Hours Ago

“Okay, rules of the game.”

Namjoon stood in the center of the seating area with a shot glass full of tequila raised high above his head to gather attention. The eight of you were scattered around in a circle on the various couches and chaise lounge chairs in the sitting area of Jin’s room. It was long after the group of you hit the mountains for some intense snow tubing. And after you’d all headed back to your rooms to shower and get ready for dinner served by some michelin star chef that Jin staffed.

Now, with bellies full and body’s warm, you all sat around in your most comfortable clothes. Multiple bottles of alcohol were lined up on the bar in Jin’s room, but a handle of tequila was currently serving as centerpiece on the coffee table.

From your spot in the middle of the comfy couch, squished between Taehyung and Jimin, you had your own shot glass in hand. It’d recently been refilled, since the group took one together to start off the night. With fire seeping through your veins, you paid special attention to the words coming from Namjoon’s lips, even though you knew the rules of the game by heart. The crackle of the lit fireplace behind the other couch threatened to drown out his deep, raspy voice.

“The name of the game is Sip, Snitch, Spill, or otherwise known as Triple S. Starting from oldest to youngest,” Namjoon gestured to Jin with his shot glass, ignoring the tequila that spilled onto his fingers. He then turned in a slow circle clockwise. Everyone was sitting in age order.

Namjoon pointed at the empty beer bottle on the table. “The one who’s turn it is has to spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets to choose the dare that the person who’s turn it is has to complete. If they opt out of completing the dare, then they have to spill a secret that no one here knows. But it can’t be something stupid that no one cares about; only top secret shit here. Each person only gets three seconds to decide which option to take.

“After that, everyone in the room gets the opportunity to snitch. If someone knows a secret about you that no one else does, they can snitch to the group and skip their turn. If you fail to take the dare, you have to take a shot. If someone snitches on you, then you have to take two shots.”

Everyone glanced at each other with mistrustful, playful eyes. While the game was fun, it was costly as well. Because in the world of the elite, nothing was more valuable than a secret.

“Do all here agree to the rules?” Namjoon raised a brow.

“Here, here!” The shouts of seven people filled the room and overpowered the music flowing from the surround sound speakers.

“Then let’s get messy.” A smirk lifted at the corner of Namjoon’s mouth as he finally took his seat on the other side of Hoseok.

“That sounds dirty. Let’s not.” Jin wrinkled his nose with a huff of amusement.

“What I think you meant to say was,” the comment came from Jimin as he unnecessarily knocked back a shot. “‘That sounds dirty. Let’s.’”

“Anyway.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and elbowed Jin in the ribs from his spot next to him on the love seat. “Start.”

The eldest hummed and rubbed at his chin dramatically as he eyed the empty beer bottle. Like he’d actually have a choice on who it landed on. Jin took his time leaning forward and grabbed the body of the bottle with three fingers, ignoring the groans of impatience coming from the circle. Finally, with a flick of his wrist, he spun it.

Around and around it went, the green of the glass glinting under the overhead lights. Everyone was at the edge of their seats, minds calculating what dare they’d make the elder do, as they waited for it to stop.

“Hah!” Hoseok cheered, doing a stupidly cute dance in his seat at the chances of being the first to give a dare. The leather chaise lounge he sat on made a sound of protest at his rapid movements. But he ignored it in favor of pointing a finger at Jin with a flourish. “I dare you to give Yoongi a lap dance!”

Ooooh!’s erupted from around the circle as each and every person screamed in excitement. Jin’s mouth dropped open in disbelief and he gaped at Hoseok with a look that said dude, seriously?

“Woo!” Jimin’s contagious giggle left his lips, eyes squeezed shut in amusement. “What a way to start.”

“I’m not drunk enough for that.” Jin knocked his shot back and grimaced at the taste. “I slept with my personal assistant last month. Then I fired her.”

“Wait, so if you were drunk enough then you’d do it?” Hoseok’s comment was rudely ignored by Jin.

“Linda?” Jungkook gaped at the older man from his place on the other lounge chair across from Hoseok. “Isn’t she in her late fifties?”

With a shrug of indifference, Jin poured himself another shot. “And?”

“Wow.” Taehyung tutted around the laughter that bubbled up his throat. “Did you really have to fire her though? That’s harsh.”

“She started to get feelings for me.” Jin shrugged yet again. “After I specifically told her not to.”

“Poor Linda.” With a shake of your head, you crossed one leg over the other. You could remember briefly meeting the woman once. She’d been kind yet carried a no-nonsense air about her, which made you wonder just how Jin had managed to bed her. Though you supposed he had his ways. He always did.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be this handsome.” The eldest’s unabashed response had everyone cringing as he broke out into his trademark windshield wiper laugh.

“Moving on.” Yoongi reached forward to spin the bottle without waiting for anyone’s attention. Everyone’s eyes were once again glued on the glass as it spun.

“Huh.” Namjoon hummed from his seat on the leather recliner next to Hoseok. The honey haired man steepled his fingers in front of his chin in thought.

“Why did it have to land on him?” Taehyung pouted. “He takes forever to decide.”

“I do not!” Though the seconds that ticked by into minutes told a different story.

It was clear the moment an invisible lightbulb went off over his head. The dimpled man jumped up from his chair and cleared the room to disappear around the corner into the kitchen. Before anyone could question what the hell he was doing, Namjoon reappeared back into the room with a gallon of skim milk and set it on the table in front of Yoongi.

“I dare you to chase every shot you take with a shot of milk.”

“Ew, what?” You stuck your tongue out in absolute disgust. Though it could barely be heard over the fake retching noises coming from the rest of the boys.

“What’s wrong with milk?” Jungkook asked innocently, causing everyone to shoot him a look.

Yoongi just stared at the gallon of milk thoughtfully before shrugging and knocking back his shot of tequila. The room watched on in shock as he then poured milk into the glass and swallowed that as well.

“Yoongi!” Jin pressed himself into the arm of the couch in an attempt to get as far away from your brother as possible. His handsome features were scrunched up in revolution. “You know you didn’t need to do that, right? Since you took the dare?”

With his gaze focused on refilling his shot glass with tequila, Yoongi’s face remained blank. “I’m not a bitch.”

“O-kay.” Hoseok dragged out the word with a grimace and slid forward on his chair to take his turn. “Let’s all just pretend we never saw that. Anyway.”

The game continued with Hoseok and Namjoon both taking dares. Hoseok had to strip down to his underwear and stand outside on the balcony for five whole minutes. He’d returned inside a shivering, pale mess. Jungkook had taken a ridiculous amount of pictures of him literally crying from the cold to hold over his head as blackmail at some later point in time.

Namjoon had been dared by Jin to order a bunch of lingerie to be delivered to his ex-girlfriend. That one had everyone begging him not to do it. Because unfortunately the last girl Namjoon had dated turned out to be a complete psychopath who stalked him for months on end after he dumped her. But the man just shrugged and stated, “I like them crazy.”

When it was Jimin’s turn, the pink haired man licked his lips in anticipation and spun the bottle. It didn’t turn very fast, just barely cleared two loops around the group before it pointed straight at you.

Jimin turned to you with a smile on his pretty lips. “Give me your best shot, Princess.”

Your own eyes narrowed at the challenge in his and you pursed your lips in thought. No way would you let him get off easily, especially not with the way he was looking at you. So with a smirk quirking your mouth, you spoke, “I dare you to call up your job right now and tell them you quit.”

Another round ooh!’s came from the group at your words and Jimin gaped at you in open mouthed disbelief. “Seriously?”

You gave Jimin a saccharine smile. Normally, you wouldn’t be so vindictive against him, but you were never one to turn down a challenge.

He knocked back his shot and slammed the glass down on the table with a glare directed at you. With a smack of his lips, Jimin begrudgingly addressed the group. “You know how I was able to join my broadway show after open auditions closed last year?”

Jimin’s eyes were glued to the table as everyone murmured their agreement. He was the only one out of your group who didn’t come from a successful family. Instead, he’d had to build both himself and his reputation from the ground up. It’d been hard on him, had taken a lot from him. But now, he starred in one of the most successful, famous broadway shows.

The silver rings on Jimin’s hand caught the light as he thumbed his plump bottom lip. His words came out hesitant, confession caught in his throat. “Yeah, well, I only got the spot because I slept with the director.”

“But you’re so talented!” Now you were the one staring in open mouthed shock. Never would you have expected that to come out of his mouth.

Jimin brushed off your comment and filled his shot glass once again. His words were murmured into the table. “They didn’t think so.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone took time to absorb the information. You weren’t kidding when you’d said that he was talented. You’d never seen someone who could dance as gracefully as he could or who could sing with the soft, unique voice that only Jimin possessed.

“Anyway,” he elbowed you gently and nodded at the bottle. “Your turn.”

The glass was cool under your fingers. You watched intently as around and around and around it went. There weren’t a lot of secrets that you had to hide from your group of friends. Usually, you were pretty transparent. Not only that, but you were the only one in Bangtan made a conscious effort to stay out of drama or scandals. Hence the nickname: High Rise Princess.

“Oh, no.” You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you had the worst luck ever. God, you hated that game.

“Well, well, well. How the turn tables.” Jimin threw an arm around your neck teasingly and pulled you into his side. His fingers rubbed at his chin menacingly as he stared at you out of the corner of his eye. The man didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Let’s see.”

“This’ll be good.” Taehyung relaxed back against the arm of the couch with a smirk of his own.

The second you saw Jimin’s eyes flicker to the blond and the cheshire-cat-esque smile on his face widen, you knew you were in trouble. He gave your shoulder a squeeze before letting go and pushing you over to Taehyung. “Okay, Princess. For your dare, you have to make out with Taehyung for a minimum of thirty seconds.”

The room exploded  and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were known for being “pure” or whatever bull they labeled you as and the fact that you’d never dated any of them, it was kind of a big deal.

“Jimin, what the fuck?” All attention went to Yoongi, who was staring Jimin down with a harsh scowl. He really was overprotective of you when it came to pretty much anything. And that included any and all men.

Jimin just shrugged, but didn’t appear very apologetic. “Sorry, man. But she doesn’t have to do it.”

“I’m not a bitch.” You echoed your brother’s words from earlier before turning to Taehyung. His eyebrows were raised into his hairline and his mouth was agape, but the look in his eyes shone with sudden interest. So you couldn’t help tilting your head to the side and challenging, “unless you are.”

Hoseok’s loud screech and Jin’s obnoxious windshield wiper laugh overpowered everyone else’s exclaims of surprised disbelief. The fact that you weren’t even drunk meant that you couldn’t blame your actions on the alcohol. If you were being honest, you were just tired of everyone looking at you as some kind of sexual pariah. Like you were incapable of being intimate with another person. Maybe it was because you’d all grown up together that they saw you that way, you weren’t sure. But you hated it.

It was suffocating to have to force yourself to be someone that you weren’t.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that Taehyung was one of the most beautiful men that you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“I don’t want to see this. I’m going to the bathroom” Your brother rose from his seat with one last glare shot at both Jimin and Taehyung. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

The atmosphere after Yoongi disappeared was the kind of tension that you only felt when watching a car crash. Like you just couldn’t look away. Hoseok was on the edge of his seat with his jaw hanging open, Jimin was frozen in a state of excited incredulity, across from you Jin covered his eyes with his hands while he continued to laugh, and Namjoon--

“Come here, Princess.” Taehyung scooted closer to you on the couch and gently placed his hands on either of your cheeks.

His warmth seeped into you from his palms and the husky scent of his Dior cologne washed over you. Taehyung was a touchy person by nature, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t cuddled up to you on multiple occasions. But this time was different. Be it from the way his eyes were half-lidded with an emotion you’d never seen him direct at you, or for the way his voice dipped a few octaves deeper from his usual baritone.

“You can still back out.” The words were spoken softly, only for your ears. But his eyes flickered down to your lips when you murmured,

“Why? You scared?”

Without acknowledging Hoseok’s squawk, Taehyung huffed. He didn’t even give you a moment to prepare yourself before he closed the distance and his mouth was on yours.

His lips were both warm and soft. And despite the firm way his hands held you in place, Taehyung’s kiss was gentle. Just the right amount of pressure that bordered on tender and not enough. So when you pressed your lips harder to his to deepen the kiss, you felt the smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth as he obliged.

The heat of a stare burned into the side of your face, but you brushed it off in favor of parting your mouth at Taehyung’s questioning lick to your bottom lip. His tongue met yours in a dance and you could taste the remnants of tequila on his breath as his fingers tangled in your hair. Your own hands remained still in your lap, but you couldn’t help but press closer at his urging.

“And that’s time!” Jimin’s voice sounded from somewhere behind you. “Thirty seconds are up!”

Whether he didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him, Taehyung crushed his lips harder to yours in a breath stealing kiss.

“Or not.”

With one last lingering press of his mouth, Taehyung caught your bottom lip and dragged it slowly between his teeth as he pulled away. His fingers left your hair and he sent you a flirtatious wink before casually leaning back to his side of the couch, taking his warmth with him. All while dragging his tongue across his kiss bruised lips.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t at least a little bit turned on. It was no wonder he had both men and women falling at his feet left and right.

“That was hot, not gonna lie.” Hoseok whistled, falling back against his chair. “But weird at the same time.”

“Agreed.” Nodded Namjoon slowly. The expression on his face was a mixed bag, stuck somewhere between horror and something else.

“It was okay.” You shrugged nonchalantly, facing back towards the coffee table once more. Out of the corner of your eye Taehyung snapped his head towards you so fast that you were briefly concerned for the muscles in his neck.

“Oka-”

“It’s your turn.” The cheeky smile you sent Taehyung’s way coaxed a hard laugh out of Jimin.

The petite man threw an arm over your shoulders once more and pulled you into his side. Though with the way he could barely hold himself up with his body shaking laughter, it was more like he was leaning on you than the other way around. “A few months apart and it’s like you’re a whole new person. Who are you, Princess?”

The game continued once your brother returned from the bathroom. He’d entered the room and eyed Taehyung with a look that would have any lesser man trembling in his seat. But Taehyung had just given him his cute, boxy smile and took his spin.

Around and around the bottle spun as everyone took their turn. But it was only a matter of time before Jin finally snapped.

“Alright, this is boring! Everyone’s just picking dare and I want some juicy gossip.” His head fell back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. And he took a moment to bask in the attention of everyone in the room before he turned his head, rosy cheek pressed against the couch to address Hoseok. “Go make us some stronger drinks or something. I’m barely buzzed.”

Hoseok simply raised an eyebrow, arm still extended to take his turn.

“Yeah, Hoseokie.” Jungkook mocked in a high pitched voice, lips pursed in a dramatic air kiss. “Go make us drinks.”

“Yah, brat!” Said man kicked a foot half heartedly at Jungkook, not that it would have dealt any damage anyway seeing how far apart they were sitting. “Maybe if you ask nicely I will.”

“Nevermind.” With a shrug, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, “I don’t want it that badly.”

“Please, Hobi. I’ll take literally anything other than tequila.” Namjoon sent his full shot glass a dirty look. He always had preferred dark liquor.

“Well since one of you knows how to use their manners.” That was it took to have Hoseok hopping out of his chair and sauntering around the corner to the kitchen with a shout over his shoulder. “No one play without me!”

“Make something strong!” Jin called after him, standing up himself. Brushing off everyone’s eyes on him, he straightened his shirt and stepped away from the couch. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

And then he made himself scarce as well.

“Well since everyone’s taking a break.” Jimin was staring down at the screen of his phone. You could just barely see a name flash across the screen as it vibrated in his hand. Standing, he gestured blindly to the front door. “I gotta take this.”

“Which booty call is it?” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows at the petite man suggestively right before he exited the room. “Not that it’ll do any good out here. Unless they can teleport.”

“That would be a cool superpower.” The comment came from Jungkook, who was busying himself by playing some game on his phone. No one paid attention to the sound of the front door closing.

“Right?”

“You guys are lame.” Yoongi absentmindedly toyed with the milk jug on the floor with his foot, his attention taken up by whatever was on his phone.

He either felt your stare or you were just that predictable, because Yoongi looked up to  scrutinize you. His eyes narrowed and flashed over to Taehyung and back to you with an eyebrow raised. A silent, questioning what’s was that?

You only shook your head with a roll of your eyes and the protective anger simmering behind your brother’s eyes dimmed at your wordless, nothing, relax. It was a little relieving that even with the distance between the both of you, the ability to read each other’s mind was still there. And must have felt similar if the small smile at the corner of his mouth was any indication.

“Alright!” Hoseok’s loud voice filtered into the room as he rounded the corner with a tray held between both hands. Eight glasses filled with a yellow, bubbling liquid were balanced on top and you took a moment to silently pray for luck.There was a reason why Hoseok was always chosen to make drinks. And you wouldn’t make it out alive if you didn’t pace yourself.

“Wow, perfect timing.” From around the corner leading to the hallway emerged Jin. He eyed the suspicious looking drinks as he reclaimed his seat. “What’s in it?”

With a noise to seal everyone’s fate, the tray was placed on the table. Both Yoongi and Jungkook looked up from their phones and Namjoon paused to eye the glasses. Hoseok just shrugged. “No idea. There’s like--”

He halted his words and you could literally see the way mentally made calculations in his head. “Like five different types of alcohol in those? I think.”

“Better than tequila at least.” Namjoon shrugged and grabbed a glass for himself. He hesitated for a moment to sniff at the contents, like that would somehow help him discern what it was he was about to drink. And finally, he shrugged and took a tiny sip.

Everyone’s attention was on him as he tongued his lips and hummed. “Not bad. Kinda sweet actually.”

Namjoon’s conscensious was apparently all anyone else needed because you all reached forward to grab your own. But you couldn’t help but suspiciously eye the liquid in your cup first.

“Where’s Jimin?” Jin asked around a big swallow and an obnoxious smack of his lips.

“Taking a phone call.” Taehyung walked around Hoseok, who was still standing in front of the table, and reached for a dangerous cocktail. “He’ll probably be a while.”

“Should we wait then?” You asked.

“It wouldn’t be as fun without him.” Hoseok winked down at you. “Who knows what other secrets he has.”

“Messy.” Shaking his head, Jin snorted into his glass.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Jungkook stated nonchalantely, though the shit eating smirk on his lips told another story.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You tuned out the bickering between the eldest and the youngest, especially when Taehyung joined in. Somehow they always managed to bring out the immature side of Jin, not that the mature side of the man appeared that often either. The alcohol was sweet, yet tangy on your tongue with an addictive aftertaste that chased away the bitter remnants of tequila. It was easy to drink more than intended with how difficult it was to percieve the alcohol content.

“Hey, Hoseok.” Namjoon’s raspy voice was almost drowned out by the yelling between the others. Both Hoseok and yourself looked over to the dimpled man, only to see him completely enraptured by the glass in his hands. Namjoon’s voice came out unsure, confused. “What did you put in this?”

“What?” Perplexed, Hoseok tilted his head. “I told you, like five--”

Namjoon cut him off with a small shake of his own head. “No. What did you put in this?”

“I don’t--”

“Did you drop acid in these?” Namjoon’s question caught the curiosity of the others in the room. Even Yoongi looked up from whatever he was reading on his phone.

Hoseok sent his drink a puzzled look. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Mouth agape, you stared up at the man with a look of disbelief. “How do you not know?”

By the wide-eyed look he shot your way, you could already garner a guess. And apparently so could everyone else.

“Have you been tripping this whole time?” Taehyung collapsed back onto his end of the couch laughing so hard that you were a little concerned for the liquid splashing at the rim of his cup.

“Uh.” How you all missed his dialated pupils were was incredible. Hoseok paused for a moment before whirling around to face Namjoon. “Wait, how would you even be feeling it this quick if I had? It’s been like ten minutes, it shouldn’t have hit if I did.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon was still staring incredulously at the almost empty glass clutched in his hand. “Then why is my cup looking at me right now?”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right!” The sudden panic that welled up in your chest surged to your throat as you waved your almost empty cup at Hoseok. “I just drank like all of this! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Never in your life had you ever taken fucking acid. Maybe some marijuana here or there, but that was about the extent of your recreational drug experience. God, what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

“Not freak out, that’s for sure.” Taehyung wet his lips and raised his glass to you in a salute before knocking it back. His adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the whole glass of alcohol in one go.

“Maybe you should go lay down.” From across the room your brother gave you a concerned once over. He was extremely calm given the circumstances. Then again he used to hang out with Hoseok the most so he’d probably actually partaken before. “Try and sleep it off before it hits.”

Slowly, you nodded in agreement, already rising from the couch. You were pretty positive that you were the only person in the room who hadn’t taken the drug. And the thought of experiencing LSD was enough to tighten your chest with panic. Maybe it would be best if you tried to sleep before it properly hit your system.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Wait.” Hoseok stumbled over to you and grabbed at your arm. Before you could process what was happening, he slipped a pen out of the pocket of his pants and glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. The scratching of the pen against your skin caught your attention as Hoseok wrote out the time from ten minutes ago.

“What’s this for?”

“That’s the time you drank it. It’ll be important later just in case you don’t know when or where you are.” Ignoring your I’m sorry, what?, Hoseok looked up at you from underneath his lashes. “Since this is your first time, I need you to pay strict attention to what I’m about to say, Princess. Got it?”

All you could do was nod your head, mind too overrun by alarm. Hoseok paused for a moment to convey the importance of what he was about to say next.

“Three rules for being on acid. One, and this doesn’t really apply to this situation, but it’s important: cars are real, okay? Two: anything you want to try, do it from the ground first. And three: don’t trust everything you see.”

“Very imformative.” Came Namjoon’s sarcastic reply. “Would have been helpful ten minutes ago.”

Hoseok paid no heed to the comment, too busy looking you over with concern. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

How he was completely functional was mind-blowing to you. But then again, with the amount of pressure his parents put on him to take over a company that he didn’t want, you weren’t surprised by the frequency of how much he tried to make himself forget.

“I think I’ll be okay.” You reassured both Hoseok and the rest of the room with a small smile. Gratefully, no one commented on how forced it was.

The only thing you wanted to do was collapse in bed before it was too late. Besides, it wasn’t like you weren’t tired anyway. It’d been a long day.

“If you’re sure.” Hoseok flashed his dimples and the rest of the room bid you goodnight as you slipped from the room.

                               Present Time

“Why are you all staring at me?” You asked incredulously.

“Because you left early.” The capped end of the marker tapped against Jin’s cheek from where he stood in front of the almost filled whiteboard.

“And?”

“And.” Jin stared at you over the rim of his glass of scotch. “That makes you a suspect.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Gaping, you surveyed the rest of the room to find them all looking at you with various degrees of doubt.

From your side piped up Hoseok for the first time in hours and the hoarsness of his voice showed it. “Wait, wait, wait. She wasn’t the only one who left. Besides, wouldn’t that not make her a suspect since she wasn’t even there when we all told each other our secrets?”

His statement gave Jin pause.

Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows together in bewilderment at the statement. “Who else left?”

A moment of silence.

A quick intake of breath.

Hoseok turning to stare at you with wide eyes that knew too much. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only quick witted one in the room because Namjoon’s jaw dropped open in shock.

“I’m confused.” Jin pursed his lips in annoyance at the scene. “Explain.”

Hoseok just shook his head, scandalized. And upon seeing how Hoseok failed to explain, Namjoon took it upon himself to do the honors, ignoring your pleading eyes with an apologetic expression. The fucking traitor.

He cleared his throat, “One person left the room after her. Remember?”

Said person froze, eyes wide and breath stalling in his throat as all attention switched to him.

“Oh yeah.” Nodding, Jin turned his analysing gaze to the person in question. “Where did you go?”

You could literally see the moment that the cogs in your brother’s brain halted and the split second the realization slowly dawned on his face. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension as your brother stood from the couch with absolute rage clouding his face. Fists clenched at his sides like he had to physically stop himself from exploding, Yoongi’s words were bitten out between his teeth.

“You fucked my sister?”

“I-” Jungkook sprang up from the couch, hands raised in surrender and doe eyes blown wide. The rest of the room was too busy staring on in shock (Taehyung), or in messy interest (Jimin), or open mouthed surprise (Jin) to step inbetween Jungkook and your brother. “It’s not what you think.”

Yoongi was seething, tonguing his cheek in a way that warned how close he was to snapping. “Not what I think.”

Jungkook nodded his head vigorously, shooting you a look begging for an assist. But you didn’t know what to say to stop it. And upon noticing your hesistation, Jungkook turned back to your brother and uttered a sentence that sealed his fate in the worst way possible.

“We’re not even dating!”

While Jungkook had enough muscle and strength to disuede a majority of people from trying to pick a fight with him, Yoongi was small and lithe, but strong in a way that most people wouldn’t expect. Your brother had been in many fights throughout the years; he used to hang around the wrong crowd growing up. He was rarely angry, his patience was almost never ending. But if you managed to push him over that line, well, everyone knew not to get on Yoongi’s bad side.

His face clouded, feet carrying him into Jungkook’s personal space. Yoongi’s voice was dangerous and words slow. “So you’re just using my sister for sex?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened even further with panic, but he didn’t step down, didn’t move out of your brother’s range. “That’s not--that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah? Then what did you mean?” Even you could tell that the question was rhetorical.

The tenstion of an impending fight finally spurred you to stand up and stumble a few steps closer to the pair, voice pleading. “Yoongi.”

He turned to glance at you from over his shoulder with furious cat-like eyes and hackles bristled. His stare froze you in your tracks, but you continued on regardless. “It’s fine.”

“Fine.” Yoongi’s tone was blank before he rounded on you. “How long?”

There was nothing that would ever make you feel as small as the way he was looking at you right then. Like he didn’t know who you were, like he was staring into the face of a stranger. Your voice was tiny. “A few months.”

Your brother nodded his head, lips tight. “So you’ve been going behind my back, lying to me, for months?”

He rounded back on Jungkook. “You’ve been fucking my sister for months?”

Again, the question was rhetorical, but apparently Jungkook missed the way you quickly shook your head at him to keep his mouth shut. “I--yes?”

You knew it was coming and yet you we still taken by surprise.

A crack rang heavy in the air as Yoongi’s fist impacted Jungkook’s face. He stumbled back with a hand flying to grasp at the pain you knew was radiating through his jaw. But Jungkook didn’t hit back, didn’t give your brother the fight that he was looking for. He just stood there, palm pressed to his face and eyes rooted to the floor. You couldn’t make out his expression by the way his long hair fell in front of his face like a curtain.

Yoongi, however, looked far from satisfied.

By the was his back tensed, you knew that he was going to go for seconds, and probably thirds, maybe even fourths. Until he felt like Jungkook had paid enough retribution for him to stop. And that, it seemed, was where Jin drew the line.

“Yoongi.” Jin’s voice was almost hesitant. Even the elder man knew that your brother was on a very short fuse and didn’t want to be on the recieving end of the backlash.

Yoongi’s attention flickered over to Jin for a split second and that was all it took for the elder man to step forward. “Kick his ass later, I don’t care. But now isn’t the time; we have bigger fish to fry.”

There was a long, tense filled silence where no one dared to move. Jin just stood his ground, gaze holding your brother’s and refusing to back down. And whether or not that's what broke the fight apart, you weren’t sure. But with one last hostile glare at Jungkook, Yoongi turned on his heel and brushed past you without a second glance.

“Do what the fuck you want.”

The balcony door slammed shut so hard you flinched.

“That was..,” Taehyung let out a low whistle, shaking his head at Jungkook first and then you. With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he smirked. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Princess. Congrats on finally losing your innocence.”

You weren’t one to pick a fight with anybody, didn’t like confrontation. But all of the stress made you snap. “Shut your fucking mouth, Taehyung.”

From the corner of your eye, Jimin sipped at his scotch with eyes flitting back and forth between you and the blond to watch the drama unfold. There was a pause in the air before Namjoon filled it. “Let’s just finish what we came here to do.”

His words went in one ear and out the other, your attention focused more on the figure of your brother slumped over the balcony railing. Your feet carried you across the room before you could second guess yourself. The handle of the sliding door was cold against your palm as you slid it open. And the sudden breeze that hit your face was biting.

Cigarette smoke.

Yoongi hadn’t smoked cigarettes since he was in highschool. You didn’t even know where he got one. Guilt sank heavily in your stomach at being the catalyst to the habit he’d spent so long trying to kick.

Not even the noise of city life could cover the sound of your heart beating a tattoo into your rib cage. Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t even turn to look at you when you stood next to him. He just continued to stare down at the people below who covered the streets like ants. A lit cigarette dangled in his hand over the railing, white smoke disappearing into the sky. You let the quiet stretch for a few moments longer in order to gauge his anger. And when he failed to acknowledge your presense, you spoke.

“I wanted to tell you.” The words that left your lips were carried by the wind, but you knew he heard them anyway by the way his jaw clenched in your periphrial. A deep breath, and then, “But I was afraid.”

Whatever he thought you were going to say must not have been that because he angled his head to look at you. But you kept your vision trained on the cars passing far below. The silence he responded with urged you to continue.

“I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now.”

Yoongi rubbed the end of his cigarette against the railing to extinguish it. And finally, his deep voice broke the bubble that encased the two of you. “You thought I’d be disappointed.”

Leave it to him to be able to dig right to the root of your problems with barely any information. He was called a genuis for a reason, you supposed.

A huff of dry laughter passed your lips. “Which you are.”

“Only because you hid it from me.”

His response had you turning to look over at him. Yoongi was staring at a spot on the building across from you without seeing it, jaw sharp and cheeks already turning red in the winter air. It was a testiment to his anger that he was even enduring it in the first place.

“You really think I’d be disappointed in you for being an adult? You must not know me as well as I thought then.”

He turned, brown eyes meeting your own like a mirror. People always used to say that the two of you looked alike, could pass as twins even. “I don’t want to hear the details of your...business, but I thought you’d at least trust me enough to confide in me that you’re in love with him.”

Yoongi’s words took you aback and you gaped at him in shock. “How did you know?”

He simply raised an eyebrow with a silent really? “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Seriously?” You spluttered, spit catching in your throat. Had you really been that obvious? Talk about embarassing.

He sighed. “I think the only person who hasn’t realized is him.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands. “Do you think anyone would notice if I just jumped over the railing right now?”

Yoongi hummed, not even trying to hide his amusement. “I don’t think Jin would want to have to fill out that kind of paperwork.”

“He’ll live. Might even thank me for the free publicity.”

A snort left your brother before he sobered and leaned his elbows on the railing. A comforting pause and then, “I got signed to a record label.”

“What?” You twisted to the side to stare him down as he nervously ran a hand through his blond hair. “As a producer?”

Yoongi’s eyes met your again, most likely trying to gauge your reaction to what he was going to say next. Whatever he found must have satisfied him. “As an artist.”

“Yoongi.”

He broke eye contact to once again stare down at the tiny dots below. “That’s where I was this morning. I was signing my contract.”

Your hands came up to grasp onto the arm closest to you and you squeezed to gain his attention. “That’s so great, Yoongi! I know you used to rap back in the day, but I didn’t know you still did. I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so amazing!”

A gummy smile finally found its way onto his face as he looked at you with masked excitement. “Yeah?”

“Seriously, Yoongs.” You nodded your head with rapid quickness, a grin revealing your teeth. “I want the first copy of your album. And it better be signed too.”

Yoongi hissed through his teeth. “You’ll have to pay a premium for that, sorry.”

Your hand slapped the covered meat of his arm and your laughter that intermingled with his broke through the invisible wall between you. “Aish. Cheapskate.”

His lips parted, most likely to shoot off a sarcastic response, but the sliding of the balcony door interrupted. Both of you turned to look over at Namjoon standing in the entryway. His face was taut with an emotion you couldn’t discern, but with the way raised voices spilled from the open door answered your unasked question. You exchanged glances with Yoongi before trailing after him as he brushed past Namjoon.

Everyone was standing now, attention trained on the way Taehyung once again stood in the center of the room. He glanced up from the phone in his hand at the entrance of you and Yoongi, his other stuffed deep in the pocket of his slacks. The air he carried was haughty, knowing. And he greeted you with a raise of his brows.

“Well, now that we’re all present, let’s get this out of the way, shall we?”

“What’s going on?” Your feet came to a halt as you slid in to stand next to Hoseok and your brother. The former gave you a tiny smile at seeing the tenstion between you and Yoongi gone.

“What’s going on,” Taehyung waved his phone in the air like a token. “Is that while you two were off settling your differences, I got a text.”

“Congratulations.” Yoongi deadpanned, but the model ignored him in favor of continuing.

“I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.” Taehyung shrugged and barreled on without waiting for a response. “Because you see, while you all were too busy playing Clue, I got into contact with my cousin earlier this morning. You know, the one who works for my mother’s magazine company?

“Anyway, as you all probably aren’t aware of, my cousin used to do some side work with the government in cybersecurity. And wouldn’t you know, Gossip Girl isn’t as untouchable as she thinks.”

“Oh, shit.” Namjoon’s eyes widened as he came to the same conclusion that was slowly starting to dawn on everyone else.

“Oh shit is right.” Taehyung nodded. “My cousin found a backdoor past her firewall and straight into the heart of her most coveted possession.”

The man paused, like a movie villian right before a grand reveal. “Her sources.”

“And?” Jin tossed the dry eraser he still held in his hand onto the coffee table imaptiently.

“And wouldn’t you know,” once again, Taehyung waved his phone back and forth in the air like the cat that caught the canary. “At exactly 3:32 this morning, she got an email from a recipient by the name of...”

“I swear to god, stop playing games Taehyung.” Yoongi huffed out in annoyance at the dramatics the other man was playing at.

“So impatient.” Taehyung tutted, arrogant stare meeting everyone else’s before he finally opened his mouth and dropped the bombshell.

“Park Jimin.”

Said man stared open mouthed at the man in shock, unable to formulate a proper response over all the shouts of anger. Jimin threw his hands up in surrender and backed up until his calves hit the side of the couch. “What? No--I--it wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah?” Taehyung stepped into his personal space and shoved his phone under his nose. “Then explain the evidence.”

“I--”

“You were the only one who wasn’t drugged that night.” The blond continued, bulldozing over Jimin’s high-pitched voice. “You were the only one sober who was present when the rest of us confided our private affairs. And--”

His finger jab into the smaller man’s chest. “You’re the only one who had something to gain from ratting us out.”

“Gain what, exactly?” Jin’s voice was steel, broad shoulders straightened with a quiet rage that honestly scared you.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Taehyung glanced at Jin from over his shoulder before digging his finger into Jimin’s chest harder. “He was offered a large sum of money to take us all down.”

“By who?” This time the question came from Namjoon, who’s expression was clouded over with a mix of betrayal and the want for retribution. He had the most to lose out of all of you from the leak afterall.

“That’s a good question.” The model rounded back on a wide-eyed Jimin. “Who indeed.”

“Look,” Jimin liked his lips anxiously under the weight of everyone’s simmering fury. “They offered, but I refused--”

“Who?” Jin stalked over to the petite man, the air around him dangerous.

“I-I don’t know.” Jimin stammered. “They were anonymous. But I swear I didn’t--”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Jin fisted the front of his shirt and shook him hard. You could hear his teeth rattle from feet away. “You little fucking rat.

“I want you to listen, and listen very carefully.” The elder man’s voice was sharp, syllables carefully annunciated. And with a flex of the muscles in his bicep he threw Jimin from his grip so hard that the smaller man stumbled to the floor. “You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of my city before I do something that I’ll regret.”

From his place sprawled out on the floor, Jimin’s pleas to be heard went ignored.

“And if I ever catch wind of you stepping even a toe over the state line, it’s over for you.” Everyone in the room knew that Jin’s threat wasn’t to be taken lightly; he’d follow through on his word. “Now get the fuck out of my hotel and pray that I never see your face again.”

Jimin’s eyes quickly flitting back and forth between the seven of you as if trying to find someone to take up for him, to plead his case. And when his gaze met yours, you broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the rug under your feet instead. The feeling that churned your gut was heavy as your heart slowly hardened towards a man who you couldn’t even look at anymore. Who you were once able to call a best friend.

The heels of Jimin’s shoes scuffed the floor as he slowly stood, lips parting to give one final parting blow. “You really shouldn’t trust everything you hear.”

And then he was gone.

Betrayal tested bitter on your tongue.

                               Six Hours Later

The sound of the elevator door opening halted you in your tracks with one foot on the staircase leading up. Out from within the confines of the steel box stepped a familiar head of dark hair and your heart stopped in your chest before picking up speed.

“What are you doing here?” Your lips parted at the object held tight in one of his hands, the pop of color catching your eye. “And with those.”

“I--” Jungkook licked his lips and threaded his free hand through his locks. The nervous look on his face was something you hadn’t seen aimed at you before and it caused a feeling you didn’t want to acknowledge to well up in your chest.

He stepped further into your apartment, his all black outfit standing out against the bright interior. You hadn’t seen him since everyone left Jin’s earlier. He’d departed so fast that you hadn’t been able to apologize for the way Yoongi punched him. And now there he was, fidgeting in the middle of your foyer.

“I wanted to talk.” Jungkook’s voice caressed your ears.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, stepping down from the stairs and gesturing to the sitting room across from you. He trailed behind as you entered and sat down on one of the couches. But instead of sitting somewhere else, he plopped down right next to you. The paper in his ringed hand crinkled around the two dozen roses it contained.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment before shyly extending the bouquet out for you to take. Your fingers brused against his as you slowly accepted them from his grasp. “I got these for you.”

You completely and utterly failed at hiding your smile and chose to bury your nose into the soft petals to distract yourself from the anxious way he played with his hands. Sweet, they smelled sweet. “What’s the occasion?”

Never had he ever done something like that before. Jungkook and romance wasn’t something that went together in your expierience. And there it was again, that feeling that you chose not to name.

“Y/N.”

The seriousness in his voice had your head jerking upwards. He was staring down, fiddling with one of the rings on his fingers. “I think we should stop.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor and your mouth went numb around the response you forced yourself to give. “Stop?”

Jungkook’s gaze lifted to meet your blank stare and he nodded slowly. “Stop hooking up.”

You were thankful that he didn’t comment on how small your voice sounded. “Why?”

“Because,” his fingers grabbed at yours gently and you couldn’t help but drop your eyes to the way he intertwined them. “I don’t want to hook up with you anymore.”

His grip on you tightened when you tried to pull away, his other hand lifting your chin until you looked at him again. Jungkook’s lips were parted, two prominent front teeth displayed. “I want to date you.”

A pause.

A sharp intake of breath and the tightening of fingers. “I’m sorry, what?”

Now he definitely looked nervous. Jungkook’s words came out quickly, like he was afraid you’d stop him before he could get them all out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Y/N. And I thought that maybe if you hooked up with me, you’d fall for me too. But I...I don’t want to lose you because I took too long.”

All you could do was stare open-mouthed and bug eyed. And the longer you took, the more Jungkook started to fidget. “Look, please just say something.”

“You’re an idiot.” He flinched at the deadpan tone in your voice. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.”

“Really?” Hope filled his voice and he leaned closer, both hands capturing yours. “Seriously?”

Giddy, you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt under the strain. “Yes, really.”

“Can I--can I kiss you?” With a shy nod, you let Jungkook’s hands come up to gently cradle your cheeks.

It was different, the way his mouth captured yours. Instead of the fierce desire he usually kissed you with, this time it was slow, gentle. And god his lips were soft and your heart rate skyrocketed at the love that showed through the way he pressed against you.

“Don’t make me kick your ass.”

The deep voice of your brother had you and Jungkook pushing away from each other like teenagers caught by their parents. And both of your necks snapped over to see Yoongi walking past the entryway to the sitting room. A teasing smirk was aimed your way as he continued on his path to the elevator.

“Mind your business!” Your shout was met with Yoongi’s high-pitched giggle.

                            Eighteen Hours Later

      Well, UpperEast Siders, did you enjoy the story? Because I sure did. Oh, and what’s this? Looks like not even a dark scandal can force Bangtan out of the light.

Laughter rang loud through the busy resturant and all eyes turned at the sound. But the seven of you paid no mind to the stares.

“A toast.” Jin stood in the middle of the half circle you all formed around the bar, a glass of bubbly champagne raised high. “To lifelong friendship.”

         Spotted: Manhattan’s King. But can he really be crowned royalty when his throne was built on the steps of family betrayal? I’d say just ask his brother, but, well, be careful or you might just disappear too.

“And,” Namjoon raised his own glass into the air, golden liquid catching the light. “To trust.”

          Oh, and what’s this? I wonder, how will our lovely God of Destruction talk his way out of jail time? Tell me, do they teach you how to get away with embezzlement in law school?

Hoseok’s dimples came out to play around his own bright smile. “Don’t forget loyalty.”

          It’s a surprise that Manhattan’s Sunshine is even able to stand underneath the weight of a dead body. And if the allegations are true? Well, stay away from drugs, kids.

“And love.” The addition came shyly from your lips as you gazed warmly up at the man to your side. Jungkook’s lips pressed fondly to your forehead.

            If anyone needs help passing their SAT’s, make sure to hit up our Golden Boy. Surely he’ll get you a passing grade if the price is high enough.

“To success.” Yoongi smiled and raised his glass in a salute, skin glowing.

            Can a Genius really be a genius if he has to buy his way to a degree? Someone’s money should have gone towards a tutor instead.

The sound of seven glasses clinking together overpowered the other voices in the room. “Here, here!”

             Everything appears to have gone back to normal ever since our resident Pretty Boy was outed as a little tattletale.

It was raining.

Water pelted the top of his umbrella, the soft plop-plop-plop blending into the noise of city life. People bustled around him, but he didn’t pay it any mind. No, instead his focus was rooted to one spot, one person who he could see through the glass windows of the resturant. One person who’s profile he would recognize anywhere.

He watched, silent, as the man threw his head back in laughter that ghosted his ears. And either he felt the stare burning into the side of his face, or he was expecting him to be there. Because with a turn of the neck, brown eyes met brown. And the tension was palpable on his tongue even through the walls that separated them.

             Out with the old and in with the new, that’s what I always say. Oh, and one last thing:

A haughty smirk turned up the corners of Taehyung’s lips and Jimin watched with narrowed eyes as the blond man raised his glass of champagne in a silent salute.

  You really shouldn’t trust everything you hear.

                                         xoxo,

                                    Gossip Girl

[lygerastia]

Young Gods Too Cool for Summer (Keith)

Summary: Fics inspired by the songs:

Halsey - Young God starring Keith. Demi Lovato - Cool for the Summer featuring Lance.

+Bonus: HWTR to You Wearing Their Clothes because I don't know where to add it.

Warnings: smut.

Chapters: 3 [completed]

Words: 13,660

READ THE WHOLE STORY ON AO3. 

**

Everyone was cheering her on—but for her, it was all dull noise. Could she really do it? Jump into the pool from this height?

“You don’t have to do this, [name],” Keith’s voice kept replaying in her head even if she kept pushing it away from her thoughts. Her mind couldn’t focus at all; too many beers, egged on by the entourage she decided to surround herself with. It was a bad idea, the raven-haired boy didn’t need to tell her. But she was here, everyone had their eyes on her figure—and she couldn’t back down.

Was Keith looking at her right now? She could picture him with his sulky pout, arms crossed over his chest and shaking his head at the girl’s antics. It put a small smile on her face as she takes a deep breath to steady her nerves.

It was now or never; her crowd couldn’t wait any longer. It was a bet she couldn’t afford to lose. Otherwise, her secret crush would be released to the world—and that would be a disaster. She’d lose the only friendship she really cared about. And the thought of rejection pained her. Besides, it was her own fault she failed to mention…

No, not mention—lied through her teeth—about what truly scares her. Alcohol can make you say stupid stuff sometimes, especially around teenagers that wanted to taste life while they were young.

Afraid of heights? Why don’t you jump from my trampoline? You gotta face your fear, man!

She accepted, yet she lied. Now, she’d only lose face. Except that height didn’t pose a problem.

“Do it, [name],” she encouraged herself, looking up at the sky for a few seconds. Starry: it was a very romantic sky and her heart throbbed. How she wished she’d spent her time doing something else, holding hands, enjoying romance the way she should be. Underneath this canopy of darkness, in secret—heated kisses, curious touches, the pleasure of one another. She shudders; ridiculous. Her youth was devoid of romance, it only consisted of doing dangerous stunts just so she could feel important and popular like she mattered to someone. A wrong choice, because she knew she had a person like that, looking at her from the crowd with worry—maybe she’ll hate her after all this. How many times has she put him through this? How far is she willing to go before she’ll acknowledge the truth?

"Don’t do it…”

“Forgive me, Keith.”

It was now or never, do or die. There was no shame left in her feelings, just a sense of nostalgia. Will this be the last time? She hoped so—there was no energy left in her. This could really be the end.

End of her adventures. End of hope. She steps to the edge of the platform, toes curling to support herself. She stares down and it feels like she’d be jumping into the pit of hell like she’ll spin in the air forever before she reaches the cold surface of the pool. Only dark and murky water awaits at the bottom, ready to drown her.

She swallows—was it too late to back down? She trembles, feeling a chill. Her bathing suit can’t protect her from the slight chill wind, despite it being a summer day. She has to jump or get down and face the shame.

At least it will make Keith happy…

But Keith once told her:

"You know the two of us are just young gods.” She’d only chuckled at his rather philosophical mood. But it quickly sizzled away when you saw him so dreamy and…melancholy.

“ But do you feel like a young god?” she asks, concentrated.

He looks at her with that handsome face of his—the one that makes her heart skip a beat—purple eyes you could drown into. And she’ll do it gladly.

“ No, you’re the young god. But either way,” he turns his gaze back at the clouds, “ we’re gonna be legends.”

The unspoken words were left on the tip of his tongue “I’m a king and you’re a queen and we will stumble through heaven.”

Their love could only be described as shy.

“JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP!!” an intoxicated Lance yells at the top of his lung and well, what else was she going to do? The world was spinning around in her head. She spreads her arms to the side like wings and says a quick prayer. The pool was deep enough—the only problem was resurfacing.

YOLO, as the kids say. She leaps from up high—and Keith’s heart seizes in his throat. He wants to shout your name, but it’s too late anyway to actually stop her. His eyes can only follow her trail, her gracious figure as it flies in the air, painting a perfect picture on the starry canvas. She looks at peace; and a part of him can only admire her courage like he always did. But this moment of peace quickly dissipates as she plunges down, into the inevitable.

The air felt so chill, she thinks. Keeping her eyes closes, she doesn’t care about the cheers: she only thinks about Keith. The force of the water hits her face full-front, choking her. Panic flutters in her heart and she feebly attempts to battle the waters—but she’s afraid and she can’t do anything about it. She opens her eyes, a big mistake. Nothing she could see could give her hope right now. The surface of the water seemed so far away, the light above mocking her. Bubbles…

‘At least these are pretty…’

Yet in these moments, she could only think of her beloved dark-haired boy. Like it was mentioned earlier, their love was shy.

Everyone could obviously see it but them. The undeniable attraction was there, in their eyes, in the way they cutely sneak glances when the other one was not looking. In how they awkwardly gave each other pats on the back, how they were craving for each tiny excuse to touch one another. They were friends. She knew she liked him. He knew he liked her.

So what was stopping them?

Under the water, she just wished she told him how she felt. Touch him one last time before she succumbs to the pressure. Hug him, see those pretty fucking eyes of his.

Damn. The landscape was getting rather blurry as her mind blacked out. And I’ve been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool…

Keith has to save me.

One last time, she pries her eyes open—and meets a wave of purple, laced with worry and determination. Her knight in shining armor really came! Dark locks flew around his head like a halo—there was no way she couldn’t recognize Keith Kogane. One strong arm wraps around her waist and she feebly clings to his shirt for support. The boy manages to swim upwards, to salvation and the girl takes a big gulp of air when she’s finally free from the confines of the water. With renewed energy, she fights to reach the edge—and she’s very glad when her fingers scrap the marble surface surrounding the pool.

“Up you go,” a strained voice whispers as she feels herself being hoisted out. She scrambles and collapses on her back, panting. A laugh bubbles in her throat, half-afraid, half-adrenaline. The cheers and howls of encouragement from all the teenagers present didn’t help her calm down—she did it. She really just fucking did it.

“That was...” she breathes out hard, “intense.”

“THAT was NOT Ok!” Keith, always worrying. He appears in her line of vision and she can’t help but smile fondly at him.

“You worry too much...” she’s calmed down a little bit and now she’s shivering. Keith doesn’t fail to notice.

“I don’t,” the boy grumbles cutely, grabbing her arm and making her stand on wobbly feet.

“Woah, the world’s not spinning anymore!” she giggles. “My hangover’s gone, Keith! That means I can drink—”

“No, no more drinking for you,” Keith takes off his red and black jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. The girl feels a sudden flush of embarrassment at the contact; a gesture so gentle and protective it melted her heart. She hides her blushing cheeks away from him and stands there awkwardly, pulling the jacket closer to her cold frame.

“Th-Tha—” she doesn’t get to finish her sentence because a loud and worried voice snatches her attention.

“[name]! Are you ok?” Pidge, her friend, tiny as ever, stops in front of her, completely ignoring Keith. The boy can only cross his arms over his chest and look to the side, upset he got interrupted. It was the perfect opportunity to...

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cool! Keith saved me!”

Pidge wasn’t convinced. “But you didn’t tell me you couldn’t swim, [name]!” Pidge’s voice raises an octave in distress, clearly worried to death.

[name] shrugs, smiling.

“Ok, enough excitement for you,” Keith brutally interrupts, taking [name] by the shoulders. This conversation was going nowhere and frankly, he hated seeing her shiver. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can take care of her, Keith,” Pidge wants to butt in but Keith almost looks like an overprotective wolf. “Al-Alright there, tiger.”

“You guys did enough.” He stirred her away from the crowd, smelling blood and beef.

“We didn’t know! I’m sorry!” Pidge shouted after the two of them, and [name] turned around to wave at her reassuringly. I did it for the secret.

The pair entered the house, a few people giving them curious glances. Keith seriously asked her where her clothes were and she just shrugs: she doesn’t remember. Keith huffs in annoyance—ah, he seemed really upset. That made her inexplicably sad as she followed him up the stairs towards the bathroom. He threw one of the towels there to her, instructing her to dry and then exited, closing door loudly.

“...I fucked up...”

She lets fat tears loose, miserable. That’s what you get.

**

“Thank you for taking care of me, Keith,” she says minutes later—an eternity for the boy—joining him on the back terrace of the villa. She sat down, daring to go closer to his warm body for once, shoulders touching. He quickly glances at you then huff and continues to sulk. “Aww, please don’t be mad, Keithy. You said I could become a legend and that’s what I did!”

“Not like this, you idiot!” he snaps, back to his old self. “You could’ve hurt yourself. What if I wasn’t there to save your ass?”

She feels like joking to ease the butterflies in her stomach “Didn’t know you cared that much, mullet.”

“Of course I fucking care!” he yells, then composes himself, running a hand through his disheveled jet black hair. She looks down at her toes, wiggling them a bit to distract herself. Why did she felt so heartbroken? Of course he fucking cares. “And stop calling me that!” the dark-haired boy playfully pushes her away to save face from his outburst, a ghost of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“I know you like it,” she can’t help herself from bouncing back. She wanted to make him laugh so she could stop feeling guilty. And what was Keith’s only weakness? Tickle fights. She quickly jabbed her fingers in his ribs and he is quick to react—but not too quick to avoid the onslaught.

“Ahaha—Stop—[name], please, you know I can’t—hahaha, I can’t take it!” his laughter was hysterical and it made her chuckle with pleasure. She couldn’t stop, not now. Forgive me, Keith. Please. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I am just your stupid friend —

“STOP!” And she does, hearing the pleading tone of his voice. Keith captures her wrists and holds her arms above her head, making sure she won’t retaliate. Her whole body sags, defeated: what was the use in fighting? Keith will still be mad and their friendship will never be more than what it already was.

Stop crying, she instructed herself. In vain.

“Forgive me,” a whisper on parched lips, barely audible.

“Silly...”

He kisses her like she’s his lifeline and not vice-versa.

It surprises them both, but it quickly vanishes away under the taste of their lips mashed together. Taste so sweet and innocent, how they shyly searched for one another in that kiss until they remain breathless. They part, her eyes closed, wanting more and more and more of him. Instead, he is searching her face for a sign of refusal, but if her parted lips are an invitation, he’s going to take the chance.

“Stupid…”

He kisses her again, slower, gentler, putting all the passion he was capable of behind it. The unrequited feelings, the many thoughts, the sleepless nights, the tears, the dreams—and she kisses back with the same fervor. This is what she wanted and she’s not going to let him slip through her fingers. They kiss and kiss and kiss, lips mashing together, teeth knocking together, laughter erupting at their clumsiness—but they went on.

“You are so…” Kisses, kisses, kisses.

“Silly.”

She kisses him like he’s all she has left in the world.

In the end, they stop for air, both breathing hard, hazy eyes searching each other’s faces. If there’s a light at the end, it’s just the sun in your eyes.

“What was that, Kogane?” she asks lowly, afraid that if she’ll raise her tone the spell will disappear. At this point, she didn’t want to scare him.

Keith, still maintaining eye contact, slowly removes his hand from your wrists and she obediently rests them in her lap. One calloused palm carefully (she didn’t fail to notice the tremble in his hand) touches her cheek, the thumb rubbing her skin. Her cheeks inevitably redden, but this time she doesn’t try to hide it. All of their unspoken feelings have been shared and there was no denying anymore: they liked each other. It was mutual.

Keith’s face splits into a cocky grin, tilting his head cutely to the side, “I know you wanna go to heaven, but you’re human tonight.”

Her eyes widen in shock, unable to respond. What was that supposed to mean? Her lower lip trembles, itching to kiss him again. “K-Keith...?”

What now?

And they’re running, running, running. Hand in hand, god knows where, up the stairs, inside a bedroom. What they were about to do necessitated intimacy—and at this venue, they could find no better place. Thank God they could close the door with a key; no one could disturb them now. They tumble on the bouncy bed, limbs entangled, jacket discarded. He ends up on top, pinning her arms above her head. He stops, admiring her figure.

The room was dark, a few rays from the moonlight sneaking in, stripes painting their bodies. She looked beautiful, those sparkly [e/c] eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips inviting him for more kisses. How long he waited for this. At first, he didn’t even think he’d ever have a crush on someone. Keith was oblivious to other people flirting with him. He was a lone wolf, didn’t want anyone to once again enter his heart and leave unannounced. He hates that, he doesn’t want that anymore.

[name] was the only one who stayed. She fought for his approval, annoying him and before he knew it, she was a part of his routine. In her absence, he realized that he couldn’t stay away from her. At one point, his heart started speeding up at the mention of her name. Why was he feeling like this, he had no idea. But he liked her—a lot. Craved to hold her hand, to be the only one she kissed, maybe even let her be his first. He realized something was wrong when he started getting insanely jealous whenever the girl hung around boys. He felt like rescuing her from her ‘assailants’ and keep her away, shielded from intruding eyes. She was for himself only.

But those were toxic thoughts he pushed away. She belonged to no one. If she ever chose him, it was on her own volition. No turning back now, though. He achieved what he wanted: he managed to gather enough courage to kiss her.

It all happened gradually. The more time he spent with her, the more his feelings intensified—until they burst. Until he realized that this was not normal, that he was actively looking for her presence everywhere. Chatting with her until late, calling her in the dead of night, speaking of nonsense. And she listened.

Who even remembers when he noticed he has fallen for her? Maybe when she came crying in her arms, heartbroken over some nasty words some unimportant people told her. Keith knew she was wonderful, why did she listen to gossip? But she came into his arms, hugged him tight and her warmth enveloped him—it made him feel like home. With a thunderous heartbeat, he knew.

Keith Kogane loved her.

Now, with that same thunderous heartbeat, he stared at her. He wanted her in ways he didn’t believe was possible or was capable of. He craved to touch her, oh so delicately, as if she was a piece of fragile glass. Yet he didn’t know where to start. This wasn’t a thing Keith Kogane did on a daily basis—he’s ashamed to admit it was the first time. Sure, he kissed other people before, as a joke, because they forced upon himself, but this time, with her, it was genuine. And he had no idea what to do, where to go, if she even wanted him the same way he did. He just stared, a low blush slowly creeping on his cheeks as the adrenaline from before vanishes. He acted on impulse; Keith has been afraid for her safety, seeing her struggling in the water. It took him a while to steady his nerves and he was still not completely sure he was calm.

She was safe. She had to be.

That satisfied smile told him that. “Aren’t you going to go on?” she breathes out, eager. There’s a light in the crack that’s separating her thighs, and he’s tempted.

“Well, um, y-yeah…” despite that, he stood still. Quiznak, she was so beautiful, he was breathless. Where—oh—where? “Uhh—”

“If it helps you, I’m nervous too.” She laughs dryly, her brows turned in worry. Is Keith having second thoughts? Maybe he didn’t like her the way she did. That kiss was just a joke that went too far. Did Pidge put him up to it? She wouldn’t be surprised, but it still hurt.

Then it hit her. “Perhaps this is your first time?” she grins widely, relaxing a little bit.

“Wha—" his voice raises an octave as he splutters. The dark blush of his looked extremely cute in the moonlight, his eyes twinkling with shame and want. “Well…” he looked to the side in an adorable manner. He simply nods as a response.

“Ha ha!”

“Hey! Don’t laugh, I’m serious!” He pouts and straddles your hips. He’s tempted to do his signature move: crossing his arms over his chest. “So what?”

“Keith,” she smiles a smile too bright for him. She rests on one elbow, the other one reaching out to him. Her hand gently rests on his left cheek, caressing his scar marring his handsome face. Well, it doesn’t ruin anything about his aesthetic—you think he’s even better with it. His heart thaws, threatening to burst out of his chest with cuteness aggression. An in-love smile spreads onto his face, leaning into the touch.

Gosh, he just wants to have her. So badly.

“It’s perfectly normal. I would’ve been surprised, really. But at least this makes it special, huh?” she betrays nothing of her nervousness. “For both you and me.”

His eyes widen and she just laughs as a response. They were both in the same boat.

“To be honest, I didn’t think my night would end up with you…” shyly, she stares out the window. How romantic. “But I’m glad.”

Her words have the desired effect. He relaxes visibly, his body sighing with relief. “O-Oh…Ok, then…”

“Sooo…now that we got that over with…” she runs a hand through his fluffy hair, tentatively. “Can we go on? I think we had a good chemistry going and well…I wouldn’t mind losing my virginity with you, on the first day, might I add.” She chuckles and he follows. “I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime—” Red thread of fate. Following them through time. “—so I don’t mind at all. We’re young. What did you say? Legends and young gods—”

“Legends and young gods—"

“So in synch.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he hovers above you, dangerously close to your lips. Your breath mingled together as you leaned back into the pillows. Why did this felt so hot? “And I’m doing this because I…” So fucking close. “I…”

He can’t say it. He doesn’t need to. She bridges the gap between them, shushing up with her lips.

The game was on.

Lips smacking hotly, pants and moans as their only desire was to explore each other’s bodies. No more inhibitions now. The bets were placed and there was just one possible outcome: they’ll both lose to fate. She bites his lip, nibbling, as her hand roams into his hair. Tugging, testing to see if he liked that move or not. He growls, lost in lust. Keith might be new at this, but he sure as hell was a natural.

However, he doesn’t have time for French kissing. That was a territory he doesn’t want to dabble in just yet.

“Damn, you’re just so pretty,” he grumbles, giving her one quick glance before he begins his assault on her neck. His lips nibble and she likes the shivers it gives her. Craning her neck, he takes that as an invitation to bite.

“Ah!” she exclaims, then giggles, amused. “You’re such an animal, Kitty!”

“Hmph,” is his only response before resuming his ministrations. He kisses up her neck, then down her shoulder, only to end on her clavicle. He attempts to give you a hickey, to the best of his abilities—but, somehow, he only ends up slobbering all over you.

“Ha ha, Keith, it tickles.”

“Should-Should I stop?” he takes a look at your neck and bemused expression and immediately feels embarrassed. “I am not that good at that, huh?”

She laces her arms around his neck, pulling him back down. “We’ll work on it.” Before he can comment and pout, you kiss him again. He immediately molds into the pattern, resuming the making-out.

“Touch me,” she says between kisses, urging him to speed up. She couldn’t wait any longer. He’s hesitant at first, not sure how to focus on both kiss and touching. The [h/c]-haired girl refrains for laughing, afraid to hurt his feelings. “Touch me,” she repeats.

And this time he listens. Trembling fingers touch her arms, gliding upwards to her shoulder. He gulps, beet-red and afraid of touching her breasts. The triangles of her swimsuit barely covered her chest—it was the first time he’d noticed it. He had plenty of time to admire her last summer when they went to the beach. Besides, she had more qualities and personality than body—for him, that was what mattered.

“Do it,” her breath is like the whisper of a devil. Pure temptation. He can’t refuse. He grabs them and experimentally fondles them. She’d laughed if she weren’t so tingly between her legs. “Take—Take it off…?”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice, eager to see more. He pulled it up her head with his thumbs with her wanted help.

“Wo-Woah…” he can’t help but let out what was going on in his mind at the sight. They looked so perfect and round and squishy. And the nipples—perky and sweet. His face was a red mess but still, after encouraging himself, he pinched them.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

And that was all Keith needed. He kisses her again while fondling her assets, tracing her curves and the line of her body until his fingers reached the line of her bikini. He doesn’t comment on her wetness, shyly rubbing between her folds through the fabric. She can only follow his movements with embarrassment: sex was definitely more shameful than at first glance. But at least Keith felt equally embarrassed so that made her feel better.

They were like two kids exploring each other. And that was fine.

She whimpered, spreading her legs beneath him to give him more access. He gulped, gathering the courage to remove her panties. He was already raring to go, feeling the tightness in his pants. He wanted more of her, more, more, more...

“I’ll...I’ll take them off...” she whimpers, using her hands to shimmy them off her legs. They quickly disappear somewhere around the room. Her hands involuntarily go to cover herself as best as she could. Now was not the time for shame.

“Wh-What?” Keith stutters, a bit confused despite the eyes clouded with lust. He wanted to take her all in.

“It’s...It’s not fair...” she mutters, fidgeting. “Strip.” I want to see more of you.

He blushes. “Ye-Yeah..” Keith understands. He takes a few moments to take off his shirt, giving her a full view of her of his chest. Not surprisingly, he had some muscles—all that training paid off in the end. She bites her lower lip in admiration and lets out a whistle. She liked what she saw.

“Now your pants,” she purrs. Keith awkwardly fumbles with the buttons of his jeans, taking him a while before he could manage to push them off. He struggles a little bit to take them off completely, and it takes her entire will not to laugh before Keith finally manages to throw them along with the panties—lost. His boxers couldn’t contain his excitement and she avoided it with her gaze as if her life depended on it. She was not ready for little Keith...

“Pleasedontlaugh,” he says in a quick breath and, in one swift motion, he takes them off. Eyes closed tight, he doesn’t notice her brief reaction of amazement. But she had to admit that it was…better than she expected. She wiggles her eyebrow to distract him with humor and he just pouts, then chuckles.

“I guess it’s kinda funny,” he says between chucks, softening a little bit, both physically and mentally.

“Shall we go on, then?” She pulls him back into the right mood by kissing him. No turning back, no, no. They kiss again, passionately, their skin touching. One of his hand goes down, between her legs, rubbing. She curls and presses herself closer to him, not wanting this to end. She whimpers and tosses around, loving the way it felt so foreign and great at the same time. He quickly picks on what she likes, where she moans the most and what makes her squeal: the neck kisses were a bonus. With a shivering hand, she grabs onto his member, slowly teasing him. He hisses at her cold touch, but he gets used to it, letting pleasure slip into his kisses and whispers. His instincts awaken, making him rough as he scrapes his teeth across her skin and injects her with ecstasy.

He’s ready—and so is she. A panting and wet mess—two erratic heartbeats that want to join each other. He stops and looks at her, asking for confirmation. She nods, sweat running down her hot face.

Keith smiles—then it quickly disappears when he realizes the condom was in the pocket of his jeans. “Oh, shit, wait a moment!” he jumps off the bed with cat-like agility and stumbles through the dark in search of his pants. [name] watches him and tries to help him out; but it takes a few minutes before he finally finds them. He rummages through the pockets and returns victoriously as if he just won a battle.

She snorts, “Someone came prepared.” He halts in his steps, ashamed. Ok, he got caught red-handed but it wasn’t his fault. Hormones can make anyone act crazy and it wasn’t far-fetched to assume that they both wanted this. That sex had to be the outcome of this party if all went well. He pepped himself before this party, knowing that this was the last time he could confess to her. Or else he wouldn’t have the courage to do it again.

Adrenaline helped—and now he was here. It was worth all the effort.

“Well, I—I’m sorry if you think that I’m just using you for…That’s really not the case! I like—” Say it, Keith, say it. She was sitting at the edge of her seat, awaiting his answer. “I like you, you know that?”

She grins widely, “Of course. I never would’ve thought otherwise. So…” The girl beckons him over and simply kisses him. He kisses her back—and eventually, they come to the point where they were. The boy confidently puts his condom on and positions himself.

‘You sure?’ his eyes suggested.

‘I am,” she responded back.

He’s in and she gasps. She heard stories about it being painful, but not like this. She grits her teeth, only worrying Keith—but she reassures him quickly that she was ok. Just needs a bit of time to get used to it all. So many sensations pass through her body, the same thing happening to him. She clings onto his shoulder, inhaling and exhaling to calm her heartbeats. Meanwhile, Keith does his best to keep his composure, kissing her brows, her forehead, her eyelashes, cheeks, lips, nose.

When she opens her eyes, she was ready. Holding her tight, he starts moving, slowly as to not hurt her. She winces a bit at first, but with time, it got all better due to the lubrication. And, after a few more thrusts, she starts feeling pleasure.

Boy, she didn’t expect it to be this good. “Oh, my!”

“What, what is it? Am I doing something wrong?” Keith panics, stopping.

“Everything is fine,” she says, breathless and dizzy. “Go on..” Her whiny voice sounds erotic and it gives him the spunk to go on. He speeds up, confident in her word that she was fine. The pleasure of their intertwined bodies is intense, so it doesn’t take him long to feel at the end. He’s exhausted and sweating and he’s hot and bothered—while she doesn’t know where to cling herself to for support. Her legs were trembling from the force of holding them up around his torso—she felt like she had enough.

“Keith…” she moans weakly; it wasn’t as if she wasn’t enjoying this. She liked it. The passion could be felt and pleasure was throbbing between her legs each time Keith thrusts.

“I’m…I’m gonna..” and at least she could bask into his husky and sexy voice, low and choked with pleasure. She knew what he meant and encouraged him with sweet nothings. His pants start to get uneven and high-pitched moaning that put a flame in her core. She urged him to pound her faster and he obliged, pulling out of her just in time with his climax.

“Ah—[name], hngh…” he bites his lip to contain his loud moan, tossing his head backward. Loving the way he’s so vulnerable from doing this with her, she touches herself for a few seconds before she comes down from her own high with an equally muffled scream of his name.

Tired, she falls onto her back, limbs spread out like a starfish. Her eyes follow Keith, awaiting a disappointed reaction: but none comes. Feeling ashamed all of a sudden, he avoids her gaze, dark red on his painted cheeks.

“Keith?” she tries, fear creeping into her heart. Is he going to leave her?

“So-Sorry—” he sniffs, shuddering. “It got cold all of a sudden.” He starts checking the room for his clothes, as well as bringing her own swimsuit. Shamefully, they started dressing themselves up in awkward silence. When they were done, they stand on the edge of the bed, not knowing what to say to each other. She fiddles with her finger, the adrenaline from before running out. Now it all feels empty and cold.

“I think I’m going to go find my clothes,” she says, standing up. She wants to run—this has been the mistake. Why did she believe that Keith liked her and different from other boys?

“Wait!” he grabs her wrist, holding her in place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I understand. This meant nothing to you.” Her voice is low and hurt, “It meant everything to me.”

“For me too, don’t get me wrong!” he yells, desperate. “I really do like you.” She turns to face him—and he’s wearing a desolate expression. “I just don’t know how to act…”

A small smile comes up to her face, “Ok, me either.” The two of them interlace hands, staring into each other’s eyes. [e/c] and purple. Shy smiles. “I like you too, Keith.”

The smile on his face can’t be described: it was so pure and in-love. It was amazing. This is a new beginning—and they’re going to do it together.

Shy love; but they’ve taken their first steps.

–

[masterlist]