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captain-joongz · 9 months ago

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Penny for your ghosts; chapter 1

Pairing: OT7!BTS x f!reader

Genre: hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au (based on Lockwood&Co lore), found family, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Hoping for a new beginning, you make a decision and end up at Bangtan Inc. looking for a chance. And somehow unbeknownst to you make a life-defining choice.

Chapter word count: 10k

Next part | Series masterlist

Warnings: not much really - a lot of exposition and some spooky stuff happening, sad ghost backstory, jimin is a little shit, yoongi being effortlessly waaaay too hot while also being adorable and sweet

A/N: here we go folks, the first chapter of our sweet autumnal spooky story! i had such a blast writing this, it's been so amazing to work with the Lockwood&Co universe (it made me reread the first book, again), and this story satisfies something in me that yearns for comfort and coziness, so enjoy! as always, i'd love any kind of feedback or response, so don't be shy and comment, reblog, send me an ask!

divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics

Standing face to face with the old-timey mansion, I didn’t really know how to feel.

It looked fairly inconspicuous in the daylight – just another old expensive house built on this street. It was half hidden behind a stone wall, the wrought iron gate giving me a little peek into the bleary autumnal garden slowly getting covered up with fallen leaves.

There was an iron sign nailed to the wall that read “BANGTAN INC., paranormal investigations” and I gave it a long look.

A new beginning, hopefully, was waiting for me beyond this gate, and I gulped, steeling myself into finally ringing the bell instead of just endlessly shuffling around on the street like a weirdo. I felt the pressure of the paper on which I’d written down the address burning through my pocket. It was just a job interview, and yet it felt like a pivotal moment in my life. It was this or back home, to the cold god-forgotten mountains and that prick Lee. He’d have a field day with me if I crawled back, and that’s why I had to ace this.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” a deep voice from somewhere behind me uttered, a touch of amusement to his words. I jerked around, too consumed by my own thoughts to take notice of my surroundings, even with my heightened senses.

A hybrid stood there, a mischievous expression painting his face. He was pretty tall and built, hair cut fairly short and swept off of his face with two black rounded ears standing in attention amidst those spiky waves. His face was rounded and soft. When my eyes slid down towards his hips, there was no tail. He was most probably a bear.

“I’m sorry?” I asked him, subtly trying to search the air for any noticeable scents, but the air was a little too crisp to carry anything. The man only giggled and stepped a little closer.

“I said,” he replied, “I wouldn’t go in there. Heard the house is haunted.” He brought up his hand to wiggle his fingers in a spooky gesture, trying his hardest to sell the scare, but losing to his own amused snickers.

“Hauntings only manifest after sun-down,” I cited monotonal, subconsciously turning my head to check the greyish blue sky. It was still early afternoon and even though autumn was coming, it wouldn’t start getting dark for another few hours.

The hybrid pouted, sad that he couldn’t scare me, and I wondered what exactly was he trying to do here.

“Taehyung, stop messing with everyone walking by,” a firm voice from my left suddenly appeared, softly chiding the still pouting hybrid, “I told you a thousand times.”

Another hybrid appeared suddenly from my periphery and I couldn’t believe I completely missed his presence on the empty street. He must have been walking over and I just didn’t hear him. Or maybe he came from the neighbouring house?

He was of similar height, broad-shouldered but slim. His attractive face was pulled into an amicable polite smile and the brown rounded ears flicked towards me in interest as he took me in. Another bear.

“Hello, dear,” he said towards me, tone much kinder in that ‘I’m talking to a stranger’ sort of way, “Are you a client? Do you need help with a haunting?” There was something undeniably eager in his voice and it gave me a little pause. They were Bangtan Inc.

Caught red-handed loitering in front of their house, I panicked and did something very stupid.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered out maybe a little too fast, lying through my teeth – but the men didn’t notice, no. Their faces immediately brightened, postures straightening.

“Amazing!” the newcomer exclaimed, hands clapping together. He almost threw himself towards the gate, fumbling with the lock for a few seconds before it creaked open and he invited me to step in with a wide gesture, a tinge of nervousness to him like he was afraid I’d turn around and run.

I didn’t. Instead I offered my own hopefully easy smile and nervously fiddled with my wool hat, hoping it still effectively covered my ears, as I accepted and slowly started on the walk over to the main entrance of the house. The giggley from before quickly slipped in as well, shuffling cutely by the broad-shouldered man’s side.

I had just stepped on the first stone stair of the veranda when the door flew open and I startled, foot slipping on the damp surface. Before I even had the time to yelp, there was a hand on my lower back supporting me.

“Oh my! Be careful!”

“Hyung!”

A few shouts rang out at the same time, but I barely even listened. My hand shot out, almost slapping myself in my own face, trying to keep the headwear in place. I felt my ears twitching underneath it, but it stayed firmly on.

“Thank you,” I muttered, righting myself again and looking towards the third hybrid, “sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No no no, none at all,” the handsome hybrid said, “it was Hoseokie’s fault, he should have been more careful with the door.”

The new hybrid standing in the door was looking at me sheepishly, an embarrassed blush painting his face pink.

“I’m sorry,” he said plainly, red fox ears twitching in his curly hair, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hoseokie, please bring our new client inside and into the sitting room,” there was an understanding that ran through them at the word client, and immediately the fox, Hoseok, turned all professional and beckoned me inside with a practiced friendly smile.

Giggley said nothing since the other bear’s arrival, only hung around in the back of the group, watching me with a strange kind of excitement.

“Please, please, through here,” I found myself pulled through the door and the main hall, under a pretty arch with wooden beams carved into branches with leaves and into what I presumed must have been the aforementioned sitting room.

I wasn’t even sure what that was, must have been a rich people house thing.

The happy fox was flitting around me, fussing with my light coat and assuring me I can step inside with my shoes on. After a barrage of questions about refreshments he danced out of the room, presumably into the kitchen to fetch the promised tea and biscuits.

There was no trace of the other two hybrids, but I heard movement through the house – someone calling a name I couldn’t fully decipher, heavy steady footsteps through a hall, a distant buzz of conversation. Signs of living.

The house smelt happy, lived in. I wanted to go find giggley and argue with him – this house wasn’t haunted; it was a home.

Shuffling a little on the armchair, I felt nervousness sink in. Now that I was here in this situation, I had no idea how to get out of it. The scent suppressant I sprayed on in the morning was going to protect me for a little while more, but if someone really tried I would no doubt be sniffed out without a problem. My ears started to hurt from how I pressed them down in order to not have a suspiciously twitchy hat and no matter how I tried to manoeuvre myself onto the chair, I couldn’t avoid sitting on my tail that was tucked and hidden into the long skirt I wore and protectively curled around my thigh.

I wasn’t even trying to fool them – I wanted the job they offered on the dingy website and for that I had to be a hybrid, but it was easier travelling through the city while pretending to be human – people stared less, whispered less about ghosts and death. It kind of just snowballed from when they assumed I was a client. No other reason for a human to be hanging about a paranormal investigations agency.

I shouldn’t have agreed, but then a strange fear choked me – I wasn’t ready to go in and ask for a chance. It seemed like a great idea to just scope them out, but now it was painfully obvious to me from their joy that not many clients walked through that gate and now I didn’t know how to tell them I wasn’t one.

Before I could spiral further, two hybrids walked into the room – Hoseok and one I haven’t met yet. He was tall, even taller than the two bears, and muscled. Strength radiated off of him, an aura of power that shocked me into silence as I eyed him with something suspiciously close to awe. Something about him was pressing onto my instincts, blanketing my brain with a layer of rightness, safeness. I fought myself not to submit then and there and embarrassment flooded through me.

But at least I wasn’t the only one – from where my eyes caught onto his greyish wolf ears I saw them twitch nervously and then I realised he was actually blushing under my stare, to which I burst into flames even further and politely shifted my eyes to the little table in front of me.

I heard Hosoek’s snickers, but from his relaxed stance I deduced I probably wasn’t the first to get caught into the lure of this hybrid’s aura. It would surprise me if I was.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and still a little pink, before he regained a little bit of his professionality back.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” he recited smoothly, deep voice like honey, and I blushed a little more, pointedly avoiding Hoseok’s amused eyes, “thank you for choosing our agency to help with your little problem. O-or not little, I mean, it could be a big problem. We can definitely handle anything though, you don’t have to worry.” He stuttered through his little speech miserably, shooting a shy glance towards his companion who was watching with fond eyes.

“Oh Joon,” the little sigh came from behind me and I twirled around to once again come face to face with the brown bear, the man still smiling kindly, “Don’t worry dear, he always gets stuttered up like that.”

He stepped into the room and stuck out his hand in an offered handshake. I quickly fumbled to get on my feet, alleviating the pressure on my poor tail and stumbling in the process, but this time I righted myself before any of the men could. I grabbed his hand with cheeks still red, but with a shy smile back.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he introduced himself and then gestured towards the wolf, “and that is Kim Namjoon. He is the owner and the director of Bangtan Inc.” I moved along, offering my hand to the blushing man as well and he took it eagerly yet gently.

I was so distracted by the soft calming grip of his hand that I didn’t even notice the way the wolf sniffed the air and froze, smile melting off into a frown. Namjoon took a step back and his hand got torn out of my hold, and I looked up in alarm worried something happened.

And something did. The man was watching me with apprehension, no trace of the smiling shy man – in his place stood a powerful hybrid sensing a threat. And I immediately understood what happened.

“W-wait!” I exclaimed, “I can explain, I promise!”

The other two hybrids in the room also took a cautious step back, following the director’s lead and I realised – they must have been a pack and he must have been their alpha. That would explain the reaction of my body I was faced with upon seeing him for the first time.

“Why are you trying to sneak into my house?” the question came out a lot unfriendlier than I was used from these hybrids, but I couldn’t blame him – I had unknowingly tried to cheat the alpha of the house and that was a big offense between hybrids, especially since I was a stranger to his pack.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, also slowly backing away from the man now that he was so high-strung about my proximity. His packmates watched us with confusion, but I saw the realisation slowly sink into their faces, so I decided to stop the farce and reached for the hat, yanking it off. It was impolite to keep headwear on inside anyway, and I know that wasn’t lost on Hoseok since he tried to take it off for me even though I insisted on keeping it.

Their gasps were less shocked by now, both of them anticipating something like that to be the revelation, but I was sure it was more a reaction to opening a whole new level of information about me. The ears were undeniably feline, even though I wouldn’t blame them for not recognising them, and now that I finally unfurled my tail, it started peeking out from the bottom of my long skirt – that was the one cons about it – it was very long, impractically so.

I saw their eyes trained on the fluffy tip of the appendage, their faces written with their attempts to guess what kind of feline I was.

Not Namjoon though, the wolf was staring me down, eyes shining bronze and posture tense, tail ram-rod straight in a show of dominance. I crumpled into myself a little, showing him I wasn’t a threat even though I entered his territory under false pretences.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, alpha,” the name slipped out of my mouth quite naturally, even though I’ve never lived with wolves before – this man just made it easy to submit. He did relax slightly then, but his senses were still alert, no doubt driving him insane because he couldn’t fully smell me.

“I saw the job offer and I came to ask about it, but when I got surprised at the gate by the bears, I panicked and agreed to come in as a client,” I quickly explained, hoping this wouldn’t end up with me kicked out and no prospects of a future employment, ��It was stupid of me, I should have thought more carefully about entering a stranger’s territory while pretending to be human.”

That seemed to have diffused the situation completely and I finally sighed out in relief when Namjoon moved, shoulders relaxed a smidge more and only a trace of mistrust on his face. I was proper ashamed though, and watching the floor with burning face, ears pressed into my head so hard it hurt.

Then I sensed Seokjin moving closer before he gently laid a hand on my shoulder, leading me back into the armchair just as Hoseok shook out of his stupor and started serving the tea and biscuits he brought over. Namjoon still stood still on the opposite side, by the dark brown sofa, but he didn’t seem as hostile anymore.

“You little dummy,” Seokjin teased, and had it been said by anyone else with a different intonation, I would have been mad, but his words only made me blush more, shy and embarrassed. Then he looked over at his packmate and tsked gently.

“Come on Joon, cut her some slack,” he chided, “she was caught off guard because Taehyung started teasing her with the whole ‘the house is haunted’ thing he does.” That had the man relaxing completely and he finally sunk down into the sofa, Hoseok joining him shortly and making himself comfortable in the huge pillows.

There was a light disapproving tint to his expression, but mostly he just looked fondly exasperated, shaking his head slightly and chuckling under his breath.

“I told him a thousand times to stop doing that, it makes people nervous and then they don’t ring the doorbell,” he muttered much the same words as Seokjin had before on the street, and the fight drained out of my body when I realised I really wasn’t going to get kicked out.

“I’m still sorry,” I piped up carefully, gathering the hot mug into my hands and cuddling up to it on instinct before I stopped myself. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one afternoon.

“So you’re interested in the job, then?” Namjoon changed the subject smoothly, fully settling into his director persona. I nodded eagerly and watched Seokjin walk over to the sofa and sit down elegantly, direct opposite of the lounging fox that now sat with a pillow squished into his arms.

“I got interested because it mentioned you are a hybrid run agency without human supervision,” I told him and the effect of my words was clear.

Human supervision was a concept as old as PI (paranormal investigations) agencies themselves, hybrids weren’t even allowed to own and run them up until like fifty years ago, and even after human supervision was a standard occurrence.

Even though humans had no affinity for the paranormal (some were a little more sensitive to it then others, especially when it came to children) it still ingrained itself as some sort of a staple of quality of agencies – those that didn’t have human supervisors were often ostracised and disadvantaged, there were quite strong smear campaigns against them and people still held mistrust towards them.

If investigators made mistakes that cost lives or destroyed property at an agency with human supervision, nobody thought anything of it, but if the same happened in agencies without, they were often dragged through the mud and sometimes even shut down after “thorough investigations”. It was more than unfair – it was discrimination. Most humans still saw us as animals and therefore incapable of having the same judgements and freedoms as humans did. They didn’t trust the hybrids that risked their lives to make their homes safe again, they rather turned to the humans that accompanied them in and did nothing.

Most human supervisors were older, still very much in the mindset that hybrids weren’t supposed to have their own opinions, and they were absolutely useless in the face of the paranormal – they were a bunch of pricks drunk on their own power, barking orders they didn’t fully understand, putting investigators into difficult spots and overriding their decisions according to a manual that was outdated and unflexible.

But even though you truly couldn’t find a single hybrid that was happy about this still being a thing, due to the industry pressure they still rather chose to work with them – because working against them was virtually impossible and most of those little stubborn groups usually ended up bankrupt pretty fast. The biggest names were still big corporations that built their traditions on the humans in charge of the operations, and if you wanted to have a successful career or even to be able to make a living, you still had to grovel at their feet and beg for an opportunity.

The dark shadows that overtook the three hybrids’ faces at the mention of human supervision perfectly reflected the grim reality of PI industry.

“No, no humans here,” the wolf stated firmly, “we are fully operated by hybrids. We don’t allow any kind of outside intervention, during the investigations everything is fully in the hands of the operatives.” I nodded, satisfied.

“That’s good to hear,” I said, but didn’t elaborate any further. Most hybrids had bad experiences with their supervisors, so I imagine they must have understood pretty clearly where I was coming from.

“Do you have a resume?” Seokjin asked, bringing the attention back onto the topic at hand. I fumbled with my bag, fighting to pull out the slightly crumpled piece of paper that was pitifully empty, and I flushed under his inquisitive eyes when he caught sight of the free spaces.

I had pretty standard qualifications – I did have all of them, I finished all of my education, but it was nothing special. Everyone that successfully graduated from high school and finished their courses had the same ones (and there was a lot of us). There was some experience from practical education, a part-time job as a graveyard guard and a brief stint at the local office of Black Guard Corp., one of the three giants in the PI industry.

It really didn’t take a long time for the three men to skim through it, it actually felt embarrassingly fast before their gazes shifted back to me, appraising me and searching for at least a sliver of talent.

“Oh, you’re from all the way up north,” Hoseok exclaimed, “Got tired of the mountains?” I chuckled somewhat humourlessly.

“Yeah, something like that,” I muttered. A lot of reclusive communities up in the north – a lot of stigma and not much to do, so it wasn’t that strange that young people moved towards bigger cities searching for modernity and understanding.

“One of our packmates is also from the area,” Hoseok said emphatically, smiling my way, “he moved down as soon as he hit eighteen.” A noise of understanding clawed out of my throat completely unbidden and I awkwardly coughed.

“Yeah, it’s fairly normal,” I replied, “I was one of the few young people left in our village.” Silence barely settled over us when Namjoon broke it again.

“You wrote Hearing and Touch as your strongest senses,” the wolf asked, tapping at the paper where presumably those words were written, “can you elaborate on that a little?”

Those hybrids that had talent (meaning a sense for the paranormal) all mostly had a little bit of everything when it came to the three main senses – sight, smell and hearing. Even if sight wasn’t your strongest sense, you still saw just not as clearly as others. If sight was your strongest sense, you still were able to smell or hear to a certain extent. But usually every investigator had a sense that was stronger than others.

Of course there were levels – someone’s strongest sense could still be weak compared to another person, but it was what he relied upon the most when it came to gathering information about the haunting. Those who had exceptionally strong senses could manifest rare gifts tied to their talents – like those with extremely strong sight could be able to see energy traces, or those with a superior sense of hearing could actually communicate with some of the ghosts.

Touch was a bit of a wild card. It was a considerably rare gift – not that it was super hard to find someone with the capability, but that usually it was very weak. A lot of people who manifested this already rare gift couldn’t actually do much with it and mostly just caught echoes. It was also a gift that only tacked onto a heightened sense of hearing or smell, as that made it stronger.

Touch allowed for the investigator to strike up a connection between themselves and an object closely related to the ghost, it showed them visions – of the ghost’s memories, of their life. Sometimes it shed light onto their motivations to stay behind, sometimes the visions more showed what kind of person they were. Most of the times it made you go through the worst moments of their life – and their death.

It was a dangerous ability that consumed you from within, left you vulnerable. Those with particularly strong Touch often went mad through the years of endless investigations and ended up shells of their former selves.

And mine was – it was on its way there too. It was my greatest pride and my biggest weakness, all at once.

“Do you have anyone else with Touch?” I asked instead of answering at first. The trio on the couch showed their interest was definitely piqued but they let me get away with the small distraction.

Hoseok nodded at the same time as Seokjin said “yes”, and they looked at each other before the fox gestured for the bear to continue.

“We do, we have two,” he replied with a gentle smile, “Jiminie has the same set as you, but his touch isn’t particularly strong. Taehyungie, you met him outside, has smell and touch. His are a little stronger, but he mostly just complains that all he gets are terrible scents.” I chuckled at that.

“I can imagine. I used to know this ferret with the same combination and she always whined that it just makes the smells worse,” the anecdote made me relax even more as I thought back to the few good people I met through my old agency and remembered the reasons for why I stayed there for such a long time. Well, if a few months could be considered a long time. Then I took a deep breath.

“Well, both of my senses are quite… pronounced,” I admitted. People with Touch had to be careful about their talents – either it made you vulnerable to exploitation or you were seen as an emotional wreck and a liability. It was hard to say what people’s reaction would be – that’s why I always asked about their own operatives first.

“Are you getting full visions?” Namjoon asked, and his voice was carefully neutral to make me more at ease. I nodded.

“Yeah. My hearing is pretty strong too, usually I was one of the most alert ones in my team,” I told him, wringing my hands in my lap as I recalled my earlier job, “my touch was what I excelled in though. Full visions, manifestations of emotions, the whole shebang.” The men seemed a little troubled but mostly I recognised worry for my health in those gazes, and while it was one of the pitfalls, I was at least glad they didn’t seem to be strangely excited about my talents. Sometimes we could be seen as an easy way to fame and money, and I’d rather starve than work for a company like that.

“Have you ever successfully carried out a conversation with an apparition?” this time it was Seokjin who asked, and I nodded quickly.

“Once, but she was really confused,” I replied eagerly, “I wasn’t able to get much out of her, it was like she drifted in and out of awareness.” Sometimes the hearing ability worked both ways – when ghosts were weak or low levels according to the manuals, they weren’t really capable of communicating. Maybe they said something here or there, but they weren’t fully conscious and aware. The stronger the apparition, the higher the level, the bigger the chance that they would hear you and answer – but just as there was a barrier that allowed only some to hear them, the barrier carried over certain voice better than others. Therefore if you were skilled at hearing, you also had a higher chance of being heard by the ghost.

The strongest apparitions could freely hold a conversation and hear everyone, even if others couldn’t hear them. From what I read, they were usually quite the pieces of work and annoying to talk to.

“That does happen quite often,” Seokjin sighed, folding himself back into the settee, “Most of the conversations with the dead are quite frustrating. Either because they don’t hear you or because they do and you wish they didn’t.” It sounded like he truly spoke from experience, and I did have to agree with him, even though I haven’t bumped into a fully aware ghost yet. I thought it quite safe to assume Seokjin’s affinity was also hearing, then.

“Well, let me quickly introduce you to the offered position,” Namjoon hijacked the conversation again, leaning forward to look a little more professional, “There’s seven of us in total and we usually work in teams of three or four, depending on the danger level. We try to take turns, but often we found ourselves in situations where we didn’t have time both for business and for basic upkeep of the house and such.” I nodded in understanding.

“People in the summer usually feel emboldened by the long days,” the wolf continued, “so we had a slow period, but with the start of autumn and winter the fear will set in again and they’ll be desperate enough to go even to a small hybrid run agency, so we usually get busier, especially here in the local area. We need a helper. I think the offer said an assistant and a junior operative. Basically someone who will fill in the blank spaces – keep the house tidy when everyone is either busy with investigations, resting or researching. Tag along when we could use a helping hand out in the field. Make sure we’re fully stocked up, double check we have all the supplies in our bags and belts. Help out Hoseok with taking calls, caring for customers when they come here. A little bit of everything to make it easier for us, so we can fully focus on our other tasks.” I hummed again and gestured for him to continue.

“In return we offer lodging here in the house, help with training and gaining more experience with both field and off-field work, like researching, orienting yourself in libraries, archives, what you have the authorisation to do and to ask for, such things. We offer full gear – a new rapier, salt bombs, magnesium bombs, shoes, coats, protective glasses – anything you might need or ask for. We’d take you with us to investigations, show you the ropes, train you to be a full operative.” There Namjoon stopped and wavered a little, hesitation creeping into his face.

I assumed that this was where it usually all fell apart for him, so I straightened in the armchair and waited with bated breath what would follow.

“I know it seems a lot, but it could be a good opportunity,” the wolf smiled at me, the shyness and kindness he displayed earlier before I was found out shining through once more, “Of course… it won’t pay as much as if you worked for Black Guard or the Iron Sword, but it’s still a good pay, more than enough to live comfortably. And as I said, you can live here so that will lower living costs as well…” I released a big huff in relief. I see, so he was worried about money.

The trio of hybrids didn’t seem to know how to interpret my reaction, so I gave them a huge toothy grin, a real one, that channelled just how interested I was in the position. It was perfect for me and I could use the community, the variety and the opportunity to learn.

“No, that sounds perfect,” I told him, and I meant every word of it. That put blinding smiles on their faces as well, and suddenly Hoseok was jumping to his feet and clapping his hands, once again scaring the living shit out of me.

This time he looked a lot less sheepish and a lot more amused as he said sorry, and then he was beckoning me to follow him out of the sitting room. The other two men chuckled fondly, but followed after him, nodding at me to come with them.

“We’re going to test you a little,” Namjoon explained, eyes searching the sky outside through a window in the hall, “I hope it’s not too early for a little ghostly activity.”

The sitting room was the first room you’d see when you stepped inside the house, but there was actually a similar room to the other side of the entrance hall, only stylised into a darker green instead of the browns and beiges of the one we were sitting at.

The entrance hall then opened into a huge room dominated by an old staircase leading to a little corridor that disappeared on both ends deeper into the house. The backdrop of the corridor though was an absolutely massive window made of stained glass that painted together a flowering meadow with a forest on the horizon. It was a little faded, the colours a little dull, but obviously well-loved and cared for, and it stole my breath away.

On the ground floor the room opened to corridors on the sides that similarly disappeared deeper, but on the left side there had to be a kitchen, because the corridor carried to me absolutely delicious smells, and sounds of a knife hitting a cutting board in a steady rhythm. I almost salivated upon smelling that, and wished I could weasel myself into staying for dinner, but instead I followed the men to the right, away from the tantalising scents.

We passed two sets of double doors made from dark polished wood. One was cracked open and I clearly heard giggles and a hushed conversation coming from there, recognising one of those voices as the deep baritone of the black bear that was trying to scare me outside. He was the one of the two with touch, and if I managed to get this job, I couldn’t wait to talk to them about their gift. Up in the north there was only one other girl with touch – the ferret hybrid that had smell as her other sense, but since her touch wasn’t as strong, our experiences with it were completely different.

But that’s not where we were going – the three hybrids continued to the end of the hall where another set of dark-wood doors sat firmly closed. Namjoon fished out a bundle of keys from his pants, and I couldn’t believe the chunky ball of iron fit into his trousers without bulging out uncomfortably.

There were two locks on the door and I promptly realised where he was taking me.

Every agency had a storage room – a place where all the dangerous things sat properly handled and out of reach to anyone that didn’t know how to work with them and could get hurt. That meant everything from spare rapiers and magnesium bombs to active artefacts – ghost sources with their apparitions still attached to them.

A source could be anything that bound a ghost to the place of haunting and allowed them to come back – objects that were loved during their life, objects that were tied to their death or quite straightforwardly, their remains. Sometimes the ghosts were tied to a certain space, and those cases were the most annoying, because there wasn’t much you could do about it – especially if it was a random spot in the middle of a forest or an actively lived-in house.

Operative’s job was to investigate the haunting, find the source and handle it – with salt, iron or silver, depending on the strength of the ghost. Those materials acted as a buffer and eliminated all chances of the ghost slipping through into our world again – it locked the door, one could say. Some ghosts could be chased away with a little bit of salt or a sprinkle of iron filings, but some had to have their sources wrapped in silver and destroyed in fire – those were the most dangerous ones.

Certain artefacts were allowed to be kept as trophies, even though no one really kept an eye on that. The black market was very profitable and unfortunately a lot of people that were supposed to be regulators themselves dabbled in it and collected strong active sources. So the rule of thumb was that regular sources were disposed of in the furnaces while the ones tied to famous cases were kept – people didn’t really care for grandpa Smith’s old walking stick, but they sure were interested in the remains of blood-thirsty ghosts that terrorised and killed until they were swiftly handled by an agency – getting rid of an artefact like that could be a huge PR hit for companies, and they were usually safely showed off in their headquarters to forever burn into people’s memories that they were the ones closing that case.

I assumed Namjoon was taking me to a similar trophy case to gauge the strength and depth of my senses.

Unlike the showy glass buildings of big corporations, Bangtan’s headquarters were situated in the basement under their house – it was mostly one big spacious room with walls made of red bricks and a floor of stone tiles. There were three tables there, covered in paperwork, and one wall was lined with filing cabinets, which must have been filled with old, closed cases.

A little light shined in through small oblong windows near the ceiling, so I was grateful when someone flicked a switch and artificial lights came on with a low hum.

And then I saw it – deeper into the space where two smaller rooms, cutting the space unevenly in half – and the wall facing us currently still standing by the door was covered with luminescent shelves.

It wasn’t the shelves themselves that shined – it was their contents.

There weren’t many artefacts, in fact most of the shelves were completely empty, but they made up for it with their brightness. Usually the brighter the source was, the stronger the ghost tied to it – and these were some potent sources.

I made a little panicked noise at the back of my throat, ears flattening to my head and tail flicking with agitation. I pointed towards the wall and then looked to the men with wide scared eyes.

“You can’t open those, look how bright they are even in the middle of the day!” I exclaimed and the men laughed lightly.

Namjoon leisurely made his way over towards the wall, and in my panic I followed him, heart beating out of my throat. But once there, he didn’t reach towards any of the sources encased in glass tubes infused with silver and iron for safe-keeping, he actually turned toward one of the shelves I previously thought was empty.

Only, when I came closer I realised it was lined with passive sources – ones that used to be tied to a ghost who was either destroyed and left their source behind or chose to move on, or just simply were charged with energy of a haunting and not the apparition itself. They were no longer dangerous and mostly deserted of any activity.

The wolf whispered around with the fox for a little while, hands lingering on certain objects as they deliberated on which they wanted to give me as a test. Seokjin stood to the other side of me, eyes glued to the active sources as if he looked for something specific.

I waited with bated breath to see when his eyes lit up with recognition, eager to know what it was, but I was interrupted by Namjoon’s deep voice as he beckoned me closer.

I looked to them and saw that both he and Hoseok had an object in their hands, having chosen their favourite. Namjoon carefully cradled an intricately carved wooden comb – it was absolutely beautiful and it looked very old and frail, with some of its teeth broken or missing.

He nudged his hands to me, motioning for me to pick it up.

“Tell me this comb’s story, Y/N,” he said, and the sudden appearance of my name shocked me enough to flinch in surprise. I realised I never actually introduced myself to them, the whole clusterfuck of a situation derailing the usual pleasantries – he had to have read it on my resume.

With blushing cheeks I rushed to grab it, careful to give it the same gentle consideration as the wolf did. The last thing I wanted was to break it.

At first I felt nothing. I heard the men’s breathing, the wild beating of all our hearts as the anticipation gripped us. I heard the faint clanks coming from the kitchen on the floor above. I felt my ears twitch as they tried to focus on the echoes of things long gone instead of the very present and very alive hybrids.

Anxiety spilled through me and I squirmed. Slowly I felt myself sink into panic, brain running its mouth telling me that I was useless and couldn’t even feel the object, that they’d laugh at me, they’d hate me. They’d kick me out and I’d have to go back home, embarrassed and defeated. I wouldn’t be able to impress them, I was a sham, a phony. I had nothing to offer anyone. I was worthless. Maybe I should just-

The thought startled me into a more present grounded mindset, and I ashamedly realised that due to me being nervous about the test I hadn’t noticed when I slipped into my ability. Those weren’t my thoughts, but whoever once owned this comb had a really bad time.

Shakily I dropped the comb back into Namjoon’s waiting hands, noting the concern on his face at my queasy expression. Hoseok was standing next to him still holding his own item, but his eyes were wide and a little scared.

“Are you okay dear?” Seokjin suddenly asked me, hands settling on my shoulders as he spun me around, “You suddenly got really pale.” I nodded hurriedly, using the sleeve of my sweater to dry off some of the accumulated sweat on my face.

“No, yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” I stuttered out, turning back to Namjoon and looking straight into his worried eyes, “The woman who wore this comb killed herself, didn’t she? She felt worthless – someone had left her. Maybe the very person who gave her the comb.” The devastation hit the wolf’s face as soon as I was finished speaking.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I’ve never met anyone with touch as strong as yours, I didn’t realise you’d feel it so intensely,” he said, comb long forgotten discarded haphazardly on the shelf.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement – the genuine remorse at putting me through an experience like that, even unknowingly – it was enough to make me blush under his brown gentle eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s my ability and I’ve learnt to deal with it,” I told him softly, “I just got a little surprised, I wasn’t paying enough attention and let it suck me in a little.” He looked like he saved my words into memory for later use, like he wanted to make sure to help me along the way to not slip into the memories as easily again, and I flushed again, warmth spreading through my chest.

I’d never met anyone so invested in the well-being of their operatives. Which was quite sad, thinking about it.

“Was I right, though?” I enquired, and he shook out of his stupor, looking at me, then at the comb, then back at me and then as if everything caught up with him he nodded quickly.

“Yeah, her actual source were her remains – they got stuck deep in the mud in the river she drowned herself in, but the comb was in her hands and carried over the aura of her haunting,” the wolf explained eagerly, “she was mostly just sitting around on the bank, scaring off some of the local children who felt unsafe there due to her aura. She wasn’t dangerous at all, just really sad.” I felt a pained pang in my heart, some of the unsettled feelings and thoughts from her last moments still lingering in the corners of my soul.

“That’s incredibly heart-breaking,” I whispered, eyes glued to the beautiful accessory.

Before I could spiral any deeper into those thoughts, Hoseok awkwardly cleared his throat, hands hanging in the air between us unsure of whether he should offer the artefact or not. Everybody’s attention was drawn to him and Namjoon was just about to open his mouth to protest, when I beat him to it by grabbing the little thingy.

It was a really fancy pen, felt and looked new, like it would still write if I tried it on a piece of paper, and its ghostly traces were incredibly weak. This time I was more cautious as I examined it, rolling it around in my hands, eyes closed and fingers trying to feel every ridge, every scratch.

There wasn’t much. Almost nothing actually. I caught some waves, but they fizzled out as quickly as they appeared, leaving me with little fragments here and there. I tried again to make sure, but came to the conclusion that this item couldn’t have been tied to a haunting. It felt more like they just took it from the deceased’s house than anything else.

“Umm, are you sure this is what you wanted me to touch?” I asked hesitantly, “It’s just that there’s not much here. I feel mostly just stress from it, but it’s very fragmented.” At my words everyone in the room chuckled, Hoseok’s face heating up until he was as red as a tomato.

“Good job,” Namjoon said, snickering in amusement and looking towards the embarrassed fox, “this isn’t an actual haunted item or an artefact. It’s one of those fancy pens they advertise to ghost hunters because it has an outer layer of silver on it. Well, Hoseokie-hyung here bought it as a joke and it ended up saving his life. But turns out that the energy of coming into contact with ghost plasm holds onto it well and it’s kind of cursed now.” That definitely caught my attention and I looked at the hybrid who was shooting daggers into the wolf.

“He was being a big old dummy and while handling the sources marked for destruction he dropped one and the case broke,” Seokjin jumped in to continue the story, “he had nothing but the pen in hand and he had to fend off a very angry and a very confused apparition. We heard him screaming and all ran here as fast as we could to see him running around the basement waving around a silver pen and hysterically yelling at a ghost.” At this point I was giggling along with the men, the fox laughing along too as if he saw the visual his mate was painting as well.

“It was the best day of my life,” Namjoon sighed through snickers, “I almost didn’t want to help him because it was too funny.”

“I love to hear that you’d let me die for your entertainment, Joonie,” the man in question grumbled, but it was all in good nature, that much was obvious through their fond looks they threw each other.

As the laughter died down, a more serious expression settled onto Seokjin’s face and he gazed back onto the shelves with active sources, this time eyes immediately locking onto a specific case that glowed strongly with cold, steely blue light.

The other two men quietened the second they recognised what the bear was looking at, ears flinching and flattening to their heads.

“I was curious about what you’d tell us about an item we have here,” Seokjin started explaining, a far-away look in his eyes, “but seeing how strong of a reaction you had to the comb, I think we better not.” I looked towards the case, head tilted in consideration.

It was obvious there was something different, something strange, about that specific artefact – and judging by their nervous stances it wasn’t anything good.

“I can try,” I said easily, moving towards the shelf. Seokjin made an aborted panicked sounds, hands shooting up to stop me, but ultimately he let me walk past him and do what I wanted. I turned back, looking at the men watching me with scared but curious expressions, I steeled myself and looked at it properly.

It was fairly small – a single skeleton finger with a bejewelled ring stuck onto it. I wasn’t sure what they exactly expected from that. I clearly couldn’t take it out as the apparition would no doubt immediately manifest, and you really couldn’t feel through the glass.

But oh how quickly I realised I was wrong about that. I raised my hand, hearing the gasps of the three hybrids, reached for it and promptly stopped. I felt almost paralysed with the wave of dark resentful energy rolling off of it in thick waves, so thick that I was almost choking on them.

Whoever that ghost was, he was strong, angry and dangerous enough for his energy to manifest even through protective silver casing. Panic gripped me, just blind fear that this shouldn’t be here – this shouldn’t be anywhere. Suddenly I was stumbling back, tripping over my own feet to put distance between me and whatever that thing was.

My wild terrified eyes found Namjoon’s own worried ones and I couldn’t hold back a whimper clawing its way out of my throat.

“What the fuck,” I gritted through my teeth, “is that? Why the fuck is that here?” The alpha seemed to be fighting off his instincts, my palpable fear and the whimper must have put him in for a spin to try and calm me down, but we didn’t know each other at all for any attempts to be appropriate.

I realised I was shaking, the hand with which I almost grabbed the artefact cold and frozen to the bone.

“It was one of our biggest cases,” Seokjin whispered, voice gentle and monotone as he slowly started moving towards me trying not to scare me more, “a nasty piece of shit, a killer in life and a killer in death. Jimin refuses to get any closer to it, says it gives him the creeps even through the glass. He’s been telling us it has an aura even through the protection case and here or there tries to persuade us to get rid of it. None of us can feel much, just that it has bad energy, so I got curious… I’m glad you didn’t touch it. Those are some memories you don’t want to see.”

The bear hybrid managed to get all the way to me, his soft grip to my shoulder grounding me into the present and finally breathing some warmth back into my frozen scared body. I relaxed enough to let him start dragging me back towards the stairs, the two other hybrids guiltily tagging along.

“Jimin has a fucking point,” I replied, “That thing should be destroyed.” There was still a slight tremble to my hands, and I realised for the first time that day I was feeling extremely cold. I mechanically forced my feet to carry me a stair after a stair, yearning for the cosy vibe of the sitting room and the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

“Told you,” a new voice joined us from up the stairs and I jerked to look up, coming face to face with a pretty boy with big eyes and plump lips. White ears stuck out excitedly from a mop of black silky hair, but I couldn’t gauge what kind of hybrid he was.

“Jimin,” Seokjin sighed, pulling me closer to his side, “please go start up a fire in the green room.” The boy said nothing more, only winked at me good-naturedly and then disappeared back into the house.

When we made it into the green room – which was the sitting room across the one we were in before – there indeed was a fireplace and an excited hybrid loading it with wood. I looked at his snow-white fluffy tail, the shape of it flaring out a little towards the end, and realised he was another fox, an arctic one. He must have been the hybrid Hoseok was talking about before, the one that moved down here from up north.

“After that I’m afraid I must insist you stay for dinner,” Seokjin spoke again, voice firm and leaving no space for objections. And it was the polite thing to do, to object and pretend like I wasn’t dying to sit down by the fire and eat, but just that afternoon I wouldn’t – I was too tired and too shaken. I wanted that damn food and I’d take it.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered only, letting the man fuss over me with a blanket. Shortly after he ushered Namjoon and Hoseok away with him, muttering something about guests and Yoongi, which I didn’t fully comprehend.

Jimin still sat down by the fireplace, kindling the little fire and feeding it paper, but then he turned to me and watched me with interested curious eyes for a moment.

“You got the touch?” he asked finally, and I simply nodded. Another moment of silence.

“Did you touch the finger?” this question came a little quieter. I saw the warring emotions in his eyes – excitement over meeting someone with the same gift, apprehension of the cursed object and a worry over my well-being. I was grateful to him, to his easy friendliness that put me at ease.

“No… I couldn’t,” I whispered the reply, but he understood, he did all too well. He gave me an empathetic smile, which quickly melted into a smirk.

“Maybe now Joonie-hyung will finally listen to me and do something about that awful thing,” he teased, giggling and pulling me along with him.

I was just about to open my mouth with my own smart remark when a new face stormed into the room, immediately stopping in his tracks upon seeing me bundled up in the blankets in an armchair by the fire.

He was small, noticeably so once Seokjin arrived as well and stood next to him, but his form was obviously strong and lean, a quite typical build for a classically trained operative. He must have been a terror with rapiers, it was written all over him.

“Aish, I leave you three alone for an hour and this is what you do?” he scolded the guiltily looking trio, “Look at that poor kid, you totally traumatised her!” Jimin on the ground was giggling, watching their pulled back ears with delight, but I just sheepishly sunk further into the chair, cheeks pink over how strongly the unknown hybrid defended me.

Movement by his legs caught my eye and I finally noticed the kind of hybrid he was – that was definitely a white tiger tail swishing wildly behind him! I physically felt my ears perk up as my back straightened and my own tail raised in interest, which brought even more colour to my cheeks and stuttered up the black-haired man in the middle of his spiel.

Soon he was blushing too, and I realised he was reading my body language and I’ve just given myself away, quite spectacularly.

I felt the intense need to explain myself but there wasn’t really much to say – I was excited to meet another feline hybrid, one that wasn’t of my own community – because I’ve never met another cat outside the ones I grew up with, and those weren’t exactly great. But I just looked like I totally had the hots for him (which I totally didn’t).

“N-no- I mean- I just- I’ve never met a tiger hybrid,” I finally pushed out, ignoring Jimin’s teasing shit-eating grin where he sat by my feet next to the fireplace. Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin were watching me with open fascination, which was definitely better than the anger I was imagining they would feel over me obviously being into their mate (which I wasn’t!!! It was a misunderstanding, nothing more!!!).

The tiger in question shifted on his feet, hand going to scratch behind the striped ear, his own characteristics now betraying a curiosity and interest on his part. His gaze swept over my features, passive but warm.

“You’re a snow leopard, aren't you?” he asked and where Namjoon’s voice was deep and smooth, Taehyung’s voice was deep and sweet, this hybrid’s voice was deep and raspy, sending me into a whole new spiral at hearing it.

I barely even managed to nod, embarrassedly pulling my tail and pushing it into my lap before it divulged even more of my secrets. Jimin was smirking at me as if he knew exactly what I was going through, and I kind of wanted to kick him a little.

“I suppose you came down here fairly recently then? Your folk only mostly only lives up in the mountains and they’re pretty reclusive…” he asked some more, angling more towards me and I felt my treacherous tail twitch in my hands.

“Yeah, it was a pretty tight community,” I told him easily, “They’re not exactly… forward and… open-minded.” It felt weird to be sharing such a private information with people I’d just met a few hours ago, but apart from the fact that this was something mostly all hybrids kind of knew, in those hours they managed to make me trust their judgement and believe that even if I wouldn’t end up getting employed by them, they still cared for my comfort.

But subverting all my expectations, the hybrid who up until now stayed fairly neutral even with a soft blush to his cheeks suddenly smirked at me, taking in my wide-eyes and flushed face before saying: “Well, it’s an honour for me to be your first tiger.” and walking out nonchalantly.

The trio that he originally came in here while scolding them stood there wordlessly, eyes flitting between my embarrassed form, a little too amused Jimin and the empty space where the tiger used to stand. Then Hoseok made a non-descript delighted noise in the back of the throat, launching into a sprint while screaming at the top of his lungs: “Jungkookie, you have competition!”

I was very much confused, but judging from Namjoon’s embarrassed blush and Jimin’s outright evil snickers, I probably didn’t want to know.

Seokjin smiled blindingly and then walked away again, while Namjoon slowly slinked into the room and made himself comfortable at the other armchair, still watching me glare at the laughing Jimin with wide eyes.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect this outcome when you sneaked in today,” the wolf muttered, but there was a grin gently pulling at his lips. I was too embarrassed to banter and the attempt at a smile came out more as a grimace, so I just sunk deeper into the armchair and stubbornly looked on into the fire, ignoring the two giggling men.

“I’m sorry though,” Namjoon said quietly suddenly. I looked at him confused and I was surprised by the guilty expression on his face. “I’m sure this wasn’t the most pleasant of first meetings,” the hybrid muttered sheepishly, a bit of shame settled into his features.

“Namjoon-ssi, I made the decision to touch the source,” I told him firmly, hoping to alleviate some of his worry, “Seokjin-ssi was clear that I probably shouldn’t, but I wanted to try. You did nothing wrong.” The wolf didn’t seem much appeased, but he at least eased up a little, a little bit of determination creeping into his eyes.

“I’m going to get a bigger case and put it as a second barrier,” he proudly stated, more to himself than to us, and me and Jimin shared a glance before promptly bursting out into a fit of giggles. A sort of warmth settled into me, especially as distinctly recognisable voice of the brown bear shouted from somewhere that dinner will be ready shortly.

“Would be foolish to hope you’d like to accept the offer?” the question came out of nowhere, even Namjoon himself looking a little shy though he was the one who said it. I froze. Jimin stopped laughing. The happy chatter flowing in from the kitchen died down and everything settled into a buzz of anticipation.

The house was suddenly plunged into silence that I hadn’t heard since I stepped in, and the longer I was shocked at his words, the more I could see the alpha spiral that I’d inevitably reject him.

“I wasn’t aware you were waiting for my answer,” I uttered, teasing cheekiness creeping into my voice, and Jimin’s face once more morphed into a beautiful smile, “But I’d love to accept.” Namjoon smiled in relief, but both of our attentions were snatched by giggles coming from the artic fox.

“Of course she accepts hyung,” Jimin reiterated, “she wants to keep her first tiger.”

I’d never wished for the ground to swallow me so hard as I did in that moment.

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @borahaetelevision @socksfirst1 @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @iwishiwasrichasfuck @authorpj

@bangatanily @sassy-snassy @booksintheheart00-blog @bangbangcon @kiki-zb

@luvian-art @ldysmfrst @jinsleftairpod

#bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts ot7 #bts poly au #bts hybrid au #pfyg series

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star-my · 1 year ago

Text

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (ii)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (i)~ ~Recs (iii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk!

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

☆ Crescent Bound series by @parkhabits | Werewolf AU | 32k+

☆ Tainted Souls series by @mininky | ?2l Vampire au, Canon Idol-verse | ?k

Kim Namjoon

☆ He Loves Me series by @bratzkoo | Sugar Daddy AU | 11k +epilogue to come

Kim Seokjin

☆ How to Fake A Boyfriend series by @bts-reveries | F2L Fake Dating AU, Youtuber AU, SMAU | ?k

☆ the taming of the bridezilla by @cinnaminsvga | F2L Fake Dating AU | 7k

☆ Arrogant by @dreamyjoons | FWB2L Uni AU | 7k

Min Yoongi

☆ bloom by @aquagustd | BBF AU | 15k

☆ want a taste by @suga-kookiemonster | S2F2L Mall AU, Rapper AU | 18k

☆ Private Lesson by @dntaewithluv | FWB2L Pianist AU | 6k

☆ what's poppin' by @joonberriess | Sugar Daddy AU, Canon Idol-verse | 2k

☆ angel by @joonberriess | Established Relationship, Canon Idol-verse | 7k

☆ honey bunny by @lonelyhobi | Established Relationship AU | 6k

☆ boseong breakfast by @honeymoonjin | S2F2L B&B AU | 24k

☆ subscribed by @aquagustd | S2L Uni AU, Camboy AU | 15k

☆ eargasm + eargasm, pt 2 by @lavishedinjimin | S2L Phone Sex AU, kind of Uni AU | 24k

☆ first love series by @clouditae | F2L Uni AU, Tattoo Artist AU | ?k

☆ skin deep series by @aquaminwrites | S2F2L Tattoo Artist AU | 47k

☆ ink petals by @yminie | S2F2L Florist AU, Tattoo Artist AU | 11k

☆ love is for the birds, baby by @mininky | (F)E2L Tattoo Artist AU, Author AU | 13k

☆ Arranged series by @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong | ?2L Arranged Marriage AU, Chaebol AU | 111k

☆ punch drunk by @joonbird | R2L Boxer AU, Rival's Sister AU | 33k

☆ Sweet like Candy series by @lysjeon | E2L SMAU | ?k

☆ loser baby series by @dejayoonw | R2L SMAU, Witch AU, Uni AU, kind of Hogwarts AU | ?k

☆ heaven's winter by @jksangelic | Supernatural AU, Angel AU, Historical AU | 19k

☆ under the sun by @mirahuyooo | Greek Mythology AU, Greek Gods AU, Historical AU | 25k

Jung Hoseok

☆ baseline by @jiminrings | R2L Teacher AU | 3k

☆ Hot & Bothered by @sahmfanficbts | Gardener AU | 3k

☆ the art of war by @wwilloww | F2E2L Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Royal AU | 5k

Park Jimin

☆ kiss the girl by @sketchguk | F2L Disneyland AU, Coworkers AU | 5k

☆ the happiest place on earth by @dovechim | F2L Disneyland AU, Coworkers AU | 24k

☆ florezco by @honeymoonjin | S2F2L Roommate AU | 24k

☆ Midnight Munchies by @yoongihime | Deliveryboy AU, Uni AU | 2k

Kim Taehyung

☆ good girls go bad series by @jkstompers | S2F2L Uni AU | 46k

☆ paper cranes by @aquaminwrites | F2L AU | 18k

☆ rubies and roses by @min-youngis | S2?2L Fake Dating AU, Chaebol AU | 40k

Jeon Jungkook

☆ Part-Time Lover by @sketchguk | Fake Marriage AU, Agent AU, Journalist AU, Spy x Family AU | 31k

☆ the art of series by @venusianguk | S2F2FWB2L Grocery Store AU, Single Parent AU | 95k+

☆ Heartbreak Trials by @dreamyjoons | R2L Roommate AU | 14k

☆ Stress Relief by @strawbkoo | F2L Roommate AU, Uni AU | 5k

☆ ego series by @suga-kookiemonster | F2L Uni AU, Fboy AU | 97k

☆ Confident series by @h0neypjm | FWB2L Uni AU, Fboy AU | 23k

☆ what money can buy by @jeonstudios | Sugar Baby AU | 18k

☆ rich people shit by @nochueso | S2L Uni AU, Chaebol AU, Sugar Daddy AU but you're the same age? idk | 11k

☆ Diamond in the Rough series by @kimvtae | S2F2L Chaebol AU | 25k

☆ glitter & disquiet series by @joheunsaram | Youtuber AU, Chaebol AU, CEO AU | 36k + drabble

☆ oxytocin by @chemicalpink | FE2L Chaebol AU, Arranged Marriage AU | 6k

☆ the lottery offering by @skswriting | S2L Werewolf AU, kind of Arranged Marriage AU | 22k

☆ to tame a god series by @jeonstudios | S2L Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU | 50k

☆ This Mortal Coil by @jinfizz | BFF2L Werewolf AU | 40k

☆ Temptation series by @aiimaginesbts | Werewolf AU | 25k

☆ Law of Nature by @ausblack | F2L Hybrid AU | ?k

☆ deal by @jeonstudios | S2L Demon AU | 20k

☆ calling you cool by @kithtaehyung | S2L Rock Band AU | 12k

☆ his by @thvhoe | R2L BBF AU, Band AU | 6k

☆ most undesirable by @kinktae | S2L Regency/Bridgerton AU | 5k

☆ bad delivery by @jeonstudios | Deliveryboy AU | 5k

☆ Accelerate series by @dreamscript | S2L Racer AU | 8k

Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @eoieopda's masterlist

☆ @gimmethatagustd's masterlists (mxr) (mxm)

☆ @helenazbmrskai's masterlist

☆ @jeonstudios's masterlist

☆ @jjungkookislife's masterlist

☆ @jkstompers's masterlist

☆ @lovesickjoon's masterlist

☆ @sketchguk's masterlist

happy reading!

#group: bts #type: fic #member: ot7 #bts fic recs

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rkiveslibrary · 25 days ago

Text

Chapter 3

Summary: You finally achieved your dream of writing and publishing a book and it goes well. It goes so well, your publisher wants you to write a second book. The only problem is the fans want it to be spicier and you have only had one very lackluster sexual partner in your life. Enter Kim Taehyung the cocky fuckboy of your past who is willing to lend a hand to a “friend” in need

Word Count: 6.2K

Paring: Taehyung/Reader (Side Jikook)

Rating: 18+ MDNI!!!

Tags: Porn with plot, POV switch, cute concerned Jimin, mentions of jerking off, mentions of past bad relationship, FWB situationship, nicknames, kissing, dry humping, moaning, boners, mentions of almost cuming in pants, Taehyung has a big dick

Authors Note: Where can I find me a Taehyung like this dear god

Thank you for reading! Likes and Reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist

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“Okay, you can do this. People do this kind of thing all the time. It’s nothing to be nervous about; it’s all going to work out. You can do this!” You muttered to yourself as you ran your hands down your legs and let out a shaky breath as you checked the clock in your car.

You were starting to panic about the future of your book after your editor gave you some “helpful pointers” when she rejected your fourth draft for the spicy make-out scene between your characters.

She pointed out how it all felt very “vanilla,” and after drinking some wine and having a good cry, you decided to sign up for a dating app because what was the worst that could happen?

After swiping for over an hour, you matched with a guy who was tall, handsome, and totally your type.

After talking for two days, you told him you had never been in a friends-with-benefits situation before. He offered to take you out to dinner first to see if the two of you clicked.

That was why you were sweating through your dress in a sushi restaurant parking lot on a Friday night.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, startling you, and you grinned when you saw Mira’s message flash on your screen.

She was going to a tasting with Hoseok tonight for her wedding cake, but she was more than happy to be on call in case the date went south and you needed her to swoop in and come rescue you.

The clock showed it was five minutes to six thirty, and you figured being five minutes early wasn’t a crime, so you opened your dating app to see who you were meeting with one more time, but the weirdest thing happened.

No matter how many times you tried to refresh his profile, your conversation would not load.

You tried exiting out of the app and going back in, but it just wouldn’t load.

Which was weird.

Oh well, you had a good enough memory of his face to know who you were meeting with, so you decided not to stress about it too much as you took a deep breath, gathered your things, and headed inside for your date.

-------

“Come on, Jiminie, you don’t need me tagging along as your third wheel. I promise I’m okay not going.” Taehyung whined as he closed down his office for the day and gathered his things.

He balanced the phone against his shoulder and his ear as he struggled to get his coat on and tried to ignore the piles of work that were left over.

Oh well, that was next week's problem.

Taehyung waved to his coworkers and headed to the elevator, where he pressed the lower level button and listened to Jimin ramble on.

Jimin and Jungkook were going out to The Heat, which was the local club for people over twenty-five years old. It was Taehyung’s favourite spot to pick up chicks, as usually, they were around his age and over the phase of getting sloppy drunk and throwing up everywhere.

“Jimin, I know it’s my favourite, but you and Jungkook deserve a night out by yourselves. Believe me, I have the night planned!” He said as the elevator dinged, and he made his way across the almost empty parking garage to get to his car.

The sun was still shining, and after being in an office all day, Taehyung took the opportunity to tilt his face to the warm rays that shone through.

He found his car and unlocked it, throwing his briefcase in the passenger seat before climbing in himself and connecting his phone to the Bluetooth.

“Come on, Taehyung! It might be nice to get out on a Friday night. I know you had a hard week. Might be nice to relax.” Jimin whined as he put his car into drive and made his way home.

“Jiminie, I have plans. I’m going to order food, relax, and catch up on some shows. Believe me, that sounds more fun than pushing through sweaty bodies on the dance floor.” He tries to explain.

“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?” Jimin asks, his voice growing serious as Taehyung stops at a red light and lets out a weary sigh.

“I already know what you are going to ask me, and yes, Jimin, I am fine. I promise you.” He responds as the light turns green, and Taehyung takes the familiar path home.

“I know it’s just… Since when do you turn down a club night? You have been a hermit for weeks now, Tae. I’m just concerned; that’s all.” Jimin says, and Taehyung can’t really blame him.

He never turns down club nights.

He is always the life of the party.

Drinking, hitting on women, and having fun.

Taehyung did wonder if something was wrong with him. After his last fling, he wasn’t in a hurry to jump into a new one and ended up becoming more of a homebody.

Sure, he still talked to his friends, painted, and worked out, but jumping into another friends-with-benefits situation seemed like too much work for him, and he even went as far as to delete all the dating apps off his phone.

Taehyung also noticed other changes that were making him raise an eyebrow.

His sex drive had diminished quite significantly since.

He was still jerking off, of course, but he didn’t feel the need to have someone else do it; he didn’t even really miss the sex, as he was more than satisfied to get himself off with his hand whenever he felt the need to.

Taehyung gave himself another month.

If he was still in this funk after a month, he would go to a doctor.

Or maybe talk to someone.

“I know Jimin, but please believe me, I’m okay,” Taehyung said as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Are you sure? Like totally sure. You can tell me anything you know.” Jimin pushed as Taehyung let out a weary sigh.

“Yes, Jiminie, I promise I am okay. I’ll also go as far as to promise that I will come out next time you go to the club, okay?” He said as he pulled into the driveway of his house and put the car in park.

The sun was fading fast, and clouds were rolling in. Taehyung remembered hearing something about an all-night rainstorm, which was another reason he wasn’t keen on going out tonight.

After a few more promises that he was okay and an eventual goodbye, Taehyung pocketed his phone and headed inside his house.

He put his stuff where it belonged, ordered takeout, and made his way to the shower, where he stood under the spray for far too long, contemplating what Jimin had said.

He knew Jimin just cared about him.

That’s all.

But was it really that concerning that he wanted to stay home for one night?

Standing in the shower, wasting water didn’t give him the answers he needed, so he quickly got out and dried his body, slipping on some comfy clothes as he checked on his food to see that it was now only two minutes out.

Taehyung made his way downstairs just as it arrived and saw that the sky was a dull grey and storm clouds were rolling through.

He got everything set up in the living room and grabbed a comfy blanket to snuggle in while he ate.

The food was delicious, and Taehyung hummed happily to himself as he turned on the TV to get caught up on one of his shows.

After two episodes, rain began to smack against his window in heavy drops as it seemed the storm had finally arrived.

Taehyung felt full and sleepy, and the sounds of the rain were making his eyes droop. It was only six at night, but he felt like he could curl up and sleep until morning.

Maybe a nap would do him some good, so he shifted so he was now lying sideways on the couch with his feet hanging off the edge.

He pulled the blankets up to his chin and let the soft sounds of the rain lull him to sleep.

-------

How long did Taehyung nap for?

He wasn’t sure.

All he knew was someone was ringing the doorbell, and it was obnoxiously loud and woke him from his peaceful slumber.

Taehyung fluttered his eyes open and blearily looked around.

His house was dark except for the one night light in the hallway, and the storm must have picked up speed since he dozed off because the rain was now lashing at the windows angrily, and lightning was dancing across the sky.

The doorbell rang again, and Taehyung shot up off the couch, still a little disoriented from sleep, and made his way to the door.

A rumble of thunder shook his house, and Taehyung felt the hairs on his arms stand as he flung the door open and was met with the surprising sight of a woman standing on his front step.

But not just any woman.

It was you.

His eyebrows shot up, and he gripped the door to stop it from being taken by the wind.

You of all people were standing on his front step.

What the hell was going on?

Taehyung took in your appearance, your hair matted and soaked, your tan trench coat now a darker colour because of the rain, the way your mascara ran down your cheeks, and your eyes were rimmed red.

You’d been crying.

“Uh, hey?” He said slowly as a crack of thunder made you both jump.

“Hi, Taehyung.” You said roughly, clutching your coat around your soaked body.

“Uh. What’s going on?” He said, feeling stupid and slow, as he still didn’t make a move to let you in.

He should probably let you in.

But he was still in shock that you were here in the first place.

“Uh, can we talk? Maybe inside?” You asked timidly as his brain finally seemed to work, as he moved to the side to let you out of the cold and rain.

Taehyung left you standing by the door as he raced around, turning on lamps so you both could see. His heart was in his throat, and he felt his hands shaking slightly as he turned to face you again.

You were taking off your heels and shrugging off your coat, and Taehyung’s eyes widened when he saw what was under it.

“Holy shit, you look hot.” He blurted out before he could think, and a light blush coated your cheeks as you smiled shyly at him.

The dress was unreal.

A little black dress that hugged your curves perfectly and cupped your breasts in a way that made his cock stir under his pants.

Fuck.

You must have come from a date.

How bad did it go for you to show up at his place?

What happened?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, and he could see the goosebumps on your arms as you shivered in his doorway.

“Did you walk here? You’re soaked.” He asks, moving towards you as you brush your wet hair from your face.

“Uh, I parked down the street. I didn’t know if anyone was coming over tonight, and I didn’t want to take a spot in your driveway. I didn’t realize how far down I’d have to park.” You say, eyeing his place with a childlike curiosity as you shivered.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up first.” He says as he leads you through his house to the upstairs, where the bedrooms and the bathrooms are.

Taehyung rifles through his things before pulling out a T-shirt, sweatpants, and socks, and hands them to you.

You graciously take them as you stand in the doorway like a deer in the headlights.

“The bathroom is right through there. Take a shower. Use as much hot water as you like. We can talk when you're done.” He says as you bite your lip and nod at him.

You hold the clothes to your chest like they are your lifeline, keeping you afloat.

Taehyung briefly nods before heading downstairs to give you some privacy, and his mind swims with possibilities.

Clearly, by the way you were dressed, you went out on a date.

As far as he knew, you had not dated anyone since your jerk ex-boyfriend.

Not that he kept track of those things.

So what happened tonight? Did the guy…hurt you?

Taehyung knew you had a solid group of friends, and he would never in a million years guess you would come running to him if something happened.

You just weren’t like that.

Taehyung grabbed his phone from the coffee table and quickly texted Hoseok, asking if he could call him ASAP.

The phone rang two minutes later.

“Hey, Tae! It’s Mira. Hoseok is driving right now. Everything okay?” She asked as Taehyung ran a hand through his hair and began to pace the floor.

He could hear the shower running, but he knew he had to be quick.

“Uh, hey Mira, you are actually who I wanted to speak to.” He said as Hoseok grumbled audibly in the background.

“Oh! Uh, okay, what’s up?” She asked.

“Do you know where your maid of honour went tonight?” He asked, still pacing the living room as the storm raged outside and the lights flickered.

“Uh, yeah, she had a date. Actually, she was supposed to text me an update, but I haven’t heard anything.” Mira said as he ran his free hand through his fluffy hair.

So it was a date.

“Taehyung, what did you do?” Hoseok asked.

Taehyung ignored him.

“And the guy she went with. Was he…decent? Good?” He asked as the lights flickered again.

“I mean, I guess? I saw his picture; he seemed okay. Why, what’s going on?”

Taehyung frowned. Not much to work with there.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave that poor girl alone Taehyung?” Hoseok scolded.

Taehyung ground his teeth as he spoke.

“I did leave her alone Hyung. She was the one to show up here, soaking wet from the rain and telling me she wanted to talk. I’m calling because I want to know what the hell is going on.” He snapped as the other end went silent.

“She… What?” Hoseok asked as Taehyung repeated himself a lot slower this time.

“Mira, do you have any idea what’s going on or what this is about?”

“I…uh. I didn’t think she? I mean, I suggested… But I didn’t think she would actually… Oh my god.” Mira babbled as he heard the shower stop, and his heart began to race in his chest.

“Shower turned off, I don’t have much time. Help me here, Mira.” He asked.

“Shower? What is she doing in your shower?” Hoseok asked.

“She was wet and shivering, so I made her take a shower so she would warm up.” He explained.

“Okay, listen, Taehyung.” Mira started.

“I can’t tell you why she’s there. It’s not my story to tell, and I don’t even know if I’m right. But if I am…promise me you will go easy on her. No joking, no making fun of her. Hear her out, okay?” She asked as Taehyung grumbled.

He wasn’t getting answers and was becoming even more frustrated.

“That’s all you got for me? Come on, Mira! Help a guy out.” He pleaded, now feeling panicked.

He could hear Hoseok muttering in the background, asking what was going on, and Taehyung realized this must be some weird girl thing if Hoseok was also in the dark about it.

“Just go easy on her. That’s all I can tell you. Sorry.” Mira said as his ears picked up the telltale sound of the bathroom door opening.

Time's up.

“Okay, fine. Got to go.”

He hung up the phone and stopped pacing to sit on the very edge of the couch. His mind and his nerves were racing, and Taehyung sucked in a breath.

He didn’t know what you were here for, but he had a feeling it would change everything.

-------

You had only been in Taehyung’s space once before.

It was at university when he hosted weekly movie nights.

Mira didn’t want to go alone, so she dragged you along for the first one, even though you pleaded with her to leave you at the dorm.

His place back then was just as you’d imagine it to be.

Soccer cleats in the doorway, stinky socks everywhere, and the smell of way too much cologne that was doing its job of hiding whatever other unpleasant scents were lingering around.

This time, Taehyung’s place was not what you expected.

No soccer cleats or dirty socks in sight; instead, it was a two-story house with modern furniture and giant windows. His bedroom was tidy and clean, with only one shirt thrown on the bed, and his bathroom was almost as clean as yours.

You stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off, grateful he let you shower at all as the cold rain chilled you to the bone.

You reach for the clothes he loaned you, and you decide on the shirt and socks; there was no way the pants would fit, and the shirt was long enough to cover everything anyway.

You looked in the mirror and took a deep breath, wiping the leftover flakes of mascara that still lingered under your eyes.

It was now or never.

The date was a disaster. You had a good cry in your car, and without second-guessing, you drove here.

Taehyung was the only one who could help you now.

You made your way down the stairs to see him sitting up straight on the couch, picking anxiously at his nail beds, and his eyes snapped up to yours as you approached him.

You didn’t miss the way his gaze was fixed on your bare legs and how his tongue darted at his lips as he stared at you.

That was a start.

At least it seemed he was attracted to you.

You sat on the couch next to him and grabbed the blanket, throwing it over your legs as another crack of thunder made you jump.

“Feel better?” he asked softly as you nodded and let out a long exhale.

It was now or never.

“Sorry to show up unannounced and soaking wet. I just. Have to talk to you about…something.” You started playing with the fringe of the blanket so you had something to do with your hands.

Anxiety was rolling off of you in waves, and you didn’t dare look at him; instead, you focused on his knee as you spoke.

“So I, uh. I wrote a book. As you know. And it did well. Like, really well. The editors, publishers, and fans want another part.”

You briefly stare up at him as he nods; any trace of cockiness is gone from his face, and instead, he looks genuinely concerned.

“Well, I’m writing the second book about the side characters from the first book, Ryder and Sabrina. The fans want it…to be written differently.” You say, feeling hot under the shirt you borrowed from him, as your eyes flick to him once again.

“Oh, I liked those two. They were hot.” He says softly as you smile.

So he did read the book.

That was…surprising.

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun writing them. But now my team wants me to write them in a way I don’t know how to. And I wanted to come to you for help because, well. I don’t know who else to go to.” You explain.

Taehyung cocks an eyebrow.

“You came to me for writing help? Me? The one who always tried to cheat off you? Why?” He asks honestly.

“Because Taehyung, I need your…skills.”

You stare at his face to see his eyes wide and confused. You knew you had to tell him the truth; you just wished it wasn’t so damn embarrassing.

“Taehyung, they want me to write spice. Smut. Porn. And I don’t know how to do that. I don’t have experience with that, and I need your help. My last four drafts have been rejected, and I’m at the end of my rope here.” You blurt out, staring at his knee the entire time as your face heats up in shame.

Silence wraps around you like an itchy blanket, and it seems even the storm paused in shock at what you said.

Lovely.

“Are you ever going to look at me?” He asks with a teasing tilt to his voice as you close your eyes tightly.

“Nope. I’m embarrassed enough, and if I look at you, I’ll combust into a million little pieces, and you will have to clean it all up.”

Taehyung giggles.

“Please just look at me. Sex isn’t something to be ashamed of. We can talk about it like adults.” He responds as slowly as you open your eyes and stare up at his face.

He has a small grin on his face, and you fight the urge to cast your eyes downwards again.

“Now explain it to me. Slowly.” He asks.

“They want me to make the next book a little more mature. A lot of the fans complained about how I glossed over a lot of the sex in the first book. Smut is very popular now, and they want it in the second book. It makes sense; the characters have that will-they, won't-they energy. I just don’t know how to write hot sex because I’ve never….” You let your voice trail off, letting him come to his own conclusions as the lights flickered again.

“You aren’t a virgin, are you? I mean, you dated Simon?” He points out

“Not a virgin, but just because I have had sex doesn’t mean it was good sex.” You say softly as you refuse to look at him again; instead, you stare at the raindrops clinging to his windows as you pull the blanket higher up your body.

“Should we kill Simon now, or should we wait until you are a super famous author and we can hire someone to do it for us?” He asks, and you crack a smile.

“Listen, I’m going to be honest: I can’t go through the whole Simon story with you tonight. Asking you for this is embarrassing enough.” You plead, closing your eyes and trying to chase the bad memories of your ex away.

You don’t need that right now.

“So you want to...have sex with me so you can write a book?” Taehyung asks thoughtfully as you nod.

“I mean kind of? I want you to show me what good sex is like. And not just sex. All of it. Handjobs…blowjobs…sex.”

His eyebrows are somewhere in his hairline when you continue to speak.

“That’s what I tried tonight. I tried to find someone random online to help me, but he never showed up for the date and ghosted me. It’s for the best because I didn’t like the idea of someone I didn’t know seeing me so vulnerable. And I know I’m basically a virgin with sex, so I would need someone to take it slow and show me.”

Taehyung scooches closer to you on the couch and studies your face.

You hold your breath and wait for him to say something, to say anything, as the silence is making your heart pound and anxiety creep up.

“So, should we make it like a course? One day we make out, then hand jobs, blow jobs, fingering, and eating pussy because yes this is about you too, then sex?” He asks as his voice dips low, and it makes you shiver.

“You don’t have to—I mean I—I think I can figure that stuff out.” You stammer as he grins wickedly at you.

“BabyBlue. Do you think I’m going to make this whole thing about me? I want you to feel good too. And you bet that involves getting my hands between your legs. I think your readers would want that…right?” He coaxes, and you don’t even mind that he calls you that ridiculous nickname as you swallow hard and nod.

“Did Simon ever—did he make it all about him?” He asks darkly, and you bite your lip.

“Not all the time. It just seemed sometimes he wanted to…get it over with so there wouldn’t be much…prep.” You say lamely.

“I hate that guy. Such a douche,” he comments as he slides closer to you on the couch so his knee presses into yours.

“So you’ll help me?” You ask timidly as you stare at his dark eyes, the tiny freckle on his nose, and the fact that you don’t think you have ever been this close to him in your life, and you don’t hate being this close to him.

“BabyBlue, you’re going to be my new friends-with-benefits, huh?” He teases with an exaggerated wink that makes you roll your eyes but smile.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.” You say, eyes flicking down to his lips for a moment.

Taehyung grins.

Shit, he caught you staring.

“I think I’ve grown on you. If we are friends with benefits, it means we are friends. You trusted me enough to come to me with this. And all this time, you had this hard exterior of hating me.” He teases with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“You were my last option, you know. And it’s all Mira’s fault. She suggested you.” You fight back, hating how affected you were feeling just by being close to him.

“Last option, but the best option. Come on, admit it, you wanted to know if the rumours about me back then were true.”

Your eyes widened as the tension in the room intensified when he pushed his leg into yours.

“Not at all. This is strictly business, and you have... experience.” You say, licking your lips, as this time his eyes flick down to your mouth.

“Mhmm. I think it’s also ironic how you wrote Ryder and Sabrina.”

You swallowed hard.

“Ryder is the ladies’ man, always flirting and teasing a very uptight Sabrina. Then they have to come together to reach the common goal of getting their friends together. The whole time, Sabrina pretends like she hates him…” Taehyung lets his velvety smooth voice trail off, and you blush.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You say, voice soft and light, as he cracks a smile.

“I don’t think you should have named him Ryder. I think Taehyung would have been a more fitting name.” He jests.

Okay, so maybe…. MAYBE you took inspiration from you and Taehyung’s…whatever it was. But you never in a million years thought he would actually read your book. And you never ever were going to admit that to him.

“Are you going to help me or keep blabbing?” You ask harshly as he chuckles low in the back of his throat.

“As long as you mention my name in print that I helped you…sure, why not?” He says with a cheeky grin.

You sighed.

“I knew I should have gone with someone else.”

“Nah, baby, there is no one as good as me out there.”

You cock an eyebrow as once again the tension in the room seems to ramp up making goosebumps appear on your skin.

“Then prove it.” You shoot back, tired of wasting time, tired of awkward conversations.

“Oo, she’s feisty. Okay, BabyBlue, show me how you kiss.” He insisted as he grabbed your hips and settled you on his lap in an easy movement, like he had been doing this his entire life.

“Make sure you think about how it feels. This is for research after all, and nothing else. Right?” He says, his voice low and husky, making you nod slowly as your eyes lock on his lips.

Taehyung wastes no time in tangling his fingers in the silky strands of your hair before pulling you close and attaching his soft lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise because holy shit, Kim Taehyung is kissing you, and it wasn’t supposed to feel this good, but your eyes soon flutter closed as you lean into the kiss.

-------

Taehyung had kissed many girls in his lifetime; hell, he couldn’t even name them all at this point, though in his defence, most of them he kissed when he was a few drinks in.

This kiss with you, though…

Taehyung knew that as long as he lived, he would never forget this.

The way your lips moulded to his almost perfectly as if they were meant to be there, the way his hands tangled in your hair and pulled you even closer so he could deepen it even more.

The way your body seemed to melt and soften into his, your legs spreading wider so your crotch was flushed against his upper thighs, and how badly he wanted you to move a couple of inches upward to feel how this kiss was messing him up.

A couple of hours ago he was worried about his sex drive, and now it seemed his body was making up for lost time as his cock rose so quickly it made him dizzy as all the blood left his brain.

You began to find your rhythm as your lips moved against his, and when you let out a small moan against his mouth, Taehyung felt his cock twitch in his pants, desperate for any kind of friction.

He expertly moved his hands from your hair and began to run them down your arms; he chuckled darkly against your warm mouth when you shivered as he made his way slowly up and down, making the hairs on your arms stand.

You gasped when his hands trailed down your sides, which let him easily slip his tongue into your mouth and touch yours in a way that made you both moan.

Taehyung knew this kiss was for research purposes, but he was growing impatient with the lack of friction against his aching shaft, so with one hand wrapped around you, he lifted you to shove the blanket off you both before settling you back down on his lap right over the hard ridge in his pants.

You gasped when you felt all of him between your legs, and Taehyung chuckled against your lips as he began to leave the warmth of your mouth to discover what other noises you could make as he kissed along your cheeks and down your jawline.

His cock leaked as you began to slowly roll your hips against him, and dear god, he could feel…everything.

You chose not to take his sweatpants, and holy shit did the guy you were supposed to go on the date with miss out, because the only thing separating your bare pussy from his clothed cock was a thin piece of material that Taehyung could already feel you soaking through.

If this was how worked up you were over a kiss, Taehyung couldn’t wait to explore more.

This was going to be fun.

He nibbled at your jawline, and his name escaped your lips in a breathy moan as you continued to roll your hips against him, seeking friction for you both.

The rain was still lashing at the windows and thunder nearly shook the house, but Taehyung hardly heard any of it over the blood pounding in his ears and the way your skin felt under his fingers.

So warm.

So perfect.

You continued your delicious rolls of your hips as his lips found yours again, and you kissed him with such passion and fire, he had no idea how you couldn’t write a spicy scene.

You were a natural.

Taehyung could feel himself getting a little too excited as his boxers were now soaked with precum, and his cock was twitching painfully under the ministrations of your hips.

You were rubbing against him like a needy animal in heat, and as sexy as that was, Taehyung had to slow things down before he blew his load and embarrassed himself.

He was supposed to have more control than this, goddammit!

His hands make their way to your hips to stop you, but it only makes you grind against him harder and the sexiest, neediest moan to fall from your lips.

Taehyung’s spine is tingling, his hands are tightening on your hips, his cock is rock hard, and his balls are drawing up.

Fuck, he is going to cum from just kissing you.

This has to stop.

He slowly pulls away and lets out a shaky breath as your grinding stops, and Taehyung thanks his lucky stars he didn’t cum in his pants like a horny teenager.

You open your eyes slowly, which are glazed over, and your hand comes up to your face as your thumb runs over your bottom lip, which is red and swollen from all the kissing.

His cock twitches against you, and you giggle.

“And that’s how you kiss.” He says, his voice rough and deep, as he clears his throat and tries to hide how aroused the kiss made him.

Which was pretty difficult with his cock still painfully throbbing between his legs and the smear of precum he could feel coating the sensitive head of his cock.

“Thank you for showing me that. That was. Good.” You reply slowly as you card a hand through your messy hair, pushing it away from your face.

Now that everything had come down, Taehyung’s other senses were starting to come back, and, fucking hell, he could feel how wet you were and how it soaked into his pants. He was sure that if he looked down, the crotch would be stained with both of your arousals.

“Just good? Come on, BabyBlue, work with me here.” He teased as his mouth connected with your shoulder, and he peppered light kisses against the material of his shirt.

It smelled like you already, and Taehyung liked that.

“Well, Captain Taehyung, it was an acceptable kiss. I definitely have enough material to write a kissing scene.” You tease him right back, which makes his cock once again twitch against you.

In all the times you teased him about how he used to call himself “Captain Taehyung,” it never made his cock throb like that.

Shit, it seemed cumming in his pants wasn’t off the table yet.

It was just because he had not been with anyone in a while.

That’s all.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special. Don’t worry. You don’t have to lie. I can feel you soaking through my pants.” He admitted it as he continued to lightly kiss your shoulder.

You arch up into his touch and card your hands through his hair.

Yeah, he needs to stop, as his cock is still impossibly hard, and he swears one roll of your hips might make him lose it. But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. It feels so damn good.

“You’re one to talk. You got hard the second I kissed you. Don’t think I can’t feel that monster between your legs poking into me.” You tease back as you roll your hips, and Taehyung squeezes your sides.

Fuck, he is teetering on the edge again.

He’s had girls drive him crazy before.

But never like this.

And never from just kissing and a little dry humping.

“Ah, you do know how to make a guy feel special. Thank you for admitting I have a huge cock. I knew it.” He says as he finally pulls away and shoots you a cheeky smile.

You roll your eyes at him, but he sees the smile tugging at your lips.

God, he likes it when you do that.

That was one of the reasons he teased you so much in the past.

For that look alone.

Before Taehyung can open his mouth, your stomach growls, and you duck your head in embarrassment.

“You didn’t eat dinner?” He asks as you finally push yourself up and off his cock to sit beside him.

He misses your warmth right away.

“I got stood up, remember. Then I cried in the car and came right here.” You admit as Taehyung stands up and helps you off the couch.

“I ordered food tonight and have too many leftovers. Come on, I’ll make you a plate.” He adjusts his cock in his pants so it doesn’t stick straight out in an obscene way, and you nod slowly as you lean forward and kiss him again.

It’s much different than the first one, as it’s slow and sweet. Just a peck.

“Thanks for helping me with this. I really appreciate it.” You say softly as you pull away, and Taehyung slowly opens his eyes.

“No problem. It’s just a friend helping out another friend, right?” He says as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Right.” You echo back.

But even with all the friends-with-benefits he’s had, a kiss has never fucked him up in the way yours did.

TAGLIST

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daegudrama · 1 month ago

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Title: Just for the Weekend Part 2

Pairing: Reader/Min Yoongi

Summary: When a chance encounter at a music festival turns into something deeper, you find yourself pulled into a whirlwind with Yoongi—a stranger who feels too familiar. Between stolen moments, electric chemistry, and a bond that feels effortless, you're left questioning everything you thought you knew about love and connection. With the festival winding down and the last day creeping closer, one thing is certain: what started as unexpected might just be the most thrilling, dangerous, and real thing you never saw coming.

Word Count: 10,809

Release date: 6/13/25

A few hours later, the desert sky is painted soft and peach as Yoongi stands in the shuttle line, hoodie pulled tight and sunglasses shielding his tired eyes. He shifts on his feet, heart thudding hard, arms crossed trying to keep it together. He checks his phone again. 6:58 a.m.

You’re still sleeping, curled up in the tent he snuck out of like a man on a mission.

The shuttle finally arrives. Yoongi climbs on and keeps to himself the whole way. At the store, he heads straight for the pharmacy aisle. Grabs the Plan B box first. Then a Gatorade. Then condoms—just in case you aren’t pissed off and do want to have more amazing sex with him. Then, for good measure and to give the guys a reason not to grill him too hard, some more alcohol, and peanut M&M’s, because you mentioned craving them the night before.

The cashier doesn’t ask questions. Neither do the security guards when he gets back to the checkpoint. One glance at the Plan B box and they just nod and wave him through like he’s a soldier returning from battle.

When he gets back to camp, the sun is up but the tent is still zipped shut. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin catch sight of Yoongi, of the bag in his hand, and exchange a knowing look before retreating toward the showers to give the two of you privacy.

Yoongi exhales and ducks back inside the tent.

You’re still asleep, blissed out and warm under the blanket. He kneels beside you, eyes soft. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, and your nose, and your temple.

You stir. Smile. “You’re back…”

Then, all at once, it hits you. Like a slap.

Your stomach flips as last night flashes through your mind—his mouth on yours, your legs around his waist, the ache between your thighs. The high of it. The way you didn’t think. The way you didn’t stop.

Your chest tightens. You bolt upright. “Shit. Oh my God—Yoongi—we didn’t—fuck, I’m not on birth control.”

Your voice shakes. You feel cold and flushed at the same time. You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to be the one who always has things under control. And now—

“I know,” Yoongi says, quiet, already reaching into the bag.

You freeze, confused. “Wait…how do you know?”

“Taehyung mentioned it last night. Then Jimin told me what you said.”

You stare at him as he pulls the box from the bag. The Plan B. Your breath catches.

Some of the panic eases, but not the guilt. Not the feeling that you’d let something slip. That somehow, despite everything, you’d let yourself be careless. And yet, his quiet preparation, the way he thought of you before you even had the chance to panic—makes your heart flip over in your chest. It’s nice, you think, maybe a little dangerous, to be cared for like this. To be held in the hands of someone who sees the fall coming and reaches out first.

You blink, eyes stinging a little, but you manage a nod. “Okay. Good. Thank you.”

Yoongi brushes his thumb over your cheek, his touch grounding. “We’ve got it covered. You’re okay.”

You nod again, more slowly this time, heart pounding but beginning to settle. Your hand closes over his. You still feel shaken, but he’s here. He didn’t run. And that means something.

It means everything.

You take the pill with a sip of Gatorade, then pause and glance at the bottle. “You got my favorite flavor.”

Yoongi shrugs, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “You mentioned it yesterday.”

You spot the candy next. “Wait…are those M&M’s?”

He nods. “You were talking about them in line at the beer tent.”

Your heart flips again. “You remembered?”

He just nods like it’s nothing, even though it clearly isn’t. “Yeah. Figured it might help.”

The two of you settle, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, shoulders brushing as the morning light pours in soft and golden. You talk for a while—nothing heavy. Just music, the festival, the weird dream Yoongi had before the thud woke him up. You feel steadier. Safer. Like the sharp edges have rounded off again.

Eventually, Yoongi stretches out beside you, resting on one elbow, eyes on yours. “So,” he says casually, “when was the last time you had sex before last night?”

You laugh, surprised. “Over a year ago. Maybe longer.”

His brows lift. “Seriously?”

You nod, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. I didn’t think I’d be breaking the streak this weekend, that’s for sure.”

Yoongi smirks. “Glad I could be of service.”

You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin gives you away. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I mean,” he leans in a little, voice low, “you did look pretty cocky last night too.”

Your cheeks heat instantly. “Yoongi.”

“What?” he grins, eyes dancing. “Just saying. I wouldn’t be mad if we accidentally broke that streak again. Soon.”

You bite your lip, pulse kicking up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His gaze drops to your mouth. “You make it hard to think straight. I keep wanting more.”

You inhale, heartbeat wild. “Then maybe stop thinking.”

Yoongi hums. “Dangerous suggestion.”

“Maybe,” you murmur, your fingers brushing his. “But it’s been a reckless kind of weekend.”

His lips curl. “Best kind.”

And you smile, for real this time, because the storm is past and you’re still here. With him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

By 10am, the tent is stifling, so you both emerge blinking into the sunlight to start the process of getting ready for the day’s shows. Jin passes you a mirror and a makeup bag while Jimin sits braiding Taehyung’s hair into uneven plaits.

Before anyone gets far, you plant your feet and hold up a pack of electrolyte powder like it’s holy scripture. “Nobody drinks a drop of alcohol until they drink this. I’m not babysitting your dehydrated asses.”

Groans and protests ring out but you’re firm. You go around personally handing everyone their bottle, watching each sip with your hands on your hips.

Once they’re halfway compliant, you finally duck into your tent and change into your outfit for the day— a high-waisted denim skirt, platform boots, and a pink crop top that reads RM's Princess in bedazzled silver gems.

You mix yourself a drink in a red solo cup, humming as you stir in some lemon and a splash (or maybe a few good glugs) of vodka. You turn to rejoin the group—only to choke on your sip.

Yoongi is standing there. In. The. Exact. Same. Shirt.

You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your drink. “Oh my god, are you kidding me?!”

Yoongi looks down at his top, then up at you with that tiny smirk. “What? I thought it suited me.”

Jin claps once, pointing between you. “One of you is going to have to change.” He breaks into his trademark windshield wipers laugh, wheezing.

“You change,” you say, still grinning.

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi replies. “I look fantastic.”

“You look deranged,” Jimin says. “But like, hot-deranged. I support it.”

Taehyung’s mouth is full of cheese puffs but he mumbles, “Couples who match stay together.”

Your grin doesn’t fade, but something shifts behind your eyes. You laugh it off, of course you do, but your brain is already running in quiet little circles. Couples who match...

You wonder, fleetingly, if that’s what this is—just matching outfits and shared drinks and banter under the sun. A weekend thing. A festival thing. Something the heat and the music and the glitter makes feel bigger than it is. But then Yoongi catches your eye across the camp and tips his cup toward yours with a wink. And your heart does that stupid thing again. That little leap. That little what if.

You don’t let yourself linger on it. Not right now. Not when everyone’s buzzing and beautiful and the day’s only just begun.

But even as you turn away, even as you toss your head and join the noise, the thought lingers like the taste of lemon on your tongue: What if this doesn’t end with the weekend? You push the thought out of your head and join back into whatever the boys are doing.

You and Yoongi slip out of camp earlier than the others, drawn by the promise of the photo booth at the camping hub and the kind of light that only exists before noon at a festival—soft and golden, before the sun gets too mean. The walk is easy, the mood light.

Halfway there, you veer toward a slushie truck with a hand on Yoongi’s wrist. “Free samples,” you grin. “It’s fate.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical, but follows without complaint. The slushie hits your tongue like a miracle—icy, syrupy bliss—and you both moan dramatically in unison, then laugh at yourselves.

“Okay, worth it,” he admits, wiping his mouth.

At the photo booth, there’s no line, just a breeze curling through the open tent flaps and the hum of a nearby speaker playing an old Shinee song. You drag Yoongi inside and sit close, your knees knocking.

First photo: you grab his face and smash your cheek to his, grinning so wide it crinkles your eyes.

Second photo: you twist and kiss his cheek, and he plays along, covering his mouth with both hands like he’s scandalized.

Third photo: he turns to you gently, fingers curling along your jaw. His kiss is soft and slow, perfectly timed with the shutter.

When the strips print out, you both reach for them at the same time, and you can’t stop smiling. They’re perfect—warm light, flushed cheeks, the kind of photos that don’t need filters. You tuck yours carefully into your phone case.

From there, you head toward the front gates, even though they won’t open for another hour and a half. Moonchildren are already gathering, their shirts, signs and purple hearts giving them away immediately. You feel the same low thrum of excitement vibrating in your bones—the deep knowing that today is his day.

Yoongi carries the bigger bag, the one you over packed this morning. It’s stuffed with snacks, two handheld fans, sunscreen, a small blanket, a sweater, wet wipes, a portable charger, and whatever else you thought might save you from wilting later. The main stage is brutal during the day, no shade at all until sundown—but you’ll survive. You always do. For RM, you would stand on the sun.

While you wait, your competitive instincts kick in, and you start arguing about who should sprint for the barricade once the gates open. It’s inevitable that one of you will have to stay behind while they check the larger bag.

“I’m faster,” you say, confidently.

“You’re chaotic,” Yoongi counters. “You’ll trip over your own excitement.”

“You have the bag!”

“I’ll throw the bag.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.”

You're both bickering through grins, shifting on your feet as more fans trickle in. The sun climbs higher. The gates stay shut. The moment pulses with potential—of a show, of a day, of whatever this thing is between you and him that neither of you wants to name just yet.

The second the gates open, you're off like a shot.

Dust kicks up under your boots as you sprint for center barricade, weaving through the early rush of festival-goers. Behind you, you can hear Yoongi shout something—probably a warning—but you don't stop. Not when you've got a perfect opening and the barricade in sight.

Security pulls him aside because of the oversized bag, and you throw a quick glance over your shoulder to catch him holding up his hands in mock surrender as a guard rifles through the snacks, fans, sunscreen, and extra layers. You’ll owe him for this later.

The front row is already dotted with a few familiar faces—Moonchildren, RM fans just as eager as you are—but it isn’t packed yet. You slide in between two people with a breathless, elated laugh, your fingers locking around the cold metal bar.

Fifth. You’re the fifth person on center barricade.

You take a second to catch your breath, chest rising and falling as the heat of the sun starts to press down on your shoulders. But your grin doesn’t fade.

Yoongi jogs up a moment later, bag slung back over one shoulder, scowling half-heartedly. “Unfair. You’re fast.”

“You’re lucky I saved you a spot,” you tease, nudging your hip against his. “They could’ve filled up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pulls out one of the fans and hands it to you, then cracks open a bottle of water. “At least tell me I didn’t haul ass across a field for nothing.”

You flash him a smile, eyes already trained on the stage being prepped. “You didn’t. We’ve got a perfect view. Center barricade. It’s happening.”

He bumps your shoulder and settles in beside you, matching your grip on the rail. The rail you soon won’t be able to touch because it’s too hot. Around you, the pit starts to fill, voices buzzing with excitement, music thrumming in the background like a heartbeat.

The first act starts and the heat becomes harder to ignore. You're sweating already, but the energy in the crowd helps distract you. The sun is relentless. You twist your hair up and Yoongi quietly hands you a hair tie from the bag. His fingers brush the nape of your neck and linger for a beat too long. When you glance at him, he's already looking at you, a slow smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

He doesn’t seem the type to be touchy in public, but something about the heat, the music, the way you look right now—it short-circuits his restraint. He lets his fingers brush your hand when you reach for your water. Presses his knee against yours until the contact feels permanent. During the second set, he hooks an arm around your waist without thinking, tugging you back against him. You lean into it without comment.

Taehyung appears first, glitter across his cheeks and a flower crown askew on his curls. He thrusts an extra crown toward you. "Put it on, Post-It Princess," he says with a wink, and you do, laughing as the petals tickle your forehead. Jimin and Jin aren’t far behind, weaving through the crowd to find you.

Jin takes one look at you and Yoongi and raises an eyebrow. “Well, someone’s in a good mood,” he says.

Jimin just beams and pulls out his phone. “Selfie time.”

The four of you cram together, sweaty and glowy and chaotic. Yoongi ducks out of the frame but you catch him smiling as he watches you.

Jimin brings you a tray of skewers and lemonade he hustled from a vendor. “Eat before you pass out,” he says, holding a skewer to your lips like it’s a test of loyalty. You take a bite and make a satisfied noise.

When you finally open the bag Yoongi carried all morning, you grin. Everything is exactly where you packed it. None of the snacks have been touched. “You guys didn’t eat anything?” you ask.

Yoongi shrugs. “Figured you had a plan.”

Your chest warms. Silly, maybe. But it feels like being seen.

Between sets, Yoongi sinks down beside you. Then, surprisingly, he stretches out and rests his head across your lap. Your fingers move to his hair without thinking, brushing through the soft strands as he closes his eyes. His face is peaceful in the hazy light, lips parted just slightly.

You glance up and Jin is watching with a knowing look. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and nods like: yeah, we see it.

As the third set begins, you can feel a light buzz building from the drinks, the sun, the joy. The pit is full now. Your friends dance around you, spinning and shouting lyrics, completely alive.

Yoongi stands behind you now, arms on the barricade on either side of you, close enough that you feel his breath when he leans in and murmurs, “Still okay?”

You nod, pressing your head back to his shoulder. “Perfect.”

When the next act ends, the stage goes dark for setup. There’s one more performer before RM. Taehyung, Jimin, and Jin take off to meet friends or hunt down food, but you and Yoongi stay. The pit is electric, buzzing with the promise of what’s coming.

He doesn’t move far from you. Instead, he takes your hand, fingers interlaced lazily while the sun begins its descent.

And you sit there, center barricade, flower crown wilting, glitter smudged, heart full.

Yoongi stretches out beside you, his head resting on the barricade while you sit, the heat of the day starting to soften as the sun lowers. He’s quieter now, just taking everything in, but his eyes flicker to you every now and then, as if he can’t help himself. His gaze holds, and when it does, you feel a subtle warmth creep into your skin.

You glance at him, still catching your breath from the last set, and feel an unspoken pull between the two of you. For someone who isn’t big on PDA, Yoongi’s been a little...touchier today. His fingers brush against yours, not by accident, and his arm grazes your shoulder more than once. Every time it happens, your heart skips a beat.

“What?” you ask, voice teasing but laced with a hint of curiosity.

Yoongi gives you a half-smile, leaning in a bit closer. “Nothing. Just thinking about last night.”

You feel your breath hitch at the mention of it, heat flooding your face. You’d been so caught up in the chaos of the day that you hadn’t really thought about the way his lips had felt on your skin, the way he’d kissed you with a hunger that had made everything else disappear. The way his hands had touched you like he didn’t want to let go, even for a second.

“What about last night?” you manage, trying to sound casual despite your racing heart.

Yoongi’s eyes glint, and his voice lowers, almost a growl. “You were...distracting.” His words linger in the air like a challenge, and you feel the space between you both heat up.

You look away for a second, collecting yourself, but the grin that spreads across his face tells you that he’s enjoying this, enjoying the way he’s getting under your skin.

“You should’ve known better,” you say, leaning closer to him, voice dropping to match his tone. “I warned you, I’m trouble.”

“Oh, I know,” Yoongi replies, the corners of his lips curling as his gaze flicks from your lips to your eyes. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

A beat of silence passes before you, feeling the heat of his words settle in your chest. You bite your lip, letting the tension stretch between you before you pull out your phone.

“Come on,” you say, breaking the tension but still feeling that electric hum between you. “We’re taking selfies. We look too good today to not document it.”

Yoongi groans dramatically. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.” You smirk, pointing the camera at both of you. “Smile. You’re too cute to ignore.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t move away. When you click the first picture, his eyes flicker over to yours, mischievous and playful. You angle the phone again, snapping more shots as you both get into it, laughing and leaning closer with each picture.

“Wait, hold up,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “I think we need one more...but this time, I want to see if you can do better than that grumpy face of yours.”

Yoongi leans in a little more, his breath brushing your cheek as he whispers, “I think I’ve been holding back all day. Want me to show you?”

Your stomach flutters at the challenge in his voice, and before you can think twice, he leans in to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there a moment too long. The camera clicks as the moment catches on film, and you pause, your pulse racing.

For a second, neither of you says anything, the air thick with the unspoken.

“Damn,” you murmur, breaking the silence, “we really do look good together.”

Yoongi hums, a playful smirk still tugging at his lips. “Told you.”

You check the photos, your fingers trembling a little. You swipe to the next one, seeing the way Yoongi had caught your eye just as he kissed your cheek, and something inside you tightens—something that’s been building ever since you met his gaze for the first time today.

You’re still reeling a bit from how close everything feels—how close he feels—when you notice Yoongi unlock his phone, thumb lazily scrolling through something with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts his position slightly, letting his leg press against yours as he gets comfortable again.

You glance down, curious, and your eyes immediately widen. You clock it instantly—that’s AO3.

Worse: you recognize the fic. Instantly.

He scrolls past a banner you know by heart, a stunning red-and-black graphic with clean font and jagged lines of war paint across a pair of silhouetted faces. Your heart jumps into your throat.

“Wait.” You practically launch yourself sideways, staring at the screen. “Is that—War? By glosswrites?”

Yoongi freezes. Like, full body goes stiff, thumb hovering mid-scroll.

You gasp. “It is! Oh my god. I love that fic! That’s, like, one of my top five Namkook fics of all time. No, scratch that, top three. Glosswrites is a genius. Their prose? The dialogue? The pacing in the siege arc? Unreal.”

Yoongi clears his throat and stares down at his phone like he wants it to disappear. His ears go red. “Uh.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do you look like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?”

He shifts again, clearly flustered. “...I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

You blink. “Say anything about what?”

He hesitates. Then, in a voice so low you almost don’t catch it: “I’m...glosswrites.”

You stare.

Then, your hand flies to his shoulder. “SHUT. UP.”

Yoongi winces but laughs, turning away slightly like he can hide the way his cheeks are turning pink. “I didn’t think you’d read any of my stuff. Or recognize it.”

“You idiot, of course I recognize it!” You hit his arm lightly, half-scolding and half-overjoyed. “Are you kidding? You wrote Kingdom Come, Saltwater and Bone, and that absurdly emotional post-apocalyptic Namseok fic, didn’t you?”

He nods sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. That one got away from me.”

You gape at him, still trying to wrap your head around it. “Yoongi! I have cried real tears over your fics. I’ve stayed up until four a.m. refreshing the tag for an update. You made me care about political intrigue.”

Yoongi laughs again, eyes crinkling. There’s something in his expression that’s half embarrassment, half soft pride. “Damn. I really wasn’t expecting this reaction.”

“I’m obsessed with your writing,” you say, tone a little breathless. “You make heartbreak feel like poetry.”

His smile falters just a little, turning more sincere. “Thank you. Really.”

There’s a long beat where neither of you says anything. You’re still buzzing with the revelation. You look at him differently now. This person you’ve been falling into all day is also the architect of worlds that have lived rent-free in your head for years.

And he’s looking at you like he’s relieved you know.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I hooked up with glosswrites.”

Yoongi chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t say it like that.”

You lean in closer, teasing, “Glosswrites. Kiss me again.”

“Stop,” he mutters, but he’s laughing, his ears still pink. “You’re gonna ruin my mystique.”

“Oh babe,” you say, curling an arm around his shoulder, “it’s too late for that. You’re mine now, and I know your secret.”

“Guess I’ll have to kill you,” he murmurs, tilting his head to rest against yours.

“Mm, let me reread Saltwater and Bone first.”

He groans, but his hand slips into yours without a second thought.

The sound system booms to life again, pulling you both back to the present. The stage lights flash in rapid bursts as the next artist steps up—someone with a strong cult following and a gritty, underground sound that makes the whole pit come alive with renewed energy.

You shift, stretching your legs while Yoongi leans against your side, still scrolling absently on his phone, probably checking comments. You glance at him with a smirk.

“Still reading your own reviews, glosswrites?”

He groans into your shoulder. “You're never letting this go, are you?”

“Never. I feel like I need to re-read everything now that I know it’s you. The longing scenes? The angst? Yoongi. You wrote that stuff.”

He lifts his head and raises an eyebrow. “And?”

You lean in, dropping your voice. “And now I can’t stop thinking about the scene in War where Jungkook says, ‘If I die, I want it to be with your name in my mouth.’ You wrote that.”

Yoongi flushes, and you grin with wicked delight.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters, biting back a smile.

You nudge his knee. “Can’t help it. You’re hot and emotionally devastating. What a combo.”

The set on stage builds slowly—dark synths, flashing strobes, heavy bass that makes the ground tremble beneath your feet. The artist before RM throws the crowd into a frenzy with two unreleased tracks.

“I produced one of these,” he says casually, just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

You whip toward him. “What? Which one?!”

He just shrugs with a smug little grin, eyes sparkling.

By the time the set winds down, the anticipation in the air is tangible. People are chanting, screaming, checking their phones and recording the stage. Everyone knows who’s next.

The giant LED screen flickers to black for a long moment.

Then a low hum begins to rise—like the sound of static filtered through deep water. The bass line pulses faintly under it, then grows. A single spotlight flares center stage, casting a long, stretched shadow.

You grab Yoongi’s hand instinctively, and he laces his fingers through yours.

And then—RM.

He steps out from the smoke, hoodie half-zipped, chain catching the stage lights, posture calm but charged like a storm about to break. The entire crowd loses it. People are screaming, hands in the air, crying, chanting his name.

RM raises a mic. No fanfare. No big opening drop.

Just:

“Let’s talk.”

The pit erupts.

Yoongi whistles low. “He always knows how to start.”

You nod, eyes locked on the stage, already breathless. “God, he’s so cool.”

Yoongi leans toward you, still holding your hand. “He really is.”

RM launches into Intro: Persona, his voice crisp and sharp, weaving between the lyrics and the beat with practiced ease. The crowd sings every word like it’s gospel, and your heart thuds in time with the music.

There’s something powerful and raw about watching him perform—like he’s stripping himself bare in front of thousands and daring anyone to look away.

You glance sideways. Even Yoongi, for all his calm, has that look on his face—the one he only gets when something is really hitting. Like admiration, pride, and a little awe all at once.

RM rolls seamlessly into Do You, and the crowd surges forward like a wave. His delivery is sharp, rhythmic, full of bite—words slicing through the heat and dust as he prowls the stage. He spits each lyric with the kind of conviction that makes you feel like he’s aiming them right at your chest.

“You do you and I’ll do me,” he shouts, and thousands scream it back.

You and Yoongi jump and shout right along with them, your hands still loosely clasped between you. It's sweaty, chaotic, overwhelming—but it’s perfect. The kind of moment that feels like it belongs to just the two of you, even with thousands of people pressed in on all sides.

By the time Yun comes on, the sun has dipped low enough to give the stage an eerie golden glow. RM's tone shifts—slower, weightier. His voice pours over the crowd like honey and thunder. The visuals on the screen behind him flicker with old video footage: abandoned alleyways, dried fields, a shot of a cracked statue’s face.

You blink through the heat, suddenly aware of how still it’s gone in the pit. Everyone's listening.

RM pauses between verses and says, “For the ones still figuring themselves out...I’m right there with you.”

The silence that follows is reverent. You feel it sink into your skin.

Yoongi leans in and murmurs, “He’s good at this part. The unraveling.”

You nod slowly. “He makes being lost sound like a roadmap.”

There’s no reply from Yoongi, just the brush of his thumb along the inside of your wrist, grounding you as RM transitions into Forg_tful. The melody is softer, almost tender, like a lullaby for every scar you thought would never fade.

He sings, not just raps—his voice fragile in the best way, like something made of paper and light.

You feel the sting in your throat before you even realize you're getting choked up.

Yoongi squeezes your hand. You glance at him through blurred eyes, and he doesn’t say anything—just gives you that quiet look of his, like he sees everything and won't ask a single question you’re not ready to answer.

Then the bass drops back in for Still Life, and the crowd roars to life again.

RM grins wide under the lights, bounces across the stage, and yells, “Y’all still alive out there?!”

The pit answers with pure chaos. You scream, jump, laugh—and when Yoongi pulls you into his chest with both arms slung around your waist, you don’t even think, just melt into it.

He mouths the lyrics along with RM, pressed close to your ear:

“I’m still life / But I’m movin’.”

And in that moment, you are. Every part of you is alive, humming, held, understood.

The lights dim again, and you think maybe it's time. Maybe it's really happening.

Then the synth line from Joke hits like a warning shot.

The crowd erupts. Yoongi jolts upright beside you, and you both instinctively grip the barricade as RM walks out under a wash of white light, already spitting bars like the stage is on fire. His presence is magnetic. He’s commanding every inch of the space, making the mic an extension of his body. His tongue twists with impossible speed and precision, each word slicing through the air like shrapnel.

You don’t even try to sing along—you just scream and jump and grab Yoongi by the wrist as the bass drops and the entire pit moves like one living thing. It’s chaos. It’s glorious. It’s RM unchained.

As the song ends, RM breathes heavy into the mic, smirking like he knows exactly what he just did. He lets the silence linger, soaking in the energy. When he speaks, it’s soft, reverent.

“This next one’s for the people who’ve ever felt a little out of place,” he says, his voice quieter now, lower. “You’re not alone.”

Then the first notes of Lonely float out. The vibe stays up because this song is a fucking bop. The crowd only gets louder as he sings, “I’m fucking lonely, lonely, lonely…”

RM bounces around the stage, lit only by soft blue lights. When it ends, he doesn’t speak right away. He takes in the crowd with a look on his face like he can’t believe this is actually happening.

And then: "This is the last one."

The opening strings of "Wild Flower" begin, delicate and trembling. The crowd doesn’t scream—they exhale. As if they’ve been holding their breath for years.

RM closes his eyes when he sings the chorus. Youjeen’s voice pours from the speakers like thunder wrapped in velvet, and the entire field seems to swell with the sound. The visuals behind him erupt—images of fireworks blooming into flowers, wild and free, petals carried by wind and ash.

You’re openly crying now, and so is the person next to you. Even Yoongi wipes under his eyes with a quiet sniff.

When RM hits that final “I just wanna be—wanna be a rock,” the sound is deafening. Every voice joins him. It feels like release. Like peace. Like defiance and surrender all at once.

And then it’s over.

He bows once, deep and long. “Thank you,” he says. Just two words, but they ring with everything.

The lights fade.

Yoongi turns to you slowly, tears still shining in his lashes. “Holy shit.”

You nod, voice gone, heart too full to speak. You just grab his hand and hold it like an anchor.

Because this? This was everything.

You're both quiet for a moment after RM’s set—still soaking it in. The field feels like it’s buzzing, but neither of you rushes to leave. You and Yoongi just stand there, shoulder to shoulder, a little dazed, like waking up from a beautiful dream you don’t want to forget.

Eventually, he bumps your hip with his. “Drink?”

You nod, and he threads his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. Like he needs the contact just as much as you do.

You wind your way through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours, until you find a drinks stand. He orders something fruity, you go for something cold, and then you’re wandering off toward the far corner of the venue with your cups in hand, the music from the other stage just a distant thump now.

You settle in a grassy patch beneath the shadow of an art installation—some kind of massive chrome sphere that reflects the setting sun. The sky is stained gold and peach. Yoongi flops down dramatically, his legs sprawled wide, his cup tilted toward yours like a toast.

“To Namjoon,” he says, voice a little rough.

“To Namjoon,” you echo, tapping the rim of your cup to his.

You sip in silence for a beat before Yoongi reaches out, resting a hand on your thigh like he’s just placing it there for a second. But it lingers. His thumb moves—slow little circles that make your breath catch. He’s watching you, too. Lazily. Like he’s savoring something only he can taste.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here,” he murmurs. “With you. After that.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “You sound like you’re about to write a poem.”

He leans in. “I might. But it’d get me banned from AO3.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Yoongi.”

He just laughs—quiet, low, and pleased with himself.

And then his lips are on your neck. Not rushed. Just soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, the edge of your ear, down to your collarbone. The warmth between you builds, a slow simmering thing. You shift, knees brushing, his hand sliding higher. His touch isn’t desperate—it’s confident. Comfortable. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“You’re trouble,” he says, barely a whisper.

“And you’re a menace,” you reply, catching his chin and pulling him into a kiss that tastes like fruit and heat and something a little dangerous.

When you pull back, breathless, cheeks flushed, you say, “We should walk.”

He stands with a groan, offering you a hand. “Yeah, before I do something regrettable right here in the grass.”

You giggle, but take his hand anyway. Together, you wander off again—this time toward the Always Tampax pop-up. It’s impossible to miss: glowing neon letters, loud music, and the heavy thump of bass pulsing from within.

Inside, it’s a fever dream.

The walls are lined top to bottom with pads, tampons, and menstrual cups. There’s a glowing dance floor in the middle. People are grabbing boxes like they’re free drinks. A DJ is spinning under a giant tampon chandelier.

You burst out laughing. “Is this…the tampon club?”

“Looks like it,” Yoongi says, spinning a box in his hand. “Best stocked club in town.”

“Take as much as you want!” a worker calls out, dancing past in a glittery jumpsuit.

You take a few packs, stuffing them into your bag. Yoongi grins and grabs one for himself too. “Emergency stash. Never know.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling. You stumble out the back exit, still laughing—and freeze.

There’s a trailer behind the pop-up. Sleek. White. A sign taped to the door reads: REAL BATHROOMS. FLUSHING TOILETS. SINKS WITH SOAP. Like a mirage in the desert.

No one else is around.

You exchange a look.

The stall is tiny, barely enough room to turn around in—but that only makes it worse. Or better.

He’s on you as soon as the door locks—mouth hungry, hands fast, pulling you in like he’s waited all day. You gasp into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair. The energy between you is heady, electric, a continuation of everything RM’s set stirred up.

Yoongi presses you against the wall, one hand on your hip, the other slipping up the back of your shirt, warm and firm and just a little possessive.

“You looked so fucking good watching him,” he growls against your throat. “Could barely keep my hands to myself.”

“You didn’t,” you manage to whisper, smiling into his mouth.

He kisses you again, slow and deep this time. Not teasing anymore. Just wanting.

Yoongi doesn’t waste time. His hands are on your waist, then your hips, pulling you flush against him as your back presses to the metal stall wall. You barely have time to gasp before he’s kissing you—hot, deep, like he needs it. Like he’s starved for it.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” he breathes into your mouth.

You smile against his lips, teasing. “Just by existing?”

“Worse,” he mutters, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, palms sliding up the bare skin of your back. “Looking like that. Laughing like that. Dancing on me during RM’s set like you wanted to break me.”

You tug at the drawstring of his shorts in retaliation, laughing softly as he groans. “Maybe I did.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, flushed and breathless. His pupils are blown, lips swollen. “Say the word,” he whispers, voice raw.

You don’t hesitate.

Then it’s frantic—your mouths crashing back together, your fingers yanking his shirt up, his hands everywhere at once. You’re not sure who reaches first, but suddenly he’s pulling a square foil packet from the pocket of his shorts with a smirk and a half-laugh.

“Gotta be safe this time,” he says, almost sheepish, but his voice is low and rough.

“Seriously?” you whisper, breath catching, half-laughing, half-turned on beyond reason.

“Girl Scout energy,” he murmurs, already yanking your skirt up for easier access. “Always prepared.”

Your breath stutters as you help him, both of you moving fast and clumsy, like you can’t get close enough quick enough. Clothes shoved aside just enough. Skin against skin, heat meeting heat. The stall is small, but you make it work—bodies pressed together, hands braced against cool metal, your mouths locked like you’re afraid to stop.

When he finally sinks into you, you gasp—biting your lip to stay quiet, forehead pressed to his. Yoongi groans low and broken, his hands gripping your thighs to anchor himself.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You feel like a fever dream.”

Your response is lost in a moan you muffle against his neck, your nails digging into his back as he starts to move—slow at first, teasing, until your hips catch his rhythm and he picks up pace. The cramped space only heightens everything—every breath, every whisper, every desperate sound. The stall rocks just enough to make you both laugh mid-moan, trying to stay quiet and failing miserably.

You whisper his name like a prayer, over and over, and he kisses you every time like it’s the only thing grounding him.

By the time it’s over, your clothes are disheveled, your lips swollen, and your heart’s pounding like you’ve just sprinted the length of the main stage.

Yoongi kisses your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. Reverent. “That…was insane.”

You grin, cheeks hot. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He leans back slightly, fixing your hair like it matters, and smirks. “Tampon club forever.”

You laugh so hard you have to bite your knuckle to keep quiet.

Then you flush, wash your hands in the tiny sink, and steel yourselves.

The walk back through the Always Tampax pop-up is a blur of flashing lights and pulsing bass. You both try to look casual, but you're giggling like teenagers, bumping shoulders, doing everything not to meet the eyes of the employees handing out free pads and tampons.

Yoongi grabs a box off the wall on your way through, still smirking. “Souvenir?”

You swat his arm, breathless with laughter. “Shut up.”

It’s around 11:30 when you and Yoongi slip out of the pop-up, blinking against the dark sky now lit only by strobes, projections, and the glittering glow of festival signage. The grounds still buzz—like the desert itself is vibrating with leftover energy. You lace your fingers through his as you start heading toward the Red Bull Mirage, half-thinking the others might’ve migrated there.

You’re right.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin are in rare form, leaning on the pop-up bar, absolutely plastered and shamelessly flirting with the Red Bull reps like they’re auditioning for a music video. Taehyung has glitter on his collarbones and no real sense of volume control; Jimin is twirling his sunglasses like it’s a dance prop, and Jin…well, Jin is shirtless, loud, and demanding samples like a celebrity chef at Costco. He is still sipping from his fish shaped flask.

You groan affectionately and lean into Yoongi. “Our children.”

“They need supervision,” he deadpans, and you can’t help but laugh.

Despite yourself—and the reality of your bank account—you buy a round of vodka Red Bulls for the group. A poor financial choice, maybe. But the day’s been good. Better than good. And, frankly, they deserve it. Especially if they’re going to be hearing you and Yoongi rustling around the tent again later tonight.

Taehyung shrieks when he sees the drinks and throws himself dramatically into your arms before snagging one. “You’re a goddess,” he says. “An angel. A sugar mama in desert form.”

“You’re disgusting,” you mutter, but you’re grinning.

The five of you wander off, still laughing, and collapse onto a stretch of grass tucked behind one of the smaller art installations. The music from nearby stages pulses in the distance, layered with ambient lights and bursts of laughter from strangers.

You sit in a loose circle. Jimin and Taehyung are falling all over each other, limbs tangled as they drink and giggle and whisper. Yoongi’s pressed against your side, head resting on your shoulder, one hand lazily draped across your thigh. His touch is gentle now, warm and grounding.

Jin, glowing with sweat and pure Jin energy, is animatedly recounting his wildest moments from the Yuma tent earlier. Something about a stilt-walking DJ, a guy in a fur coat, and a beat drop so filthy it made a stranger cry.

“I swear to god,” he says, gesturing wildly with his cup, “I saw someone propose and someone puke in the same five seconds.”

You snort. “Festival romance and reality, hand in hand.”

Everyone laughs.

The circle quiets after a while. You finish your drinks slowly, the buzz setting in just right. The night air is cool now, breezy against the heat that still lingers on your skin. Yoongi turns his face toward your neck, pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. No one comments. No one needs to.

You lean back slightly, just enough to take it all in.

The lights. The music. The taste of Red Bull still on your tongue. The thrum of bass in your chest. Your friends—beautiful and ridiculous and yours. Yoongi, solid against you, warm and safe. You feel cracked wide open in the best way, joy spilling out where stress used to sit.

And for the first time in months, you feel whole.

So damn happy you could cry.

You’re just starting to debate whether to lie back in the grass or gather yourselves when Jin suddenly claps his hands like a dad at a cookout.

“Alright, my turn to contribute to this night of decadence,” he announces, wobbling to his feet. “Who’s hungry?”

All hands go up immediately.

“I saw a dumpling stand near the dome installation,” Jin says, eyes gleaming. “And a taco truck. And maybe some kind of fusion birria thing that made me emotional just walking past it.”

“God bless you,” Jimin whispers, reaching out like he’s seen a vision.

“I’ll be back in ten,” Jin says heroically, adjusting his nonexistent shirt and sauntering off into the crowd, looking like the drunkest bachelor at a wedding.

Yoongi’s still nestled close to your side, and you rest your head against his for a moment. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your wrist, the two of you content in your bubble of music, heat, and late-night joy.

When Jin returns, he comes bearing glory: two brown paper bags overflowing with tacos, dumplings, spring rolls, and something covered in sauce and cheese that no one can name but everyone accepts like gospel.

You relocate to a quieter spot, closer to the edges of the venue, away from the last stage still thumping. You all drop to the ground again, forming a loose circle lit by the soft ambient glow of a nearby art sculpture shaped like a glowing rib cage.

The food is divine—warm, salty, spicy, greasy. Perfect.

Jimin moans through a bite of his taco. “This is the best decision you’ve ever made, Jin.”

“I’ve made a lot of good decisions,” Jin says smugly, licking his fingers. “Like taking my shirt off. You’re welcome.”

Taehyung is curled up next to Jimin, messily devouring a dumpling with chili oil all over his lips. “We should eat like this every day,” he mumbles.

Yoongi passes you a spring roll and brushes a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re glowing,” he says quietly, just for you.

“It’s the sauce,” you say with a grin.

“It’s not.”

You don’t say anything, just lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek before going back to your food. You’re full, a little buzzed, and absolutely basking in the warmth of the moment—your friends, the food, the lights, the air heavy with music and memories already forming.

For now, there’s nowhere to be but here.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You leave the venue in a loose pack, Jin leading the way like some kind of wine-drenched tour guide, still narrating his culinary triumphs as you all wind your way through the glowing art installations and past the last of the festival stragglers.

Taehyung has one arm slung around Jimin’s waist, the other hand holding a half-finished canned cocktail he snagged from someone on the way out. Jimin’s sipping from a tall cup of something neon and probably deadly, but he looks radiant under the moonlight, giggling as Tae nuzzles into his neck.

You’ve got your own drink, something citrusy and way too strong, and Yoongi's sipping from a flask he swore he wasn’t going to bring. You bump hips a few times as you walk, your bodies naturally leaning toward each other.

"You're a menace," you murmur as he takes another swig.

"You're the one who made me drink water before the bathroom incident," he fires back, smirking. "I consider this revenge."

The path to the campgrounds is alive with other festival-goers—groups with glow sticks, couples wrapped in dusty hoodies, someone playing guitar near one of the towers with a turtle on it. It all feels like one long afterglow, stretched out and humming.

When you reach your cluster of tents, Jimin immediately ducks into the supply tent and emerges like a champion.

“Who wants shots?” he sings, holding up a sleeve of tiny red solo cups in one hand and a full bottle of tequila in the other.

The answer is everyone.

You grab a small bag from your personal cooler and begin distributing water bottles, each prepped with Liquid I.V. and labeled in black Sharpie. You shove one into Yoongi’s hand before he can even think about touching a cup.

“Hydrate first, cowboy,” you warn.

He pouts but obeys, cracking the bottle open and downing half of it. “You’re so responsible when you’re tipsy. It’s alarming.”

“It’s the Virgo moon,” you reply without missing a beat.

Everyone takes a seat in the makeshift circle between tents, the fairy lights overhead blinking softly. Jin takes his shot like a champ. Taehyung downs his with a flourish and then demands a second. Jimin’s perched in Yoongi’s lap, teasing him as he sips water, and you’re already reaching for the next round.

The night isn’t winding down—it’s evolving. Buzzing. Glowing. And none of you are ready for it to end.

The tequila makes quick work of everyone.

By the second round of shots, Jin’s thrown his arm around Jimin’s shoulder and is dramatically reenacting the moment he got trapped in a crowd of shirtless ravers at Yuma earlier. “I thought I was going to die in there. Sweaty. Hot. Glitter in places I didn’t know could hold glitter.”

“Oh no,” Jimin says, resting his chin on Jin’s shoulder. “Poor baby. Do you need…mouth-to-mouth?”

“Only if you’re the one giving it,” Jin fires back with a wink.

Taehyung gasps like he’s been personally betrayed, grabs Jimin by the jaw, and kisses him square on the mouth in retaliation. It’s warm and playful and sloppy—Jimin laughs into it, kissing back just as dramatically before turning and grabbing Jin by the collar.

“Fine. You get one too,” he says, kissing him with a flourish.

Jin whoops, nearly tipping over from where he’s perched on a folding chair, and Taehyung cackles as he pours more tequila into a waiting solo cup. “We’re starting a revolution,” he declares, pointing at no one in particular.

“Of kissing?” you ask, already laughing.

“Of joy,” Taehyung corrects. “And bisexuality.”

The night is electric with that kind of high that only comes from heat, alcohol, and too much love between friends. You’re pressed into Yoongi’s side, his arm around your waist, both of you sharing the same fleece blanket someone dragged out of a tent earlier.

He leans in close, his voice low in your ear, “Are they always like this?”

You glance at him and grin. “Honestly? This is pretty tame.”

He laughs, squeezing your hip. “I love it here.”

There’s music coming from someone’s Bluetooth speaker—something funky, bass-heavy, perfect for slow dancing or grinding or just drunkenly swaying. Jin’s trying to convince Taehyung to start a strip tease, while Jimin dramatically pours shots for an invisible audience.

You and Yoongi just watch it all, cheeks sore from smiling, toes curled into the dusty grass. He kisses the side of your head. You nudge your nose into the collar of his hoodie.

Jimin flops down in the grass again and throws his legs across Taehyung’s lap. “I love you idiots so much,” he declares.

“Shut up and take another shot,” Jin says, but his grin gives him away.

You look around the circle. There’s dirt on your calves, glitter on your arms, the faint sting of sunburn under your shirt—and you’ve never felt more beautiful, more alive, more surrounded by your people.

Yoongi leans in. “Third shot?”

You raise your cup. “Let’s make it four.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The music from someone’s Bluetooth speaker fades in and out with the breeze, but you’re barely listening. Not when Yoongi’s knee keeps bumping into yours. Not when his fingers graze yours every time he takes a sip of his drink.

You glance over, catch him already looking at you. His dark eyes unreadable and lips parted like he might say something but changes his mind. You don’t look away.

“Quit staring, menace.” you murmur, nudging his leg with yours.

“Can’t help it.” He smirks, but it’s slow and lazy, the kind that says he’s been thinking things he probably shouldn’t say out loud. Not here. Not with everyone still around.

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t shy away when he shifts closer, his thigh brushing yours again, firmer this time. You can smell his cologne now—warm and woodsy, familiar. Dangerous.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” you say, voice dipping lower, “and I’m gonna think you’re trying to get in trouble.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes dropping to your mouth like gravity’s got a grip on him. “Maybe I am.”

There’s barely a beat of silence before he adds, quieter now, just for you. “Wanna sneak off?”

The words settle in your stomach like a spark looking for fuel.

Your gaze flicks to the others—Jimin dancing, Taehyung throwing popcorn at him—and then back to Yoongi. His hand rests lightly on your leg, fingers splayed over the denim of your skirt, thumb tracing lazy circles that make your breath catch.

You pretend to consider it, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. “Lead the way.”

Yoongi’s grin sharpens, eyes gleaming with something wicked as he stands and offers you his hand like it’s a promise. You take it without hesitation.

Yoongi already had someone prepare a space, and it was honestly kind of perfect. The back seats of Jin’s SUV are folded down flat, covered in thick blankets, extra hoodies, and a couple of pillows he must’ve stolen from the tent earlier. All the windows are blacked out with jackets and towels tucked into the edges, and with the trunk door shut, the sound of the outside world dulls to a soft hum.

You crawl in first, laughing under your breath, and Yoongi follows right after, pulling the door shut behind him with a definitive thump. The space around you feels stolen—intimate, secret. The air is warm from the heat of the day and still carries that electric buzz from earlier. You're both drunk, skin flushed and nerves on fire.

He settles next to you and immediately reaches out, brushing hair behind your ear and tilting your chin toward him. “You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, just before kissing you.

The kiss starts slow, but Yoongi’s never been good at hiding what he wants. His hand cups your jaw, his thumb dragging over your cheekbone while his mouth deepens the kiss, breath hot against your lips. Your fingers dig into his side, feeling the warmth of his skin under his shirt as you push it up and out of your way.

He shrugs out of it, eyes locked on yours, then leans back in, dragging his mouth across your neck, open-mouthed and deliberate. His hands are all over you—exploring, gripping, sliding under layers. Every touch makes you more restless, more eager, your hips shifting against his with growing urgency.

You let out a breathy laugh when he groans softly, burying his face in your neck for a second before pulling back just enough to say, “Gotta be safe this time.” He pulls a condom out of his shorts pocket and tosses it to the side like a promise. The look in his eyes is serious, dark, and full of heat.

Clothes come off slowly, messily, with whispered encouragement and breathless gasps between kisses. Your hands roam, learning the shape of his back, the way his muscles tighten when you drag your nails lightly down his spine. His mouth returns to yours, then to your collarbone, then lower.

The two of you move together in sync, laughter dissolving into low moans and hushed curses. The SUV rocks gently, and you both muffle your sounds against one another's skin, too far gone to care who might hear. You feel everything—every roll of his hips, every gasp against your neck, every lingering touch that leaves your body on fire.

And when it’s over, the windows are fogged, your bodies tangled, chests rising and falling in a warm, slow rhythm.

You lie there in the afterglow, cheek pressed to his shoulder, both of you grinning.

“You think they heard us?” you murmur.

Yoongi kisses your forehead. “Jin said the car muffles sound. He sounded confident.”

You burst out laughing and slap his chest lightly before pulling your clothes back on, piece by piece. You’re still wrapped up in blankets in the back of Jin’s SUV, limbs tangled, clothes lazily half-on, the smell of his skin still clinging to yours like warmth after the sun’s gone down. The windows are fogged, the outside noise a muffled thrum behind layers of cotton and metal. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

Yoongi shifts beside you, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders. His fingers trail along your spine in slow, absent circles. You think he's about to fall asleep—his breathing is even, his body loose against yours—but then he speaks, voice low and unsteady.

“I need to tell you something,” he murmurs.

You lift your head from his shoulder, instantly alert. “Yeah?”

He hesitates. You can feel the tension gather again in his body, like a string being slowly pulled taut. He looks up at the ceiling of the car, then over at you, eyes soft but serious.

“This isn’t just…this isn’t just amazing sex to me,” he says, quietly but clearly. “I know it might look like that, like we’ve just been vibing and hooking up and having fun, but it’s more for me. It’s been more.”

Your breath catches a little. His eyes don’t leave yours.

“I keep trying to play it cool, like I can just ride this out until the festival ends and deal with it later, but I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to go into tomorrow wondering if this is only what it’s been under the stars and the lights and all the noise. I need to know if this… us…is something real or could be. I need to know if I’m not the only one feeling it this deeply.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and trembling. You’ve never seen him look quite like this—open, exposed, vulnerable in a way that’s different than physical nakedness. Like he’s offering up something delicate, and trusting you not to break it.

“I think about you all the time,” he continues, quieter now. “I hear you in my head. You’ve got this—this hold on me. A soft spot that I didn’t see coming.”

It’s like hearing the lyrics of a song that always felt too close to home. Something quiet and aching, raw at the edges. Your throat tightens.

“Yoongi…” You sit up slightly, cupping his cheek, feeling the faintest tremble in his jaw. “I feel it too. I didn’t know how to say it, but I do. It’s not just the festival. It’s not just the sex. It’s the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. It’s how you make me feel safe without trying.”

His eyes search yours, like he’s waiting to be sure, like he’s not quite ready to believe he didn’t screw this all up.

You lean in, pressing your forehead to his, your nose brushing his. “It’s you. You’re what’s real.”

Yoongi lets out a breath like he’s been holding it in for days. His hand slides into your hair, and he kisses you—not with hunger this time, but with something slower. Deeper. Like a promise.

Outside the SUV, the party is still going. Laughter, music, someone yelling about needing more tequila. But here in this little cocoon, it’s quiet. Sacred. A pocket of time that belongs just to you two. And in the soft dark, with your fingers threaded through his and your head resting on his chest, you know—this is the start of something.

You’re reluctant to move at first, wrapped up in Yoongi’s warmth, his words still echoing in your chest, but eventually, the rising sounds of laughter and music outside coax you back into the world. It’s almost 2am, but the camping area is alive, pulsing with leftover energy from the festival grounds.

Yoongi stretches with a quiet groan and opens the hatch of the SUV. Cool air rushes in, a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d been curled up in. You blink against the dim lights from scattered lanterns and strings of fairy lights zigzagging across tents.

As soon as your feet hit the grass, Jin’s voice cuts through the air like a siren.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls from his lawn chair, a half-empty White Claw dangling from his hand. “Look who’s decided to rejoin society.”

Taehyung, draped over Jimin like a living scarf, wiggles his eyebrows dramatically. “Must’ve been a religious experience in there. You both look very…cleansed.”

Jimin dissolves into laughter, clutching his stomach.

You try to keep a straight face but end up giggling as you lean into Yoongi. He smirks, but before he can fire back, Jin holds up a finger.

“I swear to God, Min. If I find so much as one mystery stain in my backseat, you’re paying for a full detail. Inside and out.”

Yoongi raises a hand in solemn promise. “Noted. Full detail. Deluxe package. Wax and everything.”

That gets a loud cheer from the group, and someone tosses Yoongi a beer, which he catches with ease.

As the teasing fades into chuckles, a familiar beat starts up from a Bluetooth speaker nearby—something bassy and smooth, enough to get heads nodding and hips swaying without much effort. Someone’s doing cartwheels in the distance. Someone else is offering glow sticks.

Yoongi turns to you, drink in hand, eyes still soft beneath the mischief. “Dance with me?”

You nod, sliding your hands into his as he pulls you gently into a little pocket of space between tents. The grass is cool beneath your feet, and the air smells of sunscreen, booze, dust and faint traces of festival food. Around you, groups of campers are still laughing, dancing, and clinging to the magic of the night like it might slip away if they stop.

He sways with you, hands low on your waist, lips brushing your temple once, then again. You close your eyes and let it all soak in—his body pressed to yours, the gentle thump of music, the hum of laughter, the occasional flicker of fairy lights above your heads.

Nobody wants day two to end. Not yet. Not when it’s been this good.

Not when tomorrow night means goodbye to this little dreamworld.

The music rolls on, one song blurring into the next like warm waves. The five of you move between lazy dancing and lounging, circling back to the foldout chairs and the soft patches of grass where someone’s laid down another blanket.

Jin eventually throws on a hoodie—still shirtless underneath—and starts making hot ramen with his tiny camp stove, dramatically narrating the entire process like a street food vendor on TikTok. Taehyung joins in as his sous-chef, passing him seasoning packets like they’re sacred scrolls.

Jimin, emboldened by a second vodka soda, clambers into Yoongi’s lap for approximately two seconds before collapsing beside him and laying his head on your thigh. “You guys are too cute,” he mumbles, poking at Yoongi’s knee. “Disgusting. Inspiring. Beautiful. Ew.”

You laugh and run a hand through his hair while Yoongi just shrugs like he’s being unfairly persecuted. “We’re in our honeymoon era,” he says, which earns a dramatic fake gagging sound from Jin.

“Already planning the registry,” you add sweetly, and Jimin slaps your knee with a groan.

By now, someone from another camp has brought over more snacks—half a bag of marshmallows, some chocolate bars, and a pack of mango-flavored Hi-Chews. You trade them for one of your Liquid IVs, and the barter economy is thriving.

Taehyung disappears for a minute and comes back with a little handheld disco light, the kind that projects neon sparkles onto the sides of tents. He sets it down in the middle of the blanket like a disco campfire, and for a few minutes you all sit and stare at it like it’s the most mesmerizing thing you’ve ever seen.

Yoongi curls his fingers around yours. You lean against him, shoulder to chest, legs tangled. It’s comfortable in a way you didn’t know you needed—like even though the night’s been loud and wild, this quiet glow, this warmth, is the best part.

“This has been the best night,” Jimin sighs dreamily, eyes closed.

“No,” Jin counters, holding out the instant noodles with the gravitas of a king. “Now it’s the best night.”

You all eat noodles straight from the pot with chopsticks and plastic forks, sharing bites and making dramatic noises of appreciation. No one mentions the hour, or the ache in their feet, or the fact that tomorrow is the last day. You’ve all silently agreed to pretend time doesn’t exist.

•Part 3•

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magicshopaholic · 1 month ago

Text

A Joint Decision

Summary: Two friends catch up on a beautiful day in Amsterdam.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, friendship, mild angst

Word count: 5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smoking ig?

A/N: Yes, it's me, rearing my overworked head from amidst PPTs and strongly-worded emails. No prologue to this, just hope you enjoy it. Takes place about a month after Pretty Girls.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @confessionsofamarshlily@whoisbts @jihopesjoint @kflixnet @cuntessaiii @nightappple (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "with a little help from my friends" by the beatles

namjoon masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

Kaya takes a seat at the outdoor table that the waitress gestures to and frees her hair from its scrunchie, shaking it out. The sun is bright today, but the umbrella over the table helps and her sunglasses block out the remaining.

As she examines the menu, she senses a shadow fall over the table. Looking up, she raises an eyebrow.

“A pretty lady, sitting all alone?” His tone is dry, betraying only a hint of sarcasm.

“Unfortunately, my boyfriend has to work.” Kaya tilts her head slightly. “Unless you could convince him to take a break.”

Yoongi flashes her a grin as he takes off his sunglasses, and takes the seat opposite her. “If you can’t, I don’t know who can.”

Kaya rolls her eyes, partly amused, and hands him the menu. “The hazelnut latte is to die for,” she informs him, taking off her own sunglasses and squinting slightly at the sudden brightness.

“I’d love to, but I’m on tour,” he says, sounding regretful. “How’s the regular cold brew?”

After going back and forth on the coffee for a couple of minutes, both of them place their orders for food as well.

“So? How’s tour going?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. “Tell me something exciting.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Tour is the least exciting time. Aside from performing, of course,” he amends. “But otherwise, pretty boring.”

“What? That can’t possibly be true. I always hear so much gossip when you guys are on tour or travelling. I remember following the Taehyung and Dilara Europe saga like a reality show, just minus the Reddit commentary.”

“Yeah, it’s not the tour that’s exciting, it’s the number of people on tour,” he points out. “You can’t tell me those two weren’t living in their own k-drama half the time. But touring solo is… different.”

“Wow,” she comments, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re actually missing them? Remember when you asked me when kids outgrow the sugar rush phase?”

Yoongi chuckles, presumably at the memory. “Shockingly enough, I am missing that. But, yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s almost done. Just Seoul after this and then…” He trails off, biting his lip.

She nods, ducking her head and feeling an awkward relief when their coffees arrive. The day hasn’t yet reached the point where such topics need to be brought up. “Any hot after party plans tonight?” she asks, stirring her Vietnamese coffee.

“God, no,” he replies. “Actually, that might be the only thing I don’t miss about a regular tour. It was fun with all of us being together, but it was so hard to get some sleep.”

“No way. Really? Wouldn’t everyone be tired?”

“You would think. But someone would be playing a video game or there would be something to film -” He shakes his head dismissively. “I’m not young anymore, you know. I need my rest.”

“Thirty really came out of nowhere, huh,” says Kaya knowingly.

“Tell me about it.” Yoongi shakes his head, leaning away from the table as their food arrives. Even when the waitress leaves, he doesn’t immediately begin eating like Kaya does. “Would you believe it if I told you my mother asked me about my plans to marry?”

Kaya almost chokes on a piece of bread. Yoongi swears under his breath as she gulps down water before guffawing. “Wow, I wish I could’ve seen that,” she teases, laughing. “But it’s not entirely unexpected, is it?” she adds after about half a minute, still chuckling.

“Actually, it is,” he disagrees, “because I don’t think I’ve hinted at anything that might cause her to ask such a question.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows but says nothing. The girl she’d met at Hybe, the slender one who’d spoken with an Australian accent and glanced at Yoongi the way a teenager looked at her first crush, comes to mind. But something tells her Yoongi would rather stick his fork in his eye than admit anything to her right now.

“So what’d you tell her?”

“The correct thing,” he replies, stabbing his eggs, “which is nothing at all.”

“Sounds about right.” She takes a sip of water. “If it helps, my mom asked me the exact same question a little while ago, so I get where you’re coming from.”

Yoongi gives her a mild look as he chews. “I think it’s a much more realistic scenario in your case.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can expect Namjoon to get down on one knee any day now,” she says sarcastically, before pausing. “Actually he’s done that already so I probably shouldn’t joke about it.”

He chuckles. “You know, if he finds out you want a proposal right now, I bet he’d do it,” he says seriously.

Kaya widens her eyes and scoffs when he grins at his plate. “Don’t even think about it, Yoongi. He sounds so stressed every time I talk to him. The last thing I want is for him to get a heart attack at twenty-nine over some random relationship pressure.”

“I don’t think it would be all that much pressure, honestly.” He shrugs. “From what I can tell.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not take that risk.”

“He’s gotten a lot better at managing his stress over the years,” points out Yoongi. “I don’t know if you know this, but we’ve lived together for almost thirteen years.”

Kaya takes a slow sip of her coffee and nods. “It’s come up.”

“So I can confirm he’s getting better at it.”

“No, I know he is,” she admits, sighing. Her concern is slightly different, but she doesn’t know if she can put it into words. She doesn’t even know if she should, for fear of jinxing it.

She can sense Yoongi’s gaze on her and busies herself with sprinkling seasoning over her remaining breakfast. “Are you planning to come to Korea any time soon?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “Namjoon and I are meeting in Spain in July, so I’ll probably come around September. Before he leaves.”

He hums, a little too knowingly for her liking. “What’s in Spain?”

“A vacation?” She sighs, stretching back in her chair. “Summer in the south of Europe, eating paella and going on road trips across the country. But, you know,” she amends, straightening back up. “With his family this time.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “You’re not nervous,” he states.

“I’m not nervous,” she replies, a little too quickly. “It’ll be different, though. But I like his sister,” she adds honestly. “I’ve realised I’m not great at bonding with girls outside of uni.”

“I’ve heard differently,” he disagrees. He meets Kaya’s eyes, who says nothing, until his cheeks start to redden and he looks away. “We’re not strangers, you know,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

Kaya grins, no need for her to ask who “we” is. “I should count Dilara, though,” she admits, choosing not to embarrass him any further.

“Oh, yeah, it’ll kill her if you don’t.”

She nods, polishing off the last of her panini and sitting back in her chair. “What about you, Min Yoongi? Any vacation plans?”

“Not really,” he says dismissively. “I’m not really a vacation kind of person.”

Kaya squints, unimpressed. “Really? You don’t like vacations? Be less of a pick-me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi snorts, his gummy smile flashing momentarily and lighting up his whole face. “I’ve been travelling for three months, non-stop. I love touring but the thought of getting back on a flight again…” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his long, thick hair. “I miss home way too much. I want to just stay in Korea for as long as I can for a bit.”

“Yeah?” She tries to picture it, staying in her apartment and walking around Amsterdam for the entire year and decides she can’t. “Will you take time off, though? Or will you head back into the studio the moment you set foot in Seoul?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“Is it? Workaholics can recognise each other in the wild, you know.”

“I miss the studio, too,” he says, sounding a bit defensive. “I miss my chair and the lighting. I miss the creative energy and the other producers and… even the coffee, honestly.” He sips on his cold brew as if to make a point. “Not bitter enough,” he informs her.

“I’m sure the barista will get right on that,” she says dryly. “But fair enough. Your studio is your happy place.”

He nods before his gaze freezes abruptly on something across the street. A moment later, his eyes flicker back down to his plate and he sighs.

“Looks like I’ve been spotted,” he mutters. “Get ready to have your picture splashed on the internet for ten minutes before people move on.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she mutters in response, trying to ignore how her body tenses automatically. “Do you want to leave? We can take the rest of our coffee to go.”

He huffs quietly. “But it’s so nice here,” he half-whines. “No, but you know what? Namjoon will overthink himself to death if you end up on Twitter again,” he says quickly, standing up, “and that’s not what he needs right now.”

“Well, you are the one who’s lived with him for thirteen years,” she agrees, standing up as well, as they both reach for their wallets and drop a couple of bills on the table. “So I’ll take your word for it.”

—

As it turns out, the fans who’d spotted him didn’t seem to have taken any pictures. But Yoongi doesn’t mind strolling about the city. Amsterdam is beautiful and it is a rare situation of having a day off in a city where he actually has a friend.

They talk about nothing in particular, flitting between work and friends and movies they’ve seen as they sip on chilled coffees, the sun dimmer than it was a while ago. Yoongi can sense that Kaya is trying to keep the tone light, and he’s almost certain it’s due to their impending enlistment.

“That spot right there,” says Kaya, after a few minutes of comfortable silence, pointing to a spot by the pier, “is till where the line ended when the first boba place opened up here a few years ago.” She shudders. “It was madness.”

“You weren’t in line, I suppose?”

“Sure I was, but I had the sense to get there early,” she replies with dignity. “And I brought a research paper to study while I waited so who won, really?”

Yoongi chuckles as he finishes his coffee and chucks the plastic glass in a nearby bin. “It’s too early for a drink, isn’t it?” he asks ruefully.

Kaya laughs. “I’d say so. But I get what you mean,” she adds after a moment. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some edge off.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You know of a place that won’t judge us for ordering drinks at -“ He checks his watch “- one pm?”

“Not exactly,” she admits, taking a noisy last sip of her Vietnamese coffee and throwing the empty glass in the next bin. “Do you remember that night in the dorm when I was jet lagged and everyone else was asleep?”

Yoongi slows down. “And I reached late from the studio, with…” He raises his eyebrows again, noting how she nods.

“Come on,” she says, patting his arm and beckoning him to follow her. “My apartment’s just around the corner.”

Ten minutes later, Yoongi finds himself in Kaya’s apartment, a one bedroom studio that reminds him of a college dorm combined with a student library. Academic books and stacks of stapled pages litter the chipped coffee table and the circular dining table by the kitchen, with stray cups abandoned here and there. The television looks untouched, but the sofa is soft and cozy, with a woven throw placed over the back.

“Pass me the paper?”

Yoongi obeys, taking a seat on the carpeted area like she is and leaning back against the side of the sofa, his head cushioned against a HYBE hoodie. He pushes the curtain forward slightly, taking care to ensure he can’t be seen from the outside and wondering if he’s being paranoid.

“There we go,” she mutters, licking the edge of the paper and twisting the end expertly. Reaching for a lighter on the shelf beside her, she places the joint between her lips and lights it, taking a deep drag and groaning softly as she exhales.

She offers it to Yoongi and he takes it without argument. The smell is a rare, almost taboo one, and he welcomes the freedom with which he can indulge in this right now. He feels the smoke exit his sinuses through his nose and sighs, closing his eyes.

He takes another drag, realising somewhere the risk he’s taking if he were to be discovered stoned by anyone aside from his manager. His eyes flutter open at a metallic sound to see Kaya sliding an ashtray towards him before settling low into a beanbag chair, stretching her denim clad legs straight on the floor and crossing her ankles.

“You’re sure we won’t be seen?” he asks her, a bit doubtfully as he passes the joint back to her.

“Who knows,” she murmurs, which doesn’t help him much. “But no one will care,” she adds, sounding more convinced this time. “Most of this building is just students. Or TAs. And it’s Amsterdam.”

Kaya gives him a reassuring smile, but he can see her eyes already relaxing. Yoongi nods, not hating the feeling of being somewhere other than a hotel.

“So how often do you do this?” he asks curiously.

“Not that often,” she answers, shrugging. “Once every few weeks, maybe? Sometimes more often, but then it’s just a few drags, not more.” She shrugs, a little sheepishly. “It’s been a long few weeks.”

“No judgement,” he states honestly, taking another puff. The sun has disappeared behind clouds now, just as she’d predicted, and there’s a cool breeze that feels like it’s putting him to sleep. “You smoke up with Namjoon, too?” He asks, privately unable to picture it.

“Nah, he’s not a fan,” she admits. “He thinks it ‘compromises his faculties’. But it’s better than nicotine,” she points out.

“True,” he says fairly. “You know, I’m looking forward to going home for sure but… sometimes it’s good to get away,” he confesses in a murmur.

Kaya hums. “I’m sure.”

“Everyone’s worried about enlisting,” he says after a moment. “But no one wants to talk about it - which I get, believe me. But it’s coming out in other ways and it’s just -“ He breaks off and exhales.

Kaya doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Yoongi is afraid he’s ruined the mood. “Like what?”

“Just the usual.” He shrugs. “We were on a team call a couple days ago and it just got so… chaotic. Everybody just had to be heard and Namjoon started getting overwhelmed and I started getting impatient…” He trails off, still uncomfortable about it. “And then at one point, Taehyung and Jungkook started snapping at each other over something silly and then there was no point continuing,” he finished.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I think Hoseok mediated later but I’m not sure how much. Can’t really blame him, though,” he adds, shaking his head. “He’s happy now - like, really happy. Probably happier than the rest of us put together.” It’s a few seconds before he realised what he’s said. “I mean - Namjoon’s happy, too,” he adds quickly. “He’s - I mean, we’re all -“ He struggles for the word, and it occurs to him that his brain is actually moving slower than usual.

But thankfully Kaya chuckles. “It’s okay. I get what you mean. Hard to match Hobi’s level of happiness on a normal day.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, relieved. “He used to overcompensate a lot for that when we were younger but he’s become a lot more comfortable in his skin now.”

“Aw, look at you talking so fondly about your kids,” she teases, making him roll his eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I’m sure you grew up quite a bit, too. You give me serious teen emo vibes, you know.”

“No way, I was too hardcore for that,” he argues, waving a hand lazily. “I was a rapper.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen pictures.”

“I have pictures. In fact -“ He fishes out his phone and navigates to his gallery, the screen changing with a smooth and flowy movement. “Tell me I didn’t look at least a little out of place,” he says, passing the phone to her.

Kaya takes it excitedly. “Min Yoongi opening the vault,” she remarks, the joint propped between her index and middle finger as she holds the phone. “Who would’ve thunk?”

“Well, you got me nice and high.”

She chortles, swiping through the screen. “Hardcore as hell, Yoongi,” she admits, “especially with the headband.” She keeps scrolling, ignoring his scoff of disbelief. “Wow, I wish I’d met you guys back then.”

“You wouldn’t be dating one of us if you had, trust me.”

“That’s probably true,” she agrees good-naturedly. “Oh, my God,” she says after a moment, her jaw dropping as she tilts the phone towards him to reveal a picture of a lanky, skinny, grinning seventeen year old Kim Namjoon.

Yoongi peers at it and nods. “Yes, I stand by my original statement.”

“Shut up,” she admonishes him, taking another drag and admiring the picture. “He’s so cute.”

“He was such a dork,” he adds, but he can hear the grudging warmth in his own voice.

“Cute,” she repeats. “This is probably what my son will look like one day,” she muses, before pausing, her smile fading slightly. “Wow, this stuff is strong,” she comments, placing the joint on the ashtray and handing Yoongi back his phone. “Shut up,” she warns him as he bursts out laughing.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” he says in between his laughter, glancing at the picture again before locking his phone.

“I can’t either,” she admits, looking embarrassed as she runs her hands over her face. “Don’t you dare tell him I did.”

“I’m afraid I can’t promise either way,” he says wryly, knowing he would never. Kaya rolls her eyes but doesn’t press, and he thinks she knows as well. “You’ve thought about that stuff, though?” he asks after a moment. “You really want kids?”

“Absolutely,” she says, without missing a beat.

Yoongi knows for sure it’s the weed that’s making him actually ask these questions so directly, but he can’t seem to stop. “Wow. You guys have talked about it?”

“Not in so many words,” she admits. “But if he hasn’t picked up on it in four years, then we’ve got a problem.” She stretches and sighs, looking out of her balcony as Yoongi lights the end of the joint again. “Do you really think he’s happy, though?”

He frowns slightly; all the joking seems to have left her voice very suddenly. “Of course he is,” he says, hearing his voice come out slow and soothing. “With you, definitely.”

After what seems like ages, Kaya responds.

“Sometimes it feels like…” She trails off, and he isn’t even sure if she’s meaning to say it out loud. “Sometimes it feels like he’s… thinking too much. And he’s thinking so much and he’s analysing and overthinking and… I don’t know if he remembers to be happy.” She bites her lip and Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s imagining the tremble in her voice. “I don’t know if I can do anything about it.”

Yoongi blinks; despite his mind swimming, it’s clear in a slow and bleary way that he cannot let Kaya think like this. It would disrupt everything. “Not true,” he blurts out, frowning when she looks over at him. “He is happy. He’s stressed and overworked and - and -“ The English word escapes him “- thinks way too much,” he says finally, echoing her words. “But you might be the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Kaya looks doubtful, but a shaky smile flits across her face. Yoongi nudges her foot with his.

“Trust me. I’ve known him for thirteen years.”

That makes her chuckle. “That’s true, you have,” she agrees, rubbing her eyes and sighing. “This is the downside of getting high sometimes.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says reassuringly. The joint is almost over by now, but Yoongi can’t remember feeling this relaxed in a long time. “It’s just a matter of time before you and Namjoon have a bunch of babies who write poetry about Economics and skulk around museums all over the world.”

Kaya laughs, and Yoongi is glad to hear it. “Don’t make me regret saying that in front of you,” she says, throwing a cushion at him. He catches it and slides further down on the floor, placing it underneath his head and facing the ceiling.

Outside, it starts to drizzle. Kaya produces a bag of soy chips from somewhere and even though there’s a faraway voice in the corner of his mind that sounds like his choreographer, reminding him that he’s on tour, his hand moves automatically towards the chips, each one tasting better than the last.

Kaya’s ceiling is a dull beige, with a fan just off centre. It bothers him, but the rain outside hits the roof over her balcony in a somewhat rhythmical cadence, and he finds himself tapping the air with the beat.

“Do you talk to her often?”

The words tumble out of his mouth before his brain has a chance to think it over.

To his relief, Kaya doesn’t ask who. “Sometimes. She’s not particularly talkative.”

“That’s true.” Something loosens in his chest, something he didn’t even know was tight in the first place. He realises it’s the first time in months he’s talked about her to someone who isn’t her colleague. “Is she… how is she?”

“Okay, I guess? I don’t really have a benchmark,” she says. There’s a pause. “Why do you ask?”

Yoongi is glad his thoughts aren’t particularly coherent right now, for he isn’t sure how to articulate the combined emotions of worry, affection and longing in the particular context of Miso’s life and his place in it. His desire to be back home, in Seoul, in the Hybe building and in the same corridors as her feels overwhelming all of a sudden.

He talks to her, too - but it’s not the same, knowing that she might be a different person with someone else, with a personality, interests and a way of talking that he hasn’t seen. He doesn’t know how to express that learning anything about her, even the smallest thing, can help him feel just a little closer to her.

Perhaps Kaya senses this, for she volunteers the information herself.

“We talk mostly during my evenings, which means she seems to be working late these days,” she offers.

Yes, that makes sense. She’s working on an album with Donghyuk for a group’s much awaited comeback, so it would fit that she’s burning the midnight oil. He imagines it if he were back home: stealing a few moments during a coffee break, walking her to her car until the point her driver can spot them, sharing a cigarette in the darkness between kisses that are all lips and tongue and teeth.

“What do you talk about?” he asks, placing his hands under his head, his eyes trained on the slow spinning fan.

“Random stuff,” answers Kaya. “I asked her for recommendations for an offbeat record store in Seoul because I wanted to get a Lana del Rey vinyl for Jae-Lin.”

“Which store?”

“This place in Jung-gu. I can’t remember the name.”

A record store. Yoongi is quiet for a few seconds, digesting this. “What else?”

“Um…” Kaya hums absently while rain picks up outside, the breeze now sprinkled with tiny droplets of water. “She told me about Australia. Of course, it came up in the context of how Seoul has a dearth of good lamb chops. But apparently Cable Beach is her favourite one.”

Cable beach. This is new information. As far as Yoongi knows, aside from mentioning her studies in Australia as a throwaway, she’s never talked about her life there. “She likes the beach,” he states, the words sounding strange on his tongue.

“Well, Australia is like eighty percent beaches,” points out Kaya. “God, I miss the beach. We should all take a trip to Ibiza,” she announces suddenly. “I’m gonna text Namjoon - wait…”

Yoongi has the sudden urge to call Miso, casually at first, but then to ask her to tell him about the beaches. For a moment, he struggles to remember the name Kaya just mentioned, but then it comes back to him. Cable Beach.

He glances at Kaya, who hasn’t even picked up her phone, and is instead humming softly while tracing a shape on the floor with her shoe.

“What else do you talk about?”

Kaya continues humming but frowns mildly, before looking up at him. Something in her gaze makes him look away, and he shrugs unnecessarily.

“Not much,” she answers after a moment. “Apparently Hybe needs to improve its coffee on the floor.”

“Anything else?”

“Not really.”

He exhales deeply, fairly certain she’s still watching him. He bites his lip, staring steadily at the off centre ceiling fan.

“She did mention you a couple times,” says Kaya, after a few beats. “Something about how much you curse under your breath while producing.”

A merry jolt passes through Yoongi’s stomach without warning. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. And she said you’re a lot less annoying than you were the first time you met two years ago.”

Yoongi nods matter-of-factly. The sky is a cool grey outside and the fine droplets of water in the breeze feel sublime on his skin. He gazes at the fan, his chest floating easily at what can only be considered a compliment of the highest order from Miso.

A soft clicking sound makes him snap around to look at Kaya, who’s lowering her phone. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” she says innocently. “Just a picture of Min Yoongi looking the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

It’s at this point that he realises he’s been smiling - no, not smiling, but beaming - at the ceiling, and he can feel the blood rush to his face.

“Kaya,” he says warningly, but he hears it come out more pleadingly than anything.

“You have a very nice smile, you know,” she says kindly.

“I - thank you. But -“

Kaya simply smiles back at him and he relaxes, suddenly sure that she knows what he’s asking and that she’s accepted.

“You’re serious about her, aren’t you?” she asks, and all the teasing has left her voice.

Am I? Ordinarily, he would say yes. But he can’t fathom using terms that apply to regular relationships to their… situation. “It’s not that simple,” he says at last.

“I can tell she’s… going through something. But I didn’t want to pry. She never talks about her family,” she adds.

That sounds about right. “Speaking of not being happy,” he mutters.

“She isn’t?” But it hardly sounds like a question.

“I don’t think she’s even trying to be,” he murmurs, shocking himself a little at this admission. But the moment he says it he knows it to be true, that any fight left in her is only enough to get by.

Yoongi feels his face burn and his eyes sting. Kaya excuses herself to use the washroom and he’s instantly sure it’s to give him privacy. He sniffs and presses his thumb and index finger into the corners of his eyes, taking a deep breath until he can feel his face come back to normal.

He sits up, his head feeling light but steadier than it was a little while ago. The view outside is beautiful, stormy yet calm, and Yoongi’s legs take him to the balcony of their own accord. Kaya joins him a minute later, and they watch the rain for a bit.

“I should head,” he says, turning his towards her slightly.

She nods. “Okay.” She doesn’t offer for him to stay over for which he’s glad, knowing they both would like their evenings to themselves.

“No wonder Namjoon likes coming here so often,” he muses. “Aside from seeing you, of course,” he adds, and she chuckles.

“Will you ask him to… to take it a little easy?” Kaya asks, looking up at him, her eyes brown and wide and doe-like. “Just once in a while. Just to live in the moment.”

Yoongi nods. “Of course. Don’t worry,” he says after a moment. “He knows what’s important. And before you know it, you’re going to have a bunch of little Namjoons and Kayas and teaching them to roll joints in Korean.”

She snickers and punches his shoulder half-heartedly, shaking her head as he puts an arm around her shoulders. “Bunch is a little much. And I don’t think I’ll be teaching them either of those things. Pot is a college rite of passage and… for someone with Korean family members and a Korean boyfriend, I suck at the language,” she mutters shamefully.

“It’s not easy,” he reassures her, squeezing her shoulder. “You can practice, though.”

“I try every time I go back there,” she tells him, sounding disgruntled, “but I can hear how terrible I sound and it makes me so self-conscious that I just… can’t. Dilara is a lot better,” she adds enviously.

“Yeah, for someone who doesn’t live there, she’s not bad,” admits Yoongi. He drops his arm from around her, knowing the day has come to an end. “Alright.”

“Yeah.”

They turn around together and cross the expanse of her tiny living room until they stop at the front door.

“Have a good concert tomorrow,” she says as they give each other a friendly hug. “Can’t wait to read the thirst tweets after.”

It’s his turn to playfully flick her shoulder. “Eat something decent tonight. Not chips,” he adds. “And, uh…” He swallows, his eyes flickering to the floor.

“Yeah?” she asks softly.

“Will you…” He doesn’t know where to start. “Will you… just ask her about Australia, once in a while?”

Kaya nods. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” With one last one-armed hug, Yoongi heads back to his hotel.

—

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sweetvoidstuff · 26 days ago

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Undead, Undressed, Unexpected I Part 2

Jungkook x Reader I Slowburn (sort of) I zombie larp au I smut with feelings I friends to lovers vibes I soft but messy I table trauma I kinda domestic kinda feral I camping chaos I emotional intimacy

Summary: A LARP weekend takes an unexpected turn when BTS wants to film there Vlog there. Or: “I don’t know what’s weirder,” Yoongi muttered, sipping the beer you’d tossed at him. “That this is happening or that you’re all so prepared for it.”

Word Count: 50K (both Parts)

Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: Well, I wanted to post this as one, but Tumblr won’t let me… so I’ll be posting Part 1 and Part 2 back to back. Sorry about that! Hope you still enjoy it!

Just a quick note on formatting: Bold text is used for dialogue spoken in Korean. Italic text represents internal thoughts or feelings. Normal text is used for dialogue spoken in English.

I hope this helps make things easier to follow while reading. Thanks so much for giving my story a chance!

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You looked down at Jungkook—still crouched in front of you like you might fall over again if he wasn’t anchoring you. He looked up, eyes dark and gentle. “You sure you’re okay?”

You hesitated. Then nodded once. “…Getting there.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything to that. But the look in his eyes said enough.

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You weren’t behind the bar for long. Not because you wanted to leave—but because Lea kicked you out. It started with a clatter. Taehyung had just dropped his third bottle, this one narrowly missing a stack of mismatched cups, when Lea’s voice sliced through the hum of chatter and music like a blade:

“Out. All of you. Before someone loses an eye!”

There was a beat of silence—then chaos. “Aww, come on!” Jimin whined. “I was practicing, practicing!” Taehyung insisted, holding up two bottles like he hadn’t just tried to juggle them. “But he was about to juggle fire!” Erik called dramatically from somewhere to the left, clearly not helping.

“No fire! No juggling! No!” Lea barked, pointing at the exit flap behind the bar like a drill sergeant. Groans followed—loud, theatrical, and entirely unrepentant. But within seconds, your little group was herded out, blinking into the soft glow of hanging string lights and the fading warmth of evening.

The air outside was balmy, thick with laughter, music, and the scent of grilled food. The lights above you swung gently in the breeze like little suns, and for the first time in an hour, things felt… lighter.

More like your event again.

You mingled slowly, Jungkook staying within arm’s reach, his presence a quiet but constant tether. The others came and went—Taehyung veered off to inspect the DIY tattoo booth someone had set up (god help him), Yoongi ended up in a very serious conversation with someone about amplifier wattage, and Jimin wandered between groups like a glowing social butterfly. Namjoon returned from wherever he’d vanished with two skewers in hand and a fresh drink tucked into his elbow, nodding at you both like a satisfied dad.

People smiled at you as you passed—some hesitated, maybe unsure of what to say, but those who did mention the Lukas incident kept it light. Encouraging. One woman gave you a thumbs up before immediately turning to Jungkook and patting his shoulder with a grin. “Good grip,” she said approvingly. “Otherwise, we’d be wiping Lukas off the floor.”

Another, a tall, bearded man named Markus, clapped Jungkook on the back so hard it made him take a step and blink. “Man, you cost me fifty bucks!” Jungkook looked confused. “Huh?”

You laughed, already translating under your breath. “He said he bet fifty on me decking Lukas.” Jungkook’s eyebrows rose. “Wait—really?”

“He was confident,” you said with mock smugness. “Honestly, you might’ve ruined there highlight of his week.” Markus nodded solemnly, arms crossed. Jungkook’s ears went pink. “Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize,” Markus grinned. “But if you’re gonna keep her from throwing hands, at least teach her how to throw you next time.” You burst out laughing, and Jungkook ducked his head, laughing sheepishly along with you—even if some of the fast slang slipped past him. Namjoon helpfully leaned in and translated the more idiomatic parts, which just made Jungkook groan louder.

By the time plates were passed around, drinks topped off, and the laughter mellowed into a steady hum, the members had naturally rotated in and out of your orbit. Yoongi stayed for a while, then drifted to one group drinking whisky. Jimin disappeared with Erik into the throng to scout the crowd. Taehyung came and went—at one point returning with temporary tattoos all over his forearms and no explanation.

Only Jungkook didn’t leave your side.

He didn’t hover, didn’t smother—but he didn’t drift far either. He handed you a cup of punch when your hands were empty, gave you space when someone needed your attention, and made sure you always had a buffer when the crowd got a little too close. Like he was tuned to your wavelength—moving with you, not around you.

And then Lea reappeared—finally free from behind the bar. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. You saw her coming with a look in her eyes that screamed get ready, and before you could even form a protest, she had you by the wrist.

“Oh no—”

“Oh yes,” she grinned, tugging.

“But my arm—”

“You’ve still got one good one, don’t you?” With a half-hearted groan, you let her drag you forward. You turned back toward Jungkook as Lea marched you toward the dancing crowd. He was laughing—clearly delighted—and offered only a cheerful shrug and a lazy, “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if she starts breakdancing.” You flipped him off over your shoulder with your non-injured hand.

Taehyung whistled low from somewhere by the speakers. “This is either going to be amazing—or historic.”

“Why not both?” Jimin chimed in. As the music swelled and Lea started dancing beside you, you finally let yourself ease back into the rhythm of the evening. You were sore, yes—tired, bruised, and still reeling from earlier—but the energy of the night had shifted.

It was yours again.

Jungkook stood just beyond the crowd, beside Jimin and Taehyung, his drink long forgotten in his hand. The music pulsed low and steady through the warm night air, wrapped in the haze of string lights and voices, but his attention was fixed on only one part of it—the middle of the dance floor, where you and Lea had claimed the open space like you owned it.

And maybe you did.

At first, it had been pure chaos—exactly what he'd come to expect from you. No rhythm, no structure, no rules. Just movement. You and the other organizers seemed to launch into dancing deliberately offbeat, ignoring every cue the music threw at you, limbs flailing in exaggerated mockery, dragging laughter from the crowd.

But then, like the flick of a switch—something shifted.

The beat changed, and so did you.

You settled into the rhythm with the kind of casual precision that came from knowing your body and not caring if anyone watched. You spun fluidly, your hand catching Lea’s for a short, graceful twirl that made the crowd cheer, and Jungkook blinked.

You were… actually good. Not showy. Not rehearsed. But you were a good dancer.

The kind of dancing that felt like fun had been stitched into your muscles. “Wow,” Jimin muttered, clearly impressed. “She can move.”

“Should we start placing bets again?” Taehyung added, watching with a smirk. “I give it twenty seconds before she breaks the ice with that knee-slide thing she does.” Jungkook didn’t answer.

He was still watching you. His chest felt tight—he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way you laughed, head thrown back as Lea tried to spin you again and failed miserably. Or the way your movements had none of the self-consciousness so many people showed when they knew eyes were on them.

There was something magnetic about it. Something warm and freeing and so unlike the world he normally lived in.

For just a second, Jungkook wanted nothing more than to walk into that crowd, take your hand, and spin you the way you deserved to be spun. He could do it—he’d danced a thousand times before. It would’ve taken no effort. But it wasn’t that simple. “Damn,” Taehyung muttered beside him, side-eyeing the soft smile forming on Jungkook’s face. “You’re doing that thing.” Jungkook blinked. “What thing?”

“That dreamy thing,” Jimin supplied, grinning. “The one where your eyes go all glassy and I start checking if you’re falling in love or just watching a cat video.” Jungkook gave them both a look, but it was half-hearted at best. “I’m not jumping in there,” he said, voice even. “Too many phones. Too many eyes.” He wasn’t wrong. The area around the dance floor was thick with laughter and movement, but here and there were flickers of phones in hands—some recording, some taking pictures. It was honestly a miracle that nothing had started trending already.

“Kind of wild no one’s noticed yet,” Jimin agreed. “Maybe the WiFi sucks.”

“Could be the signal,” Taehyung added. “We are kind of off-grid out here.” Taehyung leaned in, voice low but sly. “If you really want to, Jimin and I can go in with you. If photos pop up later, it’ll just look like the three of us messing around on the dance floor. No one’s gonna think you’re making a move.” Jungkook didn’t answer right away.

Jimin raised a brow, amused. “Or you could just keep standing here, admiring the view.” Taehyung grinned. “You do that a lot.” Jungkook turned to protest—but the moment he did, Taehyung smirked. “Jungkook,” he said innocently, “you’re blushing.”

That made Jungkook snap his head away, ears instantly flushing a shade of red that was unmistakable even in the low light. “I’m not,” he mumbled, eyes narrowed—mostly at himself. Because yeah, he did. But not in the way they were implying. He wasn’t just staring.

He was… caught.

He looked again. You and Lea were still laughing, still moving easily together, the crowd around you growing more confident with each beat of the music. And maybe it was the warm lights strung across the space, or the fact that your earlier stiffness had completely melted away, but for a moment you looked like sunlight had taken human shape.

Jungkook took a slow breath.

He wanted to join you. Really wanted to. Not just to dance, but to be the one who made you throw your head back like that in laughter. To be the one who got to spin you like you were the only person on the floor.

So he stood, caught between the pull of wanting and the weight of reality, until Jimin casually pulled out his phone and shot off a quick message. “To Namjoon,” he said when Jungkook glanced over. “We’re getting everyone out there. If it’s chaos, it’s cover.” Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back. “Come on. We’ll get close, keep it low-key. You don’t even have to dance with her.”

“Unless you want to,” Jimin added with a not-so-innocent smile. Jungkook rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Not this time. Because the truth was written all over his face—soft in the corners of his mouth, burning quiet under his skin as he let himself be nudged, just a step closer.

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It hadn’t taken long. One by one, the rest of BTS had filtered onto the dance floor until all seven of them were there, folded effortlessly into the crowd. Jin threw an arm around your shoulder, a skewer of grilled something in his other hand, swaying to the beat like it was his own personal concert. The bass thrummed in your chest. Lights glittered overhead. And everything—your arm, Lukas, the humiliation—faded into the background.

Then the music shifted, sharp and playful, and without anyone saying a word, a dance battle of sorts began to unfold.

You didn’t know who started it—probably Jimin, judging by the ridiculous body roll he threw out—but soon Hoseok jumped in with an exaggerated wave and Taehyung followed, dragging Lea with him. The five of you formed a loose circle in the middle, challenging and cheering each other on, laughter ringing out every time someone did something particularly absurd or unexpectedly smooth.

But even in the chaos of the music, the motion, and the people, you noticed one thing clearly: Jungkook wasn’t joining.

He was there—close, just at the edge of the circle—but he didn’t step in. Not once. And every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you. Not in a creepy way. Not even in a smoldering, flirty kind of way. Just watching. Focused. Like he was memorizing the way you moved when you were happy.

Your chest gave a tiny squeeze at the thought, but before you could overthink it, Erik came storming into the circle, determined to show off what he claimed were his “peak college breakdance skills.” What followed was a chaotic mess of elbows, questionable footwork, and a spin so wild it nearly knocked you over.

You stumbled back laughing, hand to your chest, and landed squarely beside Jungkook. He blinked at the sudden proximity. “You having fun?” you asked, catching your breath and smiling up at him. He looked a little startled to be addressed so directly, but nodded, quickly. “Yeah.” You squinted at him, cocking your head like you didn’t believe it for a second. “You don’t look like it.”

That hit home more than you meant it to.

Jungkook shifted, visibly flustered. Because he was having fun—sort of. But not in the way he wanted. Not standing on the sidelines watching everyone else dance with you. Not holding back because of the fear of photos or speculation. If he could’ve, he’d already be in the middle of it, spinning you like he’d imagined, drawing laughter out of you like a magician pulling scarves from a sleeve.

But before he could explain any of that—before he could give you some stupidly careful version of the truth—you reached out and gently tugged at the hem of his hoodie.

Not hard. Just enough to get his attention.

“Come on, Mr. Dancer,” you teased, your eyes glinting. “Show us your moves.” For a second, Jungkook froze. And then—slowly—his smile cracked through. Soft. Sheepish. Full of all the warmth he’d been holding back. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and a little breathless.

And then he stepped forward. Jungkook barely had time to step into the rhythm with you before his hyungs erupted into a chorus of over-the-top cheers. “Let’s go, golden maknae!” Jimin whooped, clapping above his head like it was a stadium concert.

Taehyung let out an operatic “Oooohhh!” and dramatically fanned himself. Even Yoongi, who had dragged a barstool right into the middle of the dance floor like some mafia boss at a cabaret, lifted his drink lazily and smirked. “Took you long enough.”

The atmosphere was loose, joyful, chaotic—in the best way. And Jungkook? He relaxed. Really relaxed. He moved with you in that way only he could: smooth and unforced, never trying to outshine, just syncing with your energy like it was second nature.

He didn’t touch you directly—he was careful—but every now and then, his hand brushed yours, or his shoulder bumped lightly against yours as you circled each other to the beat. The touches lingered just a second too long to be casual, and every time, you met his eyes with a grin that felt like fire and sunlight combined.

He returned each one like it was the only answer he knew.

The music jumped, and another loud “WOOOO!” exploded behind you—Jimin and Taehyung again, now mid-body roll, clearly trying to outdo each other. Hoseok booed them for lack of originality and busted out a ridiculous robot, which made the entire circle dissolve into laughter.

And that’s when it happened. Markus.

Longtime con attendee. Six-foot-something, bearded, and currently sprinting into the dance hall in nothing but briefs, socks, and sheer commitment to the bit—carrying a giggling girl bridal style like he was rescuing her from a burning castle.

“Princess delivery!” he bellowed, spinning once on one foot before darting straight into the center of the crowd. The music didn’t stop. The crowd just split to make room. But the BTS members stood frozen for a second, eyes wide as if they'd just watched someone launch a streaker at the Super Bowl.

Jungkook blinked. Jin made a strangled noise. Jimin looked like he needed someone to reboot him. You, on the other hand, calmly glanced at your phone for the time. “Huh,” you muttered. “Later than usual.”

Jungkook stared at you, bewildered. “Wait—what?” You shrugged, sipping from your beer. “Honestly, I was starting to think this year might be the exception.”

“You mean… this happens often?” Namjoon asked cautiously, raising a brow.

You nodded. “Every year. Every. Single. Afterparty. Someone decides clothes are optional and just—” you gestured vaguely toward Markus and his princess, “—goes full chaos.” Lea, dancing nearby, overheard and nearly tripped laughing. “Did you just—? Oh my god, I thought I was the only one keeping score.”

You grinned. “Didn’t you get carried around by that trader cosplayer in just your underwear during last year’s party?” She threw a hand over her heart, mock-scandalized. “That dude was beautiful and I have no regrets.” Namjoon was already wheezing into his drink, clearly the only one who caught the full gist without translation. But it didn’t take long for the implication to sink in for the others.

“Wait,” Jimin said, eyes darting between you and Markus, “they just get naked? Like… actually naked?” You tried to keep a straight face but failed. “Not always fully. We do have rules. But yeah. It’s like clockwork. And don’t even get me started on the drinking games.” Jimin looked genuinely stunned. “And they keep drinking?”

“They escalate the drinking,” you corrected, lifting a hand as if to bless what was about to unfold. “The games are about to start. Mark my words—someone’s gonna end up trying to convince the fire pit to let them sleep in it.”

Jungkook leaned in slightly, eyes wide, voice pitched low in mock awe. “What kind of event is this?”

“The fun kind,” you replied, nudging him with a wink.

Lea threw an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder and raised her drink like a declaration. “Welcome to post-apocalypse party culture, boys. Clothes optional, drinks mandatory, dignity negotiable.”

And with that, the music rose again—faster, wilder—and the crowd surged into motion.

Jungkook glanced back at you, eyes bright with laughter and something softer beneath it. The night, it seemed, was just getting started, and with a crowed like this… the fear of him and the members making it was shrinking. It sounded unlikely of someone posting while there nearly naked people running around.

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It hadn’t taken long, the members had spotted at least three more guys sprinting through the venue in nothing but their briefs—varying levels of fitness and confidence on full display—and even one girl who twirled dramatically in a sequined bra and rainbow-striped socks. No one batted an eye. It was strange, wild, and oddly freeing.

The music throbbed through the floor, people moved like waves, and somewhere between a body roll competition and someone juggling glow sticks, Erik nearly toppled into a table, causing a small pause and collective gasp. You’d managed to guide him toward a chair before retreating to the bar, where Lea was now fully in bartender mode again—handing out drinks and tossing witty comments with every pour. You leaned against the counter, catching your breath and chatting casually, enjoying the warm buzz of it all.

That’s when David came barreling into the room.

“I GOT ONE—NO, TWO!” he shouted, eyes scanning the crowd like a wolf on the hunt.

Your face froze. Then your eyes widened. Without hesitation, you shoved your half-finished beer into the nearest open hands—Yoongi blinked as he suddenly found himself holding it—and turned on your heel toward Jungkook, who stood closest to you.

Without a word of warning, you launched yourself at him.

“Wha—?!” Jungkook caught you with a startled grunt, your arms wrapping around his neck like a koala clinging for survival. He instinctively braced, his hands finding your waist to steady you, and despite the surprise, he laughed—clearly used to being climbed by his more dramatic hyungs.

Behind you, David groaned loudly in defeat just reaching you. “Oh, come on!”

Lea, having anticipated this, had already leapt onto a nearby beer crate like a nimble cat escaping a flood. She grinned from her new perch, triumphant. David changed targets immediately and darted toward her instead, only to be denied again.

“You can’t stay up there all night!” he called out in frustration, hands on his hips.

Lea and you locked eyes, both smirking.

“Watch us,” you said in perfect sync, your voice muffled slightly from where your face was half-buried in Jungkook’s hoodie. The rest of the members stared, utterly baffled.

Namjoon stepped forward, brows furrowed, lips parting as he tried to follow the sudden whirlwind of fast-paced English between you and David. The rest of the members looked completely lost, heads ping-ponging between speakers like they were watching a match they didn’t know the rules of.

Namjoon, however, caught it. His eyes lit with recognition, a disbelieving smile forming as he processed what you just said. “Okay… What just happened?” he asked in English, just to be sure.

You wiggled slightly in Jungkook’s hold, arms still clinging to his neck, and grinned sheepishly like a stubborn koala. David looked at Namjoon, explaining “It’s called Orga Tag. All the event organizers are fair game till midnight. Anyone who catches and lifts one like a bride gets a discount on next year’s tickets. But if an Orga gets off the ground—like Lea standing on that crate or, well... her clinging to the dude—they’re safe.”

David, still trying to corner Lea, shouted, “Basically the floor is lava for the Orga.” Namjoon laughed in disbelief. “You guys are insane.”

Taehyung leaned in, clearly baffled. “Hyung, what’s happening?” Jungkook glanced over his shoulder at Namjoon too, confused but still dutifully holding you steady. “Yeah, explain. Why is she stuck to me like glue?” Namjoon switched to Korean, grinning as he translated everything: “Okay, so apparently there's this game going on called ‘Orga Tag.’ All the event organizers are now targets—if someone catches and lifts one like a bride before midnight, they win a discount for next year.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Seriously?” Namjoon continued, “But! If the Orga manages to get off the ground—like standing on something, or someone—they’re considered safe. Like… she’s using Jungkook as a human tree right now.” The group burst into mixed reactions: shock, laughter, and awe.

Jungkook blinked, still holding you. “So, you’re using me as a safe zone?” “Yup,” you said unapologetically. “You’re warm, tall, and surprisingly sturdy. Perfect perch.” He laughed—a real, breathy, shaking his head at your chaos laugh. “You’re seriously going to stay like this?” You gave a tired little nod, arms still looped tightly around his neck. “As long as I can. Or as you let me,”

But the truth was: your arms were already aching, your core burning from the cling. Jungkook seemed to realize it, because he adjusted his stance slightly and hooked his arms under your legs, hoisting you higher with effortless strength.

“Here,” he murmured, shifting you onto his back like a piggyback ride, “This’ll last longer.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder, completely unbothered by the fact that you were now being paraded around the dance floor like a very smug backpack.

“I don’t know what’s weirder,” Yoongi muttered, sipping the beer you’d tossed at him. “That this is happening or that you’re all so prepared for it.” Namjoon just shook his head, half-laughing. “This might be the most chaotic party we’ve ever been to.”

“And the best,” Taehyung added gleefully, already eyeing the crates as if considering joining the chaos. Jimin looked delighted. “Wait, so if someone picks you up—” he pointed at Lea, who was now standing on two beer crates for extra height, “—they win?”

“She’s safe for now,” you confirmed. “But if she comes down…and someone grabs her bridal style…”

“Game on.” Taehyung clapped excitedly. “I love this.” Jungkook just looked back at you over his shoulder, eyes warm with amusement. “You owe me. My back’s doing charity work now.” You grinned. “You’re enjoying this.” He smirked. “Little bit.”, but didn’t complain. In fact, he adjusted his grip and gave you a little bounce—earning a surprised laugh from you that made his heart flip.

Somewhere behind you, another cheer went up as someone caught a different Orga bridal style and took a victory lap. The night was getting wilder by the minute. Still perched securely on Jungkook’s back, you stretched out an arm with dramatic grabby hands toward Yoongi. “My beer, please,” you called, voice light but commanding. Yoongi laughed, clearly entertained. “You’re not even trying to get down.”

“I’m in survival mode,” you replied with mock seriousness. “Hand it over, civilian.” Amused, Yoongi held the drink just out of reach. “You gonna come get it?” You huffed. “Sir, I am currently a limited-function human. My entire movement radius depends on Jungkook.” Jungkook turned his head slightly at that, grinning. “You say that like I’m a mech suit.”

“I wish you came with a cup holder.”

As if summoned by pure chaos, Erik appeared—shuffling into view on the far end of the hall, balancing precariously on two empty tomato soup cans. He used them like stilts, moving one in front of the other, hopping forward with exaggerated care. It was a slow and wobbly approach, and behind him, two guests stalked him like hyenas, clearly waiting for him to fail and hit the ground so they could tag him.

The entire room slowed to watch.

The flickering fairy lights caught the glint of his ridiculous lemur-tail onesie dragging dangerously behind him like a tripping hazard. At least twice, he nearly bit it. But Erik was undeterred. When he finally made it to where you and Jungkook stood, he planted both cans firmly down, took a proud breath, and looked up at you.

“Smooth,” he said, voice flat but approving. You raised your hand again like a queen granting audience. “Knighted.” Erik smirked and turned to Lea, who stood elevated and safe on her beer crate behind the bar. “Can I get another drink before these scavengers pounce?”

“I’ll trade you one for a crate,” she bartered, smirking. Jin blinked rapidly, completely baffled. “What is happening?” Namjoon gave him a look and muttered, “Don’t think about it too hard.” Taehyung, however, was delighted watching the chaos. “We need to try this,” he said, eyes wide as he leaned over to Jimin. “Next Challenge content. I’m serious.”

Behind you, another cheer erupted as Pia, dressed in her frosh-themed onesie, was tackled into a beanbag with a dramatic thump. Before she could scramble away, someone swooped in and lifted her bridal-style, parading her triumphantly through the dance floor to the soundtrack of raucous laughter and applause. You turned just in time to see it happen, laughing, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the boy whose back you were piggybacking on.

Jungkook had crouched a little to keep your weight steady, his arms slung securely beneath your thighs, his palms resting warm and firm on the inner curve where thigh met hip. Your legs were locked tightly around his waist, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, giving him full control of your balance.

You hadn’t expected how… close it would feel. The softness of your onesie meant there was barely any barrier between his fingers and your skin, and the heat of his hands bled through the fabric like it wasn’t there at all.

You stilled for a second as you felt it—his fingertips beginning to move.

Not a shift in grip. Not an absentminded adjustment. Tiny, gentle shapes. Circles. Lines. Rhythmic patterns traced so carefully into the curve of your thigh it was like he was speaking in some quiet language only your skin could hear.

And god, if your legs weren’t locked around his hips in self-preservation, you might’ve melted right off him. Your pulse jumped embarrassingly fast. The shapes weren’t suggestive or bold—just intimate, achingly soft in a way that caught you completely off guard.

You leaned forward a bit, chin resting on his shoulder, hair brushing lightly against the side of his neck. You didn’t say anything—couldn’t, really—but the tiny shift in closeness was answer enough.

He felt it. You were sure he did. Because the second your body pressed a little tighter against his back, Jungkook let out the faintest exhale, his fingers pausing only briefly before continuing their subtle trail, emboldened, slightly more confident now.

It was nothing. It was everything. It was subtle. No one else would notice.

The dance floor kept spinning, lights flashing, people laughing, drinks passed and spilled—but it all blurred to static in the background. You smiled, the curve of your cheek pressed to the warm line of his neck, hiding the way your whole body was humming. And Jungkook smiled too—just enough that only someone holding onto him this closely would notice.

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Someone from the crowd near the doors waved you down—a group of your fellow “crawlers,” the regular post-event mischief crew, already gathering outside for the traditional cool-down drink. You straightened slightly on Jungkook’s back, craning to see who was calling for you, but the second you moved, his grip automatically adjusted, fingers flexing gently into your thighs like muscle memory.

You looked down at him, considering. He’d carried you like this for a while now—granted, you were the one who had leapt onto him like a caffeine-fueled koala—but still. Jungkook hadn’t complained much… until a few minutes ago, when he’d mock-whined to Taehyung that you were “getting heavy,” grinning so wide you knew he was only doing it to rile you up while the others laughed.

Still, maybe it was time to get off before your smug backpack status became an actual burden.

“Hey! You coming or what?” It was Garam, standing just outside with a few other familiar figures silhouetted in the spill of warm light. “Crawler drink time!”

You lifted your head, squinting toward him. A tradition as old as your post-event chaos itself: the final drink with the crawler crew, your late-night cooldown ritual of bad ideas, worse alcohol, and inside jokes whispered until sunrise. But before you could answer, Garam narrowed his eyes, catching sight of you still on Jungkooks back.

“You’re still in the Orga tag?” he called, sounding more amused than surprised.

You glanced at the clock—just under an hour to go. And though the game wasn’t as wild outside the dance hall, technically, yeah… you were still "fair game" if your feet touched the ground.

You hesitated.

Jungkook had already carried you around longer than anyone had a right to. His grip was steady, warm, and you could still feel the faint traces of the little shapes he’d been drawing on your thighs earlier. But asking him to take you outside, into the cool air and across camp? That felt like asking too much. You’d gotten greedy. Maybe it was time to cut your losses.

Your arms shifted like you might dismount, and that’s when Garam smirked and spread his arms wide. “I can carry you if you want, you know. Knight in neon armor and all that.” You looked at him, genuinely considering it—his teasing was good-natured, his offer real. Garam had carried far drunker friends with less reason.

You gave an exaggerated sigh, shifting like you were ready to dismount. “I mean… he did say I was getting heavy,” you said, mock-pouting, “Maybe I should give your spine a break before it cracks under the pressure of my onesie greatness.”

But before you could slip off, Jungkook surprised you with a firm, low: “No.”

You blinked and looked down at Jungkook. His gaze was locked forward towards Garam, but his arms tightened subtly under your thighs. “What?”

“I said no,” Jungkook repeated, like he hadn’t even considered there was an option. “You’re not getting down.” Your brow furrowed, half in amusement. “What if you’re tired? You did say I was getting heavy.”

“I lied.” He looked up at you then, his expression earnest and just a little smug. “You’re not heavy. I just didn’t want to admit I got comfortable.” You blinked, caught somewhere between a laugh and a flutter. “So… I’m comfy now?” He gave the smallest grin. “Yup. And I already adjusted. I’m not letting you down,” he said. “You’re mine now.”

You smirked. “Pretty sure this counts as kidnapping.”

“Yup,” Jungkook said again, completely unbothered. “Voluntary. No refunds.”

“Damn,” Garam chuckled, watching the exchange. “Guess that’s a no on me being your steed of honor.” You shrugged dramatically. “I got claimed. It happens.”

“Well then,” Garam said, spinning on his heel toward the doors, “hurry up, lovebirds. The crawler drink waits for no one.” That caught Yoongi’s attention, who’d been casually sipping a beer from the sidelines, perked up at that. “What’s a crawler drink?” You looked back at him, grinning. “Come and find out. It’s chaotic, weird, and always too much alcohol.”

“Sold,” Yoongi said with a shrug, already falling into step.

And just like that, the group began to head toward the doors, the night air spilling in cool and sharp against the lingering heat of the dance floor.

Jungkook adjusted your weight slightly and began walking without another word, arms snug beneath your thighs and hands still comfortably braced against your legs. Once in a while, you felt the soft brush of his fingertips again—more gentle shapes, more quiet touches. And each one sent a little buzz down your spine. He carried you easily, like he was perfectly content to play your getaway ride until midnight or longer.

You could’ve asked Garam to carry you. You probably should’ve. But the truth was?

You didn’t want to. Not when this felt so impossibly good. And with his warmth at your chest and the echo of Garam’s laughter around you, you couldn’t help thinking that maybe being a smug backpack wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

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The fire pit flickered low but steady, a smaller ring of warmth nestled just off the main square near the NSC area—far enough from the bigger crowd to feel like your own little world. This was your crawler crew’s turf. You’d all ended more events around this fire than you could count, with stiff limbs, sore feet, smoke in your hair, and laughter hoarse in your throats.

Around the flames were familiar faces: Alex with his arm slung lazily around a half-empty bottle, David reenacting some dramatic fall with Mira’s snorts of disbelief in the background, Yuji poking at the fire with a branch far too long, and Garam, legs crossed like a camp sage, already grinning as you and Jungkook arrived. Molly was here too, one of the survivor game champions from earlier, sipping something in a mismatched mug. She gave Jungkook a salute as you approached, eyes twinkling.

“Still riding high, huh?” Alex called when he saw you. “You know the game ended like forever ago for most other Orgas, right?”

“She and Lea are holding on. Still in the tag,” Mira added with a gleeful shake of her head. “Unreal. You’re like the smug queen of the chaos realm.”

You gave a mock-regal wave from your perch on Jungkook’s back. “One must maintain their dignity. Or, y’know, cling to it.”

There were cheers and laughter at that, and someone passed you a drink—something fruity and cold, served in one of the reusable event cups. You accepted it with a grateful hum, but before you could even raise it to your lips, Mira turned to Jungkook, offering him one too.

“Here, since you’ve become part of our roaming monument to endurance. Sorry for, uh, killing you earlier,” she added with a snicker. “In game. Not like, literally.”

Jungkook smiled, shifting you slightly to keep balance. “No hard feelings. It’s all part of the game.” He made to take the cup but hesitated. With you on his back, both arms locked under your thighs for support, he had no real way to grab it.

“Oh—here, I got it,” you offered quickly, taking the drink from Mira and carefully maneuvering it.

It took a moment of delicate adjustment—your legs tightened instinctively around Jungkook’s waist, and you leaned forward a bit to brace the cup in front of him without tipping it. The closeness made your heart flutter. Jungkook, still as stone beneath you, bent his head slightly and took a slow sip from the edge of the cup you held.

It was like something out of a bizarrely sweet battle couple ritual. You couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled away, miraculously without spilling a drop. “Look at that coordination,” David muttered. “God-tier level.”

“Genuinely impressed,” Yoongi said, just arriving with his own drink in hand. His eyes were on you both, an amused arch to his brow. “You two have achieved perfect symbiosis.”

“Only took half the night,” you laughed, offering Jungkook a second sip before taking one yourself. Yoongi took a seat nearby, warming his hands by the fire. “I like this crew. There’s a good kind of madness here.” You glanced around. The crawler drink had officially begun. Cups clinked, laughter bubbled, and even if you weren’t sure what time it was, you could feel the countdown to midnight hanging in the air.

Across the pit, Erik was being gently heckled by Molly after tripping over the lemur tail of his onesie—his infamous downfall. He’d fallen off his makeshift tomato soup can stilts in spectacular fashion, making him the latest Orga to lose the tag game.

That left only two players standing: Lea and you.

Now that only Lea and you were left in the game and midnight was drawing near, things had taken a sharper edge. The participants—buzzed on drinks and competitive energy—had gotten bold. Lea’s situation had grown steadily more precarious. Earlier, she’d stood confidently on three crates stacked like a podium, but her support had slowly vanished—literally. One by one, people had snuck off with the extras, whittling her down to just one unsteady square of safety. One wrong step, and she was fair game.

You, on the other hand? You had Jungkook.

Mobility. Height. A reliable, unfair advantage in the shape of one very determined man who carried you like it was a job he was honored to hold. And maybe he was. His hands were steady on your thighs, fingers loose but sure, and his body moved with an ease that made it feel like he’d done this kind of thing a hundred times.

But you felt the shift in the air. That charged hum of people scheming.

You were mid-laugh, chatting with Daniel and Garam by the side of the smaller fire pit when a group of three new faces slipped into your circle by the smaller fire pit. They weren’t from your crawler crew, but you vaguely recognized them from earlier chaos—faces painted, shirts rumpled, limbs carrying the unmistakable energy of people who had been chasing others around for hours and were very committed to finishing strong.

They zeroed in on you immediately.

Or more precisely, on Jungkook.

“Okay,” the one in the middle announced dramatically, pointing at you like he was declaring a public service. “This is illegal. You can’t just be carried around like a prize. Get down, woman!”

You snorted. “Make me!”

“She said it!” one of them shouted gleefully. “She said the words! That’s permission!” You grinned and waved sarcastically from Jungkook’s back. “Hell no. I’m very comfortable up here, thanks.”

“Oh, come on, man,” another said with a grin, walking a half-circle around you two, like circling a jungle gym. “You’ve had her on your back for what, hours? Just get down,” stepping forward with dramatic flair. “We’ll go easy on you. Promise.”

“Easy?” you echoed. “You lot look like a pack of gremlins.”

“Flattered,” one said, bowing with mock grace. Daniel, sipping from a cup nearby, called out, “You three couldn’t catch her if she was duct-taped to a crate.”

“Ouch,” one of them clutched his chest. “Okay, now we have to catch her.”

“Group effort,” someone else nodded. “Classic three-man lift-and-yank maneuver.”

You were laughing, but as they started creeping closer with all the subtlety of toddlers playing tag, you felt a shift—their energy wasn’t threatening, just very committed. Determined in that chaotic, tipsy kind of way. And they weren’t about to give up just because you were several inches out of reach.

Worried they might actually lunge and grab you like a game of human whack-a-mole, you quickly shifted your arms, sliding them out from around Jungkook’s neck. If they did manage to yank you down, you didn’t want to accidentally strangle him on your way out.

You leaned down slowly, close enough that your lips nearly brushed the shell of Jungkook’s ear. He didn’t expect it—his breath caught slightly as your voice slipped through, soft but urgent.

“Let me down, Jungkook… or run.”

The hair on the back of his neck rose. His shoulders straightened under you. “Run?” he asked, grip on your thighs tightened just a little—like he was instinctively bracing. “Run,” you confirmed, eyeing the way two of them were definitely circling behind him now.

“Alright,” Jungkook muttered with a grin. “Hold on.”

One of them lunged—

And then you were moving—flying—as Jungkook bolted through the crowd with a sudden burst of speed. You heard shrieks and laughter behind you as your pursuers scrambled to give chase, but Jungkook was too fast.

“Cowards!” one yelled through laughter. “Get back here!”

“Stop cheating! She’s a human power-up!”

He weaved through the crowd like he had a built-in radar for gaps in human traffic, laughter shaking his back under your arms. The crowd parted in patches, some cheering, others just trying not to spill their drinks.

“YOU CAN’T STAY UP THERE FOREVER!” someone called.

“WATCH ME!” you shouted back, wheezing with laughter.

“You better marry her at this point!” someone shouted from the sidelines as you zoomed past.

The crowd parted for you like it was all part of the show, clapping and whooping as Jungkook darted past people and fire pits, his arms still firm on your legs, like he’d absolutely signed up for this. Your laughter rang against his ear, and he was grinning too wide to say anything as he carried you deeper into the chaos.

Someone shouted, “GO JUNGKOOK!” probably Hoseok like it was a horse race. Mira’s voice joined the chorus, loud and proud: “Longest carry of the night, folks! Give it up for our human Uber!” You nearly fell off laughing.

When Jungkook finally slowed down near the edge of the Game Area, hidden from view by smoke and shadows, he let out a deep exhale, still smiling. He bent slightly at the waist, one hand braced against his knee with you still clinging to his back. His breath came out in steady puffs, warm against the cooling night air.

“You good?” he asked, voice a little breathless but still laced with that easy amusement that hadn’t left him all night. You snorted, hugging his shoulders. “No notes. Perfect getaway. Five stars. Would ride again.” He let out a soft laugh, but didn’t move to let you down. The shadows here were quieter, distant from the buzz and cheering still echoing around the central game zone.

After a beat, you said, “Hey—want to rest for a second? You can set me down here if you need. No one’s watching.” But Jungkook shook his head. “Nah. I’m not risking it.” You blinked. “You think someone’s actually gonna sprint out here and snatch me at the last second?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, a mischievous little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t think it. I know it. That crew looked unhinged.”

You laughed. “Jungkook. You could just end the game right now. Snatch me yourself. Drop me and win.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied easily, adjusting his grip on your thighs. “Besides, this is actually kind of fun.”

He shifted again, bending forward a little more so your torso slid over his back at a more comfortable angle. Your arms naturally slipped around his shoulders again, anchoring yourself loosely. It wasn’t the most graceful pose, but it felt oddly cozy. He even hummed softly, like this worked better for his back, and you grinned into the fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m not heavy, am I?” you teased. “You? Nah,” he said, then grunted softly. “Your stubbornness, though? That’s got some weight.” You smacked his shoulder lightly and both of you laughed.

Then, over the low hum of voices and music in the distance, Erik’s voice rang out in the night air:

“Ladies, gents, cryptids, and crawler scum—TAG GAME IS OFFICIALLY OVER! It’s midnight—let’s hear it for our surviving organizer!” A wave of applause and playful groans rolled through the group.”

You twisted instinctively, trying to get a view of the campfire area in the distance—but Jungkook straightened at the announcement, lifting you upright on his back with an exaggerated dramatic movement like a knight hoisting a victory flag.

You laughed in delight, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie to hold steady. “Okay, now you can let me down. Victory achieved, Sir Jeon.” But Jungkook just grinned. “What, after all that? And walk in like a regular person? That’s a terrible entrance.” You wheezed, half from laughter, half from disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.” You let your forehead drop against his shoulder, face hidden in the curve of his neck, your breath warm where it met his skin. “Completely ridiculous.”

“Only slightly,” he said, turning to walk back toward the others—your weight still on his back, your laughter shared with his under the stars and smoke.

“And the only, surviving un-snatchified until the final second of this ridiculous game… still stuck on the back of her noble steed—” Erik paused for dramatic effect, spinning toward you with a grandiose gesture as you and Jungkook were in sight again. “—is Y/N The Orga Who Could Not Be Caught!”

There were whoops and claps, even a makeshift drumroll on the side of a crate. Erik tossed a pair of vouchers toward the participants who had managed to catch an Orga member. Your crawler crew cheered you on with half-sincere bows, and Yoongi raised his cup from where he lounged by the fire. “Not bad. Guess the strategy of doing absolutely nothing but freeloading on Jungkook paid off.”

“I’d argue she perfected it,” Taehyung added, strolling into the ring of firelight like he hadn’t vanished hours ago to chase some side mission. “Honestly, the confidence of riding someone around like a smug little queen while the world burned around you? Inspiring.” You sniffled loudly, wiping fake tears from your cheeks. “You guys don’t get it. I’ve forgotten how to walk. My legs are purely decorative at this point.”

Mira nearly spat her drink out laughing. Jungkook chuckled too, his body shaking with it beneath you. “You’re ridiculous.” You turned just enough to scowl over his shoulder. “You’re laughing now, but who’s been hauling my dead weight around like a sack of overly caffeinated potatoes?” Laughter rippled around the circle. Jungkook’s shoulders shook with a low laugh too, and you felt the vibration echo through your chest where you leaned against him.

“You’re seriously still comfortable up there?” Yoongi asked, quirking a brow. You shrugged, cheek still resting near the curve of Jungkook’s neck. “Hey, I stayed in the game. Can’t argue with results.” Taehyung looked at you with mischief in his eyes but his voice light. “You gonna come down sometime tonight or…?”

“Okay, okay…” You groaned like it physically hurt you to say the words. “I’ll get down. Let the people rejoice.” That got a round of sarcastic applause and exaggerated goodbyes from your crew, as if you were retiring from the throne. Even Yoongi muttered something like, “Tragic, truly,” under his breath.

But before you slid off, before you gave up the steady warmth of Jungkook’s back and the strong pressure of his hands beneath your thighs, you hesitated. because the truth was, now that it was over, now that you had to leave the steady warmth of his back and the familiar grip of his hands on your thighs, you didn’t want to. A flicker of nerves passed through you.

You hadn’t dared to do anything bold while clinging to him. But now that you had to go? You didn’t want to miss your chance. You’d wanted to do something—anything—to see if the light touches he kept giving you had meant something. And now, as you leaned forward, your breath caught.

You let your head fall toward the curve of his neck, grumbling loud enough for it to sound like irritation, but quiet enough that no one could hear the shift in your voice. Then, barely grazing the soft skin just where his neck and hoodie meet, your lips brushed there—quick, featherlight, not a kiss exactly, but not not either.

Your breath fanned against his skin. Jungkook went utterly still beneath you. Then, his fingers at your thighs curled just slightly—just enough to tell you he noticed, just enough to make your breath catch.

And then, wordless, he bent his knees to help you slide off his back, and your feet touched the ground with an awkward wobble. You winced. “Ugh. I hate being short again.”

Jungkook rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck like he needed to physically shake something off. But his eyes found yours immediately. And something in his gaze—hot, unwavering—made the air around you thrum. The teasing was gone. His eyes were dark with something else. Something sharper. Fiercer.

You opened your mouth to make another joke—anything to break the tension—but stopped. Because you couldn’t tell if he was mad at you. His stare burned, like he was holding himself back from saying something that would crack the surface.

But he wasn’t angry.

Oh no. Jungkook was thinking.

He was thinking about the way your lips had touched his skin like a secret. The breathy way you’d exhaled against him. And more than anything, he was thinking about how fast he could get his hands back on you, about what he would’ve done if you’d dared to do that earlier—when he had you all to himself, legs wrapped around his waist, his hands already at your skin.

If you’d done that while he was still carrying you… he might not have stopped walking. Might have just kept going. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere dark.

But now?

Now he had to figure out how to get you alone again.

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As you and Jungkook stood between your friends at the main gathering, Markus came over first—grinning wide, cheeks flushed from the firelight and maybe a beer or two.

“Hey, untagged champ!” he said, giving you a congratulatory fist bump. “Didn’t think anyone could actually win this thing without getting snatched. But damn—you pulled it off.”

“Technically, Jungkook pulled it off,” you said with a sheepish smile, thumbing back at him. Markus laughed. “True. But hey, teamwork, right?”

Before you could reply, Namjoon approached with his usual laid-back energy, but there was amusement playing in his eyes. He gave you a nod and patted Jungkook’s shoulder. “Nice to see some actual strategy.” Behind him, Taehyung and Hoseok rolled up like a storm front—smirking and already mid-tease.

“Jungkook, the way you ran—” Hoseok clutched his chest, dramatically stumbling back. “Like a soldier carrying a wounded comrade.”

“I’ve never seen your legs move that fast,” Taehyung added. “Did she promise you snacks or something?”

“She is kinda snack-shaped,” Hoseok said with a wink toward you, making you groan and cover your face. Jungkook didn’t laugh. Not really. He smiled a little, but his gaze never drifted from you. He barely acknowledged the teasing, even as the others laughed around him. His jaw was set, and his eyes—still trained on you—were unreadable, something burning just under the surface.

You felt your stomach flip. Yep. Okay. You definitely overstepped.

Your little breathy not-kiss to his neck—it had been a last second decision. Stupid. But the way he looked at you now made it clear that something had shifted. And not necessarily in a fun, flirty way. At least… you didn’t think so.

“I’m, uh, gonna run to the bathroom,” you said, backing away slightly, forcing a smile. “Finally. First time since the game started.” It wasn’t a lie. But it also wasn’t not an excuse to put a little distance between you and the man you may or may not have semi-offended with not-accidental neck contact.

You felt his eyes on you as you turned, burning a line between your shoulder blades the entire way to the portable toilets near the edge of the camp. The line of vision didn't leave until the buildings finally blocked it.

Once inside, you sighed. Loudly. And then immediately groaned again when you remembered the onesie situation. Peeling the whole thing off was a pain. You muttered to yourself the entire time, caught somewhere between embarrassment, residual adrenaline, and the kind of dizzy thrill that came with being close to someone like Jungkook. And maybe, maybe doing something slightly too bold.

After you were done, you stayed put for a moment longer. The idea of slipping away entirely crossed your mind—not because you wanted to avoid the group, but because you weren’t sure if you could keep your cool around Jungkook after everything. What if he said something? What if he didn’t?

You cracked open the door slowly, peering out at the firelit crowd beyond. And that’s when a very familiar pair of arms slung themselves across your shoulders. “Where have you been?” Jimin whined against your ear. “You and Jungkookie are hitting it off, huh?”

You blinked, surprised, as he leaned into you—definitely tipsy, his cheeks a bit pink and his words loose around the edges. “What?” you said, laughing lightly, unsure how to react. “He looked like he was on some noble quest to save a damsel—only with more swearing and snacks.” You laughed, a real one, breath easing out of your chest. “I’m pretty sure I was the one saving myself.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Jimin tapped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “He had this look on his face. You know the one.” You arched a brow. “I really don’t.” Jimin grinned lazily. “That ‘I’m-pretending-this-is-a-game-but-I-would-tackle-a-bear-for-you’ look. You’ve got him acting weird. In a good way.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You could only offer a soft, awkward chuckle and look anywhere but back toward the fire—where you knew Jungkook was probably still watching you.

Jimin hummed and squeezed your shoulders once more. “Anyway, I approve. You’re cute. He’s cute. And if this was a romcom, this is where I’d wink and tell you not to mess it up.” You gave a short laugh, trying not to show how much his words rattled around in your chest. “Thanks for the pressure,” you said dryly.

Jimin only giggled and wandered off toward the drinks table again, leaving you blinking in his wake. What he didn’t know was that you’d probably already messed it up as you leaned in closer than necessary. That you were smitten with his friend. That your lips had brushed the warm skin at the curve of Jungkook’s neck. That your breath had fluttered there on purpose, just for a moment.

Only Jungkook had felt it.

Only he had gone completely still when it happened.

You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as the familiar chaos of the night reclaimed its rhythm. Now that you were back on the ground and the tag game was officially over, the after-midnight lull began to settle in. People came over to congratulate you—laughing, chatting, offering quick hugs and goodbyes. Some were already heading home, planning to drive through the night or nap in their cars before leaving at dawn. Many of them you wouldn’t see again until next year’s event.

You nodded along, smiled when you should, but your mind was only half-present. Your eyes kept drifting—flickering toward the area, where Jungkook still stood. Or rather, where he waited. His gaze, though not openly hostile, had a fire to it. Focused. Controlled. And very pointed in your direction.

So instead of moving back toward him, you stayed where the conversations flowed and laughter bubbled, letting the crowd act as a buffer. Out here, you could breathe. Out here, his stare didn’t burn quite so hot.

But of course, he found you.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, voice casual—but his presence anything but—as he appeared beside you. “You free for a second?” You nearly choked on your own breath. “Y-Yeah,” you coughed, straightening. “Totally. Yes.”

He didn’t explain. Just nodded and motioned with a tilt of his head for you to follow him. And you did—like a cartoon character with nerves tangled in knots, your steps a little too fast, a little too clumsy, heart thudding like a drumline.

He led you back toward the edge of the woods, where one of the game area cabins sat half-hidden in the trees. The same cabin he’d practically launched you into earlier in the game. Now quiet, dimly lit by a few lanterns strung along the path, the space felt… different. Quieter. More private. A little too private.

Your brain buzzed with every horror trope you’d ever written or read. Okay. So maybe the setting I helped design for fun and chaos now feels mildly haunted. That’s fine. Totally fine.

Jungkook stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face you fully. And the look on his face—

Like you’d scorched him. Like he didn’t know whether to throttle you or pull you in. In a panic, you blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Sorry!”

He blinked. “What?”

You flailed, trying to backpedal. “For… um. The thing. The neck thing. It wasn’t, like, a kiss-kiss, I mean—it kind of was, I guess—but not really, and I’m sorry if it pissed you off. I swear I won’t get that close again. I’ll just—” You held up your hands like you were under arrest. “—stay way over here.”

Jungkook stared at you for one long second, then—

He laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but one that came from somewhere deep in his chest. Warm and rough around the edges, like it had caught even him by surprise. Your mouth opened slightly, stunned. Laughing was… good? Right? Better than scowling? Better than being ignored?

“You thought I was angry?” he asked, eyes sparkling with something unreadable. “You looked angry!” you said defensively, even as your voice tilted up an octave. “I wasn’t angry,” he said, his smile lingering, but sharper now. “I was thinking about how to get you alone.”

Your throat went dry. “To murder me?”

He chuckled again. “No.” and added quietly. “How I’d get you to do it again,” Your heart launched itself somewhere near your ears. “Do what again?” He took a step closer—just one—but it changed everything. You had to tilt your chin slightly to keep looking at him. Your breath caught.

“The kiss,” he said, voice low. “On my neck.” You tried to swallow, but your throat was dust. “Um… you… want me to… kiss… kiss your neck again?” Jungkook’s tongue briefly touched his lip, making his lip ring gleam. “That could be a start.”

And this close—this very deliberately close—you didn’t miss the subtle shift in his stance, the way his hand twitched at his side like it wanted to reach for you but was holding back, waiting. Testing.

You didn’t know what possessed you—but something bold and reckless inside you stirred. You murmured, “Okay. But I’m not climbing on your back this time,” his quiet, stunned laugh was the only warning you got.

“Deal,” he said, voice husky. And this time, he leaned in.

His fingers brushed along your jaw, a barely-there touch that made your breath stutter in your chest. With a slow, steady motion, his hand slid around the back of your neck, his thumb gently grazing your skin as he tilted your head up toward him. The world narrowed to the heat in his palm and the intensity in his gaze as he leaned in, closing the final inches between you.

The first kiss was barely a whisper—a short, soft press of his lips against yours. But it knocked the air from your lungs. Like your heart, which had been jittering in every direction all night, finally remembered its rhythm and settled into place.

The second kiss came quickly after. Bolder. Deeper.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders without thinking, grounding yourself as his mouth moved against yours. When his lips parted slightly and lingered—waiting—you opened for him, and he kissed you with more intention. Still gentle, still careful not to overwhelm, but with a growing urgency that mirrored the fire pooling low in your belly.

As you kissed him back—matching his pace, giving just as much as you received—his other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. His thumb swept slowly along the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine.

The kiss turned intense fast—too fast, maybe, but you didn’t want it to slow down. You felt it in your knees, in the ache in your chest, in the soft noise that escaped you when you let go of everything and simply let yourself want him.

A low curse rumbled from Jungkook’s throat as he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark and locked on your mouth. The sound of your breathy, surprised little mewl had clearly undone something in him. He looked like he was trying not to lose control right there.

And then—he chuckled.

Just a small one. A soft, amused sound in the quiet space between your bodies. You blinked, flushed with confusion and a creeping edge of embarrassment. “...Why are you laughing?”

Jungkook shook his head, eyes raking over you in a way that wasn’t mocking, but reverent. He took a breath like he couldn’t believe you were real, like you’d just knocked something loose in him that he hadn’t planned on giving away tonight. “You’re just—” His gaze softened, lips curling into a grin that made your stomach flip. “You’re lovely.”

You scoffed, huffing as you looked away—your cheeks warming to nuclear levels. “Yeah, okay. Lovely. Sure. Says the guy who looks like he was born in a Calvin Klein ad. I’m standing here in a wrinkled onesie and messy hair. Super model vibes.” He didn’t respond right away.

Just watched you for a moment longer, then reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“No,” he murmured, stepping closer again. “Just… you. And that’s better than anything I’m used to.” And damn him for saying it like he meant it. Because you believed him. Even as you rolled your eyes and tried to play it off, a small, stunned smile was already forming at the corner of your lips.

Jungkook leaned back in just enough to meet your eyes—searching, almost like he was waiting for a reason to stop. But you didn’t give him one. So he kissed you again—more deliberate this time. Slower, deeper. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that hadn’t been there before, or maybe had simply been buried under layers of teasing and restraint.

There was none of that now.

This wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise. It was a question and a declaration and a need.

Your fingers slipped into his hair before you even realized it, and the moment you gave a gentle tug, a low groan broke from his chest—ragged and raw and real. It made your stomach clench, your breath catch, your knees weaken just a little more.

He kissed you again, lips parting as his hand returned to your waist, grounding you like he was afraid you’d vanish. Then—he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath warm on your face.

“Is there…” His voice was husky, edged with hesitation, the words catching like they were heavier than he meant them to be. “Is there anywhere… we could go?” He didn’t look at you when he said it. His eyes dropped, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as though he feared you’d pull away.

He wasn’t asking crudely. Not like some desperate guy trying to hook up at a party.

He was asking you—you—because he wanted more than just the rush of the kiss, more than this electric moment suspended in the quiet aftermath of the day. He wanted you, if you wanted him. But he was trying to be careful, to be respectful—even when his body was anything but calm.

And yeah, he knew this wasn’t exactly the best place. A LARP event in the woods wasn’t designed for privacy. He wasn’t about to drag you into one of the shared rooms where someone could walk in, or the parking area where headlights might flash at any second.

And the half-abandoned cabin behind you, with its broken windows and faint mildew smell? Fun for the LARP but not for this. That wasn’t where he wanted to see you come apart for him for the first time.

But still—he couldn’t help it.

The tension in his jaw, the flicker of nerves in his voice, the way he touched you like he was holding back from touching more—it was all written plainly in him. If you’d let him… God, he’d spend every night after this one making it worth your while. Not rushed. Not chaotic. Not borrowed or secret. Just you and him, all the time in the world.

He finally looked up—his eyes meeting yours.

There was heat there, yes. But also hope. And a gentleness that made your chest ache. And somehow, in that unspoken silence between you, he managed to say it all:

If this isn’t what you want, I’ll step back. But if it is… tell me where to go. Tell me how you want me. I’ll follow.

You could still feel the shape of his last kiss on your lips. And now—he was offering so much more.

Your fingers trembled slightly where they touched him—half nerves, half anticipation—as you struggled to find the right words. You licked your lips hastily, heart pounding in your chest, and gave a small, awkward nod.

Then, fumbling slightly, you reached for his hand—still warm from holding your waist—and curled your fingers around it. He followed without hesitation, falling into step beside you with a quiet kind of urgency, his grip on your hand firm but reverent.

You led him through the cool night, weaving between buildings with practiced ease, heading back toward the main part of the asylum grounds. Not through the front—no, you knew better than that. You took a side entrance, one rarely used, your eyes scanning in all directions to make sure no one saw you slip inside. The last thing you wanted was an audience.

You glanced over your shoulder, checking to see if Jungkook was still with you—like you needed reassurance he hadn’t suddenly changed his mind. But every time you looked back, he took it as an invitation to steal a kiss—soft, fleeting touches of lips against yours or the back of your hand. Each one sent a jolt through you, and you found yourself smiling like an idiot, giddy in a way you couldn’t remember feeling before.

Eventually, you guided him to the upper floors, through a locked door you’d used all weekend for gear storage. A room tucked away—out of sight, out of mind—filled with leftover props, costume bins, and boxes stacked in half-organized chaos. But in the middle of it all stood a sturdy old table, scratched by time and paint-stained from past builds. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t ideal. But it was clean—clean enough—and private.

You turned to face Jungkook, your hand still in his. “Would this… work?”

But you barely finished the sentence before he answered with his mouth. His lips crashed into yours—not rough, not impatient, but full of everything he hadn’t said aloud. The wanting. The waiting. The restraint finally snapping loose.

He swept you up easily, like your weight meant nothing to him, and in a single, fluid motion, set you down on the edge of the table. His hands bracketed your hips, and he stepped between your legs, looking up at you with a spark behind his eyes that made your breath hitch.

His gaze raked over you, drinking you in—not just your body, but your expression, your flushed cheeks, your parted lips. Like he couldn’t believe you were really here, wanting him just the same.

He pressed his forehead against yours for a beat, his breath hot as it mingled with yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, voice low, rough with restraint. “I will.” But you didn’t. You only tightened your legs around him.

And Jungkook—his smile was pure reverence before he leaned in again and kissed you like he already knew you wouldn't regret a single second.

The room was quiet except for your shallow breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as your fingers reached for the buttons of your onesie. One by one, they popped open, the fabric loosening around you like petals falling away. Jungkook’s eyes followed every motion, reverent, lips parted slightly as if memorizing you in stages.

When you shrugged the upper half down, he stepped in without needing direction—his warm hands brushing along your shoulders, helping ease the sleeves down your arms. The onesie bunched at your waist, and now, seated in front of him in just your bra and panties, your skin prickled with the electric heat of his gaze.

Your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging softly. Jungkook helped, arms lifting as you peeled the hoodie over his head, revealing smooth skin stretched over muscle, shadows and lines sculpted like he was drawn by hand. Your hands skimmed across his chest, over his ribs, down the slope of his waist.

"Okay," you murmured, a little breathless, eyes tracing his torso like it was a map, "with a body like this? I would absolutely climb you again. Just give the word." Jungkook let out a low, shy laugh, glancing away for a second as a blush crept over his cheeks—endearing and disarming in contrast to his powerful frame. His gaze returned to yours, and it was soft but full of heat.

“Maybe later,” he said with a grin that made your stomach flip. “Right now… it’s my turn.”

He gently nudged your hips, guiding you back a little until the edge of the table met your lower legs. Then he helped tug the rest of the onesie down and away, the cotton slipping off your legs as he moved you into place. You lay back slowly, the cool air kissing your skin, warm only where his hands had touched.

Jungkook’s fingers lingered at your hips, brushing across your waist before he leaned over you. His belt came undone with a quiet click, but your attention was on the way he kissed you—first low on your stomach, a soft press of lips just above your navel. Then higher, at the space between your ribs, the curve of your breast, the hollow of your collarbone.

His mouth trailed a path up your body like it was sacred. The way he handled you—with care, with focus—felt like something more than just want. You threaded your fingers through his hair as he kissed the side of your neck again, slower this time. The spot where it all started. You felt his smile against your skin, and it made you smile too—shaky, caught somewhere between nerves and pure, unfiltered desire.

This wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy or wild. It was… intentional.

And as his hands roamed your body and yours followed the dips and lines of his, it felt like something you’d remember long after the night was over.

Jungkook’s hands moved up your sides with a reverence that made you shiver, gliding slowly over the curve of your ribs. His touch was warm and confident—deliberate in its patience. When his fingers slipped beneath your back, his knuckles pressed lightly into your spine, and with a practiced motion, the clasp of your bra gave way. You felt it slacken, your breath catching as he peeled it away with care.

Above you, Jungkook was a vision of focused control. He held himself up easily with just the strength in his thighs, his abs taut, the line of his muscles sharp beneath his half-unzipped jeans. The band of his Calvin Kleins peeked out, the bold white letters against black teasingly visible. He looked like sin made flesh, and he was looking only at you.

Your bra joined the growing pile of your clothes, though it fell unnoticed as his hands returned—palming over your breasts, thumbs brushing delicately across your skin as his lips traced a line from the swell of your chest down to your stomach. A breathy sound escaped you, and you reached for his wrist instinctively, grounding yourself.

His mouth reached your navel, and just as you tilted your head back with a low sigh, your eyes fluttered open just in time to see it—him slipping your panties into the back pocket of his jeans with a devilish subtlety. You blinked, stunned for a beat, and then let out a breathless laugh. “Wait—are you stealing my panties?”

Jungkook grinned against your stomach, his teeth grazing your skin before he pulled back just enough to look at you fully, mischief shining in his dark eyes.

“Not exactly,” he said, voice low and amused. He sat back slightly, one hand smoothing over your thigh while the other adjusted the pocket with exaggerated care. “I just don’t want them getting dirty. As much as it pains me…” His gaze dragged slowly over your body, lingering, lingering, “You will need them again later.”

The absurd practicality of the comment hit you at the same time as the implication, and you laughed again, warmth flooding your chest. It was disarming—how Jungkook could be so intensely focused on you, so hungry and attentive, yet still be considerate in the smallest, strangest way.

Your fingers traced up his forearm as you looked at him, lips curving softly. “Well,” you murmured, heartbeat still dancing, “that’s actually… kind of thoughtful.” Jungkook leaned down again, brushing his nose against yours, lips ghosting over your cheek before settling by your ear. “Don’t get used to it,” he whispered playfully, “I’m mostly selfish.”

But his hands never stopped moving, and you were already forgetting how to breathe. And then he kissed you again—slow, deep, claiming. He was exploring the soft give of your skin as he coaxed your legs apart with slow, insistent pressure. His touch was confident but not rushed, and your breath hitched as the cool air touched your newly exposed skin.

He knelt between your legs, his gaze dropping, eyes dark and focused as he took you in. There was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smirk, but close—when he saw just how ready you already were for him.

“You look like you’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, voice husky, more praise than question. His knuckles brushed down the sensitive inside of your thigh, the faintest drag of skin on skin. Every nerve there lit up as he traced the line slowly, purposefully, until he reached the aching heat between your legs. He paused—infuriatingly close but not touching where you needed him most.

You whimpered softly, the sound slipping from your lips before you could bite it back. “Jungkook…” you whispered, hips twitching. “No teasing. Please.”

He hummed, tilting his head like he was truly considering your plea. “No teasing?” he echoed, voice maddeningly calm. “That’s funny… I seem to remember someone whispering in my ear, kissing my neck—” his eyes flicked up to meet yours, gleaming with mock innocence, “—and having fun like they weren’t driving me insane all night.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your breath was stolen as one of his fingers finally pressed into you, sliding in with deliberate slowness. Your body clenched around him, your head tipping back with a low, broken sound. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your fingers curling ion the table beneath you.

Jungkook’s eyes never left your face. He watched your reaction intently, like he wanted to memorize the exact moment your walls fluttered around him, when the first wave of pleasure made your thighs tremble.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice lower now, raw with want. “That’s what I wanted to see.”

He curled the finger just slightly inside you, and your breath hitched again.

“You’re so warm,” he said, almost reverently, leaning in to press a kiss to your inner thigh. “So fucking tight.” You moaned, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze again, and in it, you saw that hunger—unapologetic, consuming. And all of it was for you.

“F–fuck,” you cursed, barely recognizing your own voice—raw, breathless, wrecked. Your body arched instinctively into his hand, your legs trembling with the intensity of it all. You couldn’t take much more. Not like this. Not with him teasing you with maddening patience that felt like sweet torture.

“Jungkook,” you whimpered, the sound desperate and unfiltered. “Need you. Now.” His eyes shot up to meet yours instantly—dark, wide, startled—and for a heartbeat, he stilled.

He hadn’t even come close to prepping you the way he normally would. You were still so tight around just one of his fingers, fluttering with every slow stroke he gave you, and he knew it. But you looked at him like you’d lose your mind if he didn’t do something. Right now.

“I can’t,” he said gently, his voice low, strained from restraint. “Not yet. You barely fit around my finger, Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you.” The words were sweet—so careful, so maddeningly considerate—and you groaned, frustrated and aching, cursing not just the need pooling inside you but Jungkook’s infuriating tenderness.

You threw your hands over your face, hiding your expression. Embarrassed. Flushed. Every word that came to mind sounded obscene and unthinkable, but you needed him so badly your body ached from it. You wanted to scream that you didn’t care if it hurt. That maybe you wanted it to. That the stretch, the pressure—him—was exactly what you craved.

But then his other hand, the one not gently working between your thighs, found yours. He pulled your hands away from your face slowly, insistently, until your eyes were forced to meet his again. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough but soft, “don’t hide from me.” You bit your lip hard, chest rising with uneven breaths. You couldn’t form words. Not yet.

“I want to take care of you,” Jungkook said, dragging his finger out of you slowly before pushing it back in, a second one now joining. You gasped, your hips jerking as the stretch bloomed into something sharp and perfect. “Let me do this right.”

You whimpered, the sound cracked and desperate, slipping past your lips before you could hold it back. “You do it right,” you managed to whisper, your breath hitching against the warm air between you. “That’s the problem.”

Your back arched helplessly as Jungkook’s fingers shifted just right, stroking a spot inside you that made your eyes roll back, a moan catching in your throat.

“I… I can’t do sweet right now,” you gasped, barely able to speak through the haze of need pulsing through every nerve ending. “Not when I feel like I’m going to come if you don’t—”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. The muscle ticked beneath his skin as he fought to stay composed, but you could see it—the fire barely caged behind his eyes. His fingers sank deeper, curling slow and deliberate as he drew another trembling cry from your throat. Still, he didn’t look away from you. Not for a second.

“That’s what you want?” he murmured, voice roughened by restraint. His lips brushed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “And here I was…” He let out a low breath, then glanced around, a crooked, almost incredulous smile twitching at his lips. “Here I was, thinking that aside from screwing you on this table, I’d take my sweet time with you. Lay you out properly. Make you feel worshipped.”

Your entire body trembled beneath him.

“You can,” you breathed. “You can. Just—just not right now. Later. Please.” Jungkook’s smile darkened, the heat in his gaze intensifying. A dangerous little chuckle slipped from his throat as he leaned in close, lips grazing your jaw as he spoke. “So you’ll let me do everything to you later?” he murmured, voice silk over steel.

You nodded so quickly your head spun. You would have promised him anything. Sold your soul if he’d asked for it in that moment—so long as he gave you what you needed now.

“Okay.” That one word dropped between you like a match to dry kindling.

In one swift, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled his fingers from your soaked core, standing just long enough to shove his briefs down and reach for the wallet tossed near the edge of the table. You barely registered the sound of foil tearing before he rolled the condom down over himself with a hiss between his teeth. His cock was flushed, heavy, perfectly thick, and you stared as he returned to you, muscles flexing, control hanging by a thread.

He leaned over you, both arms braced on either side of your body, and captured your mouth in a searing kiss—hungry, demanding, nothing like the slow sweetness he’d held back with before.

“You asked for it,” he said roughly against your lips, his voice barely more than a growl. Then, pausing, his forehead pressed to yours, he softened—just enough. One hand slid to your cheek, the other still curled around himself as he nudged at your entrance.

“But you have to tell me,” he said, eyes locked on yours, his expression suddenly serious again. “If it’s too much… I stop. Say it, and I stop.”

You swallowed hard, heart thundering, breath caught in your lungs—but you nodded, grounding yourself in the warmth of his hand, in the weight of his gaze, in how much he was holding back for you.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’ll tell you. But I want you, Jungkook. Now.” And with that—guided by your voice, your eyes, your need—he began to press inside.

God, the fit was tight.

Even with all the buildup, the stretch of his fingers, nothing could have fully prepared you for the way Jungkook filled you. Inch by inch, your body strained to take him, and it felt like with every breath, he stole a little more of your sanity.

Halfway in, you couldn’t breathe. Not really. Not with the way he leaned over you, mouth at your throat, kissing your neck like he was trying to soothe the fire he’d started.

“Jungkook,” you gasped, your voice barely there, “slow—slow down.”

He immediately stilled, his lips stilling where they’d been grazing under your jaw, a low hum leaving him in acknowledgment. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours. Your legs trembled where they were spread open for him, your fingers gripping at his shoulders, barely holding on.

“Need a second?” he asked softly, brushing your hair back from your face with one hand, his other still steadying himself at your hip. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “Y/N… I’m not even halfway in.”

You licked your lips, chest heaving. The pressure, the stretch, the promise of more—it had your head spinning. But even through the ache, your body craved him. The heat and fullness of him. You needed all of him. “Just—help me,” you murmured, reaching up, arms curling around his shoulders for leverage. “My leg. I can’t—just need—”

For a second Jungkook blinked at you, confused—until he felt your knee moving up his side, pushing, searching for the right angle. Then, catching on, he shifted with practiced strength, gripping under your thigh and pulling your leg up—hooking it over his shoulder with ease.

“Like this?” he asked, voice husky, heat flaring in his eyes as he looked down at you. Stretching yourself for him. Your mouth parted, and you nodded helplessly, breath stuttering. “Yes. Yes—please.” Your other leg fell open just a little more, a subtle, instinctive invitation—and Jungkook pressed forward again.

This time neither of you could hide it—the sounds that tore from your throats as he slid deeper, as the change in angle opened you up even more for him. The stretch was so intense you thought for a moment you might break in half. But it was perfect. Maddeningly snug. The kind of pressure that stole the air from your lungs but left you clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating out of your own body.

Jungkook groaned, a low, wrecked sound from deep in his chest as he bottomed out inside you.

“Fuck,” he bit out, his head bowing, forehead pressing to your shoulder as he gripped your hip like a man holding himself back from the edge. “You’re so—tight, shit.”

He stilled—not entirely for your sake (though the way your body was trembling beneath him didn’t go unnoticed), but because he needed the moment. If he moved now, if he let go even a little, he’d lose it. You’d unravel—maybe both of you would.

You were wrapped around him so perfectly, pulsing and hot and slick. The condom did its job, but fuck if he didn’t hate it in that moment. The fit was so good he cursed it. The thought of how much better it would feel without the barrier, skin to skin, had his control fraying at the edges.

Below him, you looked absolutely wrecked in the most beautiful way. Eyes glazed, lips parted, sweat dewing your temples. The stretch bordered on unbearable—but not in a way you wanted to stop. Not even close. It was that perfect, exquisite kind of pressure that made you feel every inch of him, every beat of your own pulse echoing in your core.

“Jungkook…” you breathed, your voice soft but desperate, “Move.”

Your fingers threaded into the damp strands at the nape of his neck, pulling gently, not demanding—just grounding him. Drawing his focus back from the brink. From his own thoughts, from the restraint burning in his blood.

He nodded, breath ragged. With a low groan, he slowly drew back, and the drag of him inside you made your entire body clench in protest. Your walls fluttered, resisting the loss, clutching at him like he belonged there—and he did.

He paused with just the head of him still seated inside you, adjusting the leg that still hung over his shoulder, one hand gripping the meat of your thigh as he straightened just slightly. His gaze dropped to take you in.

“Not sweet… right?” he asked, voice low and sharp, already knowing the answer. You tried to nod—tried to shake your head, to say something—but your brain never had the chance to catch up. Because in the very next moment, Jungkook snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal, perfect stroke that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

Your back arched off the table, a choked sound breaking from your throat as the world spun off its axis. He gave you no time to recover—no warning, no space to think. Just another sharp, deep thrust. Then another. And another.

Each stroke was fast and purposeful, the impact of his hips against your thighs echoing through the room. The rhythm was relentless, and the stretch that had felt so overwhelming seconds ago now lit you up from the inside out, nerves strung so tight it was like every thrust sparked lightning under your skin.

You couldn’t remember your name. Couldn’t remember what planet you were on. Couldn’t feel anything except him.

Jungkook’s breath was hot against your throat, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses up your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he groaned—low and raw. His hand gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, the other still cradling your thigh over his shoulder, keeping you open for him.

The table beneath you rocked and squeaked beneath the force of him, its old legs whining in protest—but you barely registered it. All you knew was Jungkook’s weight over you, the drag of his cock inside you, the heat building so fast it felt like it might split you apart.

“Fuck, you feel—” he didn’t finish. Just cursed, head dropping to your shoulder as he panted harshly against your skin. “You take me so well.” Your fingers clutched at his back, desperate, your moans louder now, tangled with the rhythm of the table and the slap of skin on skin. You tilted your hips instinctively, chasing the friction, the pressure.

“Jungkook—” you gasped, almost incoherent now.

“I know,” he groaned. “I know, jagi. Just—hold on. I’ve got you.”

And god, he did.

He did—he had you, with every thrust forward, every hard pull back. His rhythm never faltered, hips slamming into yours with purpose, with hunger. The table beneath you creaked beneath the weight of it all, but neither of you cared. Everything had narrowed down to this: the heat between your bodies, the burn of friction, the wild cadence of your breath against his.

Jungkook leaned back just slightly, eyes dragging down your body as if he couldn't help himself. His gaze was heavy, starved. He needed to see you—needed to witness exactly what he was doing to you.

Your hand had slipped from his neck, fingers drifting down his sculpted torso, the pads of them tracing his slick skin, lingering at the edge of the sharp line of his V. You let your nails scratch lightly over the muscle there, drawing a deep grunt from him. The other hand lifted to your chest, kneading one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between your fingers for the added sensation. You wanted more—needed more, and you took it.

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his pace picking up as his gaze locked on the movement of your hands. You were touching yourself while he was buried deep inside you, and he looked like he might lose his mind over it. His hips snapped faster, deeper, so relentlessly good that your toes curled and your mouth opened in a silent cry.

The coil inside you was pulled tight, burning and bright, dangerously close to snapping.

Your head tilted, lips parted, words tumbling out half-formed. “Kiss me—Jungkook, please.” Your voice cracked, choked on a gasp as he hit just the right spot again. You were so close—so desperately close—and you needed him to ground you, to anchor you, or you’d fly apart.

And Jungkook, wrecked and wild and breathless, gave in instantly.

He braced one hand behind your head, cradling it, fingers tangling in your hair. Then he surged forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was nothing short of desperate. All tongue and teeth and hot, panting breath. It was messy and perfect, a raw clash of need and affection that made your chest ache and your body tense beneath him.

His other hand slid under your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him, giving him just enough leverage to grind in deeper—so deep you swore you saw stars. His name broke from you in a shattered moan against his mouth, and he swallowed it greedily.

Your fingers clutched at his back again, nails digging in. You were unraveling. And so was he.

“Fuck, Y/N—” he gasped against your lips. “You're so fucking perfect.”

And then he snapped his hips one more time—just right—and that was it.

The coil inside you detonated, blinding white heat exploding behind your eyes as your body clenched tight around him. Your vision went hazy, your thighs shook, and a sob of pleasure tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you with devastating force.

Jungkook groaned—growled—low and primal at the way your body reacted to him, his control slipping with every second you pulsed and fluttered around him.

And he wasn’t far behind.

Jungkook filled the condom with a deep, drawn-out groan, hips jerking slightly as his release hit him hard. His entire body tensed above yours, shuddering through the aftershocks, his breath stuttering against your skin. For a second, the world seemed to vanish, reduced to stars behind your eyes and the pounding in your chest.

Still buried deep inside you, Jungkook slumped forward, his body trembling as he tried to catch his breath. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, and you felt the soft flick of his tongue—a gentle, lazy kitten-lick against your damp skin as he came down from the high. His lips lingered there, warm and open, murmuring something unintelligible and breathless as his hand continued to cradle your head like it was the most precious thing in the room.

And then he looked at you again, eyes dark and molten but softened now, his smile slow, completely wrecked. His hand moved from your thigh to gently ease your leg down from his shoulder, his touch careful, as if he was afraid you’d break. But you didn’t move much—your legs stayed parted, relaxed, your body still open to him, trembling faintly beneath his.

Neither of you spoke. You were both too spent, too dazed, the air thick with the shared weight of what had just happened.

Then—

SQUEAK.

There was a small creak under your combined weight. The table shifted.

And a second later—

CRASH.

The table’s legs gave out with a sudden, explosive crack, splintering beneath you as if the poor thing had finally decided it had had enough. The two of you dropped a full foot toward the ground, landing with a heavy thud and a very undignified squeak from you as your hands flailed for balance.

Only Jungkook’s grip in your hair—still instinctively protective—kept your head from bouncing against the edge of the broken table.

You lay there stunned, flat on your back with Jungkook still inside you, his body draped over yours. For a moment, there was only silence, wide eyes, and stunned breaths. Then, both of you groaned in unison—more from the shock than any pain—and when your gazes finally locked again, you couldn’t help it.

You snorted.

Jungkook blinked… and then barked out a surprised laugh, his whole body shaking as his forehead fell to your shoulder. The sound of his laughter vibrated against you, and when you started giggling too, your walls pulsed unintentionally around him.

His breath caught. “Ah—fuck—Y/N,” he wheezed between laughs, half-amused and half-mortified. “Are you trying to kill me?” You were still laughing, helplessly, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “You broke the table, you fix it.”

He groaned as your laugh made your body tighten around him again. “You’re squeezing me, Y/N… Christ.”

“Not my fault,” you managed to say, still grinning up at him like a fool. “That was your idea of ‘not sweet,’ huh? Making me literally fall for you?”

He chuckled again, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he lifted his head slightly. “I was trying to be respectful… until you begged for it.” He nipped you playfully, then kissed the spot. “I was gonna be slow. Romantic. Whisper poetry or some shit.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling even harder. “That was before you decided to rail me on a piece of antic furniture, Jungkook.” He groaned again, head dropping with a laugh into the crook of your neck. “Okay, okay. Fair. But for the record, I totally warned you.”

You nudged him lightly with your thigh, grinning through the afterglow. “You also said you’d take your time… after.” That made Jungkook pause, his eyes flicking down to your face, then slowly lifting his head with a grin blooming across his flushed features. His hair was a mess, sweat still clinging to his brow, but he looked completely undone in the best way—sated, sparkling, and still just a little wild.

“Oh, I did,” he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion and amusement. He glanced down at the shattered remains of the table beneath you. “Just… maybe not on this table again.” That was it. You both cracked up again, laughter filling the small room, echoing over the snapped legs of the table beneath you. It groaned as you shifted, like it had a final complaint left to give.

Jungkook stayed inside you for just a moment longer, his hand still gently cradling your head, his nose brushing your cheek as the laughter faded into something softer. Eventually, he exhaled through his nose and slowly—reluctantly—slipped out of you.

He handled the condom with care, knotting it deftly before slipping it back into the foil and tucking it into his pocket without fanfare. No way was he leaving it lying around for someone to discover later. Not even by accident.

By the time he looked back, you were trying to sit up, legs trembling slightly. Jungkook noticed immediately and reached for you, helping you upright with one hand on your waist. His other arm slid behind your back for support as he stood, then gently guided you onto unsteady legs. You tried to take a step but swayed—and he was already there to catch you.

“Jesus,” you laughed weakly, leaning into him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice proud and half-apologetic. “Sorry about that. Kind of went feral on you.” You opened your mouth to quip back but he was already moving, bending briefly to retrieve something from his pants pocket—your panties. Neatly folded.

He held them out to you with a small, sheepish grin. “Here.” You blinked, touched by the sweetness. “You really put them in your pocket?”

“I didn’t want them to get dirty.” He shrugged like it was obvious. “So yeah.” Your heart twisted a little. Even post-wrecked and smug, Jungkook was gentle.

You braced your hands on his shoulders for balance, lifting one foot as he crouched slightly to help you step into them. His touch was steady, careful. As he guided the fabric up your legs, he pressed a soft kiss to your bare hip before standing fully again and helping you pull them the rest of the way up.

Once dressed again—him already back in his pants, you tugging your onesie halfway up—you both stood there, quiet for a moment. The only sounds were your combined breathing and the hum of the distant hallway.

Jungkook looked at you. His eyes were softer now, the edge of lust dulled into something warmer. There was tired delight painted across his features—the same kind you felt buzzing through your bones. He gave you a lazy, crooked smile.

“Bed?” he asked, voice low, hopeful. You nodded immediately, but before either of you could move, his eyes drifted past your shoulder. To the table. The ruined, broken, irreparably screwed table. Jungkook blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… what about that?”

You turned to look at it, then shrugged and chuckled. “...I don’t know what you mean. That’s how it looked when we got here.” He gave you an incredulous look. “That’s what you want to roll with?”

You grinned cheekily. “Well, unless you want to go out there and tell the others you fucked me through a table.” His ears turned visibly pink. His lips twitched like he wanted to protest, but instead he gave you an exaggerated groan, stepping in and pulling you flush against him. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you there, pressing his lips to your temple.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered against your skin. You smiled into his chest, feeling the soft thump of his heart under your palm. And then you both stumbled—hand in hand, weak-kneed and laughing��back into the hall, on your way to the shared rooms. The table could wait. The rest of the world could wait.

For tonight, all that mattered was you and Jungkook.

Back in the sleeping area, the soft hush of night had settled. Dim, shared warmth lingered in the air, lit only by the faint glow of a dying lantern by the entrance. Several silhouettes were already tucked in—Jin, Hoseok, and Yoongi, each bundled in their sleeping bags, their slow, even breaths giving away that they’d long since drifted off.

You and Jungkook stepped carefully around the maze of mats and bags, your bodies still sore and slow from what had just happened. Every creak of the floor felt like a warning to be quiet. The two of you shared a glance—eyes wide, trying not to laugh—as you tiptoed over to your own setup.

You eased into your sleeping bag as silently as possible, wiggling in with a tiny sigh. You were still warm from earlier, but you felt the cool bite of the air without him immediately beside you.

Not that you had to wait long.

Jungkook didn’t even glance at his own mattress. He grabbed his sleeping bag and shuffled right over to you, dragging his extra blanket with him like a determined shadow. His knees nudged yours under the covers before his whole body slipped in beside you, a quiet rustle of fabric and breath the only sign of his arrival.

In the darkness, you turned to find him already watching you, eyes soft and half-lidded, hair a little messy from the friction of clothes and movement. You smiled—couldn’t help it—and shifted, making more space.

He didn’t waste a second. Jungkook immediately pressed up against you, pulling the extra blanket over both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you as close as physically possible. The other hand gently adjusted the fabric at your shoulder, tucking you in more securely.

His body was a furnace. Solid, strong, grounding. The kind of warmth that made you melt from the inside out. “Mm,” he hummed, voice barely above a whisper, lips brushing the curve of your ear. “That’s better.”

You reached under the blanket, hand resting just over his heart, feeling its steady thrum beneath your palm. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. The silence wrapped around the two of you like another layer of protection, soft and sacred.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, a deep breath drawing in your scent, as if to tether himself to you.

And in that moment, tangled together on a too-thin mattress, the air still thick with the remnants of heat and laughter, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to fall asleep.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

You drifted awake slowly, drawn out of sleep not by any alarm or sharp sound, but the soft hum of voices nearby. Low and murmured, playful but hushed—the kind of tone used by people trying not to wake anyone, but not really succeeding.

“…So is this where he sleeps now?” Taehyung’s voice, unmistakably smug, reached your ears first. He wasn’t even trying to hide the grin in his voice. “You traded party games for a new sleeping arrangement?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. You felt him shift slightly next to you, breath catching in his chest, still half-asleep himself. “I’m not saying anything to this,” he replied, voice rough with sleep. “just leave it.”

That earned a muffled snort—probably from Jimin.

“Well then?” Namjoon chimed in, his voice laced with curiosity and warmth. “Is this, like…a thing now? Are you guys a thing? Or did you just… you know.”

You could practically hear the raised eyebrows and wiggled fingers behind that you know.

Jungkook didn’t answer. You could feel the silence settle in his body before you heard it. The tension. The way his arm curled a little tighter around your waist, the way his chest paused under your cheek. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was uncomfortable—caught between not knowing what to say and clearly not wanting to make a big deal out of it either. You hadn’t talked about that yet. There hadn’t really been time—or space—for defining lines and labels. There had only been heat and hands and breathless yeses.

And you weren’t sure how you felt about it yet either.

The teasing didn’t stop. Jimin chimed in too, not unkind, but relentless in the way only close friends can be. Their light heckling continued, half-laughs and whispered teasing, and it might’ve been funny if it didn’t make Jungkook so uncomfortable. You could feel the shift in him.

And that did it.

You groaned sharply into the blanket and cracked your eyes open, sleep and irritation fogging your brain in equal measure.

The room went still.

They froze like guilty kids caught by the teacher.

Jungkook tensed again, instinctively bracing as if you might snap at him, but you didn’t. You pressed a half-conscious kiss to his jaw, slow and warm, and felt him freeze, then unravel just slightly at the edges.

Still leaning into his chest, you lifted your head just enough to glare past him—past the safety of his body and toward the hyungs huddled in their sleeping bags, all three of them suddenly very quiet.

Your voice cut the room like a thread pulled taut.

“If you have to know,” you muttered, sharp and flat, “I like Jungkook. We fucked. We’ll figure out the rest later. So unless you want to hear more details—shut up and let us sleep.”

Silence.

You dropped your head back against Jungkook’s chest and let your eyes fall shut again. His arms tightened around you, solid and warm, and his breath shuddered against your crown—half-laugh, half-disbelief.

“…Damn,” Taehyung whispered eventually. A strained chuckle from Namjoon.

“Okay,” Jimin murmured, “she’s scary. But I respect it.”

You sighed as Jungkook kissed the top of your head, his smile hidden in your hair. He was still flushed, a little stunned, but now it was threaded with something softer. Calmer. But you could feel his heartbeat under your palm, fast and uneven. Maybe matching yours.

“Jesus,” he muttered into your hair. “You’re gonna kill me.” You hummed, a sleepy smirk pulling at your mouth. “Only them if they keep talking.”

He kissed your hair again—gentler this time. Thoughtful. Then, barely above a whisper, like he only wanted you to hear it: “…When is later?”

It was quiet, almost hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask. Like the answer mattered more than he wanted to admit. Your heart gave a small, careful thud.

You shifted just enough to glance up at him, his eyes barely visible in the low morning light, and whispered back, “After breakfast?”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile—something softer, more relieved. He let out a breath that ghosted against your temple. “Good,” he whispered back. “Because I like you too.”

You swallowed, throat tight for no good reason. A small breath left you as your fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt at his ribs. Not for balance. Just to hold onto him. Jungkook responded by pulling you in closer, his arm a secure weight around your waist, anchoring you to him. And for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved.

The morning still hummed softly around you. The world felt like it could wait. Because here, tangled in warmth and something unspoken, you weren’t in a rush.

Later could come when it did.

You had this. You had him.

Masterlist

A/N: Hi! Just wanted to mention that I use ChatGPT and DeepL to clean up grammar and spelling in my writing. English is my second language, and this tools help me share stories the way I imagine them, without spending hours double-checking every word. Writing is just a hobby I enjoy after a full workweek—I’m not trying to make money from it. If you’re curious or have thoughts on it, I’d love to have a friendly discussion!

Taglist: @dachshunddame @hecatesdescendant @chaeisrichnow @canarystwin @mar-lo-pap @notyourfriendooo @bjoriis

Not sure if i did everyting right with the tag list. Please let me know if there was a mistake.

#jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts #jungkook bts #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x you #larp #larp costume #larp bts #bts stories #bts smut

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ugotnojamzzz · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 20

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: YN’s turn to feel real dumb.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 3k

Masterlist

Chapter 19

—

The painkillers made everything feel just a little too far away. Like the world was underwater and Y/N was drifting somewhere just beneath it.

Hoseok sat beside her in the infirmary, hands in the pockets of his slacks, posture easy and unbothered. She envied how relaxed he always seemed. Not in a careless way—no, there was nothing careless about Hoseok. He had this energy, this quiet control that simply seemed to make people breathe easier when he was around.

Everyone liked Hobi.

He wasn’t sharp-edged and smug like Jimin, or infuriatingly unserious like Taehyung, or brooding and perpetually pissed like Jungkook. He didn’t command a room like Namjoon or haunt it like Yoongi. He just fit. Like grout between tiles, invisible but holding the whole damn mosaic together.

Essential in a way most people never noticed until it cracked.

He was…

Something everybody agreed on.

Like—

Pizza.

Yeah.

Hobi was like pizza.

Reliable. Comforting. Universally liked.

Even when it was bad, it was still pretty good.

Pizza.

She could really go for some pizza right now.

…God. What the hell was she thinking?

She blinked hard, trying to shake the drug-induced dizziness. Her brain felt like it had been wrapped in bubble wrap and left out in the sun.

Fucking painkillers.

“How’re you feeling?” Hoseok asked, breaking the silence.

“Like I lost a fight to a wild animal,” she muttered.

He gave her a small grin. “That’s sounds about right.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Silence stretched out between them—not entirely comfortable, not hostile either. Just… full. Like both of them were stepping carefully over the shards left behind.

Y/N’s head lolled slightly to the side. Her body was buzzy, but her brain—her brain was still crawling over the memory.

The way Soyeon’s hands had been shaking. The wildness in her eyes. The blade sunk into the floor by her cheek.

And the blood.

Not hers.

Someone else’s.

“Is she…” Y/N started, then faltered. She cleared her throat. “Soyeon. Will she be okay?”

Hoseok didn’t answer right away. That alone told her enough.

“She’ll be fine,” he said finally. “Physically.”

Y/N nodded, eyes focused on some distant point down the hall.

Another pause. She dragged her fingers along the wall to keep herself steady.

“Can’t believe she’d blame it all on me,” she said, almost dreamily.

Hoseok sighed. Not annoyed—tired. Heavy.

“She wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“She was thinking clearly enough to go for my throat.”

He didn’t argue that.

“She lost her team,” he said instead, voice low.

Y/N let that settle. The air around her felt thick, like something not fully processed had been stirred.

Hoseok looked at her, then away. He didn’t speak.

Y/N’s vision wobbled for a second. She blinked hard. She hadn’t even fought back. She’d just—frozen.

She hadn’t said that part out loud yet.

And Hoseok—bless him—didn’t try to make it better.

Soyeon had called it a massacre.

Her entire unit—gone. Slaughtered. Left in pieces somewhere in the woods outside Daejong. No survivors. No bodies brought home. Just a trail of blood and the twisted remnants of what used to be partners. Friends.

It wasn’t the kind of violence the Tigers were built for.

The Kim clan were killers, yes. But over the years, the had mostly morphed into businessmen. Professionals. They dealt in leverage, in threats, in pressure applied at exactly the right moment. Violence, when necessary, was clean. Outsourced, more often than not. Gunshots. Hands washed. Suits pressed. Order restored.

But this?

This was something else. This was personal. This was messy. Gory. The kind of carnage the Tigers hadn’t faced in decades—especially not on neutral ground, not during a routine deal and not without provocation.

Then again, this was the kind of thing people would expect from the Ravens. From the mysterious, cold-blooded sociopaths up north, raised on winter and war and the language of knives. Ooooh—scary.

But the worst part wasn’t really the carnage.

It was the silence that followed.

Because no one had taken responsibility.

Not officially.

But the weapons left behind were statement enough.

And every whisper like a compass pointed the same direction. North. Toward the mountains. Toward the border. Toward the brother Y/N hadn’t seen in years.

Toward home.

And now—

Now Y/N’s ribs ached. Her jaw was bruised. Her vision still swam a little from the painkillers coursing through her blood.

But none of that compared to the thing twisting in her chest.

Not guilt. Not yet.

Uncertainty.

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe her brother had given that order. Maybe his silence, wherever he was, meant something.

Maybe this wasn’t just a clan dispute anymore.

Maybe it had already become a war.

Maybe she was bound to see him again sooner or later.

A shiver crept up her spine, slow and cold.

“Maybe she should’ve killed me,” she muttered after a moment.

Hoseok groaned. “Come on, don’t go full drama queen on me now.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Well,” he said without missing a beat, “we wouldn’t have let her.”

She gave a small scoff, eyes rolling.

“Jungkook wouldn’t have,” Hoseok added, and this time his tone had shifted—just slightly. Like it wasn’t a joke.

Y/N groaned, almost on reflex. “Ugh. Him.”

“What?” Hoseok raised a brow. “It’s true.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t have let her kill me,” she muttered, “because he’s saving the pleasure for himself.”

Hoseok laughed under his breath. “You two really know how to set each other off.”

“He’s a dick,” she said.

And maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the way Hoseok’s expression shifted—more thoughtful than amused—but something about her own words sounded shallow now.

“He’s not easy,” Hoseok said. “But there’s more to it than you know.”

“Oh, yes” she rolled her eyes, “I am sure there is the soul of a poet hiding in there, if you squint hard enough, and ignore the felony-level rage.”

Hoseok didn’t take offense. His smile faltered only slightly—something thoughtful replacing it. “I didn’t say that,” Hoseok said gently. “He’s just… wired differently.”

“Mmmh. Yes, ‘wired’ sounds appropriate. Considering the guy’s a fucking robot.” She jerked her arms stiffly and made a beeping sound. “Must… obey… orders… Must… flex threateningly in hallway…”

That did not seem to make Hobi laugh. He shifted in his seat.

“You ever wonder why he’s always on edge?” he asked, more softly now. “Always fighting to be taken seriously?”

Y/N stared at the ceiling. “I figured it’s just… testosterone. And ego.”

Hoseok let out a faint laugh. “That’s part of it. But not the whole story.”

Something in his tone pulled her out of the haze. The room suddenly felt heavier, slower, like the words were leading her somewhere she hadn’t expected to go.

When he didn’t go on, she shifted toward him slightly. “You’re not gonna leave that hanging, are you?”

Hoseok’s mouth quirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“What is it?” she pressed.

Nothing.

“Hobi.”

He looked ahead for a long moment before finally speaking.

“You know, I used to think it was so obvious. That the way they are together… it’d be enough to give it away.”

“Give what away?”

Hoseok didn’t look at her right away. His mouth pressed into a tight line, like the words were there but caught somewhere behind his teeth.

“You really haven’t figured it out?” he asked softly.

“Clearly not,” her brows pinched, “now, spit it out, will you?”

He hesitated—visibly. Rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, like the weight of it had been there for years. Then finally, with a sigh that felt like surrender, he looked her in the eye.

“Jungkook is Namjoon’s half-brother.”

Y/N froze. Her body didn’t move, but her mind did—fast. Pieces clattered behind her eyes like tiles sliding into place.

“Wait—he’s…?”

“Yep,” Hoseok said. “Same father. Different mothers.”

Taehyung’s voice suddenly echoed in her head: “Jungkook is family. A brother, if you will.”

Son of a bitch.

Y/N let the silence stretch for a beat, eyes narrowing as everything clicked into place.

Then she scoffed. “So, let me get this straight—he’s been giving me all this shit about my privilege, bloodline and so-called birthright… and all this time, he’s been Papa Kim’s hidden little cub?”

Hoseok winced, lips pulling tight. “I—wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“Why not?” she snapped, voice sharper now. “He clearly would.”

“Jungkook was illegitimate, Y/N. You know how that plays around here. Clan politics aren’t kind to kids born on the wrong side of the bed. Especially when the baby daddy happens to be the head of the Kim clan.”

She folded her arms. “Still sounds like hypocrisy to me.”

Hoseok sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’ve seen what Mr. Kim’s like. Namjoon wasn’t exactly smothered with affection growing up—and he was the golden child. Do you think the bastard got treated any better?”

Y/N said nothing. But her mind flashed back—

The way the air had shifted that morning.

The silence.

Jungkook, bowing low before a man who hadn’t even met his eyes. His own father.

Her voice dropped, quieter now—but no less biting. “So why keep him here at all?”

“Oh,” Hoseok said, his gaze flicking to her, expression dimming. “He wasn’t always here.”

He leaned back, arms crossed loosely now, like the memory itself carried weight.

“He was seven. Maybe eight. Showed up without warning, no explanation. Just a quiet kid with sharp eyes and a bruised kind of silence.”

A beat.

“They kept him out of sight. No introductions. No acknowledgment. First few years, he barely left the attic, wasn’t allowed to. Ate all his meals alone—or with Mrs. Shin.

Y/N’s eyes widened.

Mrs. Shin.

Words came rushing back—something the old woman had said weeks ago, when Y/N had pointed out the Jeochong taffy. “I’ve found it’s good to always have something sweet on hand. Believe it or not, your weren’t the first child to shed tears in this house.”

Suddenly, the soft manner she had seen Jungkook act around the older woman made a lot more sense.

“She looked out for him. Defended him when things got ugly.”

Y/N sat up slowly, wincing. Her pulse had quickened, the painkillers losing ground to something sharper. “Ugly..how?”

“Mrs. Kim used to run this house back in the day,” Hoseok said, voice dipped in something like pity. “And let’s just say… she didn’t take kindly to living reminders of her husband’s—bad decisions.”

The image hit Y/N before he even finished: Mrs. Kim, poised like a sculpture, looking down at Jungkook like he was something tracked in on the bottom of someone else’s shoe.

Oh. You brought him, she’d said to Namjoon that morning, her smile brittle and cruel.

Hoseok shrugged. “So, yeah—him getting here was no golden ticket. She made damn sure of that.”

Y/N blinked hard and sat up straighter. “So I wasn’t imagining the bitch vibes.”

“You’ve met the lady…” He exhaled slowly. “She’s not cruel in the obvious way. She’s calculated. I mean—she was always good to me, but with Jungkook?”

He trailed off. The air went still.

“Let’s just say solitary confinement was often a mercy. Compared to being in her line of sight.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

The Hermit.

She hadn’t thought about the card Jungkook had drawn since that night in the Rat Hole.

A lone figure cloaked in shadow, lantern raised against the dark.

At the time, she’d thought it was ironic for a guy like him, all shoulders and biceps.

But now—

Now she saw it for what it was.

A joke.

Cruel, precise, and just close enough to the truth to sting.

A malicious mirror.

The attic. The cold meals. The walls that kept a little boy in and kept the rest of them comfortably out.

And suddenly, the way he moved—always hyperaware, always braced—the way he stared when people laughed like it confused him, the way he lashed out when he felt cornered—it all made more sense.

“And Namjoon?” she asked. “In all this?”

Hoseok’s face twisted, torn between empathy and realism. “Namjoon was always Mr. And Mrs. Kim’s golden boy. Textbook heir. He was too busy being raised to lead to notice the kid locked upstairs.”

Y/N swallowed. “So—he just ignored him too?”

“At first, yeah. Not out of cruelty, though. At least I don’t think so. It was more out of duty. Eomma’s orders.”

Hoseok’s smile returned—just barely. “But the thing is—Namjoon… he was raised to be ruthless—yes, but noble all the same. Eventually, those strong morals drilled into him led him right back to Jungkook.”

His little brother by blood, if not by design.

Y/N said nothing, just sat there, stunned.

He paused. “So when things got bad—really bad—it was eventually Namjoon who started stepping in. Quietly. Behind closed doors.”

He glanced at her, then away again.

It hadn’t happened overnight, of course. Namjoon didn’t wake up one day and decide to be a big brother. It was slow. Awkward. Half the time it didn’t even look like care—it looked like pity. Or duty. But it mattered.

A breath. A beat.

“I reckon it still eats at him. That he didn’t do it sooner.”

He shrugged, trying to shake the weight off.

“But anyway, one thing led to another… and slowly, Jungkook started hanging out with us.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered his early teenage years.

“We were little shits back then,” Hoseok admitted. “Me, Tae… we used to mess with him constantly. Made him the target during archery lessons. Sent him in as bait during kitchen raids—‘cause he was small enough to slip past the staff.”

He chuckled.

“But before long he started pushing back. Hitting the gym. Getting sharper—faster. Until one day, we had to stop messing with him.”

A pause. His smile turned rueful.

“Started thinking twice before crossing him.”

Y/N didn’t laugh. She couldn’t.

Hoseok caught the sour expression on her face.

“You’d think he’d hate this place. Hate Namjoon. Hate the whole goddamn bloodline,” Hoseok murmured. “But I don’t think he ever did.”

Beneath all the cold stares and clenched fists was a boy who wanted to belong. A son who still craved to be seen by the man who never once looked at him like one. A little brother who wished to remain next to his big brother.

“See, Namjoon walks into a room and people fall in line. It’s easy for him. He was raised to lead,” Hoseok said. “But Jungkook? He’s seen as the reminder of a mistake no one wants to claim. He’s got to fight for every scrap of respect he gets. That’s why he’s so tightly wound all the time. He doesn’t get to relax. Not here.”

She thought about the look in Jungkook’s eyes when Namjoon barked orders—tight-lipped and silent, never defiant, but never relaxed either.

And Namjoon, with all his power, never softening when Jungkook stood before him.

One brother raised to lead.

Another raised to obey.

No wonder he was always so fucking angry.

“I reckon Namjoon carries that guilt like it’s stitched into his skin,” Hoseok said. “He knows exactly what was done to Jungkook. Knows the part he played by doing nothing. But he’s also the boss now—or close enough. And you know what they say, the past is a fucking minefield. He can’t fix it without undoing his own authority. So instead… he hands him the only thing he can. Trust. Assignments. Responsibility. A seat at the table—even if it’s always a little to the side—and hopes it’s enough.”

Y/N thought of the way Jungkook had bristled when Namjoon reassigned him. Not just rage. Humiliation.

The sharp tension between them—resentment and reverence tangled like roots.

“It hasn’t always been easy. But that never stopped Jungkook from training harder than anyone. Bleeding more. Earning more scars. Mind you, Jungkook’s not trying to replace Namjoon.”

A beat.

“He’s trying to be worthy of standing beside him.”

Hoseok had seen it. It still happened, once in a while. Namjoon would place a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder—brief, quiet, almost impersonal. And every time, Jungkook would go still. Not relaxed—still. Like he didn’t trust it to last. Like it was a fluke. Like he was still a boy locked in that attic, waiting for the touch to turn cold.

“You said he got here when he was eight,” Y/N broke the heavy silence.

Hobi nodded contemplatively.

“Where was he before?”

He shifted in his seat. “He doesn’t like talking about it,” he said carefully.

She leaned closer. “My lips are sealed.”

A pause. Not because he didn’t know the answer—but because he was weighing whether she deserved it.

But he eventually spoke.

“He—lived with his mom,” he started. “She—wasn’t well, or so I heard. In and out of psych ward, and all. I don’t know the detail but one day she just—”

He lifted his hand slowly, made a simple motion around his neck. Didn’t say the word. Didn’t have to.

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

She thought of the words she’d screamed at him just a week prior—“Why are you always so fucking angry? What, did mommy not give you enough hugs as a kid?”

The words rang out in her head like a taunt, like a slap. She remembered the way Jungkook had gone still after she said it.

“That kind of shit?” Hoseok continued. “It doesn’t leave you untouched.”

Y/N only knew it too well. The grief. It wasn’t the kind of pain you healed from. It was the kind you grew around—like scar tissue forming over broken bone. It didn’t soften with time, didn’t fade. It embedded. Lodged itself beneath the skin and rewired everything—how you moved, how you looked at people, how close you let them stand. You didn’t outgrow it. You adapted to it. Built walls around it. Sharpened your edges so no one ever thought to reach for the soft center still screaming underneath.

Hoseok stood, brushing invisible lint from his slacks.

“I’m telling you all this because I trust you,” he said, “not to keep your mouth shut—though that too—but to know better than to turn this into ammo.”

Y/N swallowed. Guilt prickled, low and hot.

“So, don’t go and use that sharp little tongue of yours to twist the knife. Not where he’s concerned.” He paused. “I don’t think he could take it. Not from you.”

She looked away. Nodded once.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” he said, offering his arm to escort her back to her room. “Then we’re good.”

—

Chapter 21

what did you all think??? Is there a single happy, unharmed character? Probably not 👀

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bubblyi3 · 2 months ago

Text

Between Us, Before Us PART 5 | KTH

"with you everything was real. with her, it was numb."

pairing: taehung x female reader

genre: slice of life, angst, fluff

word count: 3.1k

content warning: angst, mild smut, trauma, cheating themes, unplanned pregnancy, heartbreak, toxic relationship, mention of abortion

summary: between the past and future lies the aching space of now. with taehyung, you've journeyed through love, heartbreak, and growth. once strangers, then lovers, now something more complicated, your connection is shaped by time, mistakes, and second chances. this is the story of who you were when you first fell for him, who you became through the pain, and who you might still become if you dare to hope again. in the space between healing and longing, one thing remains: him.

*fiction rooted in real emotions and experiences.

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

You hadn’t heard from Taehyung in two days since the talk with your parents.

Not even a “how are you?” or a “did you eat?”. The simplest texts he used to send, the ones that used to make you feel like he was always near, even when the world felt like it was falling apart.

Now it was silent. A gnawing kind of quiet that sank into your skin and wrapped around your lungs.

Morning sickness still clung to you, sometimes waking you before dawn. Sometimes keeping you hunched over the toilet long after the sun came up. And through it all, your parents had been quietly, unexpectedly wonderful. Your mum had started bringing home lotions for your growing belly, gently rubbing them in when you were too tired to move. She left pregnancy books on your nightstand, dog-eared to chapters she thought might help.

Your dad, silent but observant, had taken to showing up with your strangest cravings. Pneapple fritters, salted chips, avocados. Even that weird combination of pickles and ice cream you couldn’t explain. You still carried the weight of shame in your chest, still avoided their eyes some mornings. But they never once made you feel like a burden.

Only a daughter, that is loved.

Nari checked in every day. You told her about the silences, the ache in your chest, the way you’d stare at your phone until the screen dimmed and you’d curse yourself for hoping.

“He’s just scared.” She said gently one night over a video call.

“But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be ignored.”

"Gosh, you taking him back again and this what he does to you??!" Nari quickly added.

You didn’t reply. Because some part of you knew. He wasn’t just scared. He was avoiding.

Some Time Ago: (Taehyung's POV)

It had been four days since that call.

Four days since your voice cracked in his ear, since he told you what he thought was the “right” thing. Or what everyone had convinced him was right.

He hadn’t heard from you since. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing. It was as if you’d evaporated from his world, leaving behind only the heavy silence and the guilt that stuck to his chest like second skin.

Classes had started shifting back to in-person now that restrictions were loosening. The streets weren’t bustling, but there were more people. More risk. More chances of bumping into you. Just the thought made his stomach twist.

He avoided campus for as long as he could. Took side entrances, left early, skipped breaks. Anything to make sure he didn’t see you. Because he didn’t think he could handle it. Not after what he said. Not after the sound of your heartbreak through the phone.

He hated himself for it.

But he was scared.

He wasn’t ready to be a dad. He didn’t know how to be. And even though he loved you. God, he did. It felt like everything was slipping away too fast, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

That’s what led him here.

To Jisoo’s apartment.

It wasn’t planned. He just… showed up. Said he needed someone to talk to, and she let him in without asking questions. She always did.

The two of them sat on her couch, legs curled up, the smell of her coconut shampoo clinging to the air as she handed him a glass of water.

“So.” She said quietly, “you gonna tell me what happened?”

He stared at the rim of his glass. “She’s pregnant.”

Jisoo’s breath caught. “Wait—what?”

Taehyung finally looked up. “She’s pregnant... and I told her to get rid of it.”

The room went still.

For a second, she didn’t say anything. Just blinked at him like she was trying to process it.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Taehyung…”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered, voice cracking. “My parents lost it. The guys said we’re too young. And she—she needed me with her.”

Jisoo moved closer, her voice soft. “You still love her?”

He shut his eyes, jaw tight. “Yeah. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

And then something shifted.

Maybe it was the tension. Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact that his heart felt like it had been stepped on all week.

Maybe it was how Jisoo’s hand brushed his shoulder, her voice low and soothing. Maybe it was just weakness.

But when she leaned in and kissed him, he didn’t pull away.

It was quiet.

Messy.

Filled with all the wrong reasons.

A moment of shared loneliness and blurred lines. A moment where guilt didn’t exist, only the need to feel something. Anything that wasn’t grief or fear or regret.

Afterward, they didn’t speak for a long time. The room felt colder somehow. And even though Jisoo curled up beside him like it meant something, he stared at the ceiling, his chest hollow.

He didn’t feel comforted.

He felt like a coward.

He felt like he’d betrayed you all over again.

And when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t Jisoo’s face he saw. It was yours.

Your trembling voice. Your hands shaking. The baby you were still carrying. And the thought that maybe, it wasn’t too late to be the man you deserved.

But for now, he just lay there.

Still.

Afraid.

And ashamed.

Present Day: (Your POV)

You’d messaged Taehyung a few times. Nothing heavy. Just things like “Are you okay?” and “Can we talk?” But the replies were cold, clipped, lifeless.

"I’m fine."

"Busy."

"Later."

Each word felt like a slap. As if you were some stranger trying to claw your way back into relevance. As if everything you’d gone through meant nothing now. Not the nights. Not the promises. Not the child you were carrying.

You knew his class schedule. You’d memorised it without trying. It had always just stuck, like everything else about him. So when in-person lectures resumed, you lingered by the entrance of his 10AM lecture hall, pretending to scroll on your phone.

You waited by the vending machines after his afternoon seminar. Even took the long way through the main building, hoping to bump into him in passing.

But he never showed. Or maybe he did and made sure to leave before you ever got the chance to reach him.

You’d asked the guys too. Hoseok, Jungkook, even Yoongi in passing. But they either genuinely didn’t know, or were covering for him.

"Haven’t seen him today."

"He’s been keeping to himself."

"Maybe just give him some time."

They wouldn’t meet your eyes when they said it.

And deep down, you knew something had shifted.

Something you couldn’t name, but could feel every time your phone lit up and it still wasn’t him. Every time the ache behind your ribs tightened when a door creaked, when a voice echoed down the hallway, and it still wasn’t his.

It was like mourning someone who was still alive. Someone who had chosen to disappear while you were falling apart, alone.

And worse?

You still missed him. Still loved him.

Even as he avoided you. Even as you carried this growing baby between your ribs and beneath your skin.

Even now, with the silence, the one-word replies, and the weight of everything he didn’t say. You still wanted him to care.

God, how pathetic that made you feel.

Across the city, Taehyung sat cross-legged on Jisoo’s couch. Nursing a can of cheap beer, the television playing something neither of them were really watching.

She handed him a blanket even though it wasn’t cold.

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Too much on my mind.”

She didn’t ask about it anymore. Not directly. She knew.

“It’s a lot.” She said simply, sitting beside him, tucking her legs beneath her.

“No one would blame you for needing space.”

And that was what he had here. The space, the silence. Just soft music, dim lights, and someone who never looked at him like he’d already failed.

He hated himself for how easy it felt.

“She deserves better.” He muttered under his breath.

“What?” Jisoo asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just… I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not ready to be a dad. I’m not even ready to be a good boyfriend.”

Jisoo looked at him carefully, her voice dipping low.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. You just have to know what’s right for you.”

He hated how much that comforted him.

And yet… he let himself lean into it.

Let himself stay just a little too long. Let her laugh fill the silence. He was too much of a coward to face with you. Let her be the distraction while you were the one carrying everything, all alone.

Because the truth was, Taehyung didn’t feel like a man. He felt like a scared boy hiding behind old friendships and shallow comfort, while the woman he claimed to love was carrying something far heavier than either of them could articulate.

And still, he didn’t call.

You woke up feeling heavier than usual.

Maybe it was the nausea. Maybe the restless sleep. Or maybe it was just the weight of everything you hadn’t said aloud yet. The quiet ache of silence between you and Taehyung that had stretched for days too long.

You blinked at the sunlight bleeding through the blinds and reached for your phone without thinking.

And there it was.

A message from him. Sent at 1:43AM.

[Taehyung]: Can we talk? After class tomorrow. Please.

You stared at it for a while, unsure how to feel.

The words weren’t long. They weren’t full of remorse or warmth or anything clear. But they were more than he had given you in days. And somehow, that was enough to send your heart into a spiral of hope and dread.

You reread it again, as if the message might change. As if, hidden in the silence between those sentences, you might find a trace of the boy who once held your trembling hands in the dark and whispered promises against your skin.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to ignore it. To protect what was left of your sanity.

But the truth was that your heart still ached for him. Your body still remembered his. And your soul still leaned in his direction, even if he’d turned away first.

So you stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply box, breath caught somewhere between forgiveness and self-preservation.

Because maybe this talk would change everything.

Or maybe, it would just break you all over again.

The café was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every clink of a coffee cup sound like thunder. You sat by the window, both hands wrapped tightly around your glass of water.

Your eyes flicked to the entrance every time the bell above the door rang. Until it finally rang for him.

Taehyung walked in, dressed in black. Hoodie, cap, mask. As if he didn’t want to be seen. As if the moment could be hidden just by dressing small.

He pulled the chair out across from you slowly, and for a second, it was like muscle memory. Your heart skipping just at the sight of him. But it was brief and fragile.

He pulled his mask down. His lips were dry. His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped against the wood of the table.

Neither of you spoke for a full minute.

“Thanks for meeting me.” He said finally, voice low.

You nodded once, unsure what to say. You had thought this would be a good thing. That maybe this was him coming around. Maybe even ready to try again, properly this time.

But then he inhaled, and you felt it before he even opened his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking a lot.” He started.

“And… I just—I don’t think either of us are ready for this.”

You blinked. “Taehyung…”

“I mean it.” He said quickly.

“It’s not about not caring. I do. I care about you a lot. But a baby? Right now? It’ll destroy everything. Our degrees, our lives, your freedom, my—” He stopped himself, but you already heard it.

My freedom.

You looked down at your lap. “I thought you understood. After the talk we had with my parents… you said you felt better. You said we could figure it out.”

“Yeah, but that was with them in the room.” He muttered.

“I said what I thought they needed to hear.”

Your heart dropped. “You lied?”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“No—I just didn’t know how else to handle it. I didn’t want to upset anyone. I didn’t want to upset you. But this isn’t the life we imagined, is it? Not now.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. “So what? You want me to just… end it? Like it’s nothing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did, Taehyung!” You snapped, voice rising.

“You just said you think abortion is a good idea!”

He stiffened in his seat. “Don’t yell.”

“I’m pregnant, Taehyung!” You were loud now, eyes glossed over.

“I am sick every morning, feeling so alone even though I shouldn’t be and you’re scared?!… You think I’m not?!”

The table between you might as well have been an ocean.

“You keep going back and forth.” You continued, voice trembling.

“You tell me you’ll support me, then you disappear.”

He didn’t even deny it. Just looked away.

That’s when it hit you. He wasn’t here to work things out. He was here to lighten his conscience. To offload the guilt of choosing himself while still trying to be seen as the “good guy.”

“So that’s it?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

“You’re giving up?”

He stood.

You blinked. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded once, jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and walked out, the bell above the café door chiming softly behind him.

You sat there long after, one hand resting over your stomach, the other gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

The water was warm now.

And for the first time in a long time. You felt cold.

You didn’t remember walking home.

Everything blurred. The sky, the people, the traffic. It was like the world was carrying on without you, louder and more oblivious than ever. You moved through it like a ghost.

Inside your room, the silence was worse. You sat on the edge of your bed, your coat still on, the weight of your body suddenly unfamiliar.

You ran a hand across your belly. It felt heavy now. Like it knew something you didn’t. Like it had heard him too.

You replayed his words.

"It’s not about not caring." "It’ll destroy everything." "My freedom."

You wanted to scream. You wanted to hate him.

And you did. You hated the way he made promises with his eyes and broke them with his silence.

You hated the way he walked away. Not just from you, but from something that could’ve been life-changing.

But you missed him too.

God, you missed him.

You hated him, and yet you still reached for your phone like it might carry a new version of him. One that hadn’t just left you sitting in a café with melted ice and a shattered heart.

No new messages.

Not even a check-in to see if you got home okay.

You curled up on your side, arm draped protectively over your stomach. A tear slipped down your cheek and hit the pillow before you even felt it fall.

Is it love I still feel for him? You wondered.

Or is it the bond that comes from sharing something we created?

You didn’t know anymore.

Taehyung POV:

He didn’t go home right away.

Instead, he walked through campus, past buildings that suddenly felt too small for the weight sitting on his chest. Every step echoed with the sound of your voice trembling, hurt, and so loud in his memory it drowned out everything else.

He’d never seen you like that before.

And he hated himself for causing it.

Taehyung sat on the back steps of the music building. But there were no words this time, just guilt and the dull ache of his heartbeat reminding him he wasn’t as heartless as he had acted.

He pulled out his phone.

Your name was still pinned at the top.

He wanted to text you. To say “I didn’t mean it like that,” or “I’m sorry, I panicked,” or even just “Did you get home okay?”

But what would that change?

He had made a decision. Not just for himself, but for a future he didn’t feel ready to hold. A future with a child. A family. Responsibilities that terrified him in ways he hadn’t admitted even to himself.

He cared for you. That was the worst part.

But the idea of being a father, of messing up something so big when he couldn’t even get this right. It paralyzed him.

Still, he couldn’t leave you alone in it.

Not completely.

So he made a promise to himself. A selfish, half-broken one even before it was spoken aloud.

He would be there for the pregnancy. The appointments. The support.

But once the baby came? He didn’t know. He told himself it would be best for everyone if he stayed at a distance. That he wasn’t good enough to be part of that picture. That it would hurt less in the long run.

Lie after lie after lie.

But it made the guilt quieter.

At least for now.

He sat there as the sky darkened, head in his hands, wondering when exactly he lost his courage. And whether you’d ever look at him the same way again.

He didn’t notice the footsteps at first.

It wasn’t until the soft scuff of shoes stopped just in front of him that he finally looked up. His eyes red-rimmed, throat tight.

Jisoo.

She stood there in a grey hoodie and jeans, holding two takeaway cups in her hands. Her brows knit slightly when she looked at him.

“There you are.” She said softly.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

He blinked, still caught in the emotional fog of everything he hadn’t said to you. For a second, he didn’t respond. Just stared at her like he wasn’t sure if she was real or just another layer of guilt.

Jisoo moved closer, crouching beside him.

“You okay?” She asked, more gentle than usual.

Taehyung swallowed hard, the weight of the afternoon pressing down on his shoulders. Your voice still echoed in his mind. The way you had looked at him like he had just ripped your world apart.

And now with Jisoo being here. Available and familiar.

Here when he was a mess. Here when he didn’t deserve softness.

He didn’t answer her question.

Didn’t know how to.

Instead, he accepted the coffee she offered and took a slow sip. It tasted bitter.

Just like everything else.

#bts angst #bangtan #bts fluff #bts scan #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kim taehyung #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff

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darkpuppysuit · 7 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: Hybrid!BTSxReader

Words: 8.6k

WARNINGS: Smoking, Cursing, once again Hybrid puffy-fluffy clouds for the most part.

The night had remained peaceful, the first peaceful night I've had in my entire life actually. I slowly open my eyes with the morning sun and a death grip on my calf and soft snoring behind me, a blonde tail wrapped around my thigh. I don't remember much of anything that happened last night maybe that was a blessing in disguise. I slowly unfurl the fist entangled in my shirt and the grip on my calf tightens.

"Kitten?" Yoongi groans absently and turns over on his side looking at me through heavily lidded eyes as the sun shines on his ever so delicate and pale skin. "I need to get up, there's chores to be done Yoongi." I grumble. "If I stay in this bed any longer nothing's gonna get done."

I rub my face and slip my leg from his loosened grasp when my phone rings loudly. Jimin bolts upright with a messy head of hair and his eyes still closed. "What the hell is that annoying noise?" I scoff as I reach into my drawer beside me. "It's called rock and roll, oh my gods." I bring out my cell phone to see Emily's name on screen.

"Hello?" I mumble as she screams on the other end. "Y/n M/n L/n! Get your ass out here you got three hot looking mother fuckers having a standoff with me on your front fucking porch!" I wince at her loud voice and she hangs up as quickly as she called.

I lay back down on the bed and rest my arm over my eyes before I jolt upright smacking my forehead against Yoongi's chin. "Fuck! Why did you move! You were perfectly fine at the edge of the bed!" I rub the area on my forehead that was just assaulted by his chin.

"What do you mean! I heard yelling from the other end of the phone, I was concerned!" He growls the last of his sentence. "That doesn't mean get all up in my business jackass! Are you okay?" I stop rubbing my forehead to take his face into my hands so I can look him over, only when our eyes meet does he stop mumbling curses under his breath.

If I didn't know any better with how wide his eyes are I'd think I was looking at a canine hybrid and not a feline, I could get lost in his caramel colored eyes for the rest of my life and I wouldn't mind.

Jimin yawns beside me stretching his arms over his head. "You two argue like an old married couple." We break eye contact at his comment and Yoongi was fast to sprint towards the door before turning back to Jimin with a scowl. "Say something like that again I dare you mutt." Yoongi growls his empty threat that turns into a purr almost when he looks to me for a moment, (he doesn't mind being seen like an old married couple, it actually makes his heart flutter a little when he thinks about it) then he trips over the rug in the hallway when he shuffles out. "I guess I better go save her."

Walking out the front door in my pajamas to find not only Namjoon (It was a given he'd be one of the three hybrids outside) but also Jungkook and Taehyung, who are standing the closest to my best friend with their arms crossed and a semi permanent scowl on their face. Taehyung turns around and his whole demeanor changes so quick it almost gives me whiplash.

"Y/n! This one claims to know you." He pouts pointing at Emily who is openly gawking at Jungkook and Namjoon, the wolf hybrid keeping his arms crossed as he looks down to meet my eyes before looking back at the stranger ion my lawn. "Everyone I would like you to meet Emily." I step down from the porch and over to Emily, standing behind her and gently rubbing her forearm to hopefully comfort her.

"She's been my best friend for fifteen years now and I would appreciate it if you will treat her with the same respect you have for me." I smile as the hybrids that have gathered outside relax a little bit and I look at my best friend. "What the fuck are you doing over here so damn early? Ya stupid bitch."

I push her shoulder and she stumbles only to come back and envelope me into a bone crushing hug. "I haven't had the chance to come over for so long asshole so, I thought I'd surprise you! I didn't expect to get jumped by three very attractive hybrids." My cheeks begin to burn as I look at the three who have turned away from the conversation looking anywhere but me. "I guess I should have told you that I have guests staying here, my bad. You should have called anyways what if I was still sleeping? You would've been stuck out in the heat, dumb cunt."

I bring everyone inside and do some more introductions before Emily follows me upstairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind her she looks at me with her round eyes. "Bitch, when were you going to tell me there is seven of them? Not to mention they're all hot as fuck, I swear give me five minutes with that white tiger and I'll be happy." She exclaims and throws herself onto my bed daydreaming.

"Shut the hell up they can hear you, stupid! Hybrid hearing remember?" I take off my shorts and shirt after I slap her shoulder. "Plus they've only barely been here a day. I'm supposed to take them to the store for new clothes, I can't have them walking around the farm looking homeless, what if someone calls hybrid control?"

I button my flannel by the middle button on my chest with a black tank top underneath and my normal blue jeans and socks. "Did they come in before the storm?" She rolls over my bed trying to keep up with my steps around the room. "No, I saw them run into the barn out back during the storm. I was scared they were gonna ransack the damn place, all I saw were like three bodies make it inside before I booked it out there." Emily bursts out laughing at what I thought was going to happen had I not stepped in.

"Wow Y/n, I didn't think you were that into your grandparents old vintage stuff!" I throw a pillow at her face but she quickly snatches it mid-air laughing at my expense. "Hey it's not my fault okay? I hadn't seen any hybrid in weeks and the storm was blowing shit everywhere! Nobody should've been out in all that!" I whisper shout at her putting some perfume and deodorant on. I open my mouth again but it's quickly shut by the doorbell. Emily and I share a wide eyed glance before we're rushing out of the room and down the stairs to the foyer.

Clambering down the stairs with Emily in tow Hoseok was just about to open the door before I push my body against it to swiftly shut the door. "Until the neighbors know you guys are here leave it to me to answer the door. Less bullshit happier Y/n, okay?" Hobi shakes his head and scurries back to the living room with his tail tucked between his legs and I take a deep breath before opening the door again.

"Hi, oh it's just you! How ya doin' John?" I give him an apologetic smile and all the hybrids heads perk up at the mention of another mans name, their ears flick around to the conversation at the door, growling at the masculine scent coming inside. "Hey Y/n, what happened? The door barely opened before it was slammed in my face." John chuckles flashing his charming smile as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and slip my hand into my back pocket biting my bottom lip.

"Uhm, well funny story actually-" I nervously laugh and was just about to explain to him how I have seven hybrids currently in my house oh and lets not forget they're all men. "Y/n has seven hybrids living with her!" I spin around to face Emily quicker than the speed of light scowling at her whispering bitch I'm gonna fucking kill you in your sleep.

"Seven? That's no big deal. I'm assuming they're all cats or are they dogs? Those are the species you normally deal with aren't they?" I wince and scrunch my nose at him. "Well, not exactly John, just come in and you'll see what I mean." I pull him into the house and close the door behind him.

When I stand next to him all of the hybrids have stood and are in a line in front of the stairs. Jungkook looks like he's about to charge poor John meanwhile Namjoon and Yoongi are glowering at him with such a thick fuck around and find out aura around them my breath hitches in my throat.

"U-uhm, John these are the hybrids I was talking about." He looks between my short stature then back at the seven men standing in front of him. "You didn't tell me they were all guys." Surprisingly it's Jin who scoffs at him followed by an irritated eye roll.

"I don't think she has to mention that to anyone." I tilt my head at him as our eyes meet for a moment and his stern look falters for a second before he returns to scowling at the man next to me. "Right, anyways let me introduce you."

Once introductions are out of the way I drag Emily to the kitchen and John follows behind her. "Fuck that was intense. You could cut the tension with a fucking chainsaw." I slump in my chair and rub my temples a deep sigh leaving my lips. "No joke, what was up with that?" I lean back in my chair and let my head hang over the back when John chimes in.

"They're territorial, especially that wolf hybrid. Have you even talked to them about staying or going yet?" I snap my head up and look across the table at him with tired eyes. I haven't thought to ask them, they've spent one day here and I'm already almost completely attached to them.

"No, I just assumed they would eat, rest and move on like all the others in the past. But they did help me move the fallen branches to the burn pile. Dove absolutely loves Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung, she seems so much happier with them around."

I run my hands down my face and through my hair finally calming down from the adrenaline rush from earlier. "You need to ask them because from the intense vibe from earlier I think their less rational animalistic side sees this as their home already but the rational human part of them is waiting to be told to get the hell out of dodge."

Emily takes my hands in hers and looks me directly in my eyes. "Just talk to them babes, I'm sure you can figure something out, besides if you don't keep them here- I'll happily take that fluffy haired tiger with me." I roll my eyes and push her hard enough to knock her down and out of her chair (Pretty sure she rolled off though).

"There's no need for violence!" She shouts and I laugh hysterically and point at her before I turn my attention back to John. "Hey John did you need something? You don't usually come over unless it's about your grandfather's horses or cattle."

Poor John is a city boy but was the only one willing to help his grandfather out with his own, smaller farm just up the road. Bless this mans heart. "Oh yeah that's right my grandad was hoping you'd take this mustang he got at the auction a couple nights ago, says she knows how to break horses real good. His words not mine." He raises his hands up and leans back in the chair.

"He's probably kicking up a storm in your front yard in the horse trailer right about now." I stare at him for a moment as Emily sits in the chair next to him throwing me a shady look. "A mustang? Here, as in right now? Ugh, let me get my boots on." I roll my eyes and stomp to the nook in front of the door. Before we even step outside I can hear whining and the trailer banging around outside.

When we do step outside the trailer is moving side to side. "How did you even get him in the trailer?" I look up to John who stands next to me with his hands in his pockets and his brows furrowed. "Lots of pulling and staying the fuck out of his way once he was in." Nodding I cautiously walk forward to the trailer and the mustang inside stops for a moment. I open the door to grab the rope around his jaw so I can pull him forward- he was a beautiful ash grey and the socks on his feet were black along with his mane and tail of course.

"Easy now sweetheart, I'm gonna get you all settled in the stables alright?" The horse stamps the trailer floor a few times nodding his head up and down and I start to lead him when he suddenly lurches forward taking me with him, letting out a blood curdling scream that has everyone flying outside yelling at me to let go of the rope but I can't hear them over the stomping hooves so close to my ear.

"Son of a bitch!" I manage to swing my feet out in front of me and dig my heels into the mud, using the upcoming mound of rocks to help me jump onto the bareback of the horse. I quickly let go of the rope and tangle my fingers in its long black mane pulling hard.

I grit my teeth hard as he instantly starts bucking in the air trying with all his might to buck me off onto the grass of my backyard but I hold on for dear life while digging my spurs into his sides. "Goddammit! Just go down already you bastard!" I speak through gritted teeth as Jungkook watches on, loving the way I bark curse words and grunts at the horse.

"That's so hot." He mumbles under his breath- hoping nobody heard him, having not so holy thoughts. He quickly shakes the porn-like images from his head before looking up again and smiling. Namjoon looks worried for a change as he pulls at the ends of his hair in anticipation waiting for the worst to happen, beside him is Jin who's worked up in a similar fashion only softly biting his nails.

Hoseok and Yoongi have to hold back both Taehyung and Jimin from running out into harms way just to try and help, Yoongi keeps repeating. "This is what she does for a living guys, calm down." Like a broken record and it's not until a few grueling minutes later of practically wrestling with the horse that could easily fall to the side and break my leg or worse, the mustang slows down significantly with his head hung low panting against the dirt underneath him.

I reach down and pat his neck then gently rubbing it trying to catch my own breath so I talk between gasps of air. "See? I told y-you would lose." I tilt my head down and take a deep breath letting out a tired sigh before I lead him over to the stable shouting back at John. "I'll keep him for a few days to make sure he's completely broke in!" I give him a thumbs up and a tip of my hat that he quickly returns with a smile.

I walk inside toeing off my boots a little more worse for wear than when my day first started and I slump onto the couch resting my head on the back of it. I take a deep breath and I close my eyes for a few minutes before they shoot open again raising my hands out in front of me while quickly sitting up taking another deep breath through my nose.

"Y/n-ie? Are you okay?" Jimin asks shuffling his feet to stand next to me, I look up at him from the couch. "Yeah, I'm okay bub. I want to take you guys to the store so you don't look so, homeless? I'm sure there's a better word for it but yeah." I rub my face before looking back at him with his holy shirt, tattered jeans and shredded dress shoes.

"You want to get us new clothes?" He asks shyly wrapping his tail around his middle, which seems to be a nervous tic of his- like Hoseok does when he tucks his tail between his legs. I smile at him and pat the spot next to me for him to sit and I ruffle his hair, his cheeks change to that cute pink color I like so much.

"Of course I do, and shoes and hygiene supplies or whatever else you guys want." I start rubbing his back when Hoseok walks in with a sandwich in hand munching away. "I hope you don't mind I helped myself to the fridge." He takes another bite, sitting next to me he offers me some. "N-no I'm okay." I put my hand up and shake my head but he doesn't take no for an answer and insists I take at least one bite before we run out the door again.

I roll my eyes and take a bite from the fox hybrid just to appease him as he stares at me intently. Standing up I call for the rest of the guys to meet me in the living room. Better time than never for that awkward conversation to take place before I take them to the store. That might just be my nerves talking though...

Yoongi is the last to show up as he shuffles his feet across the rug half asleep to sit in the easy chair across from me and I take a look around the room to make sure I have every body counting their heads, they're spread out in the living room and I stand in the archway to look at all of them. "Okay, this is an important conversation we should've had the night you came in, I know you've only been here a day and I know some of us didn't get off on the right foot."

I glance in Namjoon's direction barely making eye contact before he quickly looks at a random painting on the wall to his left rubbing the back of his head. "But I would be forever grateful if you guys would stay." I look up from gazing at the wolf and their heads have snapped in my direction staring, I take a deep breath before continuing. "This ain't easy for me to admit that I need help with the chores this place demands of me. It's a total of eighty acres for fuck sake, it stretches from the dirt road out front all the way to the creek in the back. Now, you don't h-have to stay here if you don't want to and I'm okay with that too. When you're here you can do whatever you want."

Looking around the room my heart swells a little more to see them thinking about it so intently with hushed whispers but it also makes me nervous because they could possibly walk out of this house and never return once they walk out that door.

My heart is hoping maybe, just maybe, they'll stay not only to help out around the farm but to also stay with me, keep me company. I've been alone for so long not only physically but mentally as well, drained from mundane interactions with other people and hybrids alike.

But it isn't like that with them for some reason I feel a constant tugging on my heart strings to shower them with anything I can, especially affection. I have to come back to reality more often than not when I get lost in my thoughts. "You don't have to answer right now because I still need to figure out how to get all of you into the truck so we can get you some new, clean clothes and whatever else you guys want."

Hoseok and Jimin's tails are going a mile a minute and their shining smiles are wider than I've ever seen before. "You mean you want us to stay here? With you and Dove?" Their matched energy levels have leaped through the ceiling so much that I have to raise a hand up to get them to calm down. "I do Hoseok, but it's your decision not mine. I won't make you stay here against your will or work you to the bone either. Being here you will be treated like any human being would be treated, fairly and with respect. It's the southern way after all."

After getting my boots back on, pulling the keys out of my pocket and some arguing from a few of the hybrids that have now all piled in the truck. Jimin is sitting next to me on the bench seat holding my hand his fingers laced with mine, nuzzling into my side meanwhile Jin is riding in the passenger space, stating he has seniority because he's the eldest.

He sits close to the door but still has his arm draped over the back of the bench seat playing with the ends of my hair. Meanwhile Namjoon, Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi are sitting in the back trying to make room for Jungkook. After a few minutes of struggling with his antlers hitting the ceiling repeatedly he decides he's just going to sit in the bed of the truck and we are off towards town with good music blaring down the old dirt road.

I put the truck in park and turn it off, taking a deep breath I open the door and everyone follows me to the bed of the truck. "How was it?" I ask Jungkook as he jumps from the tailgate. "You need to take those fucking turns slower- was thrown to the side of the truck more than a few times." He chuckles scratching behind his halo antlers and my eyes look him over as I grab his face down to his shoulders.

"Fuck I'm sorry are you alright?" I keep looking him over while his smile turns into a smirk. "Damn Y/n if you wanted to feel me up this bad all you had to do was ask." I swiftly retract my hands blush creeping in from my ears down to my cheeks and neck as I playfully punch his arm.

"That's not what I was doing! There's equipment in the back, it could've hurt you, cocky little shit." I turn around and roll my eyes at nobody in particular and guide them into the hybrid outfitters. Upon entering the retail store the staring is endless, everywhere I look there's somebody and their hybrid or little kid staring. If looks could kill I'd be dead and buried six feet under.

Soon two shopping carts are being filled to the brim with clothes, toys and bathroom supplies, just as I turn the corner into the collar aisle to keep myself busy while the rest of them shop with Taehyung and Jin on either side of me.

A lady who by her appearance didn't belong in this small town hybrid shop, she was in a dress that came down to her knees and it sparkled like the sun with every step she took with heels on her feet clicking against the tile and jewelry I would never be able to afford on my own hanging from her ears and neck.

"Hi young lady I'm sorry to disturb your shopping but, how much for your snow tiger hybrid?" I look up from the silver collar that looked more like a chain necklace than a collar, slowly turning my head towards Miss money with my eyebrows knitted together.

"What makes you think he's for sale in the first place?" I snap at her grimacing, burning holes into the side of her head as she openly ogles at both Taehyung and Jin who look very uncomfortable shuffling their feet around like the bitch talks about them like they're not even here, completely ignoring me.

"Oh why don't I just take both of them off of your hands? By the looks of it you have enough problems to worry about, please money is no issue." She looks me up and down, my clothes still partially covered by mud and dirt with a disgusted look on her face before she reaches for her pocket book to write me a check.

"How much do you want?" With her pen at the ready to write down whatever amount I decided. I snatch the pen from her hand and chuck it across the aisle, pointing at her getting a little too close for her comfort. I couldn't help it I was seeing red pissed at her ignorance and blatant disrespect for both me and the boys.

"Listen lady I know how your kind works. You buy hybrids have fun with them around for a few days then treat them like cow shit on the bottom of your boot and throw them out when you're done with them. They are not a problem nor will they ever be a fucking problem." Fire burned in my eyes as I stared her down down like predator and prey, her eyes were blown wide and she almost looked offended as she scoffed. "So take your checkbook and get the fuck out of my face." I scoff and turn around the fury still boiling within my veins.

Once out of the aisle and out of earshot I stop to take a deep breath and let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose I pat Taehyung and Jin on the back giving them a small squeeze with my hands on the side of their waists.

"I'm sorry for going off like that she just, ugh, people like her piss me off. She's obviously never worked a day in her life and thinks money makes everything so much easier to get what she wants. I mean it does but that's not my point." I completely wrap my arms around each of their waist in a side hug before they share a glance and quickly envelope me in a warm almost bone crushing embrace.

Taehyung and Jin rub their noses against either side of my neck sending shivers down my spine and I can't but smile "Thank you Y/n for protecting us like that. You have no idea how much it means to us." Jin purrs and Taehyung nods in agreement, a soft chuff leaving his throat before pulling back their pupils slightly blown out from the scenting they just did.

"One of these days you guys are gonna have to tell me how your needs as a hybrid work, besides the basics of course." I giggle, a sound they haven't heard slip past my lips before and they decide from then and there they need to hear it more often.

Moving forward to the electronic section of the store Jimin comes running towards the cart with a pile of clothes mixed with a few odds and ends. "Y/n-ie! Can I have this? Please?" he dumps the clothes into the cart holding up a duck toy for me to see and I smile at him, my eyes shining at his childish pout.

"Of course get whatever you want, I'm gonna get you guys some phones that way you can call me if you need something and I'm not around." I rub the top of his head the smile on his face makes my cheeks hurt for him with how wide it is. "Okay! I'm gonna go find Hobi and show him my duck!" He runs off towards the shoe section at the speed of light as I get their phones squared away.

Soon it's time to check out, I don't pay much attention to the way the clerk is ogling over the seven hybrids around the checkout lane, especially Jungkook. I count their heads to make sure I have everyone. "You seem to have your hands full huh? I bet they're a lot of fun at home especially that elk of yours."

It seems today is the day to test my short fuse of patience and anger for a second time, Taehyung looks over trying to gauge my reaction, the aroma of burnt leather and ashy cedar filling everyone's noses and he is quick to slither his tail around my waist I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down.

The guys can plainly smell the burnt leather and ashy cedarwood stinging their noses like a forest fire by now when I turn to look at her like an insect that had to be gotten rid of as soon as possible. I open my mouth to speak but she's quick to cut me off with a gross smirk on her face. "I mean if he's too much to handle in the bedroom, I'll take him home with me." I look back to Jungkook whose eyes are as wide as saucers making him look as innocent as a little bunny, had it not been for the tattoos, piercings, and cocky ass attitude I would've believed those eyes.

She scans the duck last because Jimin just would not let it go to save his life, once his duckie was scanned I'm quick to pluck it out of the plastic bag and hand it back to him with a smile before turning my attention back to the woman in front of me, stoned face and pissed off, leaning over the counter a little, pointing my finger in her face, my words laced with venom.

"Listen bitch first of all he's a Yukon moose anyone with two perfectly good eyeballs can see that much. Secondly, I've already had to deal with one of you sick fucks today and if you want to keep your job I suggest you keep your horny comments to your motherfucking self. Okay? Sweetheart." I growl and lean back barely touching Taehyungs chest with my back and put on a fake smile then take a wad of cash out of my back pocket and hand it to her gritting my teeth.

I haul my ass up into the truck slamming the door shut, we managed to make room for Jungkook in the front next to Jin who has traded spots with Jimin, currently too entranced by his new toy to pay attention to much of anything.

Jin rubs my shoulder in an attempt to calm my frayed nerves. "That shit, is exactly why I don't leave the farm as much anymore. Gods, the filth that walks this world thinking hybrids are anything less than human are an abomination." I growl out causing Taehyung to sit forward on the bench seat behind me to play with my hair in an attempt to soothe me.

"Don't worry about it too much Y/n, we're used to getting those kind of comments." Namjoon sighs pulling his tail out from under him as he climbs into the truck and sits down followed by Yoongi and Hoseok. "I don't care if it's the most normal thing on the planet! It grinds my gears that they can say or do anything they want and get away with it especially miss money in the collar aisle." I let out another low grunt that has the whole truck go silent the entire way back to the house.

I sit in the lazy chair flipping through the channels on the TV while the boys are upstairs getting their things sorted. I stop on the local news channel and stare at the headline "Local man let out of prison two years early for good behavior." I can't believe my eyes when he shows up on screen, his fugly smile and crooked teeth grossing me out and if it wasn't for the way he stared into the camera when he talked like he was staring directly into my soul I would have heard Namjoon trying to talk to me- asking me something about a spare room or maybe books?

"Earth to Y/n, return from orbit." Waving his hand in front of my face I look up at him with wide mentally absent eyes and my bottom lip quivering, the tears collecting in my eyes threaten to spill as he swiftly sits down and wraps his large arms around me.

"What's wrong pup?" He holds me close rubbing my bicep and scenting the top of my head with his chin as I stare at the floor. After a few minutes and Yoongi sitting down next to me nuzzling his nose into my neck scenting just like Namjoon is on my other side do I start to become lucid again.

"Kit, you need to tell us what you're thinking about. We don't want another episode." Yoongi's purr is low and I take a peek at the TV again and it's changed to something else entirely so I shut it off. "It's nothing, don't worry about it okay?" I break out of their grasp with a fake smile only to be pulled sideways onto Namjoons lap with a small yelp.

"You don't have to tell us right now but you're not moving until your scent dies down a little." Namjoon can still smell the forest fire coming off of me in waves, he gently circles his arms around my waist and I set my hands awkwardly around his shoulders and on his broad chest as he pulls my body close. His nose meets my neck gently rubbing against it which causes me to shiver and close my eyes trying not to start crying in front of them.

Yoongi joins the scenting by pressing his chest to my back and rubbing his cheek against the nape of my neck laying an arm over my opposite shoulder while the other slips through Namjoons grip to rest his hand on my thigh and I tense up at the close contact with the wolf and panther hybrid purring loud enough for the whole house to hear.

_________

"Hey look at that." Jungkook slaps Jins shoulder and he turns away from the sink long enough to see Y/n resting on Namjoon's lap with Yoongi pressed against her back, the two alpha hybrids completely lost in scenting and soothing her. "She looks like she's about to pass out. If they don't stop soon they're alphas are going to snap. Last thing we need is a feral fight in the living room with Y/n caught in the middle." Jin worriedly goes back to washing the few dishes in the sink trying to think of a good way to get them off of her without one of them ripping his throat out.

"Yeah you're right, as entertaining as that would be the last thing we need to do is scare her away or for her to change her mind completely, kicking us out." Jungkook pats new his dirt-less pants looking around the room waiting when he glances back at the jaguar hybrid who's already staring at him with an are you serious expression on his face before rolling his eyes. "What? I didn't do anything." He shrugs his shoulders as Jin turns the faucet off and dries his hands.

"Exactly, why does it always have to be me?" He complains aggressively throwing the towel onto the stovetop before putting it where it actually belongs. "Because Namjoon actually likes you, he tolerates me and you're older than literally everyone in the house." Now, Jungkook wasn't wrong very often and he did have a few good annoying little points.

"Fine but if I lose a limb you're taking me to the hospital. You know how their alphas could react, especially Yoongi's when it comes to someone as broken as her. All they want to do is fix her the best way they know how to." Jin whispers, ever so slowly making his way into the living room across the foyer where Y/n and the other two have been for the last hour.

Standing in front of the small cuddle puddle he lightly taps the wolf hybrids shoulder repeatedly. "Joon. Hey, Joonie. Namjoon!" Jin shouts his name smacking his shoulder with a crisp slap and Namjoon's head shoots upright from where it was nuzzled into Y/n's neck.

His eyes are completely blown out and a deep rumble coming from his chest pulling her sleeping form closer to his body making Yoongi growl softly from the other side. "I'm sorry but you two are scenting up the entire house we can hardly breathe. Do you want me to ta-"

Jins voice is cut off by not one but two low almost guttural snarls which causes him to take a step or two back raising his hands level with his shoulders. "Or, you two can take her to her room yourself I don't care, I just want to be able to breath again without my nose being assaulted." He shoots back noting how the two of them refuse to remove themselves and go somewhere else.

"Come on Joon we all talked about this at the store, promised to share her no matter what." There's a small pause in both of their movements only now remembering the promise they made as a pack of mismatched hybrids if they were to stay in this house. "The fact that you two aren't responding coherently is making my skin itch. At least carry her up to her room that way we have a door to shut."

Namjoon carries Y/n to her bedroom briefly coming back to reality when she shifts in his arms tightening her grip on his shoulders and around his waist where he holds her by the back of her thighs when he reached her door.

Yoongi opens the small double doors to her room and saunters in like he owns the place claiming his spot under the covers on the far side of her bed making room for Y/n.

He could care less if Namjoon was to join, his only priority at the moment is to keep alpha's kitten safe and far away from harm, whatever had caused that horrid burnt leather and wet cedar smell to attack his nose earlier he'd be sure to correct it as soon as possible.

Laying her onto the bed she shifts a little when her hot skin meets the cold sheets below, the two men freeze and she quickly finds Yoongi, her personal heater, rolling into him with a small smile on her face as she cuddles in close encasing his torso with her arm laying her other hand on his chest then she stills once again.

Namjoon slowly and gently slides against her back putting his arm underneath her head and his other arm wraps around her belly, rubbing it in short strokes his alpha wondering how round she would become, filled with his pups and raising them like the father he always dreamed of being.

Yoongi is thinking along those same lines pulling her leg onto his hip and slotting his leg between hers so he could be in some way closer to her. His alpha scratching at the door demanding him to take her right now but he manages to fend him off just enough because he knew if he let his alpha win he could hurt her in more ways than one and that's the last thing he wanted, not when this was all still so new but not quite foreign, not just for him but for everyone involved.

___________

A few hours later, downstairs in the kitchen Seokjin is desperately trying to fix something for them to eat. "This is fucking stupid, how does she find anything in this mess?" He grumbles to nobody in particular as he stands inside the pantry with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently on the tile below while biting his bottom lip in concentration. The pantry was indeed all over the place and nothing was organized which made Seokjin's ears twitch and his tail flick in frustration.

"Simple, it's her house." Jungkook snickers from the open sliding glass door to the back porch with a lit cigarette from the pack Y/n had bought him earlier poised between his lips taking a long drag. Seokjin rolls his eyes then saunters out of the pantry with a baking pan, a can of butter biscuits and two pounds of sausage and some bacon too.

He sets the items in his hands on the counter putting his hands on his hips staring at the pile in front of him. Hoseok and Taehyung run down the stairs towards the back porch when Hoseok stops mid jog to tap Seokjin on the shoulder.

"Hey, what are you going to cook with all of that?" He asks curiously as he looks over the jaguar hybrid's broad shoulders. "I was thinking biscuits and gravy for dinner but I'm not good at making any type of gravy, the gravy is always way too thin to be considered a gravy."

Seokjin sighs in frustration while rubbing his face with both hands meanwhile Hoseok is running some scalding hot water in the sink to thaw the frozen meat. "That's a lot of gravy for one sentence, also, why don't you ask Y/n for help? Where is she anyways?"

Hoseok asks as he turns the water off and sets the two pounds of meat into the sink. "Oh hell no, I'm not getting involved in all that, I like to keep all limbs inside the cart at all times thank you. Those two alphas would tear me apart if I even so much as stepped anywhere near her bedroom right now. I honestly thought they were going to rip my head off when I offered to take her upstairs from their puddle in the living room." Seokjin sputters his words out and takes a deep much needed breath before turning to the stove with the can of biscuits in hand trying to read the small print on the side.

"Oh shit, really? Both of them have her? Tha- I don't know Jinnie is it honestly a good idea to let them get attached to her this quick? Anything could happen." Hoseok's cautious nature stems from his previous owners' many empty promises and lies, he couldn't trust a lot of hybrids that weren't the six of them much less humans. "They're not going to do anything unless she asks them personally, we talked about this at the store when you were testing out your new running shoes." He takes a look at the fox hybrid's new multi-colored shoes then up to meet his eyes with a playful yet sarcastic smile. "Also, don't call me that ever again."

________________

Y/n's eyes slowly flutter open when she smells the biscuits wafting their delicious aroma through her nearby air vent from the kitchen below her room. She tries to sit up but her movements are restricted by a pair of arms. Wait, no, two pairs of arms, and legs?

Her breathing picks up and her eyes dart upwards to see a serenely sleeping Yoongi and her body starts to relax just a bit when the other pair of arms starts rubbing her soft belly followed by a sickly sweet soft purr vibrating her back and she turns her head to look behind her the best she can and spies a grey ear with a puff of ivory white at the tip knowing the only one with those colored ears is Namjoon her heartbeat completely relaxes to a calm thump.

Her eyes remain open though, her mind racing trying to think about how she got to her room but by the two hybrids sleeping peacefully and purring in her bed that question was already answered for her and she shifts so she could lay on her back between the two.

She looks up at Namjoon again, the soft orange glow of her bedside lamp making his features look darker than they already were with his tanned skin. Taking a small breath caught in his glow of tranquility as he snores softly, like a light low hum with his lips slightly parted showing the faintest hint of his canines.

She reaches her hand up ever so slowly and ghosts her fingers across what she thought was a soft jawline until he closed his mouth, setting his jaw, leaning into her touch absently. His jawline is sharp but even so, his face is still as soft as the portion of his heart that he always swore to keep anyone from hurting again.

"Hey pup." His voice is dangerously low and gruff like he had been sleeping for years before he coughs, opening his dragon-like eyes tilting his chin downwards to look into her shining orbs only vaguely noticing a few letters to a tattoo on her collarbone. "Something smells good, huh?" The smile he flashes is almost blinding as he begins to stretch his stiff muscles from holding onto Y/n so tightly for who knew how long. "H-hi, u-uhm." Y/n can hardly form a coherent sentence when the panther hybrid next to her begins to stir from his heavy slumber.

"I hope whoever's cooking doesn't set your kitchen on fire." Yoongi grunts as he slithers his arm around her hips and hooks his thumb into her belt loop on her pants, signaling that he isn't ready to let go much less physically get up right now. Namjoon's eyes have almost gone back to normal thankfully, he nudges her nose with his absently laying his large hand back onto her squishy belly.

"It's probably Jin, whatever he's cooking smells good, also, I wouldn't worry too much unless I was the one in the kitchen cooking." Namjoon jokes chuckling to himself as Yoongi just huffs, Y/n returns her attention from the hand looped in her jeans back to the wolf hybrid, noticing the dimples on his cheeks that poke out when he smiles. If she could see those everyday life could, possibly, be peaceful.

Then there's a sudden loud crash from downstairs Y/n jolts upwards on pure instinct, fumbling out of their hold and over Namjoons long ass legs, possibly kneeing him in the groin on the way over. Falling onto the floor unceremoniously with a hard thud as her knees hit the floor first practically throwing her bedroom doors open and running at what felt like the speed of light into the kitchen.

____________

"What happened? Who's hurt? Who needs their heads knocked together?" She shouts as she slides into the archway between the kitchen and foyer to see Hoseok and Jimin covered in what she could only think was a sad attempt at gravy with Jimin's duck at Jins fallen form and she's quick to ignore the fox and retriever for a moment, falling next to Seokjin to check on the jaguar hybrid. "Oh my god Jinnie, are you alright? You look a complete mess darlin'."

Y/n smiles empathetically towards the hybrid with her sweet accent like a tooth rotting melody to everyone's ears, she tilts his chin up for him to look at her so she could check for injuries but what Seokjin saw was something completely different.

What Seokjin saw was a human, someone other than his mismatched packmates, worried about him and to make things even more difficult, her hair was draped over her shoulder ever so delicately and her plush pink lips sucked between her teeth as she smiles, like some other force was trying to make his knees buckle had they not already done so when he had slipped on Jimin's toy and the pot had fallen from his grasp. She looked other worldly her eyes shining against the fluorescent light of the kitchen showing just a flash of beautiful golden brown surrounding her pupil.

"Earth to Jin? Are you there honey?" Y/n snaps her fingers in front of his face and only then did Seokjin realize there was a crowd in the kitchen staring at him waiting for an answer and he chuckles softly then shakes his head a bright red blush stemming down from his ears down to his cheeks.

"Yeah I'm alright, perfect actually." His cheeks are a rosy pink and Y/n giggles lightly and stands to her feet, holding a hand out to help him stand up with her which he took happily as Yoongi finally came downstairs dragging his feet along the hardwood floor.

"What the hell happened and what's dripping from the ceiling?" He asks surveying the area with squinted eyes, index finger pointing upwards and Y/n's shoulders start shaking as she tries to hold back her laugh with all three "gravy" covered hybrid's forming a small half circle around her. "Y/N? You're not mad are you? It was my fault I swear, I-I threw the duck too far and-" Jimin's words are cut off when Y/n bursts into shameless laughter covering her mouth from view as she grabs her stomach from laughing so hard.

After a few more seconds of laughter and tears from Y/n she lets out a huff of air wiping a happy tear from her face. "I'm sorry, guys." She holds back a giggle that hums in her throat as she replays previous events screwing her eyes closed for a moment before she looks up at the ceiling again. "You just- you got it all the way up there? That's amazing." This time her laugh is softer keeping her smile from view with the back of her hand.

After everyone that was involved in the gravy accident, a memory that will stay with all of them for the rest of their lives was done taking a shower, Y/n stands in front of the stove with the same pot from earlier (Yes they washed it) with Jin standing half next to her half looming over her shoulder. "Now, I'm going to whisk the liquid while you sift some flower into the pot. The sifter is in the top shelf of the cabinet to your right."

Y/n instructs Seokjin and he is able to find the sifter rather quickly, bringing it over to her and gently placing a small amount of flour onto the screen below. Turning the small handle the bar inside begins to sift the flour into the pot. "Good job Jinnie." She praises him as she keeps the soon to be actual gravy from clumping together, once the flour was gone and the liquid began to thicken Y/n steps to the side turning the heat to low before putting some salt and pepper to taste.

"And that my dear is how gravy is done!" Seokjin looks at the pot below in awe, he knew he had a few things to work on if he was going to be able to keep up with her, especially outside. Soon dinner was served with freshly baked flakey butter biscuits, sausage, bacon, and eggs.

Y/n wipes her hands off on the apron she had put on just in case there was another accident, turning her back to the hybrids that had gathered around once the plate of fried eggs was sat onto the table, getting a head start on cleaning the kitchen when the low moan of a chair made her jump a little before a set of large hands found their perch on both of her shoulders.

"I think that can wait, don't you?" A low chuff and a warm chest meets her back and she stiffens, why are they sticking to me like glue? She asked herself, turning around to face him while taking the apron off and pushing on his chest to get him to backup a little, the heat radiating off his body causing her to blush at his close proximity.

Taehyung takes this opportunity to look into her eyes, the blue hue of them so faint they almost look silver with an enchanting golden ring dancing around her pupils. Compared to his own boring milk chocolate orbs staring into hers, it was like a galaxy trapped for eternity within her gaze.

"I-I need a cigarette, or five. E-excuse m-me." Stumbling over her words and practically bolting outside, accidently slamming the sliding glass door shut so hard they swear the glass was going to shatter. The snow tiger hybrid stands in the middle of the kitchen her apron in hand staring at the door Y/n disappeared through blinking slowly. "Way to go Casanova." Jimin scoffs rolling his eyes, meanwhile Y/n is pacing back and forth on the porch with her second cigarette halfway gone already.

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