#yoongi's family are assholes

[highvern]

Totally Scrooged

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x f!reader

Genre: neighbor!au, idiots to lovers, fluff/angst/smut

warnings:  alcohol consumption, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), protected sex, lots of crying, mentions of cheating (not reader or seokmin), theater nerd Seokmin

Length: ~16k

Note: I was hoping to post this way earlier but alas. I got sick back to back over the holidays. ANYWAYS thank u my sweet @gyuswhore for beta reading and talking me down from the edge and @miniseokminnies for all the theater knowledge. And @ugh-yoongi bc words are hard. CHECK OUT the rest of the fics on @camandemstudios and keep an eye for our next project

summary: When your ex decides to propose to his best friend he told you not to worry about only eleven months after your breakup, you decide the holidays aren’t worth it this year. You’re dedicated to ignoring the red and green splashed on every surface, but your neighbor has a way of convincing you maybe the holidays aren’t totally bad.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Shot number four is about the time you realize drinking your sorrows alone in your apartment on a Saturday night is a little bit pathetic. But you unlock your phone out of habit and the same picture of your ex down on one knee in the middle of the street in marathon gear stares back at you and a fifth shot sounds exactly like what you need.

At least the burn of peppermint schnapps is festive.

Ten months. You and Sam split barely ten months and he’s already engaged to Carson. 

After three years of dating, getting Sam to talk about plans further than a month out was like pulling teeth. When he asked you to move in with him you thought there was a very real chance he suffered some head injury that day. Sam and long term commitment didn’t mix. Your entire relationship felt like borrowed time. His engagement proved it was the truth.

In hindsight, you should’ve trusted your gut about Sam’s “platonic” “childhood” “best” “friend.” 

They did everything together. Their families vacationed in Montauk every summer, they alternated who hosted which major holiday despite living next door, there isn’t a single milestone either achieved without the other. Every time you visited his parents house the plethora of photos of your boyfriend and his best friend from cradle to present day seemed to grow exponentially. 

She’s like my sister.

Most people would frown upon dating a sibling after breaking up with their long term girlfriend, who was sick at home with the flu during Christmas, via text but what do you know? You’re the one sitting on your couch in a tiny apartment you can barely afford wallowing in drunk sorrows while they’re out celebrating.

It’s addicting. Scrolling through all the comments on their engagement photos, with a blanket over your head like some fairytale witch. Sam’s friends you tried so hard to bond with flood the comments, gushing about how cute he and Carson are, how happy they are for them. 

Your friends text you how much of a jerk he is, a few call but you ignore them. All you want is to wallow in self pity.

Like the judgemental diva she is, Shinx watches from her tower in the corner, green eyes disdainful. She never liked Sam anyway.

It’d be better if Carson wasn’t objectively likable. Everyone liked her, you included. At least, until your boyfriend dumped you in a three sentence text and she posted a picture of them together on her Instagram not twenty four hours later with the caption “the best things take a while” – color coordinated for the Spencer family photo shoot in front of their lake house.

Assholes.

Even when she isn’t dolled up for pictures, you can’t even pretend she isn’t pretty. Carson looks like she belongs on a Hollywood set, even after running a 5k at the crack of dawn. Perfect messy ponytail, face rosie but not too red. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. 

Shot number seven empties the bottle.

Through the living room wall your neighbor belts the lyrics to Celine Dione’s “All By Myself.”

It was ignorable the first few times he replayed it – a little poetic even given the circumstances – but it’s been nearly twenty minutes and you don’t need to be reminded how alone you are. You rocket off the couch and land against the wall with a thud.

“Keep,” knock. “It.” Knock. “Down.” Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

Mr. Neighbor, because you don’t know his name, sings louder.

In the months you’ve lived in this apartment you’ve met your neighbor exactly twice. When you first moved in only two weeks after your break up because Sam’s name was on the lease - not yours – and this was the only place you could find on such short notice in the middle of winter. You had the unfortunate privilege of riding the elevator with him in complete silence, only the sound of your pathetic cries as you moved soggy box after box. He was at least polite enough to take the stairs afterwards. And last month, during a building-wide fire drill because someone on the second floor fell asleep while making boiled eggs. Neither of you felt very chatty at four in the morning.

You couldn’t care less about splotchy cheeks or if your eyes were bloodshot. In your drunken righteousness, you don’t care that there’s mascara running down your face or the sweatshirt billowing around you has grease stains. Something snapped in you. Gritting your teeth, you rush out to the hall and straight for the neighboring door.

Your knuckles sting with each knock but he doesn’t answer until you escalate to pounding against the metal door like the police.

Mr. Neighbor must hear that because Celine cuts off mid-belt. Seconds later the door flies open.

He’s taller than you remember, your eyes level with a hole in the collar of his sweater. When you drag your gaze away from the dip of his throat the combination of tears and booze make deciphering his face incredibly difficult because he has four of them and they keep moving back and forth in blurry circles. His dark hair sticks up in a million directions. Like he put his finger in an electric socket and then tried to fix the mess himself.

Mr. Neighbor stares at you, expression unreadable. “Can I help you?”

“You know,” you start, teetering on drunk feet as you shove an indignant finger into his chest. “Some of us just want to come home from work and relax! Not listen to their neighbors screaming at the top of their lungs.”

“I didn’t realize it was that loud,” he hiccups. “I’ll turn it down.”

It’s hard to be angry when he looks like a mirror image of you. Wet, red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling nose. There’s booze in the air which could be yours but with the state he’s in it’s doubtful. Who listens to “All by Myself” ten times if they aren’t also sobbing alone in the dark? 

Guilt squeezes your chest. “Sorry, I’m just…rough day.”

Mr. Neighbor doesn’t say anything for a long time, appraising you silently. If you weren’t drunk off your rocker then the fact you aren’t wearing a bra and the old sweater you tossed on does nothing to hide that fact might be embarrassing. Or how you aren’t even wearing shoes, just fuzzy socks with a hole in the ankle. You also smell like a drunk elf who escaped the North Pole.

“It’s okay. Sorry about the music.”

Mouth moving before you know what comes out, you stop him from leaving just yet. “Why are you crying?”

“Stupid shit,” he says. “Why are you crying?”

You want to brush it off. You’re not looking for pity. Sam objectively sucked and your relationship would’ve ended one way or another. While most people preferred not to be humiliated via social media, it showed his true colors and firmly shut the door. But sometimes, it just feels good to cry all the frustration out and wish the worst on people who deserved it. And you really would prefer not to do either of those things with your neighbor you hardly know. 

Especially, when you realize he’s objectively hot even through the blur of tears and intoxication. But alcohol has a way of losing even the tightest lips.

“My ex got engaged.”

His eyes widened in shock before softening in pity. 

“Do you wanna come in?”

You don’t sense any ulterior motive. Mr. Neighbor has the vibe of someone who never met a stranger, one of those people you tell your life story to in the airport when your flights are delayed only to leave and realize the only thing you learned about him was he also hated airline food and thought flying first class on domestic flights was a waste of money.

Maybe whatever “stupid shit” he was crying over can be a distraction from your own baggage. If it can’t, at least the invite to complain to a person completely unexposed to the drama of your love life wasn’t half bad. 

But you don’t know him. His stupid shit could be infinitely worse and then you look like the asshole while he’s crying over his childhood pet passing away back at his parents house while he’s stuck in his apartment because flights during Thanksgiving were ungodly expensive.

Either way, another person to whine about the world with sounded nice.

You say yes, following him inside.

Mr. Neighbor’s apartment is similar to yours; mirrors the layout of your cramped one bedroom except with neutral colors and a lot more decor. The couch divides the living area from the kitchen. Comfy blankets and pillows littered around. Someone actually lives here, unlike your place where the most personalized thing is fridge magnets. You didn’t feel the need to decorate an apartment you didn’t see yourself staying in very long. Even if it’d been almost a year and the lease renewal sat on your countertop, signed and ready to drop off at the leasing office.

He walks into the kitchen, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room while he fishes in the cabinet for something. You sink into one of the leather barstools and watch as he pours water from a pitcher in the sink and slides it across the counter.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You drink it all in one go while he waits, sobering up enough to realize how embarrassing this all is. You’re drunk, in your mysterious neighbor's kitchen, crying about your ex-boyfriend. But he was drunk, listening to one of the most depressing songs in history, crying about “stupid shit.” Mutually assured destruction. 

“We only broke up at Christmas last year.”

“And he’s already engaged?”

“To his best friend.”

At that, Mr. Neighbor procures another glass and pours a little bit of whiskey before presenting it to you. “That’s rough.”

This time, you don’t even wince when you swallow.

He stares, waiting for some sort of reply, tipping the bottle into his own cup but not drinking it just yet. Now that he only has one face instead of four, your face heats. Drunk, sad and a little horny because he has really nice hands, and an even better face.

You tug your phone out and push it across the counter as a distraction for you both. Not that he probably needs it, you’re a wreck. “Here look at this picture.”

Mr. Neighbor scrolls through each picture methodically. Zooming in on strangers he doesn’t even know. Mouthing the caption in silent horror. In effort not to stare at his fingers, you focus on everything else in his apartment. 

His fridge is covered in magnets and take out menus, but mixed into the collage are pictures. Photobooth strips in black and white, some large normal photos better suited for a frame. You’re too far away to decipher any of it but curiosity itches you to get a closer look. Postcards from different places, sport theme magnets. Baseball seems to be his favorite.

“He proposed to her at a Turkey Trot?” he says, like the idea is incredibly alien.

“Their families have done it since they were born. Like their moms ran it pregnant and pushed them in strollers until they could keep up.”

“That is….”

You laugh. “Insane.”

“I’m glad you said it,” he chuckles. “Who proposes after running a marathon?”

“I know!” you cry.

You tip the bottle of whiskey into your once again empty mug. There will be hell to pay in the morning but you need something to do to distract from the way your heart pinches at the sound of his laugh. The sad drunk stage is tapering into the horny drunk stage and you really don’t need to ask your nameless neighbor if he wants to make out on his couch. Although, it looks leagues comfier than the second hand lump sitting a wall over. Drinking any more will only make it worse but you need something to do with your hands that doesn’t involve touching him, or thinking about touching him.

He circles the counter and takes the barstool next to yours. Close enough you can feel the heat from his body, the smell of soap and citrus faintly tickling your nose. You want to dive into his shirt and breathe it in until you fall asleep. 

Mr. Neighbor is just a decently attractive man that has been overly generous with his time and not been a creep. That is the only reason why your brain is latching onto him right now; you know it. In a few hours, when your head hangs limp over the toilet bowl, you’ll regret this entire interaction and even more if you make it weird.

You balk, rushing away from the thought and looking for a distraction. “I’m not like…pining over him, if that's what you’re wondering. It just sucks seeing your ex who was staunchly against any long term commitment make it clear he was only against long term commitment with you.”

Mr. Neighbor seems to believe you. So many of your friends thought you harbored feelings for Sam this long after the break up but the truth is, you almost expected things to end. Not on Christmas with nothing but a text message, but it always felt like you and Sam had one foot out of the relationship. The end brought certainty and for that you almost felt relieved.

“If it’s any help, I don’t think it was a ‘you’ problem.”

For a second, you want to believe he actually believes that. He’s not just saying it because he’s being nice and letting you cry in his kitchen and drink his booze. Everything about Mr. Neighbor screams PERPETUALLY NICE. Like he saves kittens from trees and walks old ladies across the street in his spare time.

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, but he’s the one that kept you around while waiting for someone else. Sounds like an asshole to me,” he says.

“He is an asshole,” you whisper like a secret. Mr. Neighbor smiles back and you remember you don’t know his name.

He tells you without a shred of judgment.

“Seokmin.”

“I’m YN.”

“I know,” he blurts. His ears tinge pink just before his cheeks. “You had a friend come over one time, she yelled it pretty loud.”

Lydia only had two settings when talking: loud, and louder. Seokmin probably knew a lot more than just your name but was too polite to mention those sordid details.

“So, Seokmin. My drama aside, why were you crying? Or do you listen to depressing music to pregame a wild night out?”

Seokmin nods at your offer to top off his cup and chugs half of it with a wince.

“It feels kinda dumb now but I volunteer at the city theater downtown.”

That explains the framed playbills and theater tickets splashed across the living room walls. A story of all the productions he probably attended or participated in. You only recognized a few of the names. Perpetually Nice, indeed.

“Did one of them dump pig's blood on you while on stage?”

“No, nothing like that.” His mouth unzips into an amused grin. It looks much more fitting than the tears from earlier. “The director won a month-long European cruise and now I’m in charge of the winter production.”

What do people even do on a boat for that long?

“And I’m assuming you don’t want to be the director.”

“I did!” he groans. “But everyone is already emailing me and calling me, trying to bribe me into giving them bigger parts. Have you ever dealt with theater parents?”

Shaking your head, Seokmin grabs your hand with wide, terrified eyes. “They’re like dance moms on crack. I can’t handle it. Not to mention - surprise! - there’s no money for it and I have to do all the fundraising myself.”

Instead of responding, you fill each cup with another generous shot, clink glasses, and swallow them in tandem. The burn is long gone. Now, you feel like you're standing in the ocean, bobbing at the mercy of the waves as he keeps talking about the theater. How someone held him hostage after a meeting for an extra thirty minutes trying to convince him they didn’t need to audition. Someone else proposed an original production of Dracula as a break from the holiday slush every other theater planned. It glides right over your head, until he forces a glass of water into your grip.

“Sorry about my music,” he says.

“Sorry for being a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Your ex also broke up with you for their childhood best friend?”

“No. The last one broke up with me for her dog walker.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well he’s bald now.” He shrugs and takes another swig. Water not whiskey by the lack of grimace. “She’s also trying to audition.”

At least you have the privilege of watching your ex’s new courtship through the filter of social media. Seokmin is watching it play out a few feet away from him with a constant reminder that his ex-girlfriend was onto seemingly better things with a man who picked up dog shit for a living. Small mercies.

“How long have you two…” you trail off.

“Three months.”

His tone makes it clear there is nothing else he wishes to share on the matter. You get it. Three months after Sam you weren’t ready to talk about it, still kept all the shared memories you two had together in one of the boxes shoved deep in the hall closet. It wasn’t until nearly eight months passed that you finally donated what you could of the gifts he bought you and threw the other half away. Now, you can laugh at the way you sobbed over the ugly monogrammed dish towels from your shared apartment. When his mom gifted them for your birthday, the first thought you had was to burn them. 

“So what’s your play?”

Seokmin looks grateful for the swift change in topic. “A Christmas Carol.”

“Never seen it.”

“What?” he gasps. “It’s a classic!”

Below the counter, his knee presses firmly against your thigh. Seokmin doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because it stays there. Warm and grounded and all too tempting but you don’t move away either. A trickle of embarrassment heats your body when you realize you’re wearing the pajama pants Lydia got you for Secret Santa last year. The ones with cartoon gingerbread people fucking in small print all over them. If Seokmin looked down he’d see them in flagrante.

It didn’t mean anything but it felt nice. No way he saw your frumpy clothes and puffy face, crying over your ex and thought I want a piece of that. Typically, drinking only had two paths. On a normal night, you’d go from pleasantly buzzed to “wooo girl drunk,” as Lydia put it, then horny drunk shortly before falling asleep. Tonight, crying drunk meant no woo-ing and definitely no inappropriate thoughts. But Seokmin is the first real man to stoke a tiny ember of interest in months. 

It’d be messy. Not the act itself. Maybe. You’re tipsy and he doesn’t look any better but a sloppy makeout wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. However, making out with your neighbor and then dealing with the fall out of such a clumsy entanglement probably wasn’t worth whatever his hands were capable of.

So you snuff it out.

You shrug. “Not really a big Christmas person.”

“I would invite you to come see it but at this rate I doubt we’ll even have a show to begin with.”

You discover that given the chance, Seokmin talks a lot. Shares his entire life story about moving to the city with a group of friends from college, most of them living with their partners. How he found the theater while on lunch break from his job that he didn’t hate but didn’t like. Started volunteering. Met Martha, now ex-girlfriend, there. 

He also asks question after question about you, and somehow it doesn’t feel like he’s prying even though he hardly shares about himself. Probably because you’ve reached sleepy drunk and your eyes drop shut, responding while half asleep. You tell him everything. It’s not like you can embarrass yourself any further. But Seokmin doesn't make you feel the slightest bit of shame.

How you met Sam at a friend’s wedding and Carson was his plus one. How Carson’s boyfriends never seemed to meet Sam’s standards. How she was a little too friendly towards you but Sam swore Carson liked everyone. And from your experience, everyone liked her. Then, last Christmas, you stayed at home with the flu while the annual Phan/Spencer celebration took place and woke up to a nice heartfelt text message.

“That’s so fucked up.”

“Yeah, well what’s even more fucked up is his mom posting a picture of her with Carson captioned ‘the daughter I always wanted.’” you huff. “That really sucked.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything. Not that he can. How do you comfort a stranger about a shitty relationship with even more beneath the surface? 

Instead, you both sit in comfortable silence, locked in separate trains of thought. It isn’t until he messes with his phone and Celine Dion materializes into the room once again that you realize how weird it is to be sitting there, sharing woes with a complete stranger.

“Well, I’m just gonna…” you start, sliding off the bar stool.

“Yeah…”

You don’t look back, making a beeline for the door. “Have a goodnight! I hope you aren’t eaten by steroid fueled theater nerds.”

You’re in the hallway, lock latched firmly behind, before he can respond.

You don’t see Seokmin for another week. Not like you saw him much before but now you have a name to the face, along with hobbies and a personality. And his hands. Which don’t seem to leave your memory despite the desperate effort you put into doing so.

Even if you don’t see him though, you hear him on the other side of your living room wall shuffling around when you get home from work. 

He keeps his sad playlist to a minimum, and his singing about the same, flat rumbles through the shared wall you can easily ignore. Sometimes you don’t. Occasionally, you’ll pause whatever Netflix dating show poisoning your brain and listen, eyes closed as your mind wanders.

You hear him humming as he passes your door on the way out to work in the morning while you sip coffee and answer emails from your kitchen counter. Sometimes it's showtunes you don’t recognize, others it's Christmas carols. Seokmin has a lovely voice you realize, now free from irritation. It’s weird you never noticed before.

Apparently, Lydia noticed him long before you did.

You finish telling her about the entire debacle with Sam and Carson. Lydia doesn’t believe in social media of any kind so all of her life updates come over Bananagrams and face masks during your semi-weekly Thursday girl’s night at her apartment.

“You just hang out with your hot neighbor drunk and don’t make a move?” she tsks.

“How do you know my neighbor is hot?”

“Unlike you, I pay attention to my surroundings.” 

Part of the reason she deleted all her social media was because she wanted to be more ‘in the moment.’ This proves that maybe it actually worked. 

Grabbing more letter tiles, you brush off the taunt. “Well, unlike you, I can keep it in my pants.”

“How long has it been since you let someone under the hood?”

“Not that long,” you grumble.

“Really?” Lydia rolls her eyes at the next word you spell, S-A-D. 

“Shut up. It was the only one I could find.” You take another sip of hot cider. The hangover from last week's bender still haunts you. “Horny isn’t spelled with an ‘I’ or an ‘E’.”

“It’s been so long I thought you’d forget how it's spelled.”

A few hours and a couple of episodes of Temptation Island later, you're back home. The chilly air creeps into the mailroom, numb fingers struggling to unlock your mailbox. Bill. bill, catalogue, not yours, bill…

As the elevator carries you up to your floor, you find the last letter. A gold wax seal, velvety envelope. No. No, no, no, no, no.

But it is real and it’s exactly what you’re afraid for it to be when you rip it open right there in the hallway. The picture of Carson and Sam staring deep into each other’s eyes, love-soaked down to the finest details. His hand on her knee, both oblivious to the camera and not in the faux staged way of so many wedding announcements. 

Michael and Dena Spencer along with 

Jason and Zoya Phan 

Invite you to celebrate the marriage of their children,

Samuel Spencer and Carson Phan

You fling the card away like a venomous snake. 

What the hell is wrong with them? Is it not enough you were the collateral damage in their whirlwind romance? Now they go and rub it in your face how happy they are together. You were the last obstacle to make them realize they couldn’t live without each other, the catalyst for their happiness. And now you have a tangible reminder of the fact.

Thankfully, the hallway is empty so no one witnesses your mental breakdown. A silent stand off with a glossy wedding announcement. You’re tempted to leave it there, let Sam and Carson get trodded on until they’re nothing but limp confetti. 

But you can’t. You snatch the announcement from the floor and bolt to your door, key scraping the lock again and again. You just need to get inside. Get inside and then you can go DEFCON 1, shred the entire letter and do something else rash like give yourself bangs you’ll regret in the morning.

The key still won’t find home in the lock and you’re on the verge of giving up when you realize Seokmin is singing along to some record just a few feet away.

You don’t know him well enough to go banging on his door. One drunken bitch session did not a friend make. Even if the drunk bitch session involved recounting life stories and embarrassing childhood moments. Or pajamas with gingerbread people fucking which he definitely noticed.

But you can’t be left alone with this bomb.

Seokmin is standing before you barely a second after knocking, eyebrows scrunched together. You shove the invite into his chest and wait.

“How does he have your address?” he asks.

You shrug. “I made him mail most of my stuff.”

“Why?” Seokmin turns back into his apartment, the door open in invitation as he falls onto the couch.

“Because he cheated on me. The least I could get was him paying three hundred bucks in shipping.”

“You are a very scary woman.”

You follow. This time, you notice more details. His record player is tucked in the corner, crates of vinyl stacked next to it. The candle burning on the coffee table fills the room with the scent of teak and orange. You recognize it as the same one Lydia got you for your birthday; ‘the boyfriend scent’ as she called it. Of course, he’d have it.

“Thank you.”

Now that you’re here, you’re not sure what to do. Seokmin keeps looking at the invite like some puzzle. Like some underlying explanation is written in invisible ink. There isn’t one. The reason for the invite is clear: your feelings don’t matter and they never did. 

“I can’t believe they sent you a wedding invite. That’s so fucked up.”

“I’m probably gonna see all the pictures on Instagram soon anyway. At least, this ripped the band aid off. It just sucks they get to rub it in my face.”

“You still follow them, do they follow you?”

They do. Carson and Sam both follow you but you haven’t posted a single picture since the break up so it’s not like they’re reminded of your presence. Not the same way they remind you. There hasn’t been much worth posting either. You go to work, come home, shower, sleep, repeat. The occasional weekend at the farmers market or trip to the bookstore breaks up the monotony don’t inspire you to post. 

“Why?” you ask.

“You want something to rub in their faces.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“Is there anything he hated doing while you guys dated?”

You laugh at the irony of the one thing Sam hated more than anything else. “He hated being posted on social media.”

“I have an idea.”

“Does it involve more Celine Dion and whiskey?”

“No,” he smiles. “It’s called a ‘soft launch'. One of the high schoolers explained it to me today.”

“Why are you talking to highschoolers about relationships? Actually, nevermind.” You snatch the invite away from his hands and flip it face down onto the couch. “And what is the point of me soft launching a nonexistent relationship?”

“He sent you a wedding invitation.”

“Okay?”

“So he’s either insane or isn’t completely over you. This is a way to show him you don’t care.”

“He broke up with me on Christmas while I was dying of the stomach flu. I don’t think he cares.”

Seokmin rises from the couch and heads towards the kitchen. “Do you want some wine?”

“Just water.”

He’s wearing the same costume as last week, sweatpants and a sweater. But his hair is a little wet and falls over his glasses. The look, the boyfriend candle, everything Lydia suggested… You should go home before making an idiot of yourself.

Seokmin returns with two glasses, places them both on the coffee table before tossing you a blanket. How can you leave now? It’d be rude. Besides, you want to find out where his offer is going.

“As I was saying: soft launch.”

“I still don’t understand where this is going.”

“You post it on your story, he sees, feels like a huge idiot, and then—”

“And then what? I don’t want him back.” But the thought of making Sam squirm is a validating one. Let him see you the way he’s forced you to see him. Happily moved on with someone else. Even if it isn’t real. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

It’s an easy photo. In theory. Nothing too suggestive, nothing that shows his face. But should you be touching? How much touching is appropriate for a man you’ve talked to twice? Seokmin doesn’t seem to know either. He searches the internet for inspo, some far too intimate for you to dream of. Sitting on his lap? Absolutely not. Having him hold you around the waist? No way. None of it would be believable.

“Okay, what about this one?” he asks after twenty minutes of scrolling.

On the surface, it’s nothing bad. The picture is relatively innocent with Person A’s legs draped over Person B’s lap, hand placed on Person A’s shin. Nothing crazy. At this point, you just want it over with.

“Fine.”

You wore semi-decent sweatpants this time so you don’t worry about that. It’s the entire premise of touching Seokmin so casually and having him touch you in return. But you take it in stride as you both maneuver and twist until you're a perfect copy of the already existing image.

Opening the camera on your phone, you snap a pic and hand it to Seokmin for approval.

“Eh…”

“‘Eh’? What does ‘eh’ mean?”

Apparently, ‘eh’ means Seokmin is wrapping his entire hand around your knee, the other hand on your ankle, and pulling you closer until your butt rests flush against the outside of his thigh. And then he doesn’t move either hand while waiting for you to snap a new picture. It feels like a thousand  pounds.

When you’re done, he leans over to assess the photo and you’re stuck with the image of him hovering over you. The picture goes up on your story, embellished with a heart emoji and Seokmin leaves your space but only barely.

“Should I RSVP too?” you joke. It’s weak, your voice thin because you don’t know if he can tell your sweating. 

He leaves even more space between you at that, scratching the back of his neck. “Ugh—”

“I wouldn’t actually go but I like the idea of them wasting money.”

“You know what? Do it. Did they give you a plus one?”

You jolt at the idea of Seokmin filling in the role. Focus. 

Their wedding site is filled with Pinterest inspiration level engagement photos. You ignore the fact it’s at the park Sam took you to for your first date. You don’t own Emerald Park, or the fountain in the background of their pictures where you and Sam first kissed, and you certainly didn’t own the botanical gardens frozen around them as they walked hand in hand. Hundreds of other couples, you and Sam included, visited Emerald Park all the time. It just feels tacky they would do a full photoshoot where half a dozen of your relationship landmarks lay. But Carson probably owned those spots well before you came into the picture.

Once you hit ‘Yes’ on the RVSP, including your fake plus one, things peter out into awkward silence. You’re still draped over Seokmin’s lap, his hands absentmindedly running up your shin, smoothing the wrinkles in your pants.

Who gets turned on from having their shin fondled?

“How is your play going?” you ask.

“Not horrible.”

“But?”

“Our sets are old, we don’t have costumes and we open in three weeks.” 

Seokmin seems to be in the acceptance stage of his grief. At least he isn’t wailing any more Now That’s What I Call Depressing music.

“So it’s not too late for that space idea then?”

He cracks up at that and you feel glowy from the sound of his laugh, the way his chest shakes. He squeezes your ankle. You preen. He still has his hand on your knee, thumb burning uneven circles through the thick fabric.

“I don’t know if anyone wants to see Scrooge in a space suit.”

“Who?”

Seokmin takes the question as a personal affront and decides you can’t leave his apartment without watching at least one version of A Christmas Carol. 

You try not to read into things but there aren’t many explanations available. The TV plays the animated version with Jim Carry starring in almost every role which is apparently second only to the muppets version.. Seokmin popped popcorn. And when he came back to the couch, he pulled your legs back over his lap like it was normal. You’re rusty on dating but the amount of times your hand brushes his in the popcorn bowl is starting to border on ridiculous.

Instead of focusing on how this feels a lot like a date, you focus on the movie. Or try to. It helps that Seokmin remains unaware of your inner turmoil, he’s too busy gauging whether you hate or love the movie and looking for your reaction every time one of the ghosts appears. 

The angle isn’t conducive to watching the movie either. You can’t turn without straining your neck, unless you pull away from his hold which you don’t want to do at all. And Seokmin is so focused on your reactions that he isn’t catching much of the film either.

He clearly loves it, and wants you to love it too. So you act extra interested but it’s not difficult because clearly he sees something spectacular happening on screen and it makes you eager to see it too. Even if only to distract from his thumb slipping beneath your sock and circling the knob of your ankle.

The movie fades to black, Scrooge is redeemed and your neighbor is watching you with bated breath.

“So…”

You smile at his eagerness. “It was good.”

“Isn’t it? It’s a classic.”

Something about his sheer enthusiasm tugs at your heart strings. 

“I’ll help you.”

Everything in your body screeches WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Seokmin must think the same thing, face slack in disbelief. Too late, you’ve already committed. 

“My company is always throwing money at stuff during the holidays,” you rush, face heating. “Maybe they could sponsor you guys to help with the sets or something.”

He keeps staring and you keep talking because you’re not sure if this crosses some invisible line. Unlike the touching, or the picture, or the ugly crying last week. Slowly, amazement rooted on his face.  Even in your rumpled clothes, he looks at you like you’ve dropped nothing short of a miracle in his lap.

In a flurry of motion, Seokmin drags you into a hug, arms tight around your back, crushing you into his chest. The baggy sweaters you’d seen him in all of once hid firm ridges of muscle. You try not to indulge but your hands are wedged tightly between your bodies, and you’re practically sitting in his lap at this point. 

And as fast as it happened, he lets you go and nearly flings himself off the opposite end of the couch. 

“Sorry! I just—” His head cocked to the side. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“I love taking money from people who don’t need it. It’s one of the few joys in my life actually,” you say. “And if they don’t sign a check, we can always try armed robbery. Do you own a ski mask?”

He pretends to think before smiling. “Funnily enough, I don’t. But something tells me you do.”

“A woman never reveals her secrets.”

The next few days pass uneventfully. You hear Seokmin come home later and later, pointedly aware that you’re aware of his coming and going. Occasionally, when it’s still early, he knocks an odd rhythm on the wall separating your living rooms and you learn it's a summons. He wants to watch a movie, or share dinner because he made too much, or hear something about your day that didn’t involve a six year old attempting an accent for their character and sounding like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. 

Even when you give him your number, he still knocks. Everytime you fight the urge to squeal like you’re back in high school.

The show is going as well as it can. People have their parts (with minimal complaining). Most of the costumes are free of mold (he sent you pictures wearing half the wardrobe). And Seokmin is maintaining his sanity. Barely.

In the rush of it all, you made a promise not to fuck where you eat. One messy break up requiring a move was enough for a lifetime. While Lydia took every update as another sign he was into you, the risk was too much. What if you misread everything? What if Seokmin wasn’t completely over his ex-girlfriend? She hadn’t come up again since that first night but that didn’t mean anything. At that stage of your break-up you hardly talked about Sam. Maybe Seokmin was still pining for her and you were just there. Or vice versa. He could see you were having a difficult time with the engagement and offered a shoulder to cry on.

Even worse, what if you did sleep with him and it was bad. So bad you could never look him in the eye again. Or he could have a weird dick. Or cry after sex. What if he secretly had a piss kink and that was the real reason Marta broke up with him? The lack of red flags only point to some flaw below the surface you hadn’t learned about yet.

Lydia thought it was ridiculous.

“I will bet my first edition Hobbit that his dick is completely normal,” she huffs through the speaker, the sound of her stationary bike echoing in the background.

Your Friday nights are usually spent curled up on the couch with wine and a movie but you couldn’t wait to give Seokmin the envelope containing a metaphorical golden ticket. The downtown streets are crowded near the theater where the entire cast and crew are spending the evening polishing up the existing set pieces but you brave it, if only to see the look on his face at the number of zeroes on the check.

“You just want me to sleep with him.”

“Is it so wrong I want my best friend to sleep with a nice, attractive man? Do you know how rare those are in this city?”

Your eyes roll. “He is my neighbor.”

“Your hot neighbor. Who has a normal dick and listens to Celine Dion when he’s sad.”

Something stopped you from telling her about the picture, and how Seokmin stayed cuddled up to you the rest of the night. Probably because you know she’d add it to the mounting pile of reasons to ruin whatever tentative friendship built between you. 

You find a parking spot and bid Lydia goodbye.

The building lobby, with sleek marble archways and a dusty chandelier the size of your living room, is empty sans a lone security guard scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t try to stop you as you stroll right past and into the auditorium. You don’t want to be a creep that watches from the dark but the sight of your neighbor stops you in your tracks. To hear about his work was one thing, however, seeing him in his element is another. 

He’s got paint all over his shirt and jeans and his hair is a mess from running his hands through it but he addresses the entire cast with confidence. Answers their questions, points the crew in the right direction, scans his binder next to someone with a headset who must be important. 

Everyone is caught up in their work so they don’t notice as you approach from the aisles, footsteps muffled by the carpeted floors. You’ve never been here before but the history of the building isn’t lost on you. The walls and ceiling stretch high above, intricate moldings weaving up to frame large murals of greek-style motifs. The cushioned seats had seen better days. Red velvet crushed flat, ripped seams and stained with time. But it has a charm to it.

It was easy to imagine Seokmin finding home in this place. Losing himself on stage, spending hours and hours hidden away with a script.

He finally notices your presence when you approach one of the side stage staircases.

“And what do I owe the honor?” he asks, lips unzipping into a grin you can’t help but return.

You wave the white envelope in response, bowing comically low. “I come bearing a gift.”

“Is that—“

You nod solemnly, forcing it into his hands. “Open it!”

Seokmin stares at the envelope the same way he stared at you the night you offered to help him out. A small miracle in the palm of his hand. Your boss signed the check without question. It was a good look to sponsor local events, great publicity and a tax write off. The second you mentioned there were children in the cast and it was volunteer only he doubled the donation.

Seokmin opens the envelope, pausing to read. His eyes bulge. “Two grand? Are you serious?”

“Yep. All it took was the promise of two pages in the back of the program. So if you could get that message passed along.”

He hasn’t looked away from the check as a flush rises up his neck. “I’ll get their logo tattooed on my forehead if they want.”

“Tried that…” you joke. “They went up to two thousand with the promise you wouldn’t..”

“This is…” 

You’re swept into a hug tight enough to pop something in your back. Too tight, with your arms wedged between your chests like the first time but you don’t mind. Seokmin is warm

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chants, spinning you around.

You soak in the contact for as long as you can. Seokmin gives great hugs, better than great. You didn’t realize you craved the firm comfort of his arms until you had it once again and now that you do, you don’t want him to stop.

You notice someone watching over Seokmin’s shoulder. She’s pretty. Dark curly hair, button nose, big doll eyes boiling with indignation. 

“Is that her?” you whisper into his neck.

“Her who?”

“Mrs. Bald dog walker.”

Seokmin loosens his grip just enough to look.  “Yeah. Why?”

You bury your face back into the crook of his and give him a squeeze. Seokmin returns it instinctively, arms slug across the small of your waist like a puzzle piece. 

“Marta isn’t the jealous type,” he whispers.

“Huh, that’s weird.” Your lips purse. “Because she just stormed off.”

Seokmin whips around to look at the now vacant spot where his ex-girlfriend once stood.

“Consider it as my thank you for the soft launch.”

“Did that actually work?” he asks.

You can’t admit you forgot to check if either Carson or Sam looked at your post. Coincidentally enough, you were too wrapped up in thoughts of the man before you to remember the entire reason he touched you so casually that night was for petty revenge and not because he actually wanted to.

“Who cares?” you bluff. “Anyway, I was thinking of another fundraiser. Maybe it can give you guys some money for some updated set pieces.”

They could definitely use it. One of the stagehands staples fabric across a hole in the couch so wide you’d bet money the next person who sits on it would sink straight through to the ground, another slathers a thick layer of white paint on a dry rotted board. What good are new costumes without good props?

“If you keep helping us out, they’re gonna have to change the name of the building.” Seokmin smiles down at you. His hand is still at the small of your back but even through the many layers protecting you from the chill you can feel the heat of his touch.

“I’ve always wanted a theater named after me. Like a Rockefeller or something.”

“So what is this idea?”

You gaze at him expectantly. “How many of your friends are single?”

It took little convincing for your plan. Seokmin turns out to be a bartender and his boss agrees to host it (pending a small cut of the proceeds), and several of his friends volunteer to help a good cause.

You’ve never been to this bar either but it somehow fits him too. Not a complete dive but cozy and well weathered. Multicolored string lights hang from the rafters so thick you can’t even see the ceiling, and posters, neon signs, and other decor obscure the walls. A low platform in one corner clearly meant for live entertainment becomes the auctioneer block with a banner strewn above reading THEATER FUNDRAISER in painted bubble letters.

Most of the people in the crowd are involved in the theater one way or another. Volunteers, cast and crew, a few parents coming for the drink specials and a show. A few outsiders mix in with the batch; regulars, people who saw the chalkboard sign on the street and got curious. Seokmin’s friends linger around the pool table in the corner, nervously shuffling around.

You’re on your way over to finalize the order when Seokmin and Lydia intercept you. 

“Small problem,” he says.

“What?” 

Lydia sighs. “Mingyu has a girlfriend.”

“Since when?” you ask.

“Apparently fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh,” you say. “Good for him.”

“Except we’re a man down.”

“I’ll do it,” Seokmin interjects.

Your gut curls. The idea of someone, not you, going on a date with him leaves a sour note in your mouth. But you’re not in a position to say anything. 

But it doesn’t stop you.

“You can’t!” you blurt.

“Why not?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Lydia looks down right maniacal at your outburst. No way are you going to admit whatever feelings you have for Seokmin right now. 

“Who is gonna be the host if you’re busy?”

“I’ll do it,” Lydia says. There’s a dare in her gaze. She can smell bullshit a mile away. “Unless there’s some other reason Seokmin needs to host.”

She bats her eyelashes with all the innocence of the devil.

“Fine,” you nod.

Lydia snags the mic from Seokmin and bolts for the stage. “Alright, settle in! Tonight we’re raising money for a good cause. So let’s get this show on the road, and remember—no refunds, no takesies backsies, and no funny business! We take Venmo or cash. No checks! Now, first up, we have Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol steps up to the stage, body lax as the crowd eyes him up and down. He was the first person to volunteer when you explained your idea – spawned from many sorority fundraisers in college – to Seokmin. The others followed suit shortly after, giving you six men in total willing to go on a date (no funny business) in the name of supporting the arts.

“Twenty dollars!” a woman in a dark jacket calls.

“At least let me tell you about him before going at him like a piece of meat!” Lydia jokes.

Someone else interjects. “Forty dollars!”

Lydia ignores her. “He enjoys camping, sports, and long walks on the beach,” she reads off the notecard. “And he can fix your car courtesy of Choi Mechanics.”

“Seventy five.”

People keep increasing their bids, Seungcheol clearly enjoying the attention as he jokes and winks towards the more eager ones. He’s preening while you and Seokmin watch in giddy amusement by the pool table, faces hidden in your drinks.

“Two hundred dollars!” someone near the back calls.

“Two fifty!”

“That’s Seungcheol’s girlfriend,” Seokmin whispers from your side.

You try to get a better look but Seungcheol’s girlfriend remains hidden at a table behind several others. 

“Then why is he doing this?”

Seungkwan comes up beside you. “Because they’re exhibitionists.”

“Sold!” Seungcheol yells.

“I’m the one with the gavel,” Lydia objects. She pounds the gavel to emphasize her power. “Sold for two hundred and fifty dollars!”

Seungcheol drops a wad of cash from his own wallet into the bucket at the front of the stage and disappears into the corner of the room where his girlfriend waits. You make a mental note to avoid that side of the bar for the rest of the night, just in case.

The other guys go easy, thriving on the momentum of Seungcheol. Soonyoung gets a date with a woman old enough to be your mother but he looks positively thrilled. Even Mingyu stops by to drop a couple bucks into your hand as an apology. Then it’s Seokmin’s turn.

“He can cook, he’s good with kids, and he makes a mean mojito,” Lydia announces. “Give it up for our favorite bartender, Seokmin!”

The crowd has mellowed out but remains enthusiastic, regulars and theater people alike clapping as he comes forward. Even his boss behind the bar rings a large bell mounted on the wall reserved for good tippers. Someone wolf whistles and Seokmin goes red.

“Let’s start the bidding at thirty bucks,” Lydia says.

“Fifty!” someone calls.

By some feat of the universe, Seokmin transforms into a maroon faced mess.

You look around the bar and spot her at a table close to the edge of the stage. That ugly gut punch from earlier rears its head again at the gleam in her eyes, like she can’t wait to sink her teeth into Seokmin the first chance she gets. You don’t want Seokmin going on a date with her. You don’t want him going on a date with anyone.

Your mouth is open before you realize. “A hundred.”

Seokmin, Lydia, and just about everyone else in the bar whip their head in your direction. You refuse to look at any of them, staring down your competition as she raises her hand to counter.

“One fifty.”

“Two hundred.”

“Three fifty,” she says, smirking at you.

Lydia levels you with expectant looks. Seokmin watches you like you’re a wild animal, unsure of your next move. You’re in too deep now. 

“Four hundred dollars.”

Your competition opens her mouth to rebut; however, Lydia is already swinging the gavel, “Sold! To the beautiful woman in the ugly sweater. Come get your man!”

Seokmin catches your arm before you can open your purse. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, think of it as a thank you for saving me from spending all my money on take out.”

He stares at you for a second too long, frozen in his own disbelief. You’re lying and you both know it but to admit that him going on a date with someone else, even for a good cause, made you jealous ventures over a line you’re not ready to cross just yet.

“Alright, that was our last man of the night,” Lydia announces into the mic. “Which means we’ve raised a whopping two thousand six hundred dollars for our local theater.”

Everyone cheers once again. The atmosphere is light but the bubble surrounding you and Seokmin is anything but. 

He raises an eyebrow skeptically as you shove bills into the collection bucket, pointedly looking anywhere but him lest your face match the red of his own. It doesn’t matter though. You can feel the heat on your cheeks, the sweat at your hairline. Four hundred dollars to go out with a guy. 

At least it’s for a good cause.

Seungkwan saves you from whatever questions Seokmin has, pushing his friend back to work behind the bar before cornering you into conversation.

“You,” Seungkwan says.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I’m having a pre-game at my house tomorrow night. You’re invited.”

“Oh,” you blink. “I’m not really a partier.”

“It’ll be a small thing. Most of the guys here and my roommate. We’re going to Jane’s after.”

“I’ve never been there before.”

Seungkwan stomps indignantly. “You’ve never been to Jane’s? Jane’s is a neighborhood institution.”

“I guess I never got around to exploring much,” you shrug.

“Why not?”

A creature of habit such as yourself, you rarely went to new places. You liked the places you already knew, the ones you didn’t have to guess if you liked. Besides, you hadn’t felt like going out much in the past few months, something always coming up including reasons, such as: you liked your apartment with cheaper drinks, less cigarette smoke, and no strange men trying to mansplain American Psycho.

Lydia appears at your side, new drink in hand. “Did someone say party?”

“It starts at eight thirty, but don’t come until nine. Seok will give you the address.”

Seungkwan disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Lydia hovering at the edge of the stage all alone. If there was one person besides Seokmin you didn’t want to be left alone with, it was her. But it’s too late to escape.

In the face of total mortification, you try to put on a brave face.

“Four hundred? Really?” Lydia asks.

“Shut up,” you mumble into the cup of melted ice.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I’ve met your friends before,” you snort.

Seokmin rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, but they can be a lot and that’s coming from me.”

You refused to let the car ride on the way over be awkward, plowing through whatever cobwebs lingered between you two. Luckily, Seokmin went along, recalling horror stories from Seungkwan’s yearly holiday pre-game. There was the year Soonyoung attempted making hot cider and gave everyone food poisoning. The year after where Mingyu ended up breaking the bathroom doorknob resulting in the fire department coming out to free him because he got stuck trying to crawl out the window above the shower. And most recently, Jeonghan – who you haven’t met yet – hid under the couch for the sole purpose of grabbing people’s ankles as they walked by; except he fell asleep and Seungkwan found him the next morning while cleaning.

Nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Well, if it's too much I’ll send you some code to leave.”

“What should I be looking for exactly?” he asks, lips quirked.

“I’ll start making ghost noises.”

Seokmin snorts when you start demonstrating. “But that happens so frequently. How about morse code?”

“How about I scream at the top of my lungs?” you grin.

“Works for me.”

Seokmin knocks against the dark wood door leading to Seungkwan’s apartment.

“COME IN!” Seungkwan belts, flinging the door open wide. “For me?”

You hand over the bottle of wine with flourish. Heaven forbid you show up anywhere empty handed, a habit hammered in by your mother. “For you.”

Seungkwan pulls you inside. “I like you more and more. Come on, everyone else is already here.”

The doorway leads straight into the crowded living room. You recognize Seungcheol, a woman his same height tucked into his side as they chat with Lydia on the couch. Coincidentally, she lives two floors above Seungkwan and Vernon and was thrilled to discover mailroom guy had a name and good taste in music.

You quickly scan beneath the couch for any full grown men and are mildly disappointed to find none.

Seokmin gets caught up in ‘hellos’ while you pad down the hallway after Seungkwan; into the kitchen where Mingyu stirs something on the stove.  Cocoa and vanilla flood your nose, the warmth of the kitchen driving away the lingering chill from outside. Seungkwan puts the wine on the counter before pulling mugs out of the cabinets. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Spiked hot chocolate,” Mingyu says. He adds a splash of peppermint schnapps to the pot and starts stirring again before pouring two mugs: one for you and one for Seokmin. “There’s whipped cream over there.”

You’re shaking the can of whipped cream when an arm reaches over your shoulder and pulls it out of your grip.

“Just say when,” Seokmin says.

He piles a comical mountain of whipped cream into your mug, and then a matching one on his own. There are sprinkles as well as chocolate shavings and you both artfully decorate your drinks with handfuls of each.

“I think we have more whipped cream than hot chocolate,” you say.

“There’s no such thing as too much whipped cream.” 

You both take a long sip and when he’s done you choke. He’s got whipped cream on his nose, his lips, and his cheeks. 

“What?” Seokmin asks.

“You’ve got,” you laugh. “Let me help.”

He stands perfectly still as you wipe his face with a paper towel. You’ve been this close to Seokmin before but with amusement instead of nerves clouding your system, you notice details you hadn’t before. The mole of his cheek. Two. One a little more pronounced than the other. Cute.

“Alright, all done,” you announce, finally noticing the way he stares down at you softly. So much for not having any nerves. “C’mon, I wanna see if Jeonghan is hiding under the couch before we leave.”

You lead him out of the kitchen, looking for anyway to cut the tension—

“KISS!” Lydia demands. 

You scan the room for who she’s screaming at in an apartment full of strangers only to find her finger pointed straight above your head.

Mistletoe.

Mingyu barrels out of the kitchen to join in on the chaos.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they all chant. Soonyoung cups his hands around his mouth and belts it loud enough your heart lurches. 

“We don’t have to,” Seokmin whispers, cheeks and ears bright red.

“It’s fine.”

You plan for a quick peck on the cheek but Seokmin goes for his left while you go for your left and you’re not kissing but something dangerously close to it. The sticky residue of sugar and chocolate registers against your lips, a little bit of stubble missed when he shaved this morning. Barely a second of contact, just the edge of his mouth against yours but the world spins backwards and you nearly fall over. 

As fast as it happens, you both draw back, staunchly avoiding eye contact but staying pressed close.

Seokmin wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you against his check. “You okay?”

His breath skims over your lips. The temptation to roll on to your toes and kiss him for real sends your heart racing. Your chin lifts. Seokmin looks at your mouth. And…

“Who's ready to party?” Chan calls, breaking the atmosphere. 

The walk to Jane’s is nothing short of hell. Snow falls in thin sheets, frigid air sneaking past the lining of your coat and straight into your bones. In the middle of the pack you aren’t as exposed thanks to Seokmin to your right, Lydia on the other side, and a gaggle of the others walking in front. 

Your hand keeps accidentally brushing Seokmin’s, sending a rush of pins and needles up your arm each time. You both pretend to ignore it.

The barren street outside the bar doesn’t hint at what waits within except for the dull hum of life sneaking past the door. It feels like half the city is packed inside, forcing everyone to slither past each other because there is simply no room. 

Seungkwan wasn’t lying when he said it was a neighborhood institution. A stage is set up at the far wall, drunks belting their hearts out. Your group fans out to the bar, snagging drinks before taking the pilgrimage to a small table near the stage. Seokmin keeps you close the entire time. Guiding you to a seat, insisting on standing right behind the chair and talking to his friends over your shoulder.

You sag in your seat, content to soak in everyone else's conversations. The edge of your mouth still burns from the contact of the kiss, the same sensation everywhere Seokmin touches. You crave more. Like a sunflower searching for the sun. You lean against the back of the chair for a chance to feel his chest against your back. He doesn’t shy away when you do either. You can’t see his face but Lydia sits across the table watching with a pleased smirk. 

“A toast,” Seokmin starts as the song fades and the next group to the stage. Someone wrangled a tray of red and green shots to the table and Seungkwan passes them around. “To Y/N. We wouldn’t have a show without her.”

“Yes, you would,” you correct.

“But we wouldn’t have new costumes,” says Seungkwan. “Do you know how old the costumes we were gonna wear are?”

“And we have new sets. We haven’t bought a new set piece in like fifty years,” Chan interjects. 

Soonyoung speaks up next. “And I got a date!”

Seokmin slings an arm over your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. “You’re a miracle worker.”

Cheeks hot, you hide your smile at the bottom of the shot glass.

Focus shifts as Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan take the stage for “No Scrubs” the entire bar signs along to. They’re born performers. Soaking in every minute of attention, riling the crowd up until your ears go numb.

You try not to think of the almost kiss but it’s hopeless. Two drinks down and the only thing on your mind is the eclectic feeling on his mouth on your skin. 

You’re so deep in your thoughts, you don’t notice Seokmin has come back to the table with a new drink for you until he’s nudging your shoulder with his.

“How do you like it?”

“Way better than the depression playlist,” you joke.

“Celine Dion is a classic.”

“Yeah, but after the first five times she loses her edge.”

Seokmin shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Blasphemy.”

Vernon and Seungkwan are singing Crazy in Love. Or, Seungkwan is singing and Vernon is head banging to the beat. Just watching makes your neck hurt.

Someone bumps into you from behind, sending you reeling straight into Seokmin’s chest.

“Woah, you okay?”

You nod into his chest but don’t let go. 

The shots earlier were a mistake. Seokmin looks good under the neon lights of the bar, better with the swirly haze of alcohol. You want to kiss him so bad it’s embarrassing.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, voice husky.

When you look up at him, something dances across his face. There and gone before you can figure out what it is. Home sounds like a great idea. Better to lock yourself in your apartment where your mind can run wild before you do something stupid – like drag Seokmin into a corner to make out – in front of all your new friends.

You step out of his grip. “I can get home on my own. You don’t have to come with me.”

“I’m good to go. Promise.”

Not willing to brave a thirty minute walk home in the snow, Seokmin orders an Uber while you say goodbye.

Once outside, Seokmin wraps his arm back around you. Away from prying eyes, you let yourself indulge with the excuse of sharing body heat. Friends share body heat all the time. There is nothing wrong with a platonic penguin huddle.

Too soon, he pulls away as a car pulls up to the curb. “This is us.”

Seokmin makes conversation with the driver while you stare out the window as the city whips by. He’s just being nice, treating you the same way he would all his friends. Touching and almost kissing aside, Seokmin is your friend and you don’t want to jeopardize it with complications.

“YN?”

“Huh?’

“We’re home.”

You stumble through the cold, Seokmin hot on your heels through the lobby and into the elevator. It’s a fragile type of silence between you. 

“I’ll see you later?”

“Night,” Seokmin says.

“Goodnight, Seok,” you murmur back, pushing open your door.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I left my keys at Kwan’s.”

“Should we call them?”

You invite Seokmin into your apartment while he tries to get ahold of his friends. Shinx offers timid emotional support by curling up in his lap, purring loudly as scratches under her chin. Now you’re jealous of a cat. 

How dmbarrassing.

Calling proves futile. Seungkwan’s phone goes straight to voicemail and Vernon doesn’t answer either. He tries texting them with the same results.

“You can sleep on the couch,” you offer.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re sitting in the hall all night,” you say. “Let me get you a blanket.”

In your room, you quickly change out of your bar clothes and into pajamas. It takes some time to dig out a pair of sweats and a tshirt that’ll fit Seokmin but you eventually find something for him. Snagging a pillow from your bed and an extra blanket from the linen closet. you head into the living room.

You force the clothes into his chest. “Here. Get changed and I’ll make your bed.”

A dark look glazes his face and for a second you think he might kiss you. Or you hope he’s thinking about it half as much as you are. But the moment passes. He locks himself in your room while you busy making the lumpy, itchy couch somewhat comfortable for him. 

“Wanna watch a movie?”

You settle on Krampus. Neither of you have seen it but even after tonight you doubt you’d be able to recall a single detail. Seokmin pulls your legs over his lap like second nature, covering you both in the blanket, his hands resting on your shin. Choosing shorts over pants was a mistake. The heat of his thigh against the back of yours makes you squirm. The calluses on his palms scratch an itch leading straight between your legs as he rubs up and down absentmindedly, never trailing higher than your knee.

You’re shaking. His hand squeezes and you nearly heave.

“Cold?” 

No.

But you nod anyway. 

Seokmin pulls another blanket off the back of the couch, carefully layering it over the first, tucking you in tight before putting his arms back over your legs.

“You know, you’re a really good guy, Seok.”

“Thanks.”

It’s shameful. How bad you want to kiss him, for him to kiss you. 

“I mean it.”

“I don’t know if it's true though.”

Instead of asking what he means, you lean closer. Then Seokmin does too. You’re too busy staring at his mouth to notice him doing the same. All your thoughts hone in on if he was as good a kisser as you imagined. And if you kissed him right now, would he kiss you back? If you touched him, would he touch you too?

Someone moves first. It doesn’t matter who because his nose nudges against yours, then you're swallowing his sigh, and you both practically melt at the relief. 

It’s better than anything you could have cooked up in your head. His lips are soft, the rough pads of his fingers gentle as he tips your chin. You like it. You like him. 

Your lips catch on his bottom lip by accident but it's the first domino to topple into a chain reaction. Seokmin’s lips part, your hands bury in his hair. His thumb hones in on the strip of skin between your top and your shorts. You maneuver into his lap, fingers cataloguing the expanse of his shoulders, his neck. Back into his hair. Close as you are, it isn’t close enough. You arch into him, dragging your lips across the line of his throat when his head falls back.

His hands are everywhere. The small of your waist, the base of your spine, lifting your shirt until it’s tossed to the floor and your topless in his lap, shaking with anticipation.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. His eyes lock on your nipples, tight from just a few light touches.

Seokmin pulls you back down, kissing you slow and heavy while his hands touch you with gentle reverence. 

Clothes come off. The borrowed sweater he’s wearing reveals so much skin you don’t know where to start. But Seokmin doesn’t let you linger too long because he’s taking off your bottoms until you’re completely naked. Seokmin eases his body over yours, heavy between your thighs. 

A particularly harsh pass of his hips pulls a wire down your spine, back arching painfully, moaning at the ceiling. 

“Ha,” you waver under his teeth, his tongue worshiping your chest, leaving broad strokes you imagine will feel amazing on other parts of your body. Head tipped back, you display yourself openly for him to touch and tease.

“Take your pants off,” you beg.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” he says, mouthing against the sensitive spot below your jaw. His smile is clear. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You make a sound between a whine and a grunt. You want to have sex with him. Right here, on your shitty couch. But you aren’t willing to take the risk, no matter how badly you want it. Even if he does have a weird dick which you doubt based on the feeling of it against your naked cunt.

“You think my dick is weird?” he asks, half shocked and half amused.

“No! I—” you scramble. “I don’t think your dick is weird.”

“But you’ve thought about my dick?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

Seokmin grins, clearly amused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my neighbor.”

“Oh.” He rushes to rise off you, kneeling between your spread legs. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I do want to. That's the problem,” you whine.

He hums in acknowledgment, body shaking with barely suppressed giggles. 

You thrash. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not, I've just…never had someone be so eager.”

He kisses you like he’s the eager one, tongue tracing your bottom lip until you welcome him in with a lewd suck. It only lasts for a second before he’s back down your chest and then kneeling in front of the couch, nuzzling the meat of your thigh while his fingers stroke against your wetness timidly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yep!” you choke. “Great.”

Your legs verge on numbness from being bent in half for so long but Seokmin keeps finding those spots that make it worth it. You need something to hold onto; his hair, the cushions, your own breasts. Seokmin seems to love that the most. Grunting into your pussy as he watches with reverence as you play with yourself.

“Taste so good,” he rasps. “You’re so hot.”

Fingers thrusting, Seokmin strings you out. When he crooks the digits buried deep inside you, your back breaks in half. The hand pinning your waist down holds tights, the lean muscles flexing in your view. 

“J-just like that,” you hiccup. 

He never falters. Seokmin does exactly as you ask until you curl and come wet and hot on his face with a cry. It’s not until you push him off that he stops completely, rubbing the mess of his fingers on his pants and crowding you back into the couch cushion to taste yourself off his tongue. 

You moan against his mouth. “Wanna taste you.”

“I’m good.”

“I want to,” you beg.

“No like—”

You paw at his crotch only for the enticing hardness to be absent. He’s soft. Confusion furrows your brows for a brief second until the rosy tint to his cheeks registers. 

Seokmin hides in the crook of your neck, sigh ruffling your hair as he gets cozy in the warm space and allows his nose to trace the curve of your shoulder. “It usually doesn’t happen like that. I don’t—”

“That's so hot,” you mumble. The heat of his body combined with an orgasm and the last bit of your blood lulls you closer to sleep with every second.  

Seokmin tugs your shirt back over your head before pulling you close, his bare chest against your back, legs tangled beneath a quilt. Pure content tickles across your senses, followed by the warm drag of sleep.

Seokmin is gone by the time you wake up.

Shuffling from the couch into the bedroom, you accept he probably left early to get his keys from Seungkwan and didn’t want to wake you. Your head pounds in time with your pulse, stomach turning at the thought of getting off the couch. Thank God he didn’t try to wake you. There’s nothing less attractive than wanting to lay on the floor and wait for the sweet release of death.

The second time you wake up is to the sound of Shinx shredding a scrap of paper at the foot of your bed.

“You bastard,” you groan.

A set of large eyes stares back at you for a moment, before she meows and gets back to work on her kill. You nudge her off the edge of the bed with your foot. She bolts for the living room while you hide back into the pillows until it’s dark outside once again.

When you start feeling human enough to shower and eat, you check your phone. A text from Lydia and a few other notifications greet you but none from Seokmin. Not a call, or a text, or anything. Complete radio silence.

You hear him come home, the shuffle of his feet down the hallway and the slam of his front door. But there's no singing; not even so much as a hum. No knocking on the shared wall. You can’t hear a single thing from his side even when – embarrassingly – you press your ear against the wall like an eavesdropper. 

It’s like that for days.

Seokmin leaves his apartment after you get home. Or when you come back from work you hear him rush to turn down his music like he wants you to believe he’s out. He’s avoiding you. And you don’t know why.

You’ve thought about trying to catch him in the act; waiting by the door and popping out to ask him what his problem is. But you’re not sure if you want the answer to that question. He probably regrets kissing you. He definitely regrets kissing you if he's acting like this. But you don’t want to rush to conclusions either. The show opens Friday night and being director requires all hands on deck. Seokmin probably doesn’t even have time to brush his teeth let alone think about whatever it is between you too. Add the fact the actor for Scrooge broke his leg just before the auction and the only person comfortable enough with the role is also directing, he’s under a lot of pressure.

But none of the reassuring thoughts get you to leave the house the night of the show.

It wasn’t as if you had to be there. You helped fundraise but you weren’t cast or crew so your attendance was optional, even if there were two tickets waiting for you at willcall. Missed calls and texts rack up on your phone screen. Lydia, Seungkwan, Chan… But none from Seokmin. You should have turned your phone off to avoid the fall out from ditching. 

Instead, you accidentally pick up Lydia’s call. 

“Where are you?” Lydia screeches through the speaker. “The show's about to start.”

“I’m…I’m sick.”

You even fake cough but Lydia doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Get your ass down here or I swear to god I’ll drag you by your hair.”

“Why would I go? He hasn’t talked to me all week?”

“So? Who cares!” she huffs, “You worked really hard to make sure this all got done. They wouldn’t have costumes or a set without everything you did. Forget Seokmin, come see it for yourself.”

“I—”

“Listen. Whatever happened between you two happened. But don’t let that chase you away from this. We can plot revenge tomorrow but tonight you should celebrate how hard you worked to make this happen.”

“Alright.”

You race to dress somewhat appropriately. Sweater, leggings, and a nice coat are all you can manage if you want to make it before intermission ends. It’s a miracle you’re not pulled over for speeding or running through yellow lights at the last minute but you get downtown in record time.

The street outside the theater is quiet, fog rising from the damp pavement. Through the glass doors into the theater, people mill about. You missed the first half of the show but there’s still time.

Lydia waits on the steps, exhaling a foggy breath when she finds you.  “Thank god.”

“How's it so far?”

“Good. I can’t believe I’ve never come to one of these before.” She types furiously on her phone before locking it and tossing it back into her purse. “The costumes look so good.”

The theater is packed to the brim, the lobby practically bursting at the seams as people chat through intermission. The costumes look better than good and so do the sets. Seokmin plays a more than convincing Scrooge, even better than the ones you’ve seen in the million movie versions of the play you’ve watched together. There’s no way he can see you with the bright stage lights but more than once it feels like he’s staring right where you sit, looking for someone. Looking for you.

Your eyes remain glued to the stage, unable to blink just in case you miss a second. It's dizzying watching him perform, as if you're staring up at the sky for too long and starting to feel unmoored; like you can't look away, can't accept that something so captivating exists.

After another hour, the lights go up, the cast take their bows. Without warning, you’re blinking into a harsh spotlight.

“Stand up,” Lydia whispers, prodding your side.

“What the hell is going on?”

“This production wouldn’t have been possible without Y/N. We’re so thankful for someone like her.”

You smile awkwardly and wait for the clapping to die down as the spotlight moves back to the stage. The second it's over, you’re up the aisle and into the lobby.

Straight into Seungkwan, who is subtly guarding the door like he knew you’d run at the first chance.

“You’re coming to the after party, right?” he asks.

Other people start filtering in from the auditorium. Maybe, you can lose him in the chaos and go home. 

“Of course she is,” Lydia interjects. Her arm weaves through yours, a firm threat that she’ll drag you if she has to.

The after party is for cast and crew of legal drinking age at Jane’s. Lydia and Seungkwan ride with you, another silent threat looming in the air.  They chat the entire way, undeterred by your silence. It's nice having friends that care but all you want is to hide under a blanket on your couch and spend the rest of the night crying while Shinx watches you with unveiled disgust.

Outside the bar, you promise one drink, claiming that you really are sick and want to go home. Which might be true. You’re off kilter, head spinning, stomach twisted into untangleable knots. But that might be because you can hear Seokmin’s laugh as you enter and your muscles twitch to dive beneath a table until he leaves.

You manage to find a stool in the corner. Even in an attempt to remain unseen more than half the bar stops by to thank you; crew members you haven’t met or cast you’ve seen in passing. Lydia stays by your side throughout, a steady presence as you lose yourself in the party. You can almost forget who is floating around the outskirts of the bar like a ghost. 

“Vernon sent me to ask if you want to play pool,” Seungkwan says to Lydia.

She sends you a sideways glance. Not asking for permission but like you’re a kid she can’t leave alone.

“Go,” you say, brushing her away. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t leave without telling me.”

“I’m leaving right now,” you tell her.

“Fine,” she sighs. Then she pulls you into a hug. Lydia isn’t a hugger, in the years you’ve known her you can count on your fingers the number of times it’s happened. “But you should clear the air before you go.”

“I live next to him. There are plenty of opportunities.”

She gives you an extra squeeze, fully aware you’ll continue pretending he doesn’t exist until everything smooths over and you and Seokmin are back to neighbors who tolerate each other's existence in fragile silence.

Which would work if the second you turn around to leave you don’t run straight into him.

He rubs the side of his head. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say. “Can we talk?”

He nods before turning to leave the bar, not waiting to see if you follow but you do. 

The party inside the bar echoes out onto the snowy street. It seems no one else is crazy enough to have an overdue conversation in a snowstorm, but better here than anywhere else. At least after Seokmin lets you down, you can run back to your apartment and pretend he doesn’t exist anymore.

Seokmin stands a few paces away, barely illuminated in neon signs and string lights strewn across the street. You aren’t drunk, not even tipsy. Alcohol would make this conversation worse but it’d take the edge off your nerves and dull a little bit of the cold.

You shove both hands in your pockets, unsure what to say now that you have him all alone.

“The play was good.”

“Thanks. Next time you’ll have to see the first act.”

It comes out like a joke but you can feel the vitriol like a bucket of ice water. Ouch.

“I—”

“If you’re not over your ex it’s okay,” he winces. “We can stay friends.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Sam. You still have feelings for him. It’s fine if you do, I get it. I’m not mad or anything I just thought…”

“I am over Sam.”

“Well, congrats on getting over him I guess,” Seokmin shrugs but his grin is forced. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Are you serious?” you scoff, venom stinging the tip of your tongue. 

His face glazes with annoyance. “What else is there?”

“Why did you leave?”

“I had work.”

You want to smack to frown off his face. 

“But you didn’t text me or leave a note. I woke up and you were gone and then didn’t hear anything from you.”

“I did leave a note. You iced me out,” he argues.

“Where? Because from where I’m standing you left as soon as you could and then ignored me like it never happened.”

“My phone died so I left a note on the counter. And you never texted me or anything so I thought you were trying to let me down easy.”

He left you a note. The shredded paper on your bed…

“Oh my god,” you gasp, ire evaporating. “Shinx.”

“Your cat?”

Laughter bubbles out of your throat, so thick you choke on your next words. “I think she ate your note.”

The realization hangs in the air, Seokmin froze as your words sink in. He stares at you for a moment, still recovering from the absurdity of it all, before he finally exhales a long breath.

“I thought she liked me,” he whines, face lit up with the beginning of a smile. 

“Shinx is loyal to no one.”

His body meets yours, like cards precariously leaned against one another to prevent a topple as you both shake with laughter. The cold of the street disappears in the warmth of his touch. 

“You’re not that kind of guy. I know that. I shouldn’t have—”

“I could’ve texted you after I went to Kwan’s,” he interjects. 

“I could’ve called you.”

Seokmin’s gaze roams across your face. “How about we start over?”

“I’d like that,” you smile, closing the scant amount of space left between your bodies. 

“Me too.”

Your lips brush against his, the faintest contact sending a storm of butterflies through your stomach. You’re both smiling too much for it to count as a real kiss but neither of you seem to care. His hand slips around the back of your neck, holding you closer just for a moment longer.

Seokmin convinces you to stay at the bar for a few more hours. He holds your hand, keeps you under his arm, looks at you after each joke to make sure you’re laughing too. Seokmin is nothing like Sam. You’ve known that all along but the fear lingered and you refused to acknowledge it. He’s someone you actually could fall for if you let yourself. 

He might hurt you but the potential for something great outweighs the bad in spades.

As the night drags on, you end up closer; sitting on his laps, his hands protectively wrapped around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder and you lean back against him. The slow burn between you roars to a boil when you trace mindless shapes against his palm, Seokmin’s breath shaky in his chest.

“Ready to go home?” he whispers huskily. His breath rushes down your neck, goosebumps bloom in its wake. 

You shift closer – the seam of your jeans only further worsening your arousal – and nod.

Once outside, you’re tangled in each other once again, limbs indecipherable. The sudden chill of midnight air has you turning back into his chest, the arm previously on your back curling low on your waist. Seokmin orders an Uber and immediately focuses back on you the second he can. You catch a text on his screen before he can lock his phone. Seokmin holds you the same as before but it’s different this time. You’re both waiting for the damn to break and the flood to wash away whatever tension lingers between you. 

[10:56PM] Mr. Boo: do not fuck this up

[10:56PM] Mr. Boo: lydia said she would kill you and i think she’s serious

The cab ride home is a blur. You’re focused on not scandalizing the drive while Seokmin keeps a hand firmly on your knee, perfectly proper if it wasn’t for the grit in his jaw when you return the touch just high enough for your pinky to graze his zipper. 

The second the car stops, you throw the door open and pull Seokmin out and inside the lobby, straight to the elevator where he grabs your waist and uses the leverage to kiss you with so much heat you sweat.

He tries pressing you into the wall but you beat him to the punch, crowding him into the corner, front flush with him from head to toe. Seokmin groans, pushing back as you grind over his thigh. One of you pushes the button to your floor.

When the doors open, he gains the upper hand. Tugging you down the hall, he bypasses your door and goes straight for his own. He fumbles with the keys from the way you suck at his pulse but after a few tries he succeeds, pulling you inside and pressing you into the wall of the hallway.

“I like you,” he admits, rushing to unzip your coat and stuff his freezing hands inside, curling them against your waist. “This isn’t just sex.”

You nod dumbly. “I know. I like you, too.”

“And we should – hmmm – go on a date sometime.”

“Okay,” you rasp. 

His thigh slots back between yours. All those memories of his mouth and fingers rush to the forefront, teasing you with the fantasy of Seokmin on his knees right here, eating you out next to his front door. 

He presses hard against your core, fingers tracing the seam of your pants. Your hands reach beneath his shirt; pulling, squeezing. Nails digging into his tense stomach with each bump against your covered clit.

“Seokmin,” you whimper.

You're pulled off the wall. A trail of clothing is left in your wake to his room. Hats, coats, sweaters, undershirts. Seokmin manages to keep his pants on but allows you to unbutton them for a weak handjob over his briefs.

“God,” he exhales close to your ear.

In all the nights you two have hung out you’ve never been in his room. You try to take in as many details as possible but Seokmin dedicates himself to driving you insane with his lips on your neck, gently nipping and sucking until you shiver.

If you had any foresight this was going to happen then you would have at least picked matching underwear. But he seems thrilled as he crowds you into the bed. 

His mouth replaces his hand, lapping at your nipple, completely disregarding the fabric of your bra, before sucking it into his mouth. The hand that was on your chest dips beneath your panties. Fingertips circle your clit, gliding through the wet mess, dipping shallowly inside you.

Your hips rut into the touch. You want more. Need more. And you know Seokmin can give you what you need.

You guide his mouth to your neglected nipple, pushing the cup out of the way and arching as he gives it the same attention. “Please.”

“I got you,” he promises.

Seokmin melts down between your legs, kneeling at the side of the bed; one on his shoulder, the other pressed up your chest. Your hands bury in his hair as he licks a long strip up your core. Each pathetic sound fleeing your lips is rewarded with a deeper curl of his fingers, a harsher lap of his tongue. He leaves wet kisses on your thighs, spreading the mess of arousal and spit before diving back.

You squeeze tight on his fingers. “O-oh, oh fuck.”

Your hips stutter into his mouth. It washes over you, muscles clenched so hard it hurts. The way your heels dig into his back must hurt too but you don’t care. Neither does Seokmin. He doesn’t stop as you claw at him, following that inferno scorching through every tissue, begging him to keep going until you wilt into the sheets.

The ceiling comes slowly into focus, dots floating across your vision. You’re sweating despite the chill hanging in the air. Thankfully, Seokmin blankets you in his heat as he kisses across your hips, then your sternum, then buries his face into your neck. Your shivers have nothing to do with the cold.

“Wow,” you pant. 

Seokmin’s face cracks into a tired grin. Fatigue ghosts over the room but you're not done yet. The weight of his cock between your legs demands attention, and you’re all too eager to touch him.

He doesn’t object when you push him onto his back, or to the trail of soft kisses down his front, allowing you to mark up the smooth expanse of his chest and belly how you see fit. You savor the warmth of his body with each touch. Allow your fingers to gently wash away each press of your lips and warm him up for what's to come.

You suck the head of his cock through the fabric, teasing him with your tongue until the taste of pre-cum floods your mouth. 

He sinks into the bed. A hand finds its way into your hair, unsure if he wants to pull you off or sink deeper into the heat of your mouth, even if it is just a tease. You tug his underwear out of the way and continue torturing him. Thrilled by the way his stomach tense with each desperate whine from the way your tongue traces every ridge.

He gently guides you back and forth, taking the strain off your neck as you take more and more before he pulls you off. “Wait, shit.”

“What–”

“I was gonna come,” Seokmin explains, pulling you up his chest to drop placating kisses against your chin.

“That’s okay,” you smile. “I want you to.”

“But I want to fuck you.”

“Next time?”

“Fuck yes, next time,” he pants as he rolls you on to your back.

He keeps his mouth on yours, tongue sliding hotly against your own while blindly searching for a condom in the bedside table. 

Your hips angle and so do his, a little wiggle and then he’s inside you and it ruins your life. Just the first inch seals your eyes shut, vision filled with stars. You can feel everything; full in a way you’ve never felt before.

Seokmin draws back timidly, allowing you both to watch the way your body takes him so easily.

Somehow he manages to rock deeper, stretch you at just the right angle. Surges right into that spot that curls your chest tight with rough fluidity. The muscles in your thighs are at war with whether to spread wider or squeeze around his waist.

“I wanna ride you.”

There are so many things you want to do with him. To him. But you start with this, taking command of his lap, sinking back on his dick with another tight stretch; glowing as Seokmin watches slack-jawed.

“God, you’re perfect,” he praises.

You fuck yourself on him, knees digging into the mattress as you grind back and forth and all Seokmin can do is watch. A loose grip on your hips as his face glazes over. Your thighs cramp but the way he looks against the pillows, hazy around the edges, hair flat at one side and wild on the other, encourages you to finish what you started.

“Touch me,” you beg.

His neck goes red, ears too, when his hand wedges back between your thighs. “Wanna see you come again. Fuck, you’re so pretty when you come for me.”

Your hips cant wildly, stuttering under his free flowing praise. Too full, too much. You nearly scramble off his lap to snatch at your sanity drifting away.

He kisses you gently, sweet praise ghosting over your lips. “That’s it. Just like that.”

You’re not even moving. Seokmin works your clit raw, fucks up into you with limited motion as you choke on another orgasm that leaves you wet at the eyes and the room spinning. 

“U-ugh. Fuck,” you shiver, collapsing into his chest.

“Can,” he chokes. “Can I—”

An imperceivable dip of your chin and Seokmin rolls you back over and flattens your thighs open; hard rushes of his hips, stomach taunt.

“Come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you sigh. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chants as he shakes beneath your hands before slumping over.

You rebound faster than Seokmin; he’s almost snoring against your chest as you rake a hand through the tangled mess of his hair, melting under the weight on your lips against his hairline.

“You’re pretty when you come, too,” you tease. 

He swats your hand away, rising off you to dispose of the condom in the bathroom before rushing back into bed to clean you with a washcloth. When he’s done, he throws it into some forgotten corner of the room where the rest of your clothes hide and dives under the covers with you in tow. 

Your limbs lace with his, all nude skin on skin. 

“I would like to take you out for real sometime,” Seokmin whispers.

“Good thing I have a four hundred dollar date to cash in on.”

“You know,” he smiles into your cheek. “You could have asked me for free.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

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[redrose10]

< Little Birdies >

Detective Yoongi x Female Detective Reader, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Some suggestive bits, mentions of violence, guns, injuries

I hope you like it and thanks for the request!

*******************************************************

“Your friend seemed nice.”, you mumbled after another sip of your coffee. The thought of the strange woman carrying her bra and underwear in her hands while she tiptoed out of the apartment you shared with Yoongi making your stomach turn just a little.

The shutter of the camera made a loud clicking sound. After making sure he got the shot Yoongi turned and smirked at you, “You want her number? You seem more interested in her than I am.”

“No thanks. Not my type.”, you scoffed.

“Mmhm…yeah I forgot…you like assholes named Hoseok that somehow forget to text you for days at a time and spell your name wrong in birthday cards that they give you three weeks too late.”

“Yeah well at least I don’t have a revolving door of different women because I’m a manwhore that can’t go more than three days without getting my dick wet.”

“Ouch…”, he said clutching his chest in fake hurt but still with a smile getting you to giggle along with him.

“Seriously though Y/N, you should dump him. You deserve better.”

“Like you?”, you playfully responded.

“Umm yeah, I’m a great catch.”, he proudly exclaimed before grabbing a few more photos.

You snorted in response, but deep down you knew he was right. He was kind, thoughtful, funny, brave, and on top of that he was incredibly handsome. You’d had a crush on him since his family moved in next door to you when you were both six years old. The two of you became pretty much inseparable while growing up even joining the police force together and getting an apartment to live in. You weren’t entirely sure of his feelings towards you and you were just too scared to make any move that could possibly ruin your relationship. So you kept them a secret all these years.

Yoongi took a few more pictures as a group of men walked out of the restaurant you had been scoping out for the last few hours before placing the camera on the back seat. “I think we got enough for now. Let’s get back to the office and search for any updates.”, he said putting the car in drive.

The thing was that you had no idea how much Yoongi liked you, he knew that he even loved you. It killed him watching you date guys who treated you poorly or didn’t care about you like he did. Even when you dated Taehyung who was actually very nice and caring and never did or said anything to make it seem like he didn’t love you, it still didn’t sit right with him. Yoongi always knew he could love you better, he could love you more.

He hated that he couldn’t bring himself to stay in a relationship longer than a few months because he always ended up feeling like he couldn’t fully commit to them since you were always on his mind. He hated sneaking in random women that he met in bars or through friends just to spend the night pretending that it was you moaning his name in his ear as he thrusted in and out of them. He hated that he could stare down the barrel of a gun like it was nothing, but he didn’t have the courage to really tell you how he felt about you. He dropped hints. He thought he was being very obvious at times. Everyone else could see it, but for some reason you never did. A part of him wondered if you did catch on, but didn’t feel the same way and you just didn’t want to embarrass him or ruin the friendship you guys had. The thought of that made his chest ache.

“Good morning Y/N, where is your other half?”, Jimin smirked while Jungkook giggled next to him. You wanted to say something harsh in return but you reminded yourself that they were good kids and just liked to push your buttons a little. They were rookies and were assigned to work in the same office as you and Yoongi. They were in charge of paperwork and smaller tasks, but mostly they just gave you and Yoongi a hard time.

The thing was you actually didn’t know where he was. He had a date last night, like an actual date and not just a one night stand. You fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home and when you got up for work he wasn’t there. The date must’ve gone really well was your first thought. Your second thought was that it must have gone so well that he didn’t even come home last night because he never lets you sleep on the couch. Something about it being bad for your posture so he always carried you to bed. It seemed like someone else had kept his attention.

Before you could answer the two men he came walking into the small office. “I was buying you guys some breakfast, but I guess I’ll just have to eat it myself.”, he said while purposely letting the large bag of food smack Jimin in the back of the head as he walked by.

“Caramel Latte.”, he smiled handing you a to-go cup.

“Thanks… did you forgot the —“

“Blueberry bagel extra toasted with extra cinnamon cream cheese.”, he smirked handing you the still warm bagel.

“Thanks Yoongles.”, you smiled already digging in.

From the side Jungkook mocked in a high pitched voice, “Yeah thanks Yoongles.” Jimin joined in, “Yeah maybe for lunch Yoongles can give Y/N some of his own di—“, he couldn’t finish because Yoongi had taken a half of a bagel and shoved it into Jimin’s mouth to shut him up earning a laugh from everyone in the small office.

Once everyone ate and and got their briefings and you and Yoongi were in your car off to scope out a new location that was suspected of being a mafia hangout, you finally took a moment to ask the question that had been bothering you since the night before.

“So uh your date went well I’m guessing…you know since you never came home last night.”, you slightly cringed at how petty and desperate you sounded. You weren’t his mother so you had no say in when or if he even came home at all.

“It was alright.”, he mumbled.

“Mmm do you think you’ll see her again?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe. Unless someone else want to go on a date with me instead.”

You smiled, but didn’t say anything else. Instead you turned to look out the window pretending you were taking notes. You missed the way Yoongi looked you up and down.

The truth was he didn’t really have any plans to ever see that woman again. As horrible as it sounds he thought that she could maybe be a distraction for a while, a way to get his brain to stop thinking about you every minute of every day. But for the entire evening all he could think about was the look of sorrow in your eyes when he told you about the date. And right before he was about to leave you dropped the bomb on him that Hoseok had broken up with you that same morning. He felt awful. He offered to cancel the date, but you begged him not to. He was miserable and decided to end it early. He stopped at the convient store and grabbed all of your favorite snacks and a cute little stuffed poodle to add to your collection of stuffed animals he’d gotten you over the years. But when he got home you were already sound asleep on the couch. Normally he would carry you to bed not wanting you to wake up sore, but you looked exhausted and his shoulder had been acting up worrying him that he’d end up dropping you if he tried. So he grabbed another blanket and tucked you in instead before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head and getting in bed himself so that he could get up bright and early and surprise everyone with breakfast in the morning.

You hated working nights. You were so glad when your rookie years were over and you could have first dibs on the more desirable shifts. But they were super backed up on paperwork and you needed a distraction. Yoongi was on another date. He wouldn’t confirm or deny if the date was with the same woman so you chose to assume it was a second date and in Yoongi world being lucky enough to get a second date with him is basically like a marriage proposal so you were feeling a little heavy hearted.

“You two should just tell each other how you feel.”, Jimin spoke from the cubicle across from yours after noticing you staring into space. “Yeah it used to be fun to tease you guys, but now it’s just sad.”, Jungkook added after popping a handful of chips into his mouth.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh come on Y/N…it’s clear that you two like each other. Childhood best friends that have always had a thing for each other, but were always too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the friendship so they yearn after each other in secret while trying to force love elsewhere.”, Jimin snorted, “It’s a tale as old as time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s my best friend and there’s no way he’d like me any ways.”, you spat feeling a little irritated.

“Yeah…but do you give all of your friends big puppy dog eyes every time they walk in the room?”, Jungkook questioned which pleased Jimin judging by the smirk on his face.

Rolling your eyes you continued to type away on your computer without giving them a verbal response.

“And Yoongi has it down bad for you.”, Jimin said making you stop your actions.

They snickered back and forth knowing they got you.

Jimin continued, “Seriously Y/N, he buys you food all the time.”

“So? He buys the whole office food.”

“Yeah, but we get the stuff that was 50% off because it was about to expire while you get the premium fancy coffees and the hot fresh sandwiches.”

“So what? I’ve known him since we were kids.”, you shrugged, “I’d do the same for him.”

“Yeah well what about these?”, Jungkook said pointing at a bunch of pencils that were snapped in half on Yoongi’s desk.

“They’re just pencils…I don’t really understand?”

Jungkook laughed, “Yeah they’re all just poor innocent pencils that Yoongi has snapped with his hands because he was squeezing them so tightly in anger every time you get all flirty with the ballistics guys…uh what’s his name? Namjoon, yeah that guy.”

“I do not flirt with him. He’s just nice and has cute dimples.”

Jimin snorted, “Don’t let Yoongi hear you say that. I don’t think we have any room in the budget for more pencils.”

“Okay and like he actually took a bullet for you. I’m not sure I would even sprain my ankle for this guy.”, Jimin sighed pointing over at Jungkook earning quite the glare.

He did have a point with that one. You were both new at the time. You were closing in on a well known and dangerous drug dealer. A shot was fired and you froze. If Yoongi hadn’t acted quickly and stepped in front of you it would’ve hit you right in the forehead. Instead he took the bullet in his left shoulder barely missing a major artery. It’s been nearly seven years and he still hasn’t 100% recovered, still having pain from time to time. You’ve always felt awful about it but that was him just doing his job and protecting his friend, nothing more.

You shook your head, “That doesn’t prove anything. That was just him doing what he was sworn in to do.”

“Yeah well he also turned down that promotion because of you.” The sound Jimin’s hand made when it connected to the back of Jungkook’s head would’ve made you laugh at any other time, but instead his words kept repeating in your head, “What promotion?”

Jimin put his hands up in defense and looked at Jungkook., “This one is on you. Yoongi made us promise not to tell her and I do not want to receive the wrath of a man who can easily snap a pencil with one hand.”

Jungkook swallowed before nodding, “Well a few months ago Yoongi was offered a promotion to captain. But he uh…he turned it down because he didn’t want you out in the streets without him. He said no one could or would protect you like would so he declined it.”

“W-wait, he actually turned down a promotion like that because of me?” Both of the guys nodded but remained silent.

“I’m sorry…I um…I have to go.”, you mumbled grabbing all of your things. You felt sick and you needed to talk to Yoongi and make him go beg for that promotion.

You stood in front of your door for a minute praying that you weren’t going to walk in on anything you didn’t want to see so you took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Thankfully the apartment was empty. You were going to take a quick shower and then decide on your next move. But as you were taking off your shoes the door opened and Yoongi came walking in.

“W-What are you doing here?”, you asked shocked to see him home so early and also (thankfully) alone.

“Well last time I checked I lived here? Wow you must have a fever setting in.”, he chuckled.

“F-fever?”

He grabbed your hand and took you to the kitchen where he started unboxing the soup he had picked up for you, “Yeah Jimin texted me and said you left in a hurry because you weren’t feeling well so I got you some soup and some tea and some medicine and this cute cupcake because cake makes everything better.”, he smiled.

“Did you leave your date for this?”, you questioned feeling a little sicker by the minute.

“Uh yeah, but it’s no big deal.”, he said handing you a bowl of the soup and encouraging you to eat it.

It all started repeating over and over in your mind. The missed dates, the promotion, the bullet. You wondered how much else he’d given up for you.

“No Yoongi, you have to stop doing this.”, you said taking a step back.

“Doing what?”, he laughed, “Taking care of you?”

“Yes Yoongi! You can’t keep skipping out on dates and taking bullets and rejecting promotions. You need to start…you need to start doing what makes you happy. You need to stop focusing on me so much.”

He stood still and licked his lips. His hands were tightly gripping the counter.

“Peppermint or chamomile?”, he asked.

“What?!”

“Do you want peppermint tea or chamomile tea? I got both just in case.”, he asked again already reaching for a mug.

“Yoongi I don’t want any tea! Are you listening? You can’t keep giving up things because of me. I just want you to be happy. I want you to achieve your goals. I want you to find the woman of your dreams and spend the rest of your life together in love and stop worrying about me all the time.”

Yoongi was normally a very stoic slow moving man so when he moved so quickly that he had you caged in against the counter within seconds it somewhat startled you.

He stared deeply into your eyes, something he rarely did, “Y/N did you ever stop to think that maybe THIS is what makes me happy. That maybe I enjoy taking care of you. That maybe my dream is to have you close to me forever. That maybe I found the love of my life when her and her parents came over to introduce themselves to the new neighbors and she came walking up to me with cute pigtails and a gorgeous smile to give me one of her moms famous brownies. Did you ever think that maybe the day I took that bullet I didn’t just do it because it was my job…that I did it because I would rather die myself than have to spend the rest of my life without you. And the promotion? Sure it would’ve been nice. The money could’ve helped. But the risk wasn’t worth it to me. You’re all I need to be happy. I’m done trying to pretend that you’re just a friend to me. I’m done going on dates with other women pretending that they’re you. I love you Y/N and as long as I have you then that’s all I need in this life.”

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until he reached up to wipe away at the tears that had settled on your cheeks. Those were the words you’d wanted to say for so long but we’re too afraid that they wouldn’t be reciprocated.

“I-I love you too Yoongi.”, you whispered before burying your face in his chest and feeling his arms tightly wrap around you to pull you even closer.

You had already felt a million times better, but Yoongi did what he did best and made sure you ate all of the soup and drank the tea. Then you guys decided to dig into the cupcake which you happily shared with him.

“Soooo how did you find out about the promotion?”, he asked before feeding you another bite of cake.

“Ohhh a uh some little birdies told me.”, you mumbled trying not to make eye contact with him.

He nodded, “Mmmhm I see. And do these little birdies have impeccable hair and irresistible smiles?”

“Well… you know…I don’t think the hair of these birdies really matters…and I really don’t think birds can even smile.”, you said trying to distract him, “And you should be nice to these little birdies because they’re the ones that helped get us together.”

He leaned in and gave you a long awaited kiss, “Jimin and Jungkook are still going to be on car washing duty for the next three months.”, he laughed before going in for another kiss, “Which is better than the crime scene cleanup that I originally had planned.”

“But I do have the nicest smile right?”, he asked when you guys were finally done laughing.

You sat in silence deciding to tease him a little bit.

“Riiiggghhhtttt?”, he questioned again with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Weeeelllll Namjo-“

Before you could finish the statement he stuffed the rest of the cupcake in your mouth to stop you and then breaking out into a big gummy smile that always had been and always will be the best to you.

[alphabetboyluvr]

HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning. 

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed. 

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long. 

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many. 

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel. 

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening. 

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again. 

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut. 

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again. 

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks. 

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too. 

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin. 

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

[personasintro]

monachopsis | 09

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; after receiving unpleasant news that doesn’t allow you to grow your family, your husband comes up with an idea that unfortunately involves his brother whom he despises

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tattoo artist!yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, mini series, brother-in-law au

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, ANGST

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 16.4k+

a/n: the long wait is over and the new chapter is here 🥹 sit back and enjoy ❤️‍🔥

↳ chapter index

⇠ prev. | next ⇢

The cold and dark night perfectly portrays your inner feelings that dawn on you on the outside too, tears blurring your vision as you angrily wipe them off. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn't have come here. You trusted Yoongi to help you, maybe you even looked for comfort in him but you never expected he would accuse you of something like that.

Absolutely understanding that it's not his responsibility to comfort you, he could've easily told you to fuck off if he wanted. But still, you hoped he would understand. Your reaction is mainly controlled by your emotions, not with your head that doesn't seem to be in the right place.

Life taught you not to expect things from people, but everyone's got their expectations. Especially when you feel like you know that person at least a little bit. So you expect nothing this time, making your way to the car when you hear your name being shouted on the street. 

You've barely managed to take a few, fast and angry, strolls out of the studio. Glancing back and stopping in your tracks, you notice Yoongi staring at you as he rushes to you. You can't face him now. You turn around and continue in your path with even more eager and faster steps to get to your car.

Yoongi catches up to you though, running after you as the wind gets more intense and makes your hair stick to your wet cheeks. He's not going to let you leave, especially when he stormed out of his studio past his very confused friends. He's not fully understanding what happened, he might've gotten carried away and shouldn't have accused you of such things. But from what you were saying, it was something that made sense.

You're not okay. You weren't okay the second he laid his eyes on you when you were standing at the entrance of his new studio. And you're not okay now when he catches you by your forearm, stopping you from getting away from him and he sees your crying face. 

Fuck. Is that all his doing?

“What do you want?” you snap, shrugging off his touch with an angry frown as you wipe your cheeks with the sleeve.

What does he want? He has no fucking idea. He just couldn't leave you in such a state, knowing you have nowhere else to go. For fuck sake, he doesn't get why you came to him out of all people but you did. And he knows he would feel like a fucking asshole if he let you leave in your current state. The look of you only confirms he has done the right thing. 

“I shouldn't have assumed anything,” he speaks, eyes dancing across your face as you're trying to look angry. Only he feels bad for you, knowing what happened between you and his brother is way more serious. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry I came here. It won't happen again.” you say emotionlessly, ending the conversation there as you turn around.

Yoongi doesn't let you. He catches you again, softly but enough to let you stay as he turns you around. “Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” The same emotionless tone. It makes his jaw tick. 

“Where are you going?” he asks again, this time more deeper and slower.

“To my car. Now let me go.”

The truth is, you weren't only crying because of what Yoongi said. Sure, the interaction shocked you to the point where you felt disappointment, sadness and anger. You don't even know what emotion dominates. However, it's the awful feeling of loneliness and desperation. You have no idea what you're going to do now.

Yoongi watches you, a realization hitting him. “Fuck, you're shaking, Y/N.”

It hits you too. He's right. You didn't even notice it.

And then you break and a silent whimper leaves your mouth. There's no control over it, your body shaking even more as Yoongi sucks in breath harshly at the heartbreaking sight. He moves automatically, pulling your body to his with no protest from your side as you welcome his warmth. Despite the odd situation and Yoongi's arms around your fragile body, it doesn't dawn upon you he's hugging you until he tightens his grip on you.

“It's gonna be okay.” he mutters into the chilly air.

For a moment you're not able to react in any way, you direct all your focus trying to stop the tears that have welled up in your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. 

“Nothing's gonna be okay.”

“Now that's very pessimistic of you.” He tries to joke lightly, letting out just a light chuckle. But once he doesn't seem you nowhere near amused and in the same state, he gently pulls you off him to get another glance at your teary face.

It's embarrassing that he sees you in such a horrific and vulnerable state. For a solid second you hate him for approaching you. Why couldn't he just let you leave? He said what he wanted to say. The hurt still resonates and even when he gently wipes the tears off your cheeks with his thumb, like you would often see in romantic movies, nothing about this is romantic. You're pregnant, nowhere to go and with no one by your side. 

Yoongi might've apologized already, but his assumption and words still sting and you have a hard time believing him. Is he truly sorry? Or he just didn't expect you to storm out of there like that? And finding you crying in the middle of the street like an emotional wreck?

“Come on, let's get you to the car.” he mumbles under his breath, looking around before he gently tugs onto your wrist. He doesn't let go, almost as if he's afraid of you running. 

“My car's that way.” you point out emotionlessly, stubborn to show any more emotion that you already have.

He was right about one thing. You shouldn't drive in this state. No matter what could've happened, this is no longer only about you. You've got one more person to think about. 

“We're gonna drive in my car.” he simply says and you don't argue.

Once he unlocks his car with a key – the old system of unlocking – you get inside and does it feel odd to be back inside it again? No words are exchanged, the radio playing softly in the background as you allow yourself to lean back and stare out of the window. You're not sure where he's taking you. Oh god, is he taking you back home? You can't go there! Not with Yeonseok there. 

Just as you open your mouth, you recognize the familiar street and the direction you're heading at. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, despite knowing but you still have to ask. Yoongi's aware of that.

“To my place.”

“Yoongi–” 

Still hurt (and upset too) by your latest conversation at his new studio, you're aware of Yoongi wanting to be out of this as much as possible. While you're guessing he must feel bad for you and that's why he's doing this, you don't want him to do this out of pure pity. You would rather be alone in a hotel room until you figure out this mess. 

“You said you have nowhere to go, didn't you?” he reminds you. A little output by his bluntness, your mouth opens and closes before you find words. 

“And you said everything is way past us.” You quote him with an edge to your tone, shooting him a side glance as he keeps his eyes on the road as he lets out a sigh. “Drive me to a hotel. Any hotel is fine.”

You feel his momentarily gaze on you. Too stubborn to look, you keep staring ahead with a clenched jaw. It's not like there's no appreciation of what he's doing on your part. After everything – even if the emotions are too raw and current – you can tell that it's a positive thing that he decided to stop you from driving. As usual, you're absolutely clueless about what's going on inside his head or why he's doing this. You don't think he's got any bad intentions. Regardless of what his parents and your husband say about him, you know Yoongi does have a good heart.

But you've got your own pride as well.

“I know what I said and I'm sorry.” he simply says, continuing in his drive and not changing the direction which you decide not to comment on for numerous reasons. 

The air between you is a little stiff, undoubtedly caused by the misunderstanding (is that what it was?), and the way inside the building and his apartment is spent in utter silence. It's until Yoongi closes his front door and you're met with the familiar scent of oranges and wood, that you finally speak up. 

“Why am I here, Yoongi?” you ask, not taking off your shoes like he tells you to – muttering it almost tiredly to be exact. You ignore him, raising your brow as you demand an answer. 

He takes off his shoes and jacket silently, placing the items to their designated place. He's definitely taking his time but you don't budge, hardening your features even more as he takes a sneaky glance at you. 

“Can we not fight?”

“I'm not fighting!” you exclaim, a little bit too loud which causes him to raise his brow at you this time. “Thanks for driving me but I shouldn't be here.”

“But you came to me, haven't you?” he asks, hardening his features just as much. “You must've wanted help.”

“I needed a friend,” you correct him. “I needed someone who understands.” Your voice wavers and you mentally curse at yourself. 

He has no reaction, simply looking at you until he drops his gaze toward his feet.

“I know we're no friends. I'm aware of that. But I needed someone who's familiar with my situation. It was wrong of me to come up to you. You were right, it looked wrong and I shouldn't have–”

“I was an asshole for assuming the reason for you coming there.” he cuts you off. “It didn't even cross my mind that you needed–that you needed someone who understands.”

“You wanted as far out of this mess as possible,” you point out harshly. “And I can't blame you for it. We all got what we wanted, didn't we?”

He looks up, your eyes meeting for a moment as he understands the double meaning of your words. Poking the tongue inside of his cheek, he looks behind you.

“I don't wanna be any burden to you. I will handle this by myself, somehow. I don't know how yet, but it's not your concern. I'm sorry for coming to you.”

“Don't,” he cuts you off, staring at you sternly. “Just stay here, okay?” he asks, sighing exhaustedly like this entire situation makes him both mentally and physically exhausted. 

It definitely exhausts you.

“Why?”

The question is simple. You don't expect him to give you a proper answer or any at this point. Yoongi might be honest but most of the time, he keeps his thoughts to himself. He's not one to open his heart and if he does, he does it almost emotionlessly. You know it's all an act. The often mentioned build-up wall you named in your mind. 

“Because I wanna help.”

That alone makes your breath hitch. Dryly gulping, you try not to react too much as you stand there not moving an inch.

“Do you, now?” you ask. You're aware of your stubbornness and the fact you're not making any of this easy. You should be happy that he's trying to help. At least someone is. Someone that doesn't need an explanation of what a fucked up deal you made. Someone that doesn't need an explanation of why you left your perfect and loving husband. So yes, he's here trying to help and you should be glad for it. A part of you thinks like that. 

But there's that part of you completely clueless by his intentions or inner thoughts. He's talking but at the same time he barely reveals anything. Perhaps your questioning and attitude is caused by still lingering hurt. 

“Yes,” he answers with a frown. “So let me help you.”

Features softening, you stare into those usually sharp eyes that somehow keep their shape despite the light behind them changing. Hesitantly, you take off your shoes and ignore the fact he's watching you the entire time. Once you're done, he leads you further down his small apartment. Not that he needs you. You know this place well and again, it's not like any of you need that reminder. 

“I can lend you some of my clothes.” he says, motioning for you to sit down on his couch.

You obey, placing your hands over your knees as you look around. Why are you suddenly nervous? Or is that discomfort you're feeling? You definitely imagined all of this to go differently. Still a little shaken up by everything that has happened today, everything starts to take its toll on you. 

“I'm not a tea drinker but I should have herbal tea somewhere. I will make you one.”

He doesn't wait for your response, simply walking away to his kitchen to prepare the tea. He's gone for a few minutes, but you refuse to even look in that direction. You hate that feeling of being alone. As soon as you're surrounded by the four walls and silence, minus the occasional sounds of drawers opening and closing that come from the kitchen, everything starts to replay in your mind like a broken record.

Luckily, Yoongi comes back with a cup of tea, placing it in front of you in utter silence. 

“Thanks.”

He only nods, slowly and carefully sitting down on the separate chair. 

“You can take my bed.”

“I can sleep on the couch.” you inform him. “I'm not fragile.”

He seems like he wants to argue at that statement, he keeps his mouth shut. The couch is nothing but uncomfortable and you both know that. But you don't need him sacrificing himself any more than he already has. 

“Don't fight me on this, alright?” he asks gently. When your stern frown meets his exhausted one, you press your lips into a tight line as you mutter out another thanks. “I've got sessions throughout the entire day, but feel free to do whatever you want.”

“I'll leave tomorrow morning. Thanks for letting me stay the night.” you tell him, meaning every word. 

“You can stay however long you want, okay?” He leans his head, trying to catch your eyes again. And once he does and your gaze naturally finds him, he deepens his stare as if to make sure you understand. “I'm barely at home. You'll have this place all to yourself. Not that there's much to do but…”

You press your lips tightly, a little grin threatening to crack. 

“I'll try to come home quickly. We'll figure it out, okay?”

Looking at him once more, you search his face for any answers that are yet to be answered. 

What do you mean, you want to ask. Since when does he want to get involved?

“I thought you didn't want to get involved.” you say silently, staring at your fumbling hands that rest in your lap. 

“Yeah, me too.” he mutters, his eyes not leaving his form. “I got myself involved the moment I nodded to Yeonseok's idea.”

Flinching at the sound of your husband's name, you clear your throat rather awkwardly. 

“It's not your responsibility to get into this mess. I know in a way you're involved, but you're not entirely involved in my and your brother's mess.”

It definitely sounds messy. The argument started with Yoongi, the entire trail of your thoughts started with him in a way. But he doesn't need to get involved more than that. It was a mistake on your part to come to his new place and search for him, in hope for some comfort. 

“Me staying here is just going to cause a disaster.”

You both know you're talking about your husband here. The look you both share says it all. 

“Yeonseok?” he still asks, chuckling a little.

You nod. 

“I'm not afraid of him.”

“I know you're not but he's… you know how he is. If he finds out I'm here–he probably already suspects I went to you. I'm not sure but I think he does.”

“I'll handle him if he comes here.”

You nervously nibble on your bottom lip. Your stupid decision to seek comfort and support from Yoongi might cause even a bigger mess. 

“Don't worry, okay? I'll handle it. Let me help you.”

After staring at him hesitantly, aware of vulnerability written all over your face, you give him a nod. Something that allows him to relax as he leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“Drink your tea before it gets cold. I'll prepare the bed for you.”

You open your mouth to argue but before you can do that, he's already on his feet walking away. Sighing in disappointment, you reach for the plain black cup nevertheless.

Yoongi doesn't leave for work too early, but early enough for you two not seeing each other. You wake up later than usual, very well aware your late night staring at the dark ceiling and not blinking an eye has a lot to do with it. No matter how tired you truly felt as soon as you laid into the fresh sheets, your mind just couldn't seem to stop working. 

Yoongi stayed true to his words. He stayed on his uncomfortable couch. Proposing sharing a bed is not something appropriate, despite you've shared a bed before. Things are different now. 

The first thing you did this morning, after blinking off any traces of sleep and staring around Yoongi's bedroom, was turning on your phone. No missed calls. You're not sure whether you're relieved or surprised. Yeonseok is usually very caring and tends to get worried. Deep down you know you expected to see at least a message.

It's better this way. Having him trying to reach you would just make you more uncomfortable. You know he's equally upset and even though you've never been through something like this, you made yourself clear.

Getting out of the bed, wearing Yoongi's clothes which you're trying not to think of much, you find a sticky note on a counter. A messily written note. You imagine him writing it at the last minute, hurrying to leave for work. 

There's some food in the fridge, feel free to make whatever you'd like. It's not much but it should do.

Simple, but effective. 

Turning on the kettle, you prepare a cup and tea. Wow, he really isn't a tea drinker. Choosing the only box he has there, you open the fridge to find good ingredients to make a proper breakfast from. You've never been much of a breakfast eater, but after you got pregnant that has changed. You've been craving more food now, even though you sometimes get sensitive about smells and taste.

You settle on a toast. It takes you around fifteen minutes to prepare everything. You purposely take your time, knowing there's nothing much for you to do for the rest of your day. Maybe you should change back into your clothes and leave Yoongi's apartment while he's at work. As much as he assured you he wants to help, you know that's not what he wanted at the beginning. Not that it matters, but something tells you the inconvenience your stay is going to bring. 

You're not a pity case. You hate the thought of him pitying you.

Regardless of your thoughts, your feet don't cross his doorstep. You're in the middle of watching a movie on his Netflix account (hoping he won't mind you using it) when your phone rings. Brows lift up to your hairline, seeing Yoongi is the one calling you. Pausing the movie, you clear your throat before answering. 

“Yes?”

“Um, hey.” Yoongi starts, clearing his tone from the sudden but apparent awkwardness. “Have you eaten?”

Something about that question makes you snort. 

He groans on the other line. Little do you know he's awkwardly scratching the top of his head. 

“I have.” you say with a smile grazing your lips. 

“I'm gonna buy some groceries after work,” he continues. “There are some flyers on the fridge. Feel free to order dinner, there are uh,” he stops for a second. “A few bucks in my nightstand.”

“Yoongi, I should–”

“Just stay there, okay?” 

He's met with silence. 

“Y/N.” 

Stopping yourself from biting your nails, you lick your dry lips. “Okay.”

Once Yoongi ends the phone call without saying anything else, you stay seated in utter silence – staring at the paused movie. It sounded like he needed assurement you wouldn't leave. You're not sure why he's so determined about you waiting up for him. You wouldn't do anything stupid, it's not like you've got many options to begin with. But you promised him you would stay. 

After all, he's the only person who's helping you at the moment. 

Back in Yoongi's studio, he places the phone back onto a counter with a thoughtful look. Too immersed in his thoughts, wondering what he's going to do once he comes back home, he doesn't notice Jimin coming from the back and joining him in the front. 

“Your next appointment is in five. You alright?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at his friend with a suspicious look. 

“Yeah.”

“Who was that on the phone? Your girlfriend?” he teases the older, laughing at Yoongi's unimpressed glare that tells him enough that he's not in the mood for a dumb teasing. 

Actually, he's not been in the mood since he arrived at the studio and opened it with Jimin's help. While Yoongi's tattooing, Jimin takes care of the phone calls and incoming customers. After he ran after you, his friends were kind enough that they took care of the studio. Without their help, he wouldn't be able to start working and would be forced to cancel his long-waiting appointments. He's not in a position to cancel them. Even after paying his debts, he still needs the money.

His aching back is also a good reason for his sour mood. 

“Don't hate me for asking. You've been quite secretive lately, no wonder we're all a little curious.” Even with Jimin's light grin, there's some truth to his words. 

However, Yoongi doesn't agree. 

He's not been secretive. He's always been the same. And he's sure what Jimin hints at is–

“Does it have something to do with your sister-in-law?” He's met with a tougher glare this time, causing Jimin's hands to lift up in surrender, showing him he means no harm.

“Is she okay though? She stormed out of here looking like a mess and then–”

“She's fine,” Yoongi cuts him off, tone harsher than he intended to which causes the younger's shoulders to drop. “Just some trouble back at home. Come on, the client is coming.” he mutters, walking to the back feeling Jimin's eyes on his back the entire time until he hears his cheerful greeting to one of Yoongi's new clients. 

Despite the lack of Yoongi's will to share any information about what happened in the span of twenty-four hours, Jimin and none of his friends have a clue in what a fucked up situation he found himself in.

He never said at what time he would be back. 

You've waited long enough for him to come, too embarrassed to admit your ears have been perked up at the littlest sounds, expecting the keys rustling in the lock. But when it was around eight and your stomach started to churn loud enough to no longer be ignored, you listened to Yoongi's words and ordered a delivery. 

At least something seems to go right when you're in the middle of opening one of the containers when you hear the door being pushed open. It shuts in the distance and with soon approaching footsteps, you come into an eye-contact with him. Two bags full of groceries are in his both hands as the delicious smell of fresh food invades his small apartment. He glances at the amount of containers before he looks at you. 

An almost inaudible Hi comes out of your mouth and instead of a vocal greeting, he nods in acknowledgement as he greets you back by it. 

“I ordered some for you.” you tell him, slowly – almost cautiously – sitting behind the table. 

“Thanks.” he says, eyes still lingering on the full table as your eyes widen in realization.

“Oh, I paid for it. I got a little carried away and got us a pizza and chicken wings. There's rice and a few side dishes as well.” 

Yoongi listens for a second, walking to the kitchen counter where he sets the grocery bags before he turns around. He stays rooted in his spot, eyes falling down on you as you give him a sheepish look. 

“I told you there's money in my nightstand. You didn't have to buy all of this.” 

Even with his little pointed look and tone, you know he means well. And perhaps he's too prideful to suck up the fact you paid for it. Yoongi did say there's a few bucks in his bedroom but the order you placed cost more than just a few bucks. Although, you never checked how much money he has there – it didn't even cross your mind – none of it matters. 

“I wanted to buy us dinner. It's my way of saying thanks for letting me stay here. It's the least I could do.”

Holding back any sort of reaction like you're used to when it comes to him, Yoongi sighs and rubs his face tiredly. Then he looks at you and cracks – what seems like an attempt to – smile.

He knows there's no way in arguing with you on this. 

“Thanks. You didn't have to though.”

“I know I didn't. I wanted to,” you assure him right away, smiling in his direction as if to silently say that you're done with this conversation. “Now eat up. I hope you haven't eaten dinner already.”

“I haven't,” he hums, joining you at the table as he looks at the containers opening them. “Just how much did you order?” he asks, lips twitching.

“A lot.” you laugh. 

Yoongi goes to grab utensils, washes his hands before joining you again at the table. The moment of you two sitting behind one table – just the two of you – having dinner feels odd. It feels oddly domestic. Just as the both of you are ready to dig in, Yoongi mutters a soft; 

“Thanks for the food.”

All you can muster is a soft smile without even looking at him, stuffing your mouth with the delicious pizza as you continue to eat in silence. 

After yesterday's late dinner and during the time he cleaned the kitchen, he asked you for your car keys and documents, so he could bring the car today. Not wanting to argue about that, you agreed to Yoongi's plan – making sure it's no bother which earned a certain type of look from him. Or was it a glare? 

You've had the whole morning to think of your next step. Yoongi had left earlier than yesterday, the only difference is that he informed you about him having to leave very early. Something about his day being fully packed, so the only time he can bring your car is in the evening.

Your entire life is currently a big mess. What was supposed to be the happiest stage in your life, you're spending it at your brother-in-law's place with nothing. All your stuff is back at home. Home. Can you call it that? 

Yeonseok has not contacted you yet. He's probably still upset over the argument and you've no idea what is going on inside his head. Not that you assume he has to contact you in the first place. Actually, you would be glad if he didn't contact you. 

Eventually, the two of you will have to talk. You're not ready. Not after everything that has been replaying in your mind nonstop. Sleep is the only time when you have enough time to rest, and even that is never guaranteed. 

One thing you know for sure, you can't stay here for too long. You don't want to overstay your welcome and despite what Yoongi told you on the phone yesterday, you just know he is going to want this place to himself eventually. Which means, you have to solve this with Yeonseok.

You do have money to stay at a hotel for the time being, but that's not a solution. Just a temporary one. You're pregnant for fuck sake. You're supposed to buy baby clothes and essentials, look around for a good crib and a stroller. Not being in someone else's home, invading their space and privacy and stressing yourself. On another note, it's safe to say that it is completely reasonable for you to stress. Who wouldn't?

The stress has completely invaded your life and while you're trying to keep your cool for the baby, it's bound for it to affect a thing or two. Like forgetting your appointment. 

Good thing is that when you go to check your phone (while trying to give yourself a break from your never-ending stressful thoughts), a reminder pops up on the screen. You've never been one to set reminders on your phone. Just a quick note if there was too much for you. But you've started doing that since going on these appointments that included the baby.

Looking at time, you still have two hours to get there.

But that's where the problem comes. You're without your car, so you're forced to list through your contacts before you dial the only person you've been seeing for the past two days. 

It rings too long to the point you get anxious. You could reschedule the appointment, but with how things have been going so far, you need the assurance that everything is fine with the baby. You haven't experienced anything alarming and concerning that could alarm you, but still. You don't want to neglect anything. If something happened, you would never forgive yourself. 

Whilst in the middle of nibbling on your nails, a gruff voice you've grown to use to reach your ears.

“Um, hi. I'm sorry to bother you, I know you're extremely busy today but–”

“What happened?”

“I'm such an idiot. I just checked my phone and my appointment is today. And you know, my car's not here and I could probably get there by a bus, but I don't know this neighborhood and I'm not sure if I could get there on time.” you quickly explain, not wanting to take much of his time.

You don't know everything about him, but he seems to be the type of person that gets annoyed when someone interrupts him while working.

If he is annoyed, he doesn't show it too much. 

Or it's hard to tell because his usual stoic demeanor can be recognized even through the phone. “What appointment?” he sighs.

“With–with the baby.” 

He stays silent for a moment, “What time is it?”

“It's half past ten.”

“I meant the appointment.”

“Oh,” you let out, chuckling at your mistake as you mentally facepalm yourself. But it's worth it, there's something like a huff of chuckle on the other line which breaks his usual demeanor you mentioned earlier. “In two hours.”

“Ah, fuck,” Yoongi sighs a little, “Okay. I will drive you there.”

“You sure?”

“How else you wanna get there?” he asks, which shuts you up for a moment.

“I mean, that's true but you said you're busy. Maybe I could quickly check the buses and get to your address. My car's there. Oh, how did I not think of it sooner?”

“Stop,” You pucker your lips as you freeze, almost as if Yoongi is right there. “Don't stress yourself. Just get ready, I'll pick you up in like an hour and half.”

“Thank you.” you say, sighing in relief. 

You imagine him nodding as he lets out a humming sound. He excuses himself before he ends the call. Your call falls down on your lap as you stare at the blank screen of his television. Ignoring the thumping of your heart from the entire call, you go get yourself ready.

Yoongi picks you up right on time, his car already parked in front of the building while you walk out of the entrance. When you get inside, you get a greeting in the form of a short nod before he puts the car into drive. Giving him location details, you nibble on your lip for a moment. His car smells like his cologne, mixed with cigarettes and mint. It's an odd scent. Despite you hating the smell of cigarettes, you don't seem to mind this mixture. Besides, the cigarettes' smell isn't that strong. 

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.”

Filling up the silence, you feel like it's the right thing to do because you're not going to spend the rest of the ride in an awkward silence. Glancing at Yoongi, he looks anything but awkward. It's like he's in his own space, distancing from everything and everyone, closing himself off as he focuses on driving.

“Is this the moment where you apologize for bothering me?” he questions, a tilt of teasing in his voice as he says it with the most neutral face. 

You stare at him, mouth agape before he briefly glances at you as he can't hold himself. His lips twitch slightly but you notice it right away. Breathing out a chuckle, you shake your head at him. Min Yoongi is freaking teasing you.

“I mean—you had to get here when you were working.” you point out. 

Though, you weren't planning on apologizing, he's right in a way. 

“But I insisted on leaving your car there. I insisted you drive with me.”

For obvious reasons, you think. Not that you want to admit it, but you're glad he didn't let you drive in the state you were in back then. 

“You don't have your car thanks to me, let's end it with that, okay?”

“Okay.” you agree, turning your head to the window as you stare at the streets and people passing.

Once the road and surroundings become more familiar, the oddness of this all comes to sit in the pit of your stomach. Meanwhile you stare at the tall building you've grown used to, Yoongi finds a good parking spot. Once the engine's off and business of the surroundings can be barely heard through the windows, you reach for the doorknob slowly. 

“You're gonna be fine from here?” he asks, not looking at you when you do glance at him. 

When you don't answer right away, he glances at you before you can find the proper words to tell him that you will be fine.

“You don't need me to go there with you?”

Even if his tone is nonchalant as if he's asking the most basic stuff, he takes you by surprise and makes your brows shoot up. “You would go there with me?” you ask, sounding not totally sold on that idea. 

Looking at him now, he already seems to be wanting to be in a different place. Not in front of a building full of doctors and inside with a bunch of pregnant females. Suddenly, the thought of seeing him there is a little laughable. 

So because of that, you haven't even thought about him being there. Until he said it. 

You do need to admit that you haven't been here alone ever since you got pregnant. Your OB/GYN is here, so you used to go here for check-ups way before that. Yeonseok was the one who joined you right after you got pregnant. Thinking of it now, you're reminded of how excited you were to go for these check-ups, not only to calm down your nerves if everything's right, but to see your baby. Even if you could hardly tell their body parts.

It became the thing between you and him. It's what most expecting parents do, but it became your special thing in a way. Something that you always looked for. Something you've always done together.

But now – it's the first time you're here alone. Yeonseok is not by your side and probably the most distant he's ever been in your life. That's on you though. It would be weird to ask him to come here, after everything that has been said between you and him. 

“I would, if you want me to.” Yoongi replies, catching your attention and as you slowly shake yourself out of your thoughts, you remember what the conversation is about.

“Wouldn't that be weird for you though?” you ask, noticing you still have ten minutes before your scheduled check-up.

He doesn't respond at first, deciding to ignore that question as he sinks deeper into his seat. Elbow coming up to rest against the door, he uses his fingers to rub his chin softly.

“Nothing I couldn't handle,” he decides to say, “You're acting a little weird, that's why I'm asking.”

Clueless to what Yoongi's thinking, he thinks of one of the reasons that could potentially get you acting weird, at least one that's generalized and comes to his mind first. He doesn't even have to think about it too much. You're worried that something's wrong, right? Aren't most pregnant women like that?

Maybe it's better you can't read his thoughts, or else he would get a nasty look in return. You are a little bit more sensitive. 

Should you just tell him? Again, you do not want to burden him in your shit any more than you already do. Telling him about Yeonseok would probably not only put him into a sour mood, but it would mean he would most likely try to understand you. You've figured out a long time ago that he's not bad at all. 

Yoongi is actually a sweet person. Still in his way, but without a doubt, he is one.

Making a decision of just telling him instead, be honest and in a hope he won't think you want to be pitied, you lick your lips as you shrug. “It's because it is weird. Yeonseok used to come with me every time.”

He's silent for a moment, “And now he's not here.” he adds without you having to finish as you nod, confirming his thoughts. 

“Which of course, doesn't mean you have to go with me.” you quickly correct whatever suspicion he might have. 

But looking at him, he looks anything but suspicious. He nods, more to himself than to you or your words, shrugging. “I understand shit about pregnancy, but it probably feels lonely to go there alone, right?”

Well, damn. The look you give him makes him shrug. 

“You don't need to pity me, Yoongi. It's not that big of a deal.”

“I still have to wait for you, right? Need to drive you back.”

“Well, it's up to you.” you mumble, tapping your fingers against your knee. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Around pregnant females?” he chuckles, “How bad can it be?”

“You can come with me, I think…” you nibble on your bottom lip, “I think I would like that.”

He nods.

“But only if you want to!”

By the time you're done talking, Yoongi's already unfastening his seatbelt, motioning for you to do the same. You can't believe you're doing this.

As you approach the building and navigate Yoongi where to go, you're not sure what's weird to begin with. The thought of going here all alone or the thought of Min Yoongi beside you.

What the fuck.

Pictures of vaginas, uterus and what it looks inside of women's uterus during pregnancy are everywhere. Don't get him wrong, he has seen a fair amount of vaginas and he's quite familiar with it, but not like this. It feels very… odd to be surrounded by a sketched version of it all. Obviously, he's never been in a waiting room like this one.

Sitting next to you soundlessly, he shifts on his spot as you seem to be immersed in your own thoughts. He has no idea why he agreed to this. While he knows you in no way forced him and perhaps you find a weirdness of his presence here as well, he just tried to do the right thing. 

You've been through a lot and as much as he tried to distance from it all, he's got you in his home. Maybe he's not very upfront about it or too enthusiastic, but he does help people that seem in a need of it. Even though he doesn't look like he loves doing it, he just does. Is it important if someone loves or hates helping others as long as they do it? 

Right next to him, legs crossed and fingers playing with your rings, you were right. There are couples, chatting silently with wide smiles as they can't see their little ones forming into a proper life. You were one of those people not long ago. 

You don't allow yourself to feel guilty about it. You did what you had to do to make sure not to hurt yourself or others even more. Only time will show if it was the right decision, but for now, it feels like the best one you could've made. 

On the other hand, you can't believe Yoongi is in a waiting room with you, staring obnoxiously at the image of a uterus. It's pretty laughable though.

Suppressing your laugh, you watch him stretch his legs as his arm rests in his lap. Ignoring the veins that mostly pop up because of the pressure of his posture, he makes himself comfortable. Does he find this weird too?

There is no way he has done this before in his life. Of course, he hasn't. 

“You know,” you murmur silently, just for you and him to hear. He glances at you, giving you his attention but then again, maybe he's glad he doesn't have to stare at the picture any longer. “You don't have to go inside with me.”

As usual, he has no shocked reaction to it. “I didn't even think about it.”

You open your mouth, a little offended look that gives it away as he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I meant as I'll go and wait with you here.”

He tries to explain in his own nonchalant and informative way. Well, you can't get mad at that. Weirdly, you understand what he means. 

Leaning back and trying to make yourself more comfortable, you hope they'll take you soon so he doesn't have to wait too long. Despite his usually calm demeanor, Yoongi does not look like the type to like waiting. Well, who does? But he surely has no patience for this. Even more so that he has a job that he needs to go back to. 

Luckily, the door opens soon and the nurse you're familiar with calls you in. Some couples like to come early, probably too excited to not mind waiting it out here. Some of them are called as well, since there are more ambulances on this floor.

You grab your things before standing up, making your way inside as the nurse stops you. “Is the young man not going with you?”

Since Yoongi and you were sitting close together, there's a low chance he would be a stranger considering there are free seats on both sides of you. She asks long enough, looking at Yoongi with a welcoming and friendly smile. 

“Ah, that's my friend.”

“We're only screening today. It's up to you though.” she reminds you, smiling widely. You would too if you had her paycheck. It's a private hospital after all.

Not trying to catch too much attention about something so… normal, Yoongi directs his eyes from the nurse to look at you. “It's up to you.”

“As long as you're comfortable with it, Mrs. Min. It was just a suggestion. I know some women bring their friends with them, no matter the gender.” she tries to joke, your smile tight and awkward.

“I'm a family friend.” Yoongi justifies, as if that makes it any better.

It's a look of realization that hits you and you watch it in horrification as her smile grows even wider. “Oh, yes! You do look very familiar. You must be Mr. Min's family, right? It's so lovely of you to come here!”

She's kind and clearly enthusiastic, you can't share it with her though. Staring at Yoongi in pure panic, he gives the nurse an unsure smile as he tries to make things clear – which is not like him at all. 

“I'm his brother.”

You would've guessed he would just keep his mouth shut at Yeonseok's mention, not confessing his relation to him at that. 

“Oh, come on then. Let's look at your niece or nephew.”

You close your eyes, ready to facepalm yourself in front of the entire waiting room as you embrace yourself. You're not sure whether you should laugh at the irony or cry in horrification. 

Yoongi presses his lips tight, nodding awkwardly as he glances back at you, giving you the final decision. 

“I'm okay with that.”

Despite the irony and awkwardness of this all, it would feel less lonely to be inside and look at the baby. Not thinking about the entire biology and blood related thing, Yoongi is a family. Whether we are speaking only metaphorically or taking biology into consideration. If he wasn't fine about it, he would say so, right?

You see he's a little unsure as he stands up, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as the nurse ushers you both come in. It's hard to decipher what's going on inside Yoongi's head. One thing's sure and that is he's nowhere in his field. He still walks in the room, trailing slowly behind you as another familiar room welcomes you.

Just as your doctor undoubtedly notices Yoongi's presence as soon as she looks up from the computer's screen. 

“It's Mrs. Min's brother-in-law.” The nurse cheerfully informs your doctor, clearly unaware of how much more awkward she is making it for you two. 

You can't be mad at her though. She doesn't know. Yoongi does send her a glare which causes you to inconspicuously elbow him when none of them are looking. He shrugs. After all, it is his fault he admitted his entire relation to you. If he kept his mouth shut and just went with being just a friend, it would be less awkward than this. 

“It's nice to meet you! Let's look at the baby!” Mrs. Kim, the doctor, says as she stands up and motions for you to lay down. 

Trying to shake off any discomfort, you lay down and look at Yoongi for a split second. He stays at the end of the bed, trying to look around as if watching the scene in front of him would make you entirely uncomfortable. It's not like he hasn't seen every inch of you. 

Rolling up your shirt just as Mrs. Kim sits down on her stool and prepares the lubricant gel, you spot Yoongi giving you a side glance. His eyes suddenly turn into a big size, naturally finding the small but evident bump you just revealed. 

You intertwine your fingers together and put them above your stomach, you try to stay calm. 

“This will get slightly cold, you know the drill, Mrs. Min.” The doctor chuckles, squirting a proper amount of the gel onto your lower stomach.

Your attention is turned elsewhere, away from the man who seems so out of place at the moment. You focus it on the screen next to your head, recognizing the familiar sight and colors. However, this time everything's bigger and more visible which makes your chest tight and eyes tear up. 

Whether it's your hormones or current situation that makes you so emotional, all the pressure suddenly leaves for a moment at the sight of your baby.

“Everything seems to be looking just alright, Mrs. Min,” she informs you with a smile, giving you a quick glance as she moves the scanner around your lower stomach. “Come closer, Mr. Min. Have a look.” she urges him, just like the nurse, completely oblivious to everything. 

Yoongi looks like he wants to protest, almost ready to shake his head but when she turns to him with an encouraging smile, he sighs and comes closer. He leans forward.

“There is the head,” she explains to him just like she did to you and Yeonseok before. “And arms and legs.”

He stares, mouth agape. Straightening himself, he clears his throat and gives her a nervous smile. But it comes out crooked. You almost snort at that.

“The baby is on the smaller side.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you question immediately.

“Not at all, it's not anything abnormal or to be concerned about. It mainly depends on the parents.” she explains, calming you down which makes you sigh in relief. “Would you like to know the gender?”

“You can see that?” you almost jump, seeing her smile curve into a wider one.

“Mhm,” she nods, “It might not be a hundred percent accurate, you're still at fifteen weeks.”

“Wow, well–”

“We can wait for your husband if that's what you prefer.” she assures you, a sour taste coming into your mouth as you look at Yoongi. 

“It's whatever you want.” he reminds you silently, the corner of his lips lifting.

By how things look with Yeonseok, you're not sure if waiting for him has any meaning. Fuck. You don't even know if he wants to be the father. How can you possibly just wait it out?

“We could do it on your next scan, it will be more accurate. But I can see it now and I'm eighty percent sure.”

Nibbling on your lip, you literally say fuck it in your head. “Tell me please.”

She chuckles, “From the looks of it, you're expecting a baby girl, Mrs. Min.”

A chuckle of disbelief and joy escapes your mouth, knowing whatever the answer would be, you would be just as ecstatic. It's just knowing the truth and more information about your baby is enough to make you a crying mess. 

“I'm sorry,” you giggle, putting a palm over your mouth as you smile widely. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Min.” The doctor and nurse speak at the same time.

“Congrats.” Yoongi says, squeezing your ankle. You bite your lip, giving him a slight nod.

The doctor hands you the wipes and lets you wipe the lubricant off your skin. You're taken back when Yoongi offers you his hand when you sit up.

“We'll just draw your blood to run some tests and you're free to go.”

“Are you happy?” Yoongi asks silently once the doctor and nurse are nearby, but not enough to hear you two. The nurse is preparing the needle while the doctor writes the report to your patient card. 

“I am,” you answer with a smile, “I still would be regardless of the gender.”

“A little girl.” he mutters, zoning out for a second.

“A little girl.” you confirm.

You both stare at each other until the nurse comes back and interrupts you, preparing you to draw your blood. “Are you good with needles and blood, Mr. Min?”

He cocks his brow at her, showing her his tattooed sleeve, popped out veins along with it. She blushes in return. She freaking blushes as she laughs a little. You watch the exchange with a deadpan look. He smirks, cockily shrugging when he notices your stare.

She draws your blood, handing you water after she's done just in case. After everything's done, you schedule another appointment before you're free to go. Happily clutching the printed ultrasound, you put it into your purse to keep it safe once you get inside Yoongi's car. 

You're both silent, again, deep in your thoughts until the replay of what happened just a few minutes ago makes you ask. “Why did you tell her about being Yeonseok's brother?”

“Why? Should I have not?” he questions right back.

“I just didn't expect that. You're not exactly too keen on informing others about your relation to him. It just seemed odd,” you shrug, voicing out your thoughts. “It felt… awkward. Y'know, considering everything.”

Yoongi stays silent, lips in a thin line before he sighs. “I panicked.”

“You panicked?” you ask, laughing a little at that. “Because of what?”

“I don't know!” he exclaims, almost whining which makes you giggle. “She kept asking and I just didn't know what to say. Wouldn't it be weird for me to be there as your friend?”

“Hm, I don't think so,” you answer, “You heard her. Many friends come there. She doesn't have to know we're not friends.”

“Ouch,” he tries to play it off, clutching his chest as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Are we not friends?”

“I don't know, you tell me. Bro in law.”

“You did not just call me that.” he cringes, causing you to laugh. 

“You were the one who was adamant of being my brother-in-law instead of a friend.” you remind him cheekily, watching the way he looks away in embarrassment. 

“I panicked.” he mutters rather grumpily causing you to hold your laughter.

After a moment of silence, you look at him again. “Thanks for going there with me. Inside too. It felt nice not having to do that alone.”

“I thought so.” He confesses.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you might feel lonely,”

You're not sure how to feel about that statement.

“And you're welcome.” he says, though his eyes stay on the road, distant and out of reach.

Delicious smell flows through Yoongi's home as soon as he opens the front door. After he drove you back to his place, he went to work and listened to Jimin's nagging of being a few minutes late. After today, he felt like he could handle anything so Jimin's scolding did nothing to him. Not that it did before but this time, he decided to ignore him instead saying; Well I'm here now.

Jimin, speechless and annoyed, stayed quiet and only shook his head at his boss and friend. What else for him was to do when Yoongi greeted the client and shut the door behind them, hiding from the entire world.

He loves his work. Partly because he's distracted and has no time to think about unnecessary things. Which came handy especially today.

While he was busy working, you don't have much to do. After staring at the scan for a few minutes and dodging your family's calls, you decided to hop into the nearest grocery store. It's been a while since you baked, you prefer cooking but you've been craving something sweet. At least that's what you told yourself, that's the reason why you decided to abuse Yoongi's kitchen. Not because you wanted to do something nice for him, as another thank you for being there for you.

You've no idea if Yoongi even likes cakes.

So when he suddenly appears between his living room and kitchen, at first you have no idea how to explain the slowly disappearing mess that you've tried to clean off before he arrives. 

“I baked bundt cake,” you inform him, palm spreading and pointing straight at the fresh cake where steam still flows into the air. “I hope you like cakes.”

“Cakes are fine,” Yoongi mutters, watching you wipe off his counter right away.

“I'm sorry about the mess, I tried to clean it before you come.”

“'S fine.” he says, still standing in the same spot. He is not sure what to think of this. 

You finish the last traces of any mess, the good smell, you hope, the only sign of baking remaining. 

“Listen,”

You put the kitchen towel back to place, watching him with doe and curious eyes. 

“I was thinking. Maybe you should get your clothes and stuff.”

You stare, Yoongi clearing his throat as he shakes his head.

“I meant from your home. You don't have much clothes here and it must be uncomfortable not having your things with you.”

“Are you asking me to move in, Min Yoongi?” you tease, trying to hide your natural reaction which you're not sure what exactly is. 

He cringes but chuckles, “You're welcome to stay here.” 

You smirk at his diplomatic response before any traces of amusement are gone, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. “You're right. I probably should do that. The thing is–”

A sound of a doorbell rings through the apartment, your eyes meeting as soon as the sound reaches your ears. “Are you expecting someone?”

He shakes his head. His friends know better than to come unexpected, even though he wouldn't put it past them. Without saying anything, he leaves with a thoughtful look to get the door. Something sits in your stomach, perhaps feeling like something's bad coming.

You barely finish the thought when you recognize the voice of your husband, rushed and angry footsteps. It happens in a millisecond and he's revealed in the flesh, shoving Yoongi in the chest. 

“Where is she?!” he asks, too upset to notice you first but the shock causes you to yelp in surprise, clutching your chest as you watch Yoongi shoving him back. 

However, Yeonseok doesn't reciprocate as the sound coming from you makes his head snap in your direction. He straightens, shocked to see you here but then it turns into a knowing and pained look.

“Of course you're here,” he exclaims.

“Calm the fuck down.” Yoongi warns him. Yeonseok knows better than to react to that, too immersed in you, seeing you in his brother's kitchen. Eyes moving to the freshly baked bundt cake, the one you baked for him multiple times and that's when you see rage coming back. 

“So you live here now?!” he yells, causing you to flinch as you can't move for some reason. You're frozen, unable to move an inch as you helplessly watch the scene in front of you. “Playing a happy family with the man that knocked you up?”

“Someone had to when you couldn't.” Yoongi snaps, a loud gasp leaving your mouth as your palm slap against it, eyes fully wide.

Yeonseok lashes at his brother while you watch in horror as Yoongi is being pushed roughly into the wall.

“Stop!” you yell at your husband, already knowing where this is going. “I came to him! It's not his fault!”

“No, but he welcomed you with open arms, didn't he?” he seethes, clutching Yoongi's shirt in his fists as he throws you a nasty glare. “Waiting for this moment to piss me off and get back at me.”

You don't bother explaining to him that no, it didn't happen like that and from what you can clearly remember, he wasn't too keen on getting himself involved. Whatever it is, he still helped you in the end and that's what upsets Yeonseok. 

“Yeonseok, listen to him,” you grit through your teeth, stepping closer as he refuses to look at you now that you're closer. “I had nowhere to go.”

“Bullshit!” he yells, Yoongi growling at him for raising his voice as Yeonseok only tightens his hold. “Tell me one reason why I shouldn't knock your teeth out right now.”

He is a maniac. Yoongi is a fucking maniac because he laughs in Yeonseok's face, not exactly fighting his hold as if the thought of Yeonseok coming even close to getting violent is a joke itself. Perhaps it is. You've never seen Yeonseok fighting or getting violent. You don't like it. 

“Do it, if it makes you feel better.” Yoongi prompts him with a grin, another gasp yet leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi!”

Yeonseok growls at his brother, throwing Yoongi more into the wall as you cringe at the impact. However, the said man looks unbothered and completely loosen up, showing no resistance. This whole I don't care attitude just pisses Yeonseok even more, prompts him to act violent and upon his anger.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you, huh?!” he yells in his face. Yoongi only scoffs, looking sideways to shield himself from Yeonseok's loud voice hitting him right in the face. “Having my wife in this scrappy place of yours–you've waited for this opportunity.”

Yoongi scoffs, finding Yeonseok's accusation nothing but funny. “The wife you couldn't respect the moment she wanted to break-up.”

Yeonseok's mouth opens in a mild shock, his gaze momentarily falling on you as he stares in utter disbelief. You know how it seems. It's not hard to think what Yeonseok's thinking right now. His assumptions are proved right in his slightly hazy mind. It's not helping with his anger and pain at all. He thinks you really spilled everything to Yoongi. And while you were honest with his brother, it wasn't for some vile reason to hurt Yeonseok. You had to talk to someone and Yoongi would get it. He knows your situation. 

“Aren't you two just lovebirds?”

“Yeonseok–” You sigh, exhaustion prominent on your face and voice. 

“S–” He lifts his hand up to stop you. “Shut up.”

His audacity and the fact he has never spoken to you that way leaves you speechless. You're not able to react but there's barely any time to as Yeonseok seems unhinged, seeing red. 

“Have you fucked her again? Huh? Have you enjoyed fucking her when she's still my wife? We were supposed to be a family. You ruined it.”

“You're delusional if you think I ruined your family.” Yoongi argues, scoffing once again as Yeonseok grunts and pushes him into the wall. 

“Yeonseok, that's a serious accusation. I told you, I came here because I had nowhere else to go.”

“Bullshit!” he yells at you, spits of anger landing in front you as you frown. 

“If you just let me explain–we need to talk. We could still be a family, it's you who said–”

“I know what I said Y/N,” Yeonseok cuts you off, voice angered and powerful. “But I knew you would come running to this–” He looks in pure disgust at Yoongi who only lifts his brow at him. 

“You would what?” Yoongi pushes, “You would want a single mother?”

Yeonseok's face twists in another sign of betrayal and turns into anger. “And you would want her? Is that what you're saying? Take her then. Not so cocky right now, huh?”

Yoongi pushes into him, silently warning Yeonseok to keep his mouth shut. There's nothing you can physically do. You can barely move, watching and listening to the words closely as your heart cracks with each spiteful word your husband says. It's the shock of hearing him talking about and with you like that.

You're not innocent in this at all, but this could've been talked about when everyone's calmed down. Actually, Yoongi shouldn't even be a part of it. Whatever is talked about should be kept between you and Yeonseok. Yet again, you're reminded that Yoongi is currently in this position because of you and your mistake of coming to him. 

“You can't be a father, Yoongi,” Yeonseok mocks him, “You just wanted her for a good fuck, is that it? You wanted to get back to me because you're a pathetic brother just as much as you're a pathetic son.”

“Yeonsoek, that's enough!” you yell, no longer keeping quiet but he ignores you, continuing to spit venom in Yoongi's neutral face.

“Try raising my kid–since you so much helped making it.”

You gasp, face twisting into a glare that's shooting at Yeonseok's back.

“Your kid?” Yoongi laughs.

“Yes, my kid.” Is the one argument Yeonseok doesn't let off. 

“Let's see who the kid resembles when they're born.”

And that's the final line Yoongi gets to say with a smirk on his face, completely provoking Yeonseok to the core as he can no longer stand it. He growls before a punch is thrown at Yoongi's face, causing him to almost slide off the way. He catches himself and while you yelp, hands covering your mouth in a pure shock even though you should see it coming. You've never thought you would witness such a violence, let alone a fight shared between two brothers. 

They've never had a good relationship. Though, you never expected them to come to the point where they actually fight. 

Yoongi straightens himself, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth to wipe off a droplet of blood that is a result of Yeonseok's fists. Everything is silent for a second, besides the harsh breaths coming from Yeonseok's angered state and Yoongi's calm breathing. For a split second, you think everything ended. Literally.

But you would be delusional to think otherwise, to think they're done. Because one second you see Yoongi staring deadly at Yeonseok and before the older brother can react, Yoongi's fist meets Yeonseok's jaw in a loud crack, causing him to stumble into the kitchen counter. You gasp, yelling Yoongi's name as you try to catch Yeonseok, so he doesn't hit the edge of the counter. He shakes you off the moment you get to barely touch him, almost as if you burned him.

Frowning, you step aside. 

“That's for every second you've disrespected her since you came here,” Yoongi spits at his brother, shaking his fist and bloody knuckles.

Yeonseok's too busy holding up his bloody nose. The sight makes your stomach churn, both in disgust and worry.

“And you fucking know you deserve much more.”

Yeonseok's eyes shut in pain, shaking his hand to get some of the blood off it. You watch it stain Yoongi's floor and you immediately cringe at the sight. 

He would have a lot to say, preferably arguing back to Yoongi that it could be an endless fight. This has to end. 

Yeonseok is barely in pain, holding himself bravely though as he straightens himself and stares at Yoongi before he moves it at you. “Fuck both of you.”

He storms out of the apartment, leaving not only a mess on Yoongi's kitchen floor and face, but in your heart too. 

You're met with a warning glare the moment you press a little too hard. Though, the man in front of you remains silent as none of you dare to speak up. The cake is long forgotten, destined to be thrown away like most things in your life. Besides the blood still covering Yoongi's floor – even if it's just a few droplets – you've moved to his bathroom to take care of his wounds.

He argued not to but you insisted, throwing him a warning glare that made him agree.

“Are you okay?” he speaks up, breaking the silence as you toss away the disinfected cotton wool into the bin.

“Do I seem okay?” you question him, “What were you thinking, Yoongi?” you scold him, frowning once again as he opens his mouth before his own frown settles on his back then calm face. 

“What was I thinking? I'm not the one who barged in here to pick up a fight.”

“You provoked him to hit you, don't tell me otherwise.”

“I won't let him speak to me or to you that way in my home.”

That's a valid point. 

Yet you can't stop thinking that all of this could've been avoided if he just wouldn't provoke him. 

“Yeonseok is not violent, he wouldn't have hit you if you kept your mouth shut.”

“So I'm the bad guy here?” Yoongi exclaims, closing his eyes as he rubs his forehead for a second. “He had it coming and I don't regret it.”

“Yoongi–”

“No. Maybe you're okay with him slutshaming and disrespecting you, but I'm not. I'm not gonna stand there and run his mouth just because he's a fucking pussy.”

“I'm not saying–I get that. But you literally pull on his infertility. That wasn't fair nor nice, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighs, staring at the ceiling to calm himself down. “That might be right. Wasn't exactly fair, but at that moment I didn't care. And looking at it now, I don't care now either.”

You stare at him in disappointment and sadness, leaning yourself against the sink as you hug yourself with your shaky arms. 

Yoongi watches you, gaze softening. “I'm not perfect either, Y/N. I'm far from it actually.”

“I'm not okay with what he said either. But you don't see me hitting him.”

“He hit me first.”

“Yes, because you provoked him to. And you fucking know it!”

Yoongi stares before an amused smirk makes it on his face. 

“Don't fucking look so pleased!” 

He laughs, shaking his head before his smile slowly drops and you're met with soft eyes again. 

“He would've left if we just–I don't know–but I'm sure there could've been no violence. He's hurt, Yoongi. I left him because I was no longer happy in that marriage. He's heartbroken.”

“Are you making excuses for him?”

“No!” you automatically argue.

“Sure sounds like it.” Yoongi scoffs.

You groan, rubbing the side of your face in frustration. 

“You're here scolding me and raising your voice when he came here and insulted not just me, but you too. And you're still trying to understand him?”

“It's because I know why he feels like that! It doesn't mean it's right! This could've gone so differently–and you just kept going. I told you guys to stop–but you ignored me and provoked him–” You stop yourself, staring at Yoongi who just stands in the middle of his bathroom watching you silently. His brows lift up causing you to sigh in defeat. “I'm sorry. I'm taking it out on you because you're here.”

Yoongi stays silent for a moment, letting you drown in your frustration and regret. His point is proven, he has nothing else to say. 

“Obviously I know he's not right either. What he did was stupid–he already came here angry and to see me here–” You sigh, sniffling a little as you turn around to grip the sink. You breathe through the urge to cry and break in front of Yoongi. “I know we talked about this but I should've never come here. This would not happen if I wasn't here.”

“Stop,” he stops you. Lifting up your gaze, you meet his eyes in the reflection of his mirror. “It's not your fault he acted like an asshole.”

“Yoongi, but in a way I provoked him too by coming here. By staying here.”

“That's messed up to think that,” he still argues back. “You know why you came here. Come on, we talked about this. Stop putting more blame onto yourself. He doesn't do it and you shouldn't either.”

“Because I know what I am saying is the truth.”

“It's your truth,” Yoongi points out, walking closer to you. “Know what I'm sayin'?”

You sniffle, “No.”

He laughs silently, eyes crinkling at the ends as his teeth are on full display. He turns you around by gently gripping onto your shoulder. You're stubborn, not wanting to face him as he nudges your chin to look up at him. His thumbs brushes underneath your eyes, preventing the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“You know, you're just stubborn.” he muses amusingly and softly, just like his sound is. “Now I'm going to wipe the mess in the kitchen and will make us some tea.”

You stare at him in disbelief, seeing him taking a few steps away from you. He turns his back to you, ready to walk out. But he stops in his tracks. 

“And Y/N?”

You look at him with watery eyes. 

“Don't think of running away.”

It's a simple sentence, a tiny bit teasing on his part and you barely manage to break a smile. He does not stay for any longer, taking care of the mess in his kitchen just like he said he would.

When you join him, you see him wiping the last remains of your husband's blood before his kitchen is just as new. Yoongi tells you to sit on the couch and turn on a movie. You don't argue even though watching a movie is the last thing on your wishlist. He joins you shortly after. The bundt cake sliced neatly on a plate, accompanied with two cups of tea. He munches on the cake throughout the movie, even offers you to eat but you shake your head at him, declining his offer. 

He manages to eat all the slices, handing you a blanket when he sees you hugging yourself. 

“Yoongi?” you speak silently throughout the movie. 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

The side of your face pressed against the couch, you stare up at him. “For everything.”

“Are you getting sentimental for me?” he muses, turning it into fun and you realize, you prefer it that way. It loosens up the entire moment and situation, even if just a little bit.

“No, just thankful. I know it sounded like I blamed you, it was wrong of me. You were just here and I let my frustration out on you.”

He smiles, shaking his head as if silently telling you to let it go. “I told you I'm not perfect. I am to be blamed for a lot of things. But I don't regret it.”

“Even if your knuckles are cracked?”

A silent laugh comes from the side. “They're not fully cracked but yeah, even then.”

For the first time after the fight, you let a laugh out of yourself as well.

“Come on, you should go to bed. We'll talk about it more tomorrow.”

“Talk about it?” you question, swallowing down a yawn that wants to let out. He's right. You're tired and should go to bed. 

“The clothes, you need to get them. I will go with you.”

You sit up, hair a little bit ruffled which makes Yoongi stifle back a laugh. “You will? You sure?”

“Yeah, I don't mind.” 

He doesn't tell you that he doesn't want you to interact with Yeonseok, just in case he's there. Considering how shaken up you're from their interaction earlier, and yours too, you shouldn't go through that alone. You're pregnant for fuck sake. You've been through a lot while carrying a fucking human inside of you. That shit is mental.

He makes it sound easy, so easy that you just as easily agree and stand up to move to the bedroom. You linger at the edge of the couch, thinking about still having to change your clothes and take a quick shower. 

“It's probably weird, especially after Yeonseok's outburst but you should sleep in the bedroom tonight as well.”

“Don't listen to him,” he says simply, “But are you sure though?”

“Yeah, I don't mind.” you repeat his earlier words, smiling at it which causes him to chuckle at your slight teasing. 

“Fine, my back will thank you tomorrow.”

Laughing, you retrieve to the bedroom to get your sleeping clothes that consist of Yoongi's oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. God, you really need your own clothes.

While you're in the shower, Yoongi lets the movie continue without actually paying any attention to it. His knuckles slightly burn, the skin there trying to heal. A side of his jaw hurts but knowing Yeonseok's in a worse state makes it better. It's a little bit childish, he admits that but that asshole deserved it. He thinks he can just punch him and not expect a punch back? 

His parents would curse the shit out of him. Regardless if Yeonseok was the first one to attack, Yoongi would be painted as the one that's violent because he fought back. Fuck. He can already hear their potential words so clearly.

You shouldn't have fought back.

It's your fault he's angry.

They've always seen him in a bad light. Partly, he doesn't blame them. He's always been more controversial and wild than his brother. The thing is it wasn't accepted in the family and was approached with a massive hit of criticism and negativity. Partly, Yoongi blames them for how he turned out. 

Reaching for his phone, he dials Jimin's number without a second thought. He had enough time to think this through and know that he promised something, he can't change it. He would look like a total asshole. Plus, he doesn't want to change it. Somehow, you've grown to like him. It's embarrassing to admit, but seeing you in such a poor state makes him pity you. You would hate him for these thoughts, that much he knows. 

“Bro, it's like night.” Jimin accepts the call with a scolding tone.

“I need you to take tomorrow's appointments.”

“Why? Are you okay?” he asks immediately, tone changing to a confused one. Yoongi has never canceled any of his appointments. A part of keeping his business good and professional, he always dedicated all of his time there. He's not surprised by Jimin's confusion.

“Yeah, I just have some errands to run and I won't be able to be there for a whole day.” He gives a brief explanation, not giving any details. 

It's not like he doesn't want to share. Even though he's not a sharing type and keeps stuff to himself, he doesn't see any point in sharing a huge portion of your mess that is called life. It just doesn't seem fair at all.

“Dude, everyone's gonna be mad. They want you, you know that!” Jimin argues, panicking which is understandable. 

Yoongi doesn't brag about it, but he knows most clients come to him for their tattoos specifically. Everyone in his team is good, he doesn't doubt it. But even they know how some people come to the studio specifically for Yoongi. 

“I can't reschedule them, I'm fully packed.”

“Duh, I know that! What are you even doing Yoongi?”

“None of your business,” Yoongi answers calmly and casually, causing his friend to groan loudly into the receiver. “Just do it. If they don't wanna get tattooed, just give them back their deposit. Or reschedule their appointments, though they might wait months.”

“This better be worth it.” He hears him mumble.

“It's a family emergency.” It's the only explanation Yoongi offers him.

“Family? You don't care about your family.” Jimin points out the obvious, causing Yoongi to purse his lips slightly offended. 

It's not like he doesn't care about them. Sure, he seems like it but it's not exactly the truth. He doesn't blame Jimin for thinking it though. He made it seem and obvious as if he doesn't care about them. In some fucked up twisted way, he does. 

“Thanks, I owe you.” Yoongi ignores his previous words, not putting them any more attention than he already did by listening to them. 

“You bet…” Jimin mutters under his breath, not having enough time to complain as his kind friend ends the call with that.

Later after he takes a shower while you're already in bed, he joins you. He thinks you're asleep but by the sound of your breathing and fidgeting, you're still awake.

“Can't sleep?”

You flinch a little, probably surprised by his sudden voice and the fact he's aware of you being awake. “It's the baby.”

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi asks right away without thinking of it. He lays back, clearing his throat as he stares at the plain ceiling instead. The entire bedroom is swallowed in darkness, letting only moonlight in. He has noticed you prefer sleeping that way and he doesn't have the heart to close curtains. 

“No,” you giggle, “She's just moving a lot. Sometimes even kicks me.”

“She… she does?” Yoongi asks, unsure. He has zero knowledge about babies. Let alone how it properly works inside a woman's uterus. It's pretty laughable because he's that clueless.

“Yeah, probably won't let me sleep for a while.”

“What a brat.” Yoongi mutters and you gasp, elbowing his side as he cackles at you. 

“You did not just say that,” you exclaim, offended as he continues to laugh silently under his breath. “She's been an active baby lately.” 

You've no idea why you're even telling him that. Something just wants you to fill up the sentence. You and him don't talk about the baby a lot. It seems like a taboo topic for understandable reasons and that's solely for not making it too weird.

Yoongi's quiet and while your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, you can clearly see him fully awake with eyes open, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. You turn to your side, hissing when you feel a light kick in your ribs coming from inside.

“What are you thinking about?”

He doesn't look like he wants to answer, something holding him back. But then he probably seems awkward enough so he swallows, shrugging.

“My mom always said I moved a lot and shit like that. You know–like when she was pregnant.”

The hint of something that has been secretive but very obvious to you from the start causes your breath to catch in your throat. You've never openly talked about the baby being biologically Yoongi's. It's not something you can forget and despite not talking about it, you've been thinking about it almost all the time.

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” he mutters. “Is that weird shit to say?”

“It's not weird,” you assure him softly. Kind of. “I actually find it interesting. If it… if it was a stranger I probably wouldn't know these things.”

“Forget about it, I was just babbling. It just reminded me of that when you said…”

“It's okay, Yoongi.” You laugh at that, feeling his embarrassment. It's practically seeping from him. “Thank you for that. I mean–I'm grateful for that information. Is that a weird thing to say?”

“No, unless we make it weird.” he states, voice different from the usual laid back Yoongi you know. It's kind of cute.

“Okay, let's not make it weird. Let's talk about something else.”

“Talk? You should sleep.”

“I can't when she's moving around so much.” you argue.

It's silent for a moment.

“Does… does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” you admit softly, “But not so much yet. It probably will get worse once she's bigger.”

“God, why do women go through that?” he mumbles, causing you to snort.

“If your mother didn't go through that, you wouldn't be here.”

“What a lovely life that would be.” he hums thoughtlessly, while you choke back onto your laughter.

“Don't say that!” you scold him. “None of us have asked to be here.” 

“True.”

Again, a little awkward silence is shared between you. Well, you're not sure it's purely awkward but you're both fully awake, not ready to fall asleep just yet. You don't know about Yoongi but…

You groan when the little baby growing inside you starts to move around again. You caress your stomach, feeling as if she has a hiccup. “I think she has a hiccup.”

He probably doesn't care, but you share that thought out loud. 

“You can feel that?” He sounds confused.

“Yeah,” you nod. “You wanna feel it?”

He stays silent. And for a second, you're sure you've crossed a line and he will just go backwards, distancing from you and the entire situation. 

Indeed, Yoongi feels a little awkward about your question. He has distanced himself, not wanting to admit the fact that you're indeed carrying a baby he helped conceive. It's a weird shit to think about. He can't think about it because it automatically makes him feel uncomfortable. He never had a plan to stay in contact with you. 

He would never imagine sharing a bed with you, unless it was for a sex. And you had lots of it. Maybe not as much as he wanted but still. 

If he knew you would be laying in his bed pregnant, he would probably never agree to this. As bad as it sounds. 

This scares him.

But then he thinks of you and your perspective. He has no idea what your thoughts are, well some of them. But something about your innocent and sweet tone makes him rethink. You're here, after an awful day, not crying like he has expected you to do. He sees the light in your tone, one that's caused by the baby growing inside you. You're trying to be friendly, having just as friendly a conversation and Yoongi realizes – he's that for you. 

A friend. 

You need a friend. You've no one else to talk about it, not currently at least. You've distanced yourself from everyone else for understandable reasons, and he can relate to that.

“Won't that be awkward?” he questions. 

“Not unless you make it to be.” you hit him back with his own words, the fact causing his mouth to twitch. 

“Okay, sure. It's a one time experience anyway.”

You snort, “You make it sound as if you won't ever meet a pregnant lady.”

“I've met a few but never had an urge to touch their belly. That shit's weird.”

Giggling, you shake your head at him. “Maybe in the future, you will.”

“Future?” he asks, completely confused. 

“Maybe if you're gonna have a wife or a girlfriend.” you say, slightly unsure of this topic. Is it okay for you to talk about this? Either way, it's too late to not answer his question anyway. 

After all, this specific topic shouldn't be weird.

“I don't want kids,” he informs you, carefully but sternly at the same time. “So that's not happening.”

Sighing, you don't argue about that. If he accidentally gets someone pregnant, he won't be able to control that aspect but you don't remind him of that. He seems stubborn and determined about this opinion of his. And you respect it.

It's silly and you shouldn't have the right to feel this way, but you feel slightly saddened that he's so keen on telling you he doesn't want kids. Even though you've known that for a long time. It's a reminder that he does not want to have anything to do with the baby inside you. It's nothing new but somehow that thought still doesn't sit with you well. 

Instead, you swallow all those feelings and take the duvet off your body. 

“Whatever,” you murmur nonchalantly. “Give me your hand.”

He does, without question. You try not to think about how warm and big his hand feels. You ignore the little fluttering butterflies that set in the pit of your stomach and inside your chest. Your baby is not to be blamed for. 

You move his hand on your stomach but not before pulling up your shirt. You're starting to feel too warm anyway. This way he'll be able to tell the movements more clearly. 

“You feel it?” you ask, holding his hand as soon as it's placed over your swollen stomach.

“No? I ain't feel shit.”

You giggle, “You're an ass.” 

But then, a sudden kick is sent next to Yoongi's hand. It wasn't a direct move under his palm but he had to feel it regardless. A surprised Oh makes it out of his mouth.

“That's so weird,” he mumbles thoughtfully. 

Then she continues again, her little movements more recognizable and becoming slowly familiar to the man laying next to you. 

“She's so active.”

“She is,” you hum, slowly letting go of his hands. He lets it rest there for a moment, taking the cue as he pulls it away slowly. “Could let me sleep now though.” You try to play it cool and calm down your racing heart. 

Pulling the shirt back down and covering yourself with the duvet, you're trying to act cool like before. 

“Wow,” Yoongi says, taken back. “It's weird to think there's another person inside you.”

“Tell me something about it,” you chuckle. “I've wanted to get pregnant for a long time. But nothing could've prepared me for the way it feels. It's weird, I can't describe it.”

He surely can't understand what you're talking about. You don't want him to. You just let your thoughts run free. Some part of you wants to confess those thoughts to Yoongi. Another weird thing to say, but he's like a safe place in a twisted way. You can be honest, even though you're slightly sheepish about it. You can confide in him.

You think he has no idea what he means to you. And even if it's just for a certain time being, you're grateful for it regardless. 

Before you know it, the movements stop and you're finally allowed the tiredness to come in. You slowly drift to sleep, clueless to Yoongi being fully awake as he stares at the ceiling with the weirdest feeling all over his body. 

It's not as if morning is any better. Surprisingly, you haven't had that much trouble sleeping and you barely woke up. Yeonseok hasn't haunted you in your dreams either, which made it more enjoyable and comfortable. You were too exhausted last night, so a good sleep made it better for you to see today's morning in a better light. 

Yoongi's still asleep, his alarm hasn't ringed yet and you wondered if you should wake him up. Maybe he forgot to set up his alarm, but something tells you that's very unlikely. 

After you've washed your face and teeth, you decided to give him a few minutes and will try to wake him in case he has really slept in. However, the aftermath of yesterday's events and your good sleep, a cause of your positivism, doesn't last too long when your phone rings. 

At first, you don't think much of it. Your father calls you from time to time, he has to when you suddenly go silent. Using busyness as a great excuse when you've been anything but that. He doesn't know that which makes the lie more believable. 

As you get to hear his raspy voice again, you expect him to start the same way.

How are you? 

Why haven't you called?

But none of that comes as he sounds nothing but concerned, even a little skeptic.

“Y/N, is everything okay with you?”

That alone should alarm you and it does, but you remain cool and voice your confusion. “Yes? Why wouldn't I be?”

“Don't lie. What's happening there?”

He doesn't sound upset, he sounds more worried than anything else. “What do you mean? I'm fine.”

“Really? Because Yeonseok called us yesterday, well today, he kept saying something about you sleeping with his brother?”

You freeze, shame washing over you like the coldest bucket of ice.

“Is that true?”

“Dad, I promise you–It's nothing like that.” 

Perfect. Thanks Yeonseok a lot.

“He was also wasted, could barely talk. Called us like two in the morning.”

Sighing, you sit down as you grip your phone tighter. It seems like you can't have a rest for at least one day. Everything keeps biting you in your ass when you think things are getting better. It fucking sucks. 

“We're going through a rough patch right now.”

“And you broke up with him?”

“I–technically yes but it wasn't like that. I promise you, it's nothing like that.” you telling, aiming at Yeonseok's accusation that might not be a complete lie but you know how it sounds. 

“Then how is it?”

“Dad, I really don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry Yeonseok woke you and Barbara,” you say, mentioning his longtime girlfriend who's like your step-mom. You know she's just as worried. You're surprised she's not the one that called. “He has a hard time dealing with our break-up.”

“He said you're staying at his brother's, is that true?”

One thing about your father is that he never really got into your business. If he was curious or even nosy, he never let it known because he respected everyone's space and privacy. So to have him question you like this means he's truly worried and the call he received from your still husband has made him alarmed. 

“Yes–”

“So it's true? Y/N, have you cheated on him?”

“God, no!” You exclaim loudly, taking a deep breath as you release it in a form of loud sigh. Technically you haven't. “I haven't cheated on anyone. Look, it's really complicated. I had nowhere else to go.”

“Nowhere else to go? You could've come here.”

You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. “I know but I didn't wanna bother you with our issues. Yoongi is familiar with it, so I just decided to come here. It's just for a few nights, I will figure it out. Don't worry.”

“How can I not worry when I found out from my son-in-law that you're not living at home? And that you live with his brother instead?”

“He's not exactly the perfect husband you have him for, dad.”

“What do you mean by that? Did he hurt you?”

“Not like that,” You shake your head. “I had a share on it too. None of us are innocent. Look, all you have to know for now is that I'm okay. I need to figure this out on my own. You've nothing to worry about.”

“You can't just tell me you live somewhere else with Yeonseok's brother, and tell me not to worry!”

“Listen, dad. I love you but I'm very close to hanging up. I understand you're worried but you're not exactly helping me with freaking out. I told you I'm fine, so please trust your daughter instead. I'll handle it and I'll talk about it when I'm ready.”

Well, you're not sure if you should tell him the entire truth. The thought of that is embarrassing and completely uncomfortable. You're not going to tell your dad that you've slept with another man just to get pregnant. Even if Yeonseok agreed to it. 

Overall, you would spare him the details. 

“But you're pregnant. You're carrying his child. You can't just leave and not talk to him.”

“Oh, I talked to him. He's not as interested in being a father as he was.”

“What?!” He yells into the phone, causing you to cringe at his shocked and upset tone. “He said that?!”

“Along the lines,” you mumble, “Don't worry, I'm doing fine. So is your granddaughter.” 

“G-granddaughter?”

That finally gets his mind off Yeonseok. “Yes. I had it confirmed yesterday.”

He sighs, chuckling on the other line. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Y/N–”

“Dad–please.” 

He sighs in defeat. “Okay. But promise me you'll call if you need something.”

“I always will, dad. Please don't worry.”

Eventually, you end the call. Just as your phone is being tossed onto the counter, Yoongi sleepily steps into the kitchen with bed hair and narrowed eyes. “Why were you yelling?”

“It's nothing.”

“Y/N…” Yoongi warns, narrowing his eyes through his tiredness.

“It was my dad. Yeonseok called him drunk last night.”

“Fuck,” That has him waking up as he stares you down. “What did he say?”

“That I cheated and I'm staying at your place.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not much,” you admit, “I don't want him to worry.”

“He's a fucking idiot.”

“Yoongi…”

“No, he is.” He insists, rubbing his chest tiredly as anger twists his puffy face. He looks cute, even with the tattooed sleeve that's on full display. 

“He was drunk,” you point out. “Surely angry and upset.”

“I'm surprised he didn't run to mommy and daddy.”

“Shit,” you exclaim. “What if he did?”

“Would it matter?” Yoongi questions.

You stare at him as if he grew two heads. “Of course! What would they think of me?”

“You really care about that?”

“If he told them the story that I cheated on him with you, I do care!”

Yoongi sighs, leaning against the door frame with arms crossed over his chest. “We know it's not the truth. Not exactly. And we will explain that to them if it ever came down to it.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is,” he argues. “And there's no need for you to worry about it too much, alright?”

You give him Really? Look.

“If he called your dad, I really doubt he got our parents involved. Knowing them, they would call or barge in here right away.”

“You think?”

“Oh, I know.” he hums. “So don't worry and get yourself ready.”

That's right. You're supposed to get your clothes today. But you thought it'll be later on, probably when he gets back from work or over his lunchtime. You just need to get your things. It shouldn't take too long. 

“Are you not going to work today?”

“No, I have a day off.”

“Really? You never mentioned anything about having a day off.” you wonder, staring at him straightening himself as he stretches his arms, shrugging.

“Didn't think it's important.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “What if he's there?”

Yoongi watches you for a moment, “That's why I'm going with you.”

“I think that will piss him even more if he sees you there.”

“Should I not come?”

You shake your head, “That's not what I meant. I just–I don't know what's right or not anymore.”

“It's true, maybe he wouldn't get so angry but there's no guarantee he won't get verbal again. I just don't think you should go through that alone.”

Something about his words make your chest warm, an appreciative smile beaming on your lips but you shake yourself out of it as a smirk replaces it. “Are you starting to care about me?”

What you get in return is a mixture of a chuckle and smirk. “I'm serious, Y/N,” he says, more seriously. “I'm going just in case he needs another punch.”

“Please, don't say that.” Your smile drops. 

“I can't promise anything but I'll try to be on my best behavior.”

“Somehow, that doesn't go along with you.” you tell him with suspicious eyes as he smirks. 

“You're gonna have to wait and see.”

“No fights.” you warn him, lifting up your finger at him to make yourself clear. 

“Okay, mom.”

“Ew.” you cringe, walking past him but not before slapping his chest. “Keep it down.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

You walk back into the bedroom, to change your clothes and get yourself ready with an unbelievable smile on your face. You fight the sheets neat and made, a fresh air filling the bedroom that has become too familiar to you. 

With a lighter feeling in your chest, you prepare yourself for what's about to come.

[bangtangalicious]

nexus (m) part 6

pairing: jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader ft. hobi x reader, namjoon x reader, yoongi x reader

smut: taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader, some hobi x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest. after a shocking murder, a detective with a vendetta drags you into unraveling a web of dangerous lies that cause you to question who you trust, and who you love

genre: 18+ slow burn romance mafia elite arranged marriage murder mystery thriller

characters: detective jungkook, heir taehyung, ceo namjoon, arms dealer hoseok, bartender yoongi, doctor jimin, best friend/heir seokjin

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: 18+ multiple smut scenes, oral (f and m), fingering, sexual tension, like a lot of sexual tension, a lot of subtle touching, grinding, kisses, possessive behavior, tsundere!taehyung, implied bipolar disorder, angstttt, betrayal, light yandere undertones, taehyung gets his first kiss...and some other things too ;) breast play, hella teasing, did i mention sexual tension idk taehyung is hot ok but hes also scary do with that what you will, declarations of love, jungkook tryna be sweet we been knew ig, as you might imagine this sets the foreplay for loads of smut in the next part LOL, its a lot of slow burn build up and evident thirsting over this taehyung okay im not sorry

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“I can’t lose you”

Taehyung’s words haunted you as you stared aimlessly at the tiled ceiling. The hospital room chilly, the smell of alcohol—the sanitizing kind, unfortunately—overwhelming your senses. There were other things you could be thinking about. Namjoon in jail. Jimin dead. Hobi betraying your trust.

But no. It had been Taehyung’s eyes that were on your mind—was it concern? Worry? Taehyung with emotions was a rare sighting. You were practically cherishing the moment.   

“It’s late”

The devil in question sat by the windowsill of your private hospital room, minding his own. Reading. Fingers bending the corners of a paperback novel as his eyes trailed over the pages with interest.

Even in the dark hue of the night, the faded moon seemed to hit his face just right.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Go to sleep” His answer was frank, “None of that matters until you get better”

“How can I not think about it?” You snapped. “Namjoon went to jail for me. Because I was an idiot and trusted Hobi. Bet my ass he killed Dr. Park too. I’m probably next. And if he murders me—you won’t get to, Tae”

The corners of Taehyung’s lips curled ever so slightly.

His uninterested eyes steady on the pages of his novel. Not bothering to glance your way.

“Have you ever considered just keeping yourself out of dangerous situations? Whatever it is you’re trying to prove…that you’re powerful, like your mother…that my family wronged you—all it does is show that you’re still their puppet.”

He exhaled sharply, a dismissive scoff that tore your confidence thread by thread, finally meeting your eyes.

“It’s pathetic”

You’d had just about enough of him. Fingernails digging into your palms.

“You’re an asshole Taehyung” You informed him. He shrugged.

“I’m honest” He countered. “And you’re not used to that. You’re used to being babied.” Finally setting his book aside, he walked up to your bedside, kneeling down until he was at your eye level.

“Now will you please sleep?”

The look in his eyes perplexed you. You couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed, or if he genuinely cared about your health.

Deep down, you knew he was right. Everything you’d done had been to prove a point.

Taehyung rested his head on the armrest. Watching you intently, his eyes tired, dropping unconsciously.

“You’re the one who needs sleep, idiot” You muttered under your breath, letting your fingers run through his soft, wispy black hair. “Taehyung” You nudged him. He barely opened his eyes. 

“Get in here” You shifted over, giving him space. He didn’t question it in the moment, he was probably too tired. He didn’t face you. Kept a decent distance between you both.

You were paralyzed. Aware of his every breath. Aware of the way he shifted himself to get comfortable—you could sense the intention in his avoidance of touching your skin even slightly. His scent was more prominent.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His question was so quiet, you weren’t even sure it was real.

And it occurred to you then, that you’d never thought about it. That you’d never even been asked. In the chaos of your mother’s death, your move to the Kim’s and Taehyung being sent away—you barely even processed anything. All you remembered was Jin being so patronizingly worried about you—convincing you that he was all you needed. That you moving in with him would fix everything.

You blinked wildly. Trying to piece together a coherent answer.

“I liked her” A smile creeped onto his face. Or so you thought, as you turned to see the side of his face—his eyes steady on the ceiling fan. “She’d always get me hotteok”

You watched him. Inspected the mole on his neck. The curve of his cheek. The way his long lashes merged when he’d blink. The way the night sparkled in his eyes. The same eyes that would bend your will so easily.

Young Taehyung would give you one look and you’d give him the world. And he’d known it too.

It was so quiet. But your chest was beating loud in your ears.

You must have fallen asleep despite yourself. Dreaming of Jungkook had become a standard practice. This time, he was drowning. You were him, and he couldn’t breathe. You reached out to him as he screamed for you. He was terrified. Falling. Dying.

Breathe.

You tried to tell him. Swim to the surface. Breathe. Something chained him down.

Your eyes shot open.

It was dark.

You. You couldn’t breathe.

Suffocating you, the cotton tasted bitter on your toungue. You squirmed. Thrashing, trying to grab for someone—anyone. You screamed out, for what it was worth. Scratching at the strong hands that held the pillow down over your face.

Adrenaline surged. It occurred to you to kick your legs. You did.

Suddenly the grip loosened.

Taehyung was on the floor.

Panting.

Hyperventilating.

The pillow inches from his palm.

He was quivering. Eyes shot—looking down as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

You stared at him. Trying to comprehend. Trying to rationalize.

“Taehyung” His name left your mouth in a more accusatory manner than you meant it to. Was it a question or a plea—you were unsure. He met your eyes, and you saw fear. As if he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“I—” He couldn’t form the words. He receded into himself, moving back until he was as far from your hospital bed as he could be. Back pressed against the wall as he hugged his knees to his chest. His voice was shaking, “I don’t—”

“Were you trying to kill me?” You yelped, looking around suddenly for your phone. Grabbing it you held it to your chest, ready to call for help if he tried anything. You almost wanted to laugh—thinking for a moment that you were safe around Kim fucking Taehyung.

You should’ve known better.

Taehyung’s eyes were overcome with horror. Disgust, at himself. He looked at his hands as if they weren’t a part of his own body. Then back at you.

“Princess” He was breathless, “—I swear, I didn’t mean to. I was d-dreaming, I didn’t know”

You gulped. Your fingers curling around your phone as you tried to think.

Maybe he was telling you the truth. Taehyung didn’t know to lie to you. He was honest if nothing else.

“Come back” You let your voice soften, but your body remained tense. “Go back to sleep Tae”

Taehyung gave you an uncertain look.

You rose from the bed, the hospital gown falling loosely around your curves. Kneeling down, you met his eyes at his level. Taking the pillow from the ground, you reached your other hand out to him.

“Maybe,” You sighed, “Maybe being in a hospital is triggering for you” It was a stretch, but you needed to believe there was something. Something that wasn’t that Taehyung hated your guts. Resented you, and would go as far as to kill you in your sleep because of it.

“It is”

He confessed quietly, still not meeting your gaze.

The pout on his lips, evident.

“You didn’t have to stay”

He looked at you.

He said nothing.

“Why don’t I call Yoongi, hm?” You reasoned, “He can take you home” And then you can call Jungkook and get the fuck away from him.

The phone rang.

Jungkook groaned, shoving his face into his pillow.

It kept fucking ringing.

Knowing deep down it might be the precinct, reluctantly, he put the phone to his ear.

“Hey”

Your voice was an aphrodisiac.

He felt it straight in his chest. Awake, now. Worried, seconds later.

He rubbed his eyes, checking his phone to see how late it was.

“Y/n? Baby, is everything okay? Are you still at the hospital?”

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. He could hear the tremble in your voice, “I just sent Taehyung home. Can I come to your place?”

Jungkook sighed. “Sure. I’ll be there soon”

Perks of having a police vehicle. Traffic was never an issue for him.

Entering the hospital, he noticed Yoongi and Taehyung in the lobby, heading towards the back exit. Yoongi had his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. Seemed to be reassuring him.

Jungkook wondered what happened. You called Yoongi to the hospital so late to take Taehyung home.

He got in the elevator. He knew what room you were in. He’d been the one to bring you to the hospital, before the staff kindly reminded him he was not family—or rather, he wasn’t a Kim, and therefore couldn’t go into your room.

Then Jimin’s body was found. Duty called.

Three gunshots. He didn’t see him, but the autopsy report was eerily similar to that of his own fathers.

You were waiting at the front desk of the inpatient ward. Signing what he assumed were your discharge papers. You noticed him, eyes lighting up immediately.

Jungkook placed his calloused palm against your cheek. Your eyes were so fucking beautiful it stung him just to look at you.

“You’re okay” He breathed, reassuring himself more than anything. His voice trembled softly into a chuckle as you nodded, covering his palm with your own.

“Yeah, I’m okay” His lips neared yours, not touching, but enough for you to feel his breath scrape against your nerves.

He took your hand in his, and led you out of the hospital to his car. It was a short drive to his apartment. It occurred to him that you’d likely never stepped foot on this side of the city. The streets were narrow. Crippling houses dotted his peripheral—a faint scent of smoke through his windows.

He parked on the edge of the street, in front of an average-sized apartment complex.

“The Jeon Manor” He joked lightly.

You pouted, grabbing his hand. Fingers lacing with his.

“You know I don’t care that you’re not rich”

Jungkook wanted to scoff. But he held it back. If only you knew. If only you realized what could have been his, if it hadn’t been for—

“I don’t care where we are, I just want to be with you”

You brought his hand to your lips.

“Stop” He exhaled.

“W-what?”

“Stop saying shit like that when you won’t fucking commit”

You gulped. His stare was intense as he pulled his hand away from you, running in through his dark curls.

“Jungkook” You reached for his shirt, tugging the fabric towards you but Jungkook’s jaw hardened. He turned away. “Jungkook I’m serious”

“You won’t leave Nexus for me, you told me that. You won’t fight for me”

You tugged harder. He grabbed your wrist, harsher than he meant to. Glaring at you.

You didn’t understand. Jungkook should have known. Why would you? This was personal for you. Running Nexus was a point you had to prove, he understood that. But it was the very thing he needed you to give up. If not, then you’d never forgive him for what was coming.

“I love you”

Jungkook’s eyes clenched shut, almost out of regret. He felt tears but pushed them down.

“No.” He shook his head. Shit. He had let this go too far.

For as much as he’d wanted to hear it, it was a wake up call. The two of you couldn’t be together.

“You can’t”

Then he kissed you. His heart was erratic, breathing too. A desperate kiss, fierce with need. Your body fell limp, melting into his touch. Falling into him because he was everything and all you needed.

-

Somehow, he brought you to his apartment. Kicking the door closed.

He lifted you onto the counter, not letting you breathe—not letting you think, but fighting a sweet war with your lips. You were spinning. Losing yourself every passing second—seconds which passed so slowly as the moment consumed you.

His hands which rested on the sides of your hips, crawled beneath the hem of your shirt. Delicately they explored your skin, rising to the curves of your chest. Caressing your breast, he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past yours, tangling together.

“Jungkook” You whimpered. His mouth slanting down your jaw, to your neck. Where he tasted your sweet skin and you arched into him. His fingers drawing across your nipples with intention, causing fire to pulse through you.

You could feel him pressed against you, hips locked. Rocking ever so slightly.

Your phone began to vibrate. Jungkook hissed in irritation, backing away as you answered the call.

“Y/n”

Your blood ran cold.

That voice.

“Run”

You could see Jungkook’s eyes narrow at you. The line went dead. You were too stunned to speak.

“Who was it?” Jungkook inquired, looking at your phone. Gulping, you shook your head.

“I-um—just remembered that I need to take care of something”

His fingers hovered over your waist. “Okay, I can drive you” You stiffened as he kissed your neck again. “Or we could go after 20 minutes” His voice was husky.

Run.

Jungkook’s lips dipped to your chest, pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. Leaving pronounced kisses on every inch of skin he could find.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You squinted behind him. There was an old family photograph hanging on the wall.

Two young boys. A father.

Their suits. Well-tailored. Designer.

Your breath hitched, Jungkook’s fingers slid across your slit.

“I love you baby” He mumbled as his lips returned to yours. “So fucking much, I almost hate you for it”

Two boys. A father.

Two.

“You’re an only child, right?”

Jungkook’s actions halted.

“Yeah,” He wiped his lips, “My mom died when I was young.”

“Any, other relatives…?” You slid off the counter carefully, pieces in your mind beginning to fit together.

Jungkook’s face hardened. Jaw stiff.

“Did Jimin say some bullshit to you?”

Oh God. Jimin had been hinting at some connection between Jin and Jungkook all along. You thought it had been a joke. A way to toy with Jungkook’s head.

That day. After you fucked Jungkook for the first time. Jin saw him. Jin knew him.

What if Jimin had been right? What if he had been the only one who was truly looking out for you all along?

“Did you kill Jimin?” The question had no sound. The air was still. The two of you, frozen in time.

“Come on, Y/n.” Jungkook sighed, “Jimin got what he deserved, but no I did not. He hurt you. He’s insane”

You flinched when he reached for your wrist.

He knew you figured it out.

You stepped outside the apartment. Running down the steps until you were back on the street. Outside Yoongi stood, leaning against the stone wall across the street as though he were expecting you.

“You knew” Was all you said.

Yoongi sighed, “I knew about Jungkook, but I needed to make sure if my hunch about Jin was true.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s why my mother hated Jin. Because,” You couldn’t even say it. It made you want to vomit.

“Jin is a Jeon”

You blinked back tears. “But, why would he kill his own father?”

“Unless, he didn’t”

“Oh my God. You think…” You exhaled, feeling weak again. Yoongi held you upright. “Taehyung?”

He shrugged lightly, “It’s possible. More believable that a mother sends away the son who killed her lover than a son who simply witnessed something”

You were silent.

“You need to be careful” He made his voice as soft and kind as he possibly could. “I know about Hobi, but I’m honestly more suspicious of Jungkook.”

You nodded. The sun seemed to peak out from the horizon. A new day. A new betrayal.

Then the sound of the voice on the phone hit you. Run. So familiar. Like a ghost.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah love?”

“Did you call my phone earlier?”

He shook his head. “No…why?”

“You’re back early” Taehyung answered the door, “Figured you’d spend the whole night with the Detective” His bland tone seemed to have been revived. You were too bewildered to care. You pushed past him, Yoongi following behind. Taehyung greeted him nicely. “Hyung”

You slumped into the couch immediately. Hand on your forehead as if it would ease the pounding.

Yoongi watched you, concerned. Taehyung looked to him for an explanation.

“So listen,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but we still need to stay focused on pushing Hoseok out. The shareholders will be at the casino this evening for the anniversary gala”

“Yoongi” You laughed bitterly, “I don’t want to—”

“Y/n,” He responded, adamant, “This is what it’s like. You can’t hide just because shit’s hard. You’re not Jin’s princess anymore, you have responsibilities if you want back what’s yours. Taehyung isn’t ready to handle society on his own. He needs you”

A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Get some sleep” Yoongi rested his hand on your shoulder, caressing it gently. “It’s 7 AM, you’ve got plenty of time to get yourself together” His gaze diverted to Taehyung. “Black tie formal. I’ll send a suit for you. Make sure this one starts getting dressed at least 3 hours before we leave—she takes forever”

You let out a sad laugh, knowing Yoongi was trying to cheer you up but failing epically when all you had was a broken heart and impending doom.

Yoongi left, but Taehyung remained standing in front of you. A safe distance away, he simply observed you.

“You can sit you know” You grumbled.

He didn’t react. Didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired after a moment.

“Nothing,” You chuckled, “Just another missed opportunity for you to be the cause of my misery.”

“Was it,” Taehyung took a deep breath. Pausing, considering his next words carefully, “Was it him? Did the Detective hurt you?”

His eyes seemed to flash with something you couldn’t quite read.

“No” You stood up finally, “No the Detective is just another lying, manipulative asshole like the rest of you”

You walked past him, heading towards the foyer.

“I thought you loved him”

You whirled around. How he had managed to pick that up, you had no idea.

“I’ve decided I’m done with love” You stated confidently, “I end up falling for liars anyway”

You proceeded to storm up the stairs.

You were woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. Squinting, the evening sun blaring into your room, you noticed Taehyung pacing nervously outside of your room.

He was dressed.

Yoongi must have come by with the suit. It fit him perfectly. His dark hair was styled, tousled but neater than usual. His shoulders were prominent. The tailoring was perfect for his lean figure, and long legs. A gold watch on his wrist. It looked natural. He wore it so well.

Just like his brother.

Run.

“You’re awake” Finally, Taehyung stepped inside your room.

“Get dressed” He motioned towards a dry-cleaning bag that lay on your desk.

“Taehyung,” You sat upright, wiping the drool from your lips, “You look very handsome”

He blinked at you. Then walked away.

If you had any lingering doubt in your mind that the man by your side was in fact, Kim Taehyung—they were utterly dismissed. His Kim colors were shining. Despite his typical cold nature to you, Taehyung was the embodiment of charm.

Stepping into the casino, he had been initially overwhelmed by the stimulus: the lights, the slot machining whirring with bright colors, the crowd. You could feel him visibly tense even though he remained an appropriate distance away from you at all times. Close enough that folks knew you’d come together. Far enough to show you that he hadn’t forgotten about what happened.

The first few people who’d approached you had been friends of his mothers. You knew everyone well, everyone knew you. Taehyung would be quiet, shy at first, but it was that very aspect of his personality that made him alluring. He knew exactly what to say. His observant nature allowed him to navigate the different dynamics, pick up on cues expertly.

The elders respected his aura. The young were entranced by his mystery.

Every person he talked to was ready to trust him with their life. And if that wasn’t a Kim trait, you weren’t sure what was.

The only hiccups would arise when folks would bring up the past.

“Aren’t you two getting engaged?” Mr. Lee, one of Kim Enterprises’ stakeholders, asked politely, “So tragic what happened to dear Seokjin. But have you rescheduled?”

With speedy hesitation, Taehyung slid a hand onto the small of your back, looking into your eyes. There was a genuine passing of emotion, ever so subtle. He spoke, to Mr. Lee, but really—to you.

“In time” He smiled slightly. Looking back to Mr. Lee, “We are still mourning, in our own way”

“I’m sure Jin would be so proud of you”

You felt Taehyung tense at the implication. He maintained his composure, nevertheless, but you could see the turmoil stirring within him. Mr. Lee excused himself, and you turned to Taehyung, searching his eyes.

The mere mention of Jin had been pushing him closer and closer to the edge all night.

“Tae” You sighed, caressing his arm. “Want to take a break?”

“Please” His response was curt, but you could see his other hand balled up in a fist. Jin’s name had such a radial effect on him—one that reminded you that despite his ability to play the social field, he was dangerous.

Taehyung followed you to the backrooms where a younger crowd was immersed in pool, poker, and other debauchery.

“They loved you”

Taehyung merely shrugged. “Play the man, not the game” His eyes ghosted over you, “You taught me that”

You snorted lightly, as you found a quieter spot away from the buzz, Taehyung leaned against a wall, looking at ease.

“Taehyung, do remember how to play pool?” You asked suddenly as the billiard table came into your vision.

Taehyung thought for a moment. “Not really. But I’ll learn”

“Winner makes a wish, loser fulfills it” You challenged him. You really couldn’t help yourself. Being in the casino made you crave risk. But Taehyung wasn’t ready for high stakes, you knew that.

“Fine”

You start off expertly. Taehyung handed you the pool cue, the smooth wood cool against your fingertips.

"Alright, let me show you the basics," you said, positioning yourself near the table with a practiced ease.

He watched intently, his eyes following the calculated movements of your hands as you lined up a shot.

You demonstrated the proper stance, the controlled grip, and the delicate finesse required to send a ball into the pocket. With each shot, you explained the strategy, the physics of the angles, and the importance of precision.

You hit the shot expertly. With a smirk, you put down the pool cue and motioned for Taehyung to take your place.

"Your turn, Tae."

He eyed you skeptically but took the cue, positioning himself for the shot. You stepped behind him, your hand gently guiding his.

You’d never been so close to him. Not since the day you reunited, and he hugged you. And asked: are you scared of me, Princess?

Ever since then, there were oceans between you that you could only dream of crossing. He smelled good, you couldn’t help breathing in his fresh aura. The dimly lit room seemed to fade away just for a moment, and you wondered if he was effected like you were.

"Now, focus," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, though you maintained a level of indifference in your tone.

Taehyung's breath hitched imperceptibly, but he composed himself, focusing on the game. With your guidance, he took the shot, sinking the ball into the pocket expertly.

"Perfect," you praised, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "See, you’re a natural yet again. A true Kim”

Taehyung turned to face you, his gaze intense. "Anything I am is because of you”

You stiffened. His words were both a compliment and an accusation. God, seeing this side of him made him even more terrifying, because you didn’t trust yourself not to buy into the fact that he was some pure, innocent version of his older brother. He wasn’t. Kim Taehyung was unhinged. Any second he could snap, and you were on eggshells.

“Your turn” He handed back the cue. A few shots later, the two of you were neck and neck. The ocean between you two drying up slowly with every exchange of banter.

“Done with love, huh?”

You circled him as he lined up his next shot.

“What exactly did the Detective do to make you say something like that?”

You pursed your lips. “Why, gonna go beat him up?”

With a flick of his shoulder, the ball went in. Taehyung stood straight. “Maybe. What’d he do?”

He leaned against the table, handing you the cue as you positioned yourself. “He lied. He betrayed me. And I’m tired of loving liars”

“Didn’t you also lie to him?” He challenged. You shot him a glare. “Why haven’t you told him everything?”

You hit your mark. You missed. Taehyung’s blatant honesty was always unnerving. He wasn’t one to play games. “It’s complicated. I didn’t trust him. I still don’t trust him”

“And you expected him to trust you” Taehyung shrugged blandly. He stole the cue from your hand and before you could blink, he snapped the final shot. “Seems fair”

Taehyung’s last ball went in.

He beat you.

“Well” Taehyung huffed, trying to hide his gleaming pleasure. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “I suppose that’s that” He looked at you expectantly.

“Okay Kim Taehyung, what wish can I grant you?” Cue in hand, you pretended to curtsy. Taehyung grabbed the end of the stick, using it to tug you towards him.

The space between you vanished. Only the cue between you, until Taehyung pulled it from your grip and set it aside.

There was something unrecognizable in his eyes. He licked his lips unconsciously.

“Well?” You looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height.

His fingers held your chin, tilting your face upward. Except his touch wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t painful.

Taehyung inhaled.

Your eyes widened as he closed his mouth over yours. His eyes shut—kissing you with a depraved delicateness. As if he was drinking your soul like he was the devil himself.

A touch so tender, and yet it seemed to steal away every last bit of purity within you, leaving behind a raging storm. Activating something so sinful—so wicked. All due to the decadent taste of his delicate lips.

He pushed your mouth open, deepening the kiss. And you—you were lost. Still utterly shocked that—Kim Taehyung was kissing you. The Kim Taehyung that wanted you dead. The Kim Taehyung who blamed you for everything—was actually kissing you.

It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. The two of you no longer had to get engaged, but you lived with the man. And he was gorgeous. His quiet, mesmerizing charm. Enigmatic, smoldering and yet so calm. Who knew beneath that cold demeanor there was a tsunami waiting to be unleashed? 

He didn’t give you an opportunity to question him. His lips felt too good on yours for you to care. The casino around you seemed to vortex—everything spinning: the colorful lights—until you were airborne.

Floating. Dizzy. Afraid to fall but so fucking glad you were in the sky.

His mouth coaxed out your fierceness until you began to feel impatient. You placed your hand on his pounding chest, a light push until he sat down on the bench. You slid into his lap, no longer thinking—no longer caring that you were in public. That there was a room full of people in the casino who could be staring. Taking pictures. Gossiping.

They were all dead for all you cared.

You gasped audibly, a soft moan as he pulled you impossibly closer. You were losing your breath. On the verge of fainting—overwhelmed with sensations. Everything was heightened—everything felt alive.

His hand was behind your neck, the other one on the small of your back. Both yours in his wavy black—cloud like hair.

He pulled away, finally—barely. Catching his breath. His chest rising as fast as yours, offset by his erratic heartbeat. He was nervous.

Was that his first kiss?

He swallowed, uncomfortably on edge. His eyes were dark with desire. An angry kind of lust.

You searched your mind for words. Something to tell him that he did so good. That you loved it—and you wanted more. He was searching your gaze for something, but you were speechless.

So you kissed him again. Because how the hell else are you supposed to communicate.

“Taehyung” Your hands moved to cup his cheeks. You shifted, letting your body roll against his. Grinding against him slow and sensual, letting your movements mimic those of your lips. He was hard—painstakingly so. And he felt so good tucked between your legs. Throbbing for you. Both his hands lowered to your hips, then back up your back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you—or maybe he couldn’t believe you were real.

His hold was strong—not rough. Touch intentional but not desperate. He took his time with you as if he had all the time in the world, but was still somehow starved. Drinking from you was his only salvation. You—you were his salvation. And he was your ruin.

He pushed you away, suddenly. You blinked, dizzy from the loss of touch. Sensitive and damp, heart throbbing fast. He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Fuck”

You could see the judgmental stares all around. Rolling your jaw you smirked at the crowd.

“We own this place. I’d mind your business”

The chatter dissipated. You redirected your attention back onto Taehyung.

“Taehyung?” Your voice was soft. “You okay?”

You noticed how tightly he was gripping the table. His head down, looking anywhere but up at you. Eyes wide, spiraling in thought.

“I—” He exhaled, closing his eyes again.

Was he--?

You couldn’t help yourself. You knew he’d despise you for it—but Kim Taehyung already despised you. You weren’t going to pass up a chance to feel him cum.

You shifted his chair so he was facing away from prying eyes. Carefully you snuck under the pool table, clawing at his pants.

His fingers pulled your hand away. A warning glare.

You yanked your hand away, unzipping his pants and letting his pretty cock spring free.

You clicked your tongue. Poor thing was ready to burst.

Licking your lips, you let your tongue glide from his base all the way up his length where you left a soft, sweet kiss on his tip. You slid his tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked.

Flattening your tongue, you let his cock rest there. Like a dog, you waited for him to cum all over you.

Then you looked up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours—and they were wild.

He hissed, shooting into your mouth. You drank up everything he had to give—and it was quite a bit. He bucked over, knuckles turning white. The bite into his lip released blood with how hard he was trying to stay quiet. You let him push his cock into the hollow of your cheek and spurts continued to flow out of him. You rested your hand on his knee, and his hand covered yours. Holding it tenderly—as if he were thanking you.

You cleaned him up quickly, before returning to your seat, adjusting your dress inconspicuously.

You grinned at him, but he was not amused at all. Still panting.

“Was that your wish?” You beamed at him. He chuckled softly.

“I just wanted to know what it felt like”

It was an innocent intention. Almost heartwarming.

“And, what do you think?” You leaned into him, “Did I rock your world, Kim Taehyung?”

“You are my world. There was never a doubt”

His eyes glossed over. You wanted to melt in his gaze. Unravel. Instead, you were plunged into cold water.

“Fancy seeing you two here”

The hairs on your body straightened. Chills seeping over you at the familiar voice, laced with betrayal.

“Jung Hoseok” He extended a hand to Taehyung, “Pleasure’s all mine baby boy” Taehyung skeptically shook it.

-

Hobi was extremely amused at what he had walked in on. Of course, a whore like you would take a matter of days to wrap the young Kim boy around your finger.

“Nice job leashing the puppy” He muttered, cigarette at the edge of his lips. The smoke wisping past your unamused expression.

“I should kill you” Hobi grinned at your response.

“No need,” He tapped the cigarette ash on the edge of the ash tray. He had brough you to his private booth. Leaving Taehyung for the wolves.

“What do you want, Hobi? I don’t want to leave Taehyung alone too long”

“Why?” He leaned closer to you. His hand resting on your bare thigh. Your dress was so fucking slutty, he loved it. He always loved the way you’d dress to gamble. As if your body gave you an edge—it did. He knew you crumbled rich playboy’s resolve with one bat of your pretty eyes. “Are you so desperate for dick you’d take your lover’s little brother’s virginity?”

You rolled your eyes. “I asked you a fucking question,”

“A birdy told me that you found out about Jin’s daddy”

You squinted at him. “What about it?”

“Don’t you want to know the whole story?” Hobi’s fingers hooked under the straps of your dress, playing with them. “Of the infamous Jeon family? And your mother—the woman who tore down a legacy”

His hand slid between your legs.

“Long long ago, the entire arms distribution business lay in the hands of one famous Korean gangster. Jeon Junghyun.”

He brushed against your clit. Gentle circles while he gazed into your eyes. A wicked grin. Like he could kiss you or stab you in the back.

You latched onto his arm as he lured you towards an orgasm. His face burying against your neck, breathing you in as he continued to touch you. Nothing except your soft whimpers in the air.

The heat from his body infected your every nerve. His breath scalding over your cheek.

“Then there was this clever little bitch” You inhaled sharply, edging forward towards your high. He could tell—because he pressed a little harder.

“Who manipulated her way to the top. Gained favor of everyone under him and took him out with a stab to the back” His hands roamed your body, sliding up your dress. He pushed the fabric up until it bunched up above your breasts which he grabbed at eagerly.

Thumbs rolling over your nipples, he continued “She took everything from him, leaving him and his two sons to rot. But she wasn’t cruel. She let him stay as her right-hand”

Hobi left a soft kiss against your left breast. Then another. And another. His thumb back onto your clit, he licked and suckled you. You gasped—looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Curving into his touch.

“She grew the business. An arms distribution pipeline can be used for a lot of things. She went legit. Bought out other companies with the blood money. Began distributing just about everything.”

He licked your lips. The sensation like that of slowly sinking into absolute, soft bliss. Licking down your jaw, fluttering desperate hisses across your neck.

Then, he slipped one finger in—your face heating at the sound. You clenched around the protrusion and he reached deep inside. Working you slowly, carefully—before adding in another.

His kisses trailed back up to your mouth. His breaths were heavy, swallowing your moans. It was hauntingly intimate.

“Hobi” You pleaded, gripping onto him as you shook. Orgasm sweeping over you like an earthquake. Tremors from your heart to every finger and toe in your body. He was so wildly aroused that he couldn’t look away. His fingers were steady nevertheless, pumping you through it. “Fuck, Hobi please”

“Jeon Jungkook wants you dead sweetheart” The pain from his words pushed you over the edge. You soaked over his fingers, twitching wildly. “And so did his hyung. Kim Seokjin.”

-

The brisk night air bit at your skin as you seized Taehyung's wrist, pulling him outside. People were chattering, smoking cigars, the lights from the casinos madness still polluting the air. Limousines, sleek and imposing, formed a line ready to usher the remaining guests to their destinations.

Waving down a driver, you led Taehyung inside one. The plush leather seats cool against your exposed legs. The interior lit so you could see him in front of you, clear as day.

The light shut. Instead there were light sparkles on the ceiling of the limo as it began to move. The champagne swirled in your mind as you leaned back, looking out the window. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Like a rush, you wanted to lose yourself.

Your eyes shut for a moment. Remembering the way the light danced on your fac when you were with Jungkook that night at the club. Yearning for his touch, the look in his eyes when he told you how he felt.

You swallowed thickly, heart in too much pain to go down that road. You looked at Taehyung next to you, instinctively reaching out to touch his face. Gently, you took hold of his chin, coaxing his gaze to meet yours.

Your thumb traced over his cheek. Fingers dancing over his soft, delicate skin. His eyes fluttered close as you did. Teasing the edge of his lips ever so lightly. He really was a beautiful man. His lips looked soft. Devastating, with the way his shaken breath made them tremble.

He leaned into your touch, your fingers sliding up over his ear, pushing his hair out of his face. It felt like you were getting kicked in the chest repeatedly. Every part of you feeling numb but simultaneously sensitive to even the slightest movement of air.

He exhaled. The flow of his breath wavering. Or was it a moan, you weren’t sure.

You were about to pull your hand away, until Taehyung’s over fingers gripped your wrist. He stared at you, pupils wide. It was these moments where you felt like you could see him. His soft, vulnerable side, behind those concrete walls.

To your surprise, he brought your hand up to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist.

His lips softly melted into the sensitive area. Your breath hitched.

It was furiously intimate.

Holding your hand still, his eyes blinked back up at you. Almost as though he were asking permission.

Your throat was dry. The alcohol loosening the knots on your sense of logic.  

His eyes traced over you, dipping down your entire body. The way he sat, leaning so his knees almost touched yours. The leather suddenly felt so hot against your skin. Under his flaming stare.

He inhaled, steady, before leaning into you. Tracing his nose behind your ear. You shivered. His touch making you dizzy. Needy. Quivering.

“You looked beautiful tonight”

They were plain words.

When he said them, they meant the world. Something bloomed inside you. You were spinning and breathless, mouth parting in shock. His lips barely grazing under your jaw.

He backed away, putting distance between you yet again.

-

Namjoon stood in the foyer, waiting for you to come home. The moment the door swung open, you darted into his embrace. It felt like a familiar haven, and he effortlessly hoisted you up, cradling you in a desperate hug, afraid you might vanish if he let go.

"I missed you," Namjoon murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before reluctantly releasing you. His gaze then shifted to Taehyung, pride in his voice. "You too. You look great, Taehyung. I heard you went to the casino."

Taehyung's response was measured. "Are you out on bail?"

"No," Namjoon replied with a hint of bitterness, "Yoongi blackmailed Jungkook into letting me go."

Your heart tightened at his name.

"Where is he? I want to see him”

“Absolutely not” Namjoon was firm. “We don’t know how dangerous he is. I have some of my guys looking into it with Yoongi. He sure as hell had been in contact with Jin in the weeks leading up to his murder”

Namjoon cupped your face. “But other than that, it’s over. He won’t contact you. You’re free. I don’t want you worrying about this anymore”

You wanted to laugh at the term. Free. Especially since Namjoon was already back to telling you what you could and couldn’t do.

“What about Nexus?”

Namjoon smiled, taking your hand in his. “Come with me,”

You followed him. Taehyung a few paces behind. Namjoon brought you into the garden. There were a million fireflies. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at Taehyung, wondering if he remembered your tender moment in this same spot.

Namjoon lowered onto one knee.

Fuck. It was one of those moments where everything was so still. So quiet yet extremely loud in your chest. He smiled. Eyes meeting yours. Brimming.

“Marry me”

Your mouth was dry. The moisture building in your eyes instead. It hurt, deep inside because your mind took you to a certain tattooed, mean and yet tender man who you had left behind.

“Let me give you everything, Y/n” Namjoon continued, “The papers. The stocks. The business. You deserve it all and I will give it to you. I’ve done you wrong, and I know you aren’t where I am. I know you loved someone else”

His proposal hung in the luminous space. His words echoed in your ears. His gaze held both sincerity and vulnerability. He waited for your response, standing up so his fingers could brush against the side of your face. The fireflies flickered like stars behind him.

“I hope someday, it can be more than an arrangement. Someday you might love me the way I love you. But for now, I wanted you to have the option. I will give you everything, I promise”

Tears blurred your vision, and you took a steadying breath. "Namjoon," you whispered, your voice fragile yet resolute. Suddenly, with the prize standing in front of you, waiting for your claim, you realized how serious your answer was. If you married Namjoon, you were signing a deal with the devil. There would be no going back.

"I need time."

His eyes reflected understanding, and he stood, pulling you into a tender embrace. "Take all the time you need," he murmured against your hair.

You could still feel Taehyung watching the scene unfold. His expression unreadable, he retreated into the shadows.

Namjoon walked you to your bedroom, and you kissed him goodnight. He urged you not to stress. To take all the time and he’d be there, waiting when you were ready. No rush. This is what you’d wanted.

So why was it so hard to say yes?

Jungkook’s face engraved into your mind. Your gut flipping. You needed to find him. Needed to talk to him without Namjoon finding out. Your phone began to buzz. Hope coursed through you. Maybe it was him.

You answered quickly, excited.

“Don’t marry him”

There was no way.

“You’re mine”

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

a/n: its been a fucking MINUTE. idek how to do thia anymore, please enjoy and let me know what you think !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAEHYUNG omfg come scream with me pls thanks

and thank you for reading you hawtie <3

[andi-kook]

DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2

SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU

WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).

TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze

If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!

ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.

WORD COUNT: 3K

“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.

Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”

“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”

The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.

They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?

“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”

“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”

“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”

“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”

The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”

His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.

The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”

“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”

Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”  

Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.

“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”

“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.

“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.

Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.

As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”

“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”

Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”

“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”

I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.

After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.

“Who is this?”

Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”

Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.

“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”

Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.

“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”

“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”

He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.

“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”

“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”

“Who do you think?” He scoffs.

“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”

“Gladly.”

“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”

Nobody says a word.

“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.

Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.

avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight

“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.

Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:

“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.

My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.

My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.

Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”

As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.

I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.

They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.

“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.

He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?

“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.

CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.

TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.

ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.

[sopebubbles]

Two

Masterlist

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: the boys try to find your pack and face some painful truths.

Warnings: I feel like I should warn you that mc does not appear on screen at all for this whole chapter, language, honestly it's just pretty fuckin angsty.

Wc: 4k

The ride through the kaleidoscope of traffic lights and street lamps passed in near silence as they got closer to your address. Jungkook didn't notice, as caught up as he was in his own head, but for Yoongi the tension was excruciating. With one hand still on the wheel he stretched the other out to grip Jungkook's arm.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jungkook turned slowly to look at the other. "Talk about what?"

With a knowing smile that wasn't truly happy at all, Yoongi slid his hand down to grasp Jungkook's fist, which had been clenched to trembling on his thigh.

"Whatever is bothering you."

Jungkook rubbed his forehead and sighed, consciously unclenching his fist to let his fingers slot between Yoongi's and take the comfort the alpha's large, warm hands offered. He wouldn't really know where to begin. He'd seen so much shit today, the worst parts of society, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. When he first became a cop less than a year ago, he thought he could make a difference, make this world a safer place for everyone in it. But he'd quickly learned that more often than not he was merely a witness, someone who gathered the pieces to say this is what happened when something terrible occurred and to pray for justice that would likely never come. Sometimes it was just a bit too much to handle or to speak of.

Yoongi knew that all too well. And Jungkook knew the offer to talk was just that, an offer, not a demand. Like Jungkook and Jimin, Yoongi saw horror on a daily basis, and he knew there were times that there weren't words to speak. All the pack knew there was an overwhelming amount of injustice all around them. Jin saw so much evidence of it in his office where he worked within the legal system to try and make a difference. But none of them saw it as viscerally each and every day the way the three of them did.

"I can't stop thinking about the phone call with that woman. The way she sounded…not just disgusted but shocked. She really had no idea that Y/N isn't Sap. How is that even possible?"

Yoongi shrugged. "It's not uncommon for Lykos to try to pass for Sapiens in the workplace. It's usually only betas who can get away with it but," he shrugged again. "You said it was a bar right? Between scent blockers and so many other people, maybe it's easy to hide. She gets better wages, better tips. Even though lots of professions aren't required to disclose a second gender, there are plenty of assholes out there that won't hire an omega. Or an alpha for that matter," Yoongi added.

Jungkook sneered. "I still can't believe there are betas out there who honestly think it's better for them to pretend to be Saps. I could never imagine doing that. To just disown your entire heritage like that?" He shook his head and stared out the window.

Yoongi just pursed his lips. He didn't think he could explain it to Jungkook, nor did he think it would matter at the moment. It was good that Jungkook was a proud Lykos, that he was proud of his family and his pack. But Yoongi knew from experience that it wasn't so easy for everyone. Passing for Sapien was, in most cases, a uniquely beta privilege. It was probably even harder for alphas than omegas in Yoongi's opinion. If Yoongi could have passed for Sapien or if alphas weren't so strongly discriminated against, he might have gone to med school and become a doctor. Not that Yoongi was complaining. He was proud to do his job most of the time, even if it wasn't everything he had once dreamed. Luckily, Yoongi didn't have to continue the conversation because the GPS on his phone told them they had arrived.

The building they were looking at was a dingy, dilapidated brown that hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint in several decades. Just as well. The building would probably be better off torn down than renovated.

"Jesus," Yoongi muttered under his breath. Jungkook unbuckled his seat belt. "Wait, let's have a plan. You wanna do good cop, bad cop?" Yoongi asked, gesturing first to his partner and then to himself.

Jungkook shook his head but there was a smile on his lips. "How about a cop and a concerned citizen."

Yoongi sighed. "Sounds lame, but okay."

The pair exited the vehicle and walked briskly up to the front door. The external entrance to the building didn't appear to have any functional lock, and Yoongi's alpha growled in his head at the lack of security as they walked right in the door. Inside, they could hear several TVs playing loudly, probably trying and failing to drown out the sound of the couple fighting on the second floor who they heard as Jungkook navigated them to the unit printed on your license. The mixture of scents in the building was just as loud. Everyone living in the building must be Lykos. When they arrived at #23–only the gold 2 was still present on the door while the 3 was outlined by peeling brown paint–Jungkook rapped on the door with three firm, decisive knocks. Yoongi could practically hear every asshole in the building clench at the sound of what could only be a cop's knock. He had to suppress a chuckle.

After a few seconds, they heard the sound of a chain and several deadbolts make way so that a young Lykos could open the door a few inches. By the smell of her, Yoongi would guess she was a beta.

"Good evening, ma'am. We're sorry to bother you. We're looking for the home of a woman named Y/N Y/L/N. Does she live here?"

"No, sir. She doesn't live here." The woman replied mechanically. Jungkook couldn't read her expression from behind the door.

"Please, we need to get in touch with her family. If you have any information about her," Jungkook pressed.

The woman hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Wait just a moment."

She closed the door on them and Jungkook and Yoongi shared a look of raised eyebrows. The former hoped to hear the slide of the last chain, but seconds ticked by and when she returned the door remained blocked. The woman passed several envelopes through the small space.

"I think she must have been that sad omega that lived here before me. I've been collecting these. Meant to take them to be returned to sender but I keep forgetting. Maybe you can get them to her."

Jungkook took the envelopes, not knowing what else he could do. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

The beta closed the door once again without another word.

Jungkook heaved a defeated sigh and turned back to Yoongi. He flipped through the various envelopes he had been given. Past dues and final notices in among the junk. Just as they were about to walk toward the exit, a door on the opposite side of the hall opened, and a man stood against the door jam with his arms crossed.

"You looking for that little omega girl?" The tall man asked. Yoongi didn't need to smell him to know he was an alpha. He didn't want to smell him.

"Maybe. You know anything about her?" Jungkook replied vaguely.

"Y/N, right?" Jungkook gave a curt nod. "She lived across the hall for a year and a half. Three weeks ago she was evicted," the alpha informed him. Jungkook looked down at the late bills in his hand. That made sense.

"Any idea where she lives now? Or how to get in touch with her pack?" Yoongi chimed in.

The man gave an amused smile and shook his head. "This is not a place for people with packs," he answered with a gesture toward the general state of the place. "People in this building are usually lone wolves," he added. "Not that I didn't offer to help her with her heats, you know? I'm a helpful guy, especially for a pretty little omega like that."

Jungkook swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat while Yoongi merely stared the man down with a stoney look usually reserved for people who walked a little too close to Hoseok.

"Yeah, thanks for your help," Jungkook muttered as he walked past the man's door and down the hall toward the exit. Yoongi held his stance until Jungkook was a few paces ahead and then fell in line.

The drive back home was even more silent than before, and when they finally arrived they were surprised to find the house just as quiet. All five of their pack members were still awake, but no one spoke as Hoseok sat at the entrance to the hallway and stared down Namjoon and Taehyung. Jin cradled Jimin in his lap with his face buried in Jimin's scent gland. Or maybe it was Jimin that was holding him down.

"What's going on here?" Yoongi chuckled as he dropped his keys into the communal dish.

"These spoiled little alpha fucks have forgotten what the word no means," Hoseok replied, arms flexing as the crossed tightly over his chest.

"Is that so?" Yoongi asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, and just in case you've forgotten too: it means you cannot mount strange omegas without their consent, and consent cannot be given in the middle of heat," Hoseok said tightly.

"Jesus, did you jump her?" Jungkook asked, looking at his mates.

"No. We did not jump her!" Namjoon insisted just a little too forcefully.

"But you would have!" Hoseok fired back. "Alpha scum."

"You're acting like we're pigs or something," Taehyung grumbled.

"You are pigs," Jimin offered from behind him.

"You guys don't get it," Jin finally broke in, showing his face for the first time. "It's not like we want to fuck her. It's just a need. We are alphas, it's our duty to breed an omega in heat."

Yoongi shook his head as he joined his fellow alphas on the couch, squeezing in between Jin and Taehyung before pulling Jimin half-way into his lap to get a sniff because yeah, your scent had saturated every molecule of air inside the house. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna fly this time, Jin."

"Look, we are doing our best to control ourselves here. Can you give us some credit?" Namjoon asked, but he only met with Hoseok's stony glare.

"Do you think her actual alphas will be thanking you for your bare minimum decency?" He turned his head to Jungkook. "Speaking of which, did you find them?"

Jungkook sat down near Hoseok and for once made an effort not to let his scent spread out, not until he could level himself out. The omega was on high alert, and didn't miss the pungent edge of mildew coming from him. Hoseok grabbed his sleeve and tugged until the beta scooted closer.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He urged as he ran fingers through Jungkook's hair.

The youngest sighed. "She doesn't live there but she used to. An old neighbor said she got evicted a few weeks back."

"No forwarding address?" Jin asked, fighting to keep his clarity.

"Neighbor said she was a 'lone wolf,'" Yoongi added, voice muffled by Jimin.

"Alone?" Someone echoed as Jungkook rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"That place…it was awful. Even though I see it all the time—I don't think. I come home every night and I let myself forget that there are people out there with no pack, who are struggling just to survive."

"Kookie," Hoseok cooed, rubbing a hand up and down his mate's back.

"We're very lucky," Jin agreed.

"There are so many loners these days. We're trying so hard to get kids into good packs, but it can be tough to find the right fit. And so many of them have trust issues or have never had a pack…they don't know what they're getting into at all. It scares me to think that could have been me," Jimin reflected. It was only a handful of years ago that a chance meeting with Yoongi had led him to his home. Jimin's light scent and lack of a family history often excluded him from groups and from forming proper bonds with other Lykos. He was the last to join their pack, but it was always a blessing.

The sadness filling the room and his mates caused panic to rise in Hoseok's chest. His fingers curled into Jungkook's shirt. "Maybe the neighbor was wrong. Maybe she moved out to move in with a pack!" He suggested with forced cheerfulness. "Did you find any other leads in her bag?"

Jungkook shook his head. "I didn't have a chance."

Hoseok popped to his feet. "I'll go get it from the room!" He paused as he turned. "Keep your eyes on those four," he added before padding to your door and closing it behind him in a futile attempt to keep your heavy scent inside.

"I was just reading an article today about how pack life is healthier for people. Omegas live 8 years longer on average as part of a pack than alone," Namjoon told them just to fill the silence. He was one of the lucky ones, like Jin, Hoseok, Tae and Jungkook, who had only ever known pack life. For them any other way seemed inconceivable. They'd gone from pups to their own mature pack without ever living one night on their own, but even the thought of it ached with unbearable loneliness. Lykos were not meant to be alone.

Hoseok returned a moment later, large black purse in hand.

"How is she?" Yoongi asked.

Hoseok gave a dramatic eye roll. "She's fine."

"Hyung," Tae whined.

"She's so fucking out of it she doesn't know where she is right now, Taehyung."

That did not soothe any of the alphas fraying nerves.

"Maybe we could just cuddle–"

"No." Hoseok cut Namjoon off. "You are not going in there for anything. End of discussion."

He dropped the bag on the floor in front of Jungkook, who opened it and began to carefully sort through your belongings. At the top of the bag was a change of clothes that he couldn't stop himself from taking a sniff of, catching your normal crisp apple scent instead of the gooey apple pie you were giving off tonight. The trace on the shirt was so faint it was almost drowned out among the other smells in the house.

"Let me smell it," Namjoon chirped before he could stop himself.

"Don't you feel embarrassed?" Hoseok returned quickly and harshly, and Namjoon cowed his head because he did.

Jungkook merely set the clothes to the side and continued to search. Next he pulled out two boxes of extra strength scent blockers, the kind that go inside your nose so you don't smell anyone around you, and then a bottle of scent spray that you bought at a Sap store. It smelled similar to your apple, but more artificial and layered with other scents.

"I guess this is how she passes," Jungkook mumbled as he set the items in front of Hoseok, who picked up the bottle and sniffed its top, wrinkling his nose at the chemical smell. Your scent was much nicer than that.

The pack's attention was drawn to a rattling sound before Jungkook pulled out a large plastic medicine bottle. He looked briefly at the label before shaking the bottle and then handed it to Hoseok.

"If she had a full bottle of heat suppressants, why did she go down like that?" Jungkook wondered aloud.

The omega beside him unscrewed the cap and shook a single pill into his hand. "Holy fuck! I didn't know they were this big! How does anyone swallow that?"

"Let me see?" Jimin asked. He was probably more familiar with heat suppressants than any other pack member because they were required in order to stay in pretty much any mixed-gender shelter, and even in many single-gender ones. Hoseok replaced the cap and tossed the bottle across the room. Jimin picked it out of the air with one hand and brought it down in front of him and Yoongi. "Where the fuck did she get these?" Jimin asked after reading the label.

"What is it?" Jungkook asked. It wasn't something he was particularly well-versed in since Hobi had never taken any. And he'd never had any other omega.

"I've only ever heard about these," Yoongi said, taking the bottle from Jimin. "Some omega activists are trying to get these banned. They have mega doses of hormones to stop heats, but they can cause permanent damage to an omega's reproductive system. I've also heard that most omegas don't like to take them unless they have to because the side effects are really harsh."

"I've heard rumors that some of the shelters give them out to omegas who want to stay," Jimin added.

"Is this one of them?" Jungkook asked when he found a crumpled flier in your bag. The paper showed a posed group of people wearing smiles outside a generic looking building in the downtown area. It also stated the hours of operation and contact information. Jimin held out a hand and Jungkook passed it through the alphas to him.

Jimin gasped quietly. "This is the worst shelter in town. The people who run this are fundamentalists who think that Lykos are abominations. They preach that we are unnatural and against god. Kids sometimes come to us from there and have said they were prevented from nesting or sharing beds with others. I'm sure they gave her these before letting her in but-" That didn't answer how you had ended up in your current state.

Jungkook thought he was going to be sick, and he wasn't alone.

"Why would anyone go to an organization like that?" Taehyung wondered, his hand sliding into Namjoon's.

"Some people don't have any choice," Jimin answered.

Everyone sat in quiet thought for a moment until the sound of Jungkook's sob broke from his chest. Six heads snapped in his direction, but only one spoke up.

"Jungkook, come here, baby," Jin said with arms held open. Jimin moved down to sit over Namjoon and Taehyung while Yoongi squeezed to make room for Jungkook. In spite of being a beta, Jungkook was just a little too large to sit comfortably in the pack alpha's lap, but he sat down and let Jin pull his legs over his lap and snuggled into his chest. "Tell alpha what's going on," Jin cooed.

Jungkook tried to calm his sobs, which got easier when Yoongi pressed himself against the beta's back. It took a minute before he was able to speak, but no one rushed him.

"I saw an omega get killed today," he finally said in a watery voice. "He was just a couple years younger than Y/N. He was alone and he was shot by some hateful Sap, for no reason. And all I could think at the time was where is his pack? Why didn't they protect him? But he didn't have a pack. There wasn't anyone to call. And then we found Y/N. And I just…why isn't there anyone to call?"

Jin hugged the man tighter to his chest and let him cry. "It's okay, Kook. Let it out. It's okay. There are four good alphas here and no one is going to get hurt," he assured in a soft voice.

Jungkook sucked in the deepest breath he could before he pulled away and leaned into Yoongi. "Sorry, it was kind of a fucked up day," he said as he wiped his eyes.

Yoongi gave his arm a squeeze, one that said he was sorry there were so many fucked up days, because Yoongi always knew more about them than the others, because sometimes Yoongi and Jungkook would lay in the nest in the spare room and whisper the things that haunted them before they could go to sleep.

"You should have told me before we went out, Kookie. We didn't have to go." Jimin reached a hand out across the alphas and Jungkook took it.

"I'm glad we did though." He didn't want to think what it would be like otherwise.

"Pup, you need to tell us when things are weighing on you like that," Hoseok chided, still rooted to his spot on the floor.

"I honestly can't bring that to you all the time," Jungkook admitted.

"We’re your pack, Jungkook-ah," Jin reminded him. "It's our job to share your burden, especially when it's too hard."

"I'll try."

Hoseok sighed. "It's late. Everyone, go to bed. We can decide what to do next in the morning."

No one argued with the omega. The tone of the conversation had dampened their yearning for you in the other room.

"Are you coming, my love?" Jin asked with an arm outstretched to pull him up.

Hoseok shook his head. "You all go on."

"Honey, you can't sit here all night."

"I'll get some things settled for her and then I'll sleep on the couch. No one will get past me."

Jin pouted. "But it won't be the same in the nest without you. You haven't even gotten a chance to build it up yet. How can we sleep there?" Seokjin always became so codependent when he was sleepy.

Hoseok's resolve cracked just a little.

"Hobi, you go up. I'll stay down here. I think I'd be more relaxed that way anyway," Jungkook suggested. It would be easier to rest if he knew you were safe from danger. Is this what it felt like to be an alpha all the time?

Hoseok grumbled but he was already giving in. "I can't let you go to sleep smelling like that."

With a wave of the omega's hand, all of his packmates gathered around Jungkook and marked wherever they could reach until he smelled like the unique blend of scents that to him smelled like home. When they finally backed away, Jungkook wore a dopey, scent-high smile, and Hoseok could go upstairs to his nest with one fewer worry.

Once they had all gone up to bed, Jungkook took a thick blanket from the hall closet that was too thick to use this time of year and laid it out on the floor in front of your door along with a pillow from the couch. He thought briefly about going in to check on you, but he honestly wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from climbing in the nest to cuddle you. He couldn't stop thinking about the way they wouldn't let you sleep with others in the shelter, or how you had probably slept alone for at least a year and a half prior to that. But Hoseok was right about boundaries and consent, and he could be good if he just stayed on this side of the door. If you couldn't be comforted, you could at least be safe.

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[borahaerhy]

Regime - one || myg

Summary: Everything is dull. Your job, your hobbies, your downtime: everything is just dull. That is, until your workplace is raided by the anti-capitalist organization run by the notorious Agust D.

Pairing: Ringleader!Yoongi x NewRecruit!Fem!Reader

Genre: Anti-Capitalist Gang au, Found Family, Smut, Angst

Series Warnings: anti-capitalism! mental illness, some gang violence, unaliving, smut, hella angst, drug/alcohol usage, very fowl language

Warnings: y/n uses all the self-defense, quite literally bites a chunk out of someone's hand, everyone has a gun, there are a few hostages, Yoongi kicks someone in the face, y/n very casually holds a gun to someone's head, references to y/n's childhood being... interesting (relatives' drug usage briefly mentioned), Yoongi's tries to manipulate y/n for like 2 seconds, y/n definitely has depression, someone gets murdered, Yoongi almost exclusively goes by Agust, References to Nick being hella shitty, what the fuck is going on with Kevin?

Wordcount: 3.2k

Previous | Next

It was odd. 

The parking lot of your job being completely empty had only happened on one other occasion that you could recall; that was because it was Easter, and everyone had gone home early. 

But today was different. It wasn’t a holiday, and there should have been plenty of work to get done; yet there was no one. Not a single car in the parking lot. As you drove past, you turned your attention to the side of the building, where security parked. You pulled into the space beside the empty car of one of your coworkers, Nick. 

But it’s ten minutes until shift change; first shift should still be here. Did Nick let them leave early for some reason? Aside from yours and Nick's, there was only one other car in the entire lot. A black SUV parked haphazardly beside Nick's car; and it was still running.

While all of this might scream “danger” to others that would have seen it, to you, while it was weird, that's all it was: weird. It’s a relatively small company; one where there were so few employees that they were all friends. Everyone knew everyone and they often all liked to fuck with one another, maybe this was just some kind of prank. 

While the company was small, it was also one that had no problem fucking over its employees when it comes to their paychecks; even whenever the company execs wanted to come in and check the place out, they certainly never would’ve listened to any complaints about pay. 

You cautiously walked up to the door and punched in the pin before you opened the door and stepped in. As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you walked into something you definitely wished you hadn’t. 

Tied up in the middle of the floor was the owner of the building, and the one who ran this branch of the company, Kevin, along with the guy supposed to work your shift with you, Nick. They were completely surrounded by men in black, all of them with guns pointed at the two men's heads. Kevin looked like he just got into a fight and lost; blood covering him, his nose crooked while Nick had a swollen lip. In front of them, there was just one man, but as soon as your eyes had adjusted to the dark building, all of them were looking at you. 

Seconds after you walked in, your arms were pinned behind your back and a hand covered your mouth. “Just make sure she doesn’t go anywhere for a second, I have to deal with this asshole before I talk to her,” 

While as a security officer, you hadn’t been formally trained in any kind of combat, you did grow up with uncles. A lot of them, and they would all get varying levels of high and various substances and decide that you needed to know how to defend yourself. 

So while the man that spoke, the one standing in front of Nick and Kevin kicks Nick in the chin - no doubt knocking out a few of his teeth - you stamped down on the foot of the man behind you and bit a chunk of flesh from his hand clean off. He screamed, letting go of you so you could turn around and knee him in the groin as one of your hands took the gun out of his side holster and held it to his head. 

You stood beside him, facing the group of people with one hand holding the gun to his head while the other was up, level with your head to show you weren't armed more than what they could see. You spit out the chunk of flesh that you still had in your mouth, mostly for dramatic effect, and slowly moved your free hand down to wipe the blood from your lips. 

Everyone was staring at you, even the boss was staring at you with a kind of intensity that would’ve been hard for anyone to withstand. “You can finish whatever you were doing, I’m not going anywhere, I just don’t really like people touching me,” Your hand was back up next to your head, but no one moved. All the men just looked back and forth between their boss and you, and Kevin and Nick both looked like they’d just been saved. 

The one that just kicked your coworker, the one you presumed to be the boss, started walking toward you. He moved slowly and carefully as he pulled each of the weapons he had on him, showed them to you carefully, before he threw them down on the ground. He pulled one last weapon from the inside of his boot, a small pocket knife, and threw it to the ground, too, as he stopped a few feet in front of you. 

“I’m unarmed, and so is he. I would appreciate it if you put the gun down,” He spoke calmly, eyebrows raised and hands up. While it was hard to think of where he’d be hiding a seventeenth weapon, you also wouldn’t put it past the man that just pulled sixteen weapons off his person to have a secret compartment in the bottom of his shoe. 

Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, his face covered with a ski-mask like the rest of them, only his eyes visible to you; dark brown pools of honey that bore into you, but they weren’t as harsh or intimidating as you would’ve thought someone like him to be. They were soft, almost gentle as they moved back and forth between yours.

“You might not be, but they are,” You looked over at the men that surrounded your coworker and boss, his gaze following yours. 

“They’re not going to do anything, you’re not the target here; they are. Just put the gun down and we can talk,” You looked carefully at him, then at the people behind him, before you slowly raised the hand with a gun in it, before crouching down slightly and slid it across the ground, making sure it was well out of reach of anyone before you stood again. 

“Kay, come get Mars and clean him up for me, everyone else, don’t let them move a muscle,” He was facing his men as he spoke, but turned back to you once he’d finished. “You probably know this place better than I do, so I’ll let you lead the way,” You looked over to the door to one of the conference rooms briefly, before you looked back over to him, Kay already collection Mars from off the ground beside you. 

“That room there would work fine, I’ll meet you in there but I need to get my water out of my bag,” He looked you up and down skeptically, about to say something before you cut him off again. “It’s just to rinse your friends hand out of my mouth, I’ll leave the bottle out here,” He paused slightly, then nodded once, stepping toward the door you’d just referenced to. You moved slowly as you got your water from your bag, rinsing out your mouth thoroughly before you took one last gulp and swallowed it. You put the bottle back down and headed into the room. 

“You can have the chair, I’ll stand,” He gestured to the only chair in the room as he leaned against the table across from you. You crossed your arms and leaned against the door. 

“I’m good with standing,” He nodded briefly before he took his mask off, revealing his admittedly handsome face to you. 

“My name is Agust, I’m the leader of the group of people out there with your coworkers. We’re here because Kevin, the owner of this branch has been stealing from his employees to pad his own pockets-”

“And why’s Nick out there?” You asked, trying not to let your anger show too much, but your not sure how successful you were judging by the look on his face. 

“Nick’s here because when he pulled in, I had my guy out in the parking lot run his tags and we found him to be… a really shitty person, to put it mildly,” You swallowed thickly, feeling almost a sense of relief that your suspicions were right, and you weren’t just overthinking about him.  

“Yeah, that checks out,” You nodded, looking down at your feet as you let your arms fall, sliding them into your pockets. “So why are you here? Kevin likes to fuck over his employee’s, sure, that’s shitty, but what’s in it for you?” He looked you up and down again, as if trying to gauge whether or not you were worthy of knowing this information or not. 

“I’ll tell you, eventually, but I have a few questions of my own first,” He crossed his arms as he stood straighter. 

“Like?” 

“Your name, for starters,” You laughed slightly, extra air flying out of your nostrils as you smirked lightly and cocked your head to the side. 

“Ah, so I’m supposed to believe that you had someone run Nick’s plates but not mine?” It was his turn to smirk, his head falling slightly as he nodded. 

“Alright, Y/n. Let’s get really into it, then,” His demeanor changed, the once kind eyes now seemed to drop their facade, his face bore a cocky smirk and his overall presence was that of a leader. Someone calm and collected, even when his initial plan was swept off it’s feet; he still knew exactly what his next step would be. “Why are you pretending you don’t care about Kevin fucking over his employees?” 

Your own attitude changes slightly as he forces you out of your facade the same way you did his. Your shoulders dropped slightly as you felt all the color drain from your face. You cleared your throat a stood up a little straighter, trying to mimic his own attitude. “Because I’d like to know a little more about you and your organization; I already knew Kevin was a piece of shit, I don’t need you, or anyone else to tell me that,” 

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked you up and down again. There was something about the way he was looking at you, as if he was trying to see into your mind, see what you were thinking. “Why would it matter who I am if I want to bring someone like him to justice?” You sighed as you changed your stance slightly as you tried to think of a way to explain. 

“It matters because all you’d have to do to get me on your side is tell me what Kevin’s done, how long he’s been doing it, and what you plan to do about it; and I’d probably agree with you based purely off my emotions rather than if I actually agree with you or not. But if I know who you are, what you and your group are capable of, and what you plan on doing in the future, I can judge you based on logic; wether you’re inherently shitty or not.” A knowling smile seeps across his features, an almost proud look as he listened to you speak. 

“And why would I want you to agree with me, princess?” You scoffed, although you were far from offended; knowing the game he was playing. 

“I’ve seen your face and I know that you’re the leader;  not to mention the chunk of DNA that belongs to your friend still wedged between my teeth, and how it got there. Either you have to find a way to get rid of me, or recruit me,” He looks impressed as he steps down from the table and takes a small step toward you. 

“Let me re-introduce myself. My name is Yoongi, and I’m the leader of an anticapitalist organization. We steal from the rich, especially the ones that make a game out of fucking their employees out of the money they worked hard for. I don’t want to get rid of you, as you put it, because that’d be a waste; but I don’t want to recruit you just because you took a chunk out of one of my best man’s hands - or because you took his gun from him like it was nothing, or because I know you have plenty reason to want to fuck over the same people that have fucked you and your family,” He paused, taking another small step toward you, now standing less than a foot away from you.

“I want to recruit you because you’re scared shitless right now,” His voice was much lower, a serious tone filling the space between you as the smirk was gone from his face. “You still don’t know if I have a weapon on me, or if I’m going to let you out of here alive, or if we’ve hurt any of your friends or coworkers. But here you stand, speaking to me as confidently as someone that knows they’re more powerful than me,” His eyes bore into yours as if he could see your entire life laid out on a platter with just one glance.

“So, Y/n,” He took a step back, arms crossed over his chest confidently as he looked at you almost sweetly. “You’re not who we were after, and I don’t find you to be a threat to us. So, you’re free to go, if you want. You don’t have to worry about us following you or keeping tabs on you; you can just go home, go on with your life and forget this ever happened.” He paused, looking you up and down. "Or,” He leaned back against the table, one leg crossed over the other. 

“You can come with us,” You stood silently for a moment, eyes only leaving Yoongi when he finished speaking. You pushed yourself from the door and took a few steps over to the window and looked out of it, taking in the world as you had been seeing it for the past several months, before you closed your eyes, drinking in the inky black that the cover that your eyelids provide. 

You’d noticed that everything looks different throughout different phases of my life; as if there are filters over your eyes that change the colors and shadows in accordance to how you’re feeling. Some memories are all cool-toned, some warm. Some memories look yellowed, like they’d been tea-stained while others seemed more vibrant and vivid than anything else you’d ever seen. 

For the past couple of months, everything’s been dull. The world’s almost been in grey-scale as you try to find a purpose; try to find something to do with yourself. Nothing looks or feels like it used to; but for the first time in months, you are scared. You’re terrified. You smile as you relish in the feeling, the first true, raw emotion you’d felt in months.  

When you open your eyes, there’s color in the world again. The trees dance in the wind with various shades of red and orange and brown; the sky beyond them littered with soft purple hues as the sun was already beginning to set into the autumn sky.

“What happens if I decide to go with you?” You turn to look at him as you finish speaking, a light smirk on his lips before he turns to face you. 

“You come back to our base with us, we show you around, show you the ropes, and figure out how you’d best assist us. Then, if you decide you want to leave, you can. If you still want to have your job here and go back to your home and just help us out on the weekends, you can. You can also live with us and work with us full-time; but no matter what, I’d be sending you home tonight. This is something you need to think over.” You nodded again, still trying to take everything in.

“And as far as Kevin goes, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” You shook your head and raised your hands, stopping him from saying anything further. 

“I don’t want to know anything about what he did,” Yoongi nodded as he looked at you almost empathetically. “But, I’ll uhm, I’ll go with you,” His facial expression softened lightly as he smiled at you. 

Your relief very quickly changed when he reached behind his back and pulled out yet another gun and out the barrel right next to your head and pulled the trigger, shooting through the wall behind you. The sound was deafening but you didn’t flinch, your eyes never leaving his as his smirk grew wider yet. 

“Wait here, Princess. I’ll come back to get you in a few minutes,” He pulled the mask back down over his face before he opened the door and stepped out, all eyes suddenly on him. “She had a real fucking mouth on her, didn’t she?” Yoongi sauntered back over to where his captives were tied up, gun casually swinging in his grasp as he walks. 

“Kept talking about her mom; something about her still being alive if only she’d gotten her benefits like she was supposed to,” He kneeled down in front of Kevin, using the barrel of the gun to point at him. “That sound familiar to you, Kev?” Kevin was shaking, eyes wide as they bounced back and forth between the gun and Agust, who was only smirking at the terrified face of his captive. 

“Cat got your tongue? Nick?” At his lack of response, Agust moved the gun from Kevin to Nick, the barrel now only inches from his head. “Do you know anything about that?” Nick shook his head wildly, eyes clenched shut as tears spilled out of them. 

It pissed him off how scared they acted. He had a gun to their heads and they just bawled like babies; as if they hadn’t done the same thing time and time again to others. Kevin took money away from people that needed it. Money that he definitely didn’t need; and in doing so, he took away not only financial stability, but the lives of the people that depended on that money.

And while Nick didn’t steal from the poor like Kevin did, that didn’t make him any less of a piece of shit. He’d been accused of many crimes in his life; including attempted manslaughter, statutory rape, and several different domestic violence charges, but he’d never been convicted of any of them. There was never even a trial, just complaints dropped the day after they were filed, along with several very large transactions coming out of his obscenely rich father’s bank account. 

So watching them sit here and sob when their lives were threatened, knowing fully that they’ve put others in this very situation with their greed and ignorance enraged him. August pressed the gun to Nick’s temple and pulled the trigger, blood spraying all over Kevin's face in the process. 

Kevin screamed, loud sobs filling the warehouse that only pissed him off more. “Shut up, would you?” The gun was back under Kevin’s chin, his sobs silencing almost instantly as the gun forced him to look up. “I’m not going to kill you,” He took his time pulling the gun away from Kevin, eventually putting it into the waistband of his jeans before he carefully stood, his gaze already on the door you were behind as his men pulled Kevin up and dragged him out to their car. “Not yet, anyway.” 

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @bangtan4everr @angrydonutzonkpickle @secfir @useryoonmin @idkjustlovingbts

[casuallyimagining]

I Don't Need Your Love (Teaser)

Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Genre: established relationship, arranged marriage, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut

Word Count: TBD (currently: 8,797)

Warnings: sword fighting, swearing, unhappy marriage, the king is a giant asshole, nsfw: awkward first-time, hand-job, fingering, unprotected sex (more to be added)

Minors DNI

Teaser under the cut

“You shouldn’t torture him like that,” you say once he’s returned the book to your hands. “You know he isn’t suited for it.”

“Your father wants him trained.”

“You and I both know Namjoon has no business on a battlefield.”

At that, he laughs. “His form is really terrible.”

“Even I’m better than he is.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh come on, Yoon.” You roll your eyes and push him slightly. You both know you’re right. His father had trained you beside Yoongi, and while you hadn’t been as quick to the blade as the young knight, you could defend yourself well enough.

He stands, plucks the book from your hand once again, and leans in so that his face is mere centimeters from your own. “Come, then, my lady. Prove yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” 

He closes the gap, lips connecting to yours ever so briefly. Even though the kiss is short, it sets your veins alight all the same.

“Fine,” you say when he pulls back. “To battle, then, Min Yoongi.”

He smirks, and you steal a kiss when he helps you stand. For a moment, he has the audacity to look offended, but you push him out of the way.

“Come on,” you say. “You wanted to spar. Let’s get it over with.”

“We’ll see how smug you are when you’ve been defeated.”

You shrug and follow him to the training yard. It’s only a few feet from the tree you had been reading under, but your back had been to it, and you’d been unable to see Namjoon before he left. Now, though, you can see that your younger brother had left in a huff, his practice sword tossed carelessly to the side. You pick it up. It’s a bastard sword, longer than you’d like and a little on the heavy side, but it’ll do. You roll your wrist, testing the balance as you wait for Yoongi to ready himself.

As he turns to face you, you widen your stance. You know you look ridiculous, legs and arms wide, positioned better to climb a tree than for sword fighting. It has its intended effect, though, because Yoongi erupts into a fit of near-silent giggles, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What are you doing?” he asks gleefully.

“Are we not fighting?” you question, deepening your voice to match Namjoon’s lower timbre. “Is this not how you do it?”

He almost drops his sword, he laughs so hard. “Okay, fine,” he says, body still shaking from giggles. “You can go back to your book.”

You smile. That hadn’t really been your intention, but you aren’t one to turn down an opportunity. You hand him the practice sword as you pass and open your mouth to leave him with one last quip about trying to be patient with Namjoon, but he catches your waist as soon as he can and pulls you flush against him. Immediately, your hands come up to rest on his chest, playing with the loose collar of his cream colored shirt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask coyly, tugging a little at the fabric over his collarbone.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Can you?”

[btskitten7]

Silent Grace| Chapter xv: A Ticking Timebomb

Ship: Min Yoongi x Fem reader

au/genre: Mafia!au

rating: M

wc: 4.1k

Chapter warnings: pregnancy mentions and arguing. Yoongi has some choicy words for Namjoon and Min.

summary: Seo-Yeon is having a very difficult conversation with her husband, she's finally putting her foot down. Min is SUFFERINGGGG.

tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast @bangtan-famiglia-net

Min has been struggling with home life. He hated that Seo-Yeon wasn’t speaking to him. He hated that he felt like he ruined her whole entire world. They had it all. The money, the house, the cars, and the luxury at their expense. Min could take her to any place in the world. Buy her anything in the world. Didn’t matter the price or the place. He could make it happen for her. All she has to do is say the word. It’s hers.

But nothing he said mattered, all she wanted was her family back. She needed them back. Things have been like this for too long and her mental state couldn’t handle it anymore. Seo-Yeon didn’t want the fortune nor did she want what came with the fame. She wanted her three babies back. They were far from babies but to her they were hers. She never felt so far away from them as she does right now.

Seo-Yeon’s ‘mom guilt’ began to eat her alive more than it’s ever had. Or she’s noticing it more than ever.

~~~~

“Yoongiiiiiii”

Soon-young whined running into Yoongi’s room with a frown on his face. Yoongi was sitting at his desk, head in his history book, trying to figure out the topic of this essay he needed to do. It was worth more than half of his grade, he couldn’t afford to screw up. He didn’t have time for either of his brothers and their crying.

“I don’t have time right now. I’m really sorry. I need to get this done” Yoongi advised as he began to scribble some notes in his book. Soon-young sighed as loud as he possibly could.

“But Jihoon won’t stop making weird noises. I can’t concentrate on my writing” Soon-young ranted with a frown stomping in place next to Yoongi’s desk before standing on his tippy toes to see what his big brother was doing.

Yoongi chuckled in frustration and shook his head as he turned the page in his notebook.

“What could you possibly be writing?” he finally said pinching the bridge of his nose. Soon-young smiled bright as he jumped around. “I’m writing music, like you!” Yoongi set his pen down and looked at his youngest brother.

“You are writing music? About what exactly?” he asked, most interested in what a 6-year-old could write about at this age.

Jihoon ran in at that moment, holding papers in his hand, “He’s writing about that girl he has a crush on at school but can’t even spell her name, let alone anything else.” Soon-young frowned and tried to get the papers back from Jihoon who was holding them in the air. Yoongi scoffed and stood, towering over his brothers both, and took the paper from Jihoon’s hands.

Yoongi took the papers and began to read through them.

“Actually, these aren’t bad. Yeah maybe you should learn spelling first but overall I think this is great.” Yoongi said, handing the papers back to Soon-young whose eyes were lit up at his brother’s praise.

“You think so? You really think so?” Yoongi nodded. “Yeah. Don’t listen to Jihoon, he’s just being an asshole. He can’t even spell either.” Causing his youngest brother to giggle infectiously as he climbed onto Yoongi’s lap. Jihoon frowned with a scoff.

“No, I’m not, I thought it was good too. I just don’t want too much praise to go to his head. It’s already big enough” He pouted which caused Yoongi to chuckle.

“Well that’s true, he does have a big head.” He teased. Seo-Yeon watched in awe as she watched her three perfect boys laugh and tease each other. She knows it can’t get any better than this.

~~~~~~~~

Sadly, it didn’t. She looks back at every memory, fondly. Wishing it could be her reality once more. She wondered how their conversations would be as adults. Would it still be playful? Would it still be loving? Would it still be her comfort? Or would it be her biggest heartbreak after all that’s happened? Each time one of her sons walked out of her life, it was like a knife stabbing her in the chest.

Once it would heal another one would leave and open the wound once again. She yearned to hear their laughter and praises of each other.

Now with Yoongi, her oldest doing the same…she doesn’t believe her wound would ever heal unless her sons came back to her.

“Seo-Yeon, baby…please talk to me. I can’t handle the silence.” Min begged, holding her hands into his, as he kissed them repeatedly. She couldn’t even look at him. She just pulled her hands away from him and shook her head.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Seo-Yeon said quietly as she headed down the stairs. She sat on the couch and pulled the blanket over her. Leaning over, she reached the photo album that always stayed on the coffee table in the living room. She sat back in place and began to flip through what she would call, the happiest times of her life before they weren’t. She flipped to page when the lane switched and things began to fall. She saw a picture of their sons, Min, and herself when Yoongi had graduated.

Everyone looked so happy when deep down, they weren’t. Yoongi was pissed because he could no longer live his life the way he attended. Just the night before, Min had told him that he would have to skip out on school to fulfill the needs of the family. Jihoon was pissed because the weight of everything was being placed on Yoongi and his father never gave him the praise he thought he deserved, never even looked his way twice, and poor little Soon-young had no clue what was even going on but he knew something was wrong, nothing felt right anymore.

Everyone was always arguing, yelling, or not speaking at all. Every other night it was either his parents going back and forth or it was his brothers fighting with his father. It was always something. Despite it all, they were together. They were right there, going through it all while being there for one another. She would still be able to come home and make her family a meal, just be normal.

But now, she’s left all alone. With the monster that started it all. Seo-Yeon wished that she stood up more for her children. She wishes that she would have stood her ground for Yoongi.

She wished she would have stood up for herself when she saw the different women in her bed, sleeping with the man she was in love with. Seo-Yeon wished she wasn’t so head over heels for Min but this wasn't the man she fell in love with. He was good to her. Ever since they were kids, he always took care of her. Protected her.

~~

“You don’t have to walk me home you know? I’m a big girl” Seo-Yeon whispered timidly, squeezing her books closer to her chest as they got closer to her home. Min chuckled and shook his head as he kept his arm around her waist guiding her away from the busy street and into the inside of the sidewalk.

“I know, but I have to make sure my rose makes it home safely,” Min said leaning down and kissing the top of her head.

Seo-Yeon blushed and hid her face in Min’s sweater. “Why are you doing this to me?” she blushed.

“Doing what? Loving my girlfriend? Protecting her? Making sure no one messes with her and our sweet seed” He smiled brightly rubbing her belly that just started to show.

“M-min don’t. My parents still don’t know yet. My mom is outside” Seo-Yeon said as she saw her mother walk out of their gate to retrieve a few deliveries. Min sighed and turned Seo-Yeon to face him.

“Rose…I don’t like hiding. I love you and I want us to be together…forever. Maybe we should tell them…both of them. Maybe we could all have dinner and tell our parents.” Min suggested as he held onto Seo-Yeon with what felt like dear life. She sighed.

“I know. I hate it as well but you know…your father is kind of a sore topic for my parents. Especially with your family buying my dad’s restaurant and all…I don’t know how they are going to take it. Especially with a little one coming along.” She confessed.

Things were finally going good again with her family and she didn’t want to ruin it.

Min’s face was painted in anger as he remembered his father and his stupid antics. He pleaded with his father not to buy the building but he hardly ever wins against his father and his mother didn’t even care enough to fight him on it either.

“I’m so sorry my father did that…I can get it rebuilt in another location just tell me what to do and I’ll do it for you Rose.” Min said and in the moment

“We don’t need anything from you.” Seo-Yeon’s father came behind Min and pulled Seo-Yeon roughly away from him only causing Min to get defensive

“Hey don’t do that! Do not grab her like that” Min said reaching out for Seo-Yeon who her mother stood in front of her.

“Leave and do not come back. Stay away from our daughter.” He said pulling Seo-Yeon inside the gate.

Min stood there and sighed. He turned to walk back to his car. Pulling out his phone, he texted Seo-Yeon.

‘Don’t worry about anything. I will fix it. For us and our baby…I love you and I promise to always be by your side..’

~~~~~~

It didn’t matter if she forgave Min or not. Min is going to do whatever Min wants. She could forgive him, sleep with him and he would still go off and sleep with another.

Min held Seo-Yeon close to him. He knew he had screwed up but what was done was done. He didn’t need his wife to walk out of him.

“Rose…I’m sorry. I will fix things with Yoongi. I will call him and Yn over, and I will fix things with them. I will get them back. Just please, please forgive me.” Min pleaded. Seo-Yeon looked up at him with disgust and slapped his hands away from her.

“NO. You should want to fix things with ALL of your sons BECAUSE they are your children! You should want to apologize to Yoongi because he’s your oldest and he’s the one that is going to carry out your legacy! You forced him to give up everything his eyes set on you AND HE DID IT. You shouldn’t want to fix things because I’m upset. You should want to fix things because your kids are your legacy.”

Min was taken back from Seo-Yeon’s outburst.

His sweet Rose was hurt and he was the cause of it all. He couldn’t begin to figure out the words to help her feel better. She was his everything even though it didn’t look like it.

“My Rose…I know that he is my legacy. He is my legacy and I love my son-”

Seo-yeon's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. Her eyes, filled with anger and sorrow, bore into Min's soul. "No!" she exclaimed, her tone unwavering. "You have more than one son, Min! Yoongi isn't your only son. You have Soon-young and Jihoon, and they are just as important as Yoongi is."

Min's face paled as he listened to Seo-yeon's words. He had never considered the impact his actions had on his other sons. He had always been so focused on Yoongi that he had neglected Soon-young and Jihoon.

"You forced Yoongi not to acknowledge his brothers, and he did it." Seo-yeon continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "Now they hate each other. Soon-young hasn't spoken to us in years, and no one even knows where Jihoon is or what he's even into. You knew they looked up to Yoongi. You knew they were closer than closer! They loved each other and did everything together. He was like a second father to them and you destroyed it! And now, we won't ever see any of them again."

Tears streamed down Seo-yeon's face as she spoke. "You've pushed everyone to the edge, Min, and now you are upset they finally jumped off." she cried. "You've torn our family apart."

Min's heart sank as he realized the truth in Seo-yeon's words. He had been so caught up in his own ambition that he had forgotten about the importance of family. He had hurt his sons, and now he didn't know how to fix it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I never meant to hurt you or our sons. I had to do what was right for the family-" he started

“So going over your son’s head and choosing his number two was best for the family? Ruining another relationship. They were fucking childhood friends, Min.” Seo-yeon shook her head, her tears still flowing.

“Now, Rose, Namjoon agreed to the terms that were presented to him. He didn’t give a damn about his friendships either.” Min snapped. Seo-yeon laughed through her cries. “As if anyone could say no to you Min, please humor me with another. It’s just like all those women at your bars, they just couldn’t say no to a man flaunting his power.”

Min sighed again, his eyes softening as he looked at the pain in the love of his life’s eyes. If he could even call her that. He knew he loved Seo-yeon with everything in him, he could never live without her but he loved the power trip he was on.

“Rose, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

"It's too late for apologies, Min. The damage has been done."

Min's heart sank as Seo-yeon pulled away from his outstretched hand. Her words echoed in his mind, "You need to fix this, Min. You need to find a way to bring our family back together. That is all I ask as you are incapable of anything else." The weight of her disappointment was almost unbearable.

Min knew that she was right. He knew that he had made mistakes, that he had hurt her and their children. But he couldn't change the past. He couldn't undo the things he had done. He didn’t want to. As selfish as it sounded. The happy ending everyone was looking for, isn’t going to happen.

Jihoon and Soon-young chose their sides and Yoongi chose his. He didn’t need Jihoon and Soon-young. They didn’t understand the process. Yoongi was next in line as the eldest. That wasn’t going to change.

He looked at Seo-yeon, her eyes filled with pain and anger. He wanted to reach out to her again, to comfort her, but he knew she wouldn't let him. She needed time, and space, to heal.

“We aren’t going to lose our sons. Just give me a chance to fix this. Don’t walk away from me. Please.” Min pleaded once again. Seo-Yeon sighed and shook her head.

“You better.”

~~~

As the days passed, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the realization that you were carrying a tiny life inside of you. The concept of bringing another human being into this world was mind-boggling and filled you with a mix of awe and trepidation. Although you hadn't started to physically show yet, your mind was already preoccupied with the thought of the moment when your pregnancy would become visible. You wondered how you would manage to hide it, especially considering how your sleep schedule had become erratic and your cravings for strange snacks in the middle of the night had increased.

Adding to your emotional rollercoaster was Yoongi, who was also experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. While he was undeniably excited about becoming a father, he couldn't shake the nerves that accompanied such a significant life change. His heart raced with a combination of joy and apprehension, and he found himself torn between eagerness and caution. He tried to remain as he had always been but he should have known better than to think that his oldest friend could call his bluff.

Seokjin could see right through that facade. Although he couldn’t put his finger on what was going on, Seokjin knew something was up and it had everything to do with you. Yoongi was always the most jittery when you were around or when someone would say your name.

“But doesn’t Hyung always act like that with her though? Why would now be any different?” Jungkook questioned. Seokjin shrugged and chuckled. “You may be right but I think it’s a little much not that I didn’t think it wasn’t before but now? It’s unbearable.”

“What’s unbearable?” Yoongi asked as he finally walked into his office, irritation written over his face. Seokjin laughed as he watched him plopped into his seat. “You are boss. What’s going on with you?”

Yoongi sucked his teeth and shook his head as he crossed his right leg over the left, making himself comfortable.

“I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping the best. My sperm donor has been calling me nonstop.” Jungkook chuckled as Seokjin snorted “Namjoon must not be able to live up to the family name” Yoongi teased.

“Why would we ever think that he could?” Seokjin rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I never thought that,” Jungkook said with a small attitude followed by a scoff.

Yoongi chuckled as he logged into his computer, chuckling again at his last opened tabs of baby supplies and advice he had been looking at.

“What’s so funny over there, Yoongi?” Seokjin asked.

Yoongi calmly closed out the tabs and began to look into his emails before answering.

“Oh nothing, just something my blossom had me look up. I forgot all about it.” Yoongi said.

The three men carried out their conversations until the nonstop ringing of Yoongi’s phone got the best of him. He finally answered with an attitude.

“If I don’t answer the first time, why do you continue to-”

“Damn, I didn’t know I piss you off that bad,” Hoseok said with a chuckle. Yoongi immediately tensed up.

“You should know by now that you do. Nothing has changed.” Yoongi said calmly, leaning back into his chair, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. Hoseok laughed.

“Aw, we’re not besties no more?” Hoseok poked.

“What do you want, Hoseok? You didn’t call me without reason.”

Hoseok sighed.

“Well, I was just checking on an old friend. I heard that Namjoon is taking over the family. After years of dick-riding your father, I’d be pissed too.”

Yoongi chuckled bitterly as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please don’t piss me off, Hoseok. How did you get my number?”

“I have my ways. Now, how’s my favorite nurse? Why’d you take her from me? Now who can I go to for special checkups?” Hoseok teased. Yoongi’s expression went dark.

“That is none of your concern. Is this conversation over?”

“Ooo I hit a soft spot. But on a more serious note…I truly am sorry. I would have never guessed that you're father would have done that. Your grandfather is probably kicking shit. Have a nice day Hyung. Hope to see you and my nurse soon.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and hung up. Yoongi rolled his eyes and hung up. He didn't need Hoseok's sympathy, it made him sick to his stomach but the fact that even Hoseok had to apologize for the bull his father pulled spoke volumes. Before he could even say anything, his younger recruits came bursting through the doors of his office. Soobin and Yeonjun came running in after him, worried painted their faces. They were covered in bruises and cuts. The three men instantly stood in worry. Mainly Yoongi.

You were still upstairs and he’d be dammed if anything were to happen to you in this state.

“Hyung, Hyung! We tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.” Yeonjun explained in a hurried manner.

Soobin kept his head down as Yeonjun explained what happened.

Soobin was the more shyer of the two but Yoongi saw something he liked in him. He wasn’t a man many of many words but he knew how to get a job done and take orders. Yeonjun was spunky. He had lots of quarks and a lot to say but he was loyal. The both of them together, got a lot done. Their bickering also reminded Yoongi a lot of his younger brothers. So it was a no-brainer to keep them around.

“Who? What happened to you two?” Seokjin asked. Yeonjun sighed, trying to catch your breath.

“Your father and Namjoon. They are demanding that he speaks to Y/n, alone. I tried to tell him that he would have to speak to you first but he called his men on us. They are in the living room right now. He wouldn’t have stopped if it wasn’t for Y/n.” Yeonjun said.

Yoongi didn’t waste a minute, reaching into his desk, he grabbed his gun and placed it into his belt.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone but since they were already on bs, Yoongi decided to be on it as well.

“You two get to medic and get patched up. I’ll be by to check on you guys later. Jungkook and Seokjin, come with me.” Yoongi said walking to the door of his office.

“Wait Hyung,” Soobin said turning to Yoongi as he past him. “Let me come with you, I can help you. I’m not hurt” Soobin said trying his best to sound strong.

“Bin, you don’t need to push yourself. My father doesn’t get to come into my home demanding anything from you or anyone. Especially not putting his hands on you guys. Let us handle it.” Yoongi said before continuing on to the living room.

“Thank you for talking with us, we really needed to hear from you” Namjoon started but you weren’t ready to hear anything from them.

“Well, I wasn’t going allow you to hurt Yeonjun and Soobin any longer for doing what they were told.” You started.

Min was watching you very intently which made you very uncomfortable. He wouldn’t take his eyes off you. You hated the pressure to talk to Namjoon with him around.

“We’re sorry about that but we need to talk to Yoongi…”

“Then talk to me. Do NOT come into my home threatening my men and interrogating my girlfriend. Blossom, baby, please go back to the room with Jungkook, before I lose any more sanity.” Yoongi said pinching the bridge of his nose.

Instead of fighting him on it, you decided to just follow Jungkook.

Yoongi watched you walk up the stairs before he even addressed Namjoon and his father.

“What the fuck do you two fuck faces want?” Yoongi said calmly before taking a seat on the couch with Seokjin standing behind Yoongi. Min chuckled before sitting next to Namjoon.

“You’re mother misses you Yoongi. She won’t talk to me unless I get you and your brothers to come home.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. He missed his mother too. She was always someone he wanted to protect but it wasn’t his job to protect anyone that was put on this earth to protect him. It had only been a few weeks she couldn’t be that lost without him in his mind.

“And that is my problem because? That seems like something you need to fix. It’s about time she stood up for something.” Yoongi started, “Is that all you wanted to tell me? That my mother missed me? You need the son you always wanted to come give you backup?”

Namjoon sighed “Stop saying that. You are the son, your father has always wanted. You and I both know that”

“You don’t know shit. That’s your problem. You think you know everything about this life when it was my grandfather who taught your father everything he knows until this day. We both know your father would probably still be sucking cocks on the corner to get by” Yoongi spat.

“Yoongi,” Min said in a warning tone as Namjoon started to grit his teeth.

“I know my father has done a lot but do not disrespect him. Let’s remain respectful”

“Kiss. My. Ass.” Yoongi smirked as he leaned over to his coffee table to grab a cigar.

“Listen, son,” Min started “Things aren’t going as planned and I understand that but please…just please, for your mother, come on the family vacation with us. You, Seokjin, Jungkook, and Y/n can stay in your own place while we stay in ours. Your mother really needs you right now…”

Yoongi chuckled and lit his cigar. He despised his soft spot for his mother and he had to admit that he hadn't been the nicest to her as of late. But could she blame him? He knows she never will but he couldn't live with himself if he didn't apologize for his recent behavior.

“You always loved to save face, huh?” He started “For my mother, I’ll come but once we get back home, lose all contact with me. Including her”

He said he'd apologize, but he never said he'd stick around.

[hamsterclaw]

Brat

Bangtan Christmas drabble 6 - read the rest here.

Kim Seokjin is a lot of things to you. The high school heartthrob you never got with, the fuckboi you hooked up with occasionally in college, and now the chaebol boss you didn't sign up to work for. Things he's never been? A man you can rely on.

Pairing: Seokjin x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Chaebol! Seokjin, Vows AU spin-off, smut, angst, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, Vows Yoongi

Prologue

Kim Seokjin admires the line of your arm, visible above the covers, thrown up above your head. Your skin is lovely in the low lighting seeping in under his bedroom door. 

You turn over onto your back, stare up at the ceiling. Seokjin isn’t sure if you know he’s awake too, and then you turn to him. 

The curve of your bare breast shifts delightfully as you turn onto your side, a rounded expanse that Seokjin wants to run his tongue over. He’s spent, he’s just come inside you, but his cock, always eager for you, twitches at the view. 

You sigh, and even in the darkness he can see the sweet curve of your lips. 

‘You’re very good,’ you say, almost begrudging even though he’s made you come three times tonight, made damn sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did. 

Seokjin hums. ‘I’m good to go again if you are,’ he offers. He’s already looking forward to the ache of being hard again, of holding back until you’re crying and senseless underneath him. 

It’s when he loves you best. 

You look at him thoughtfully, as though considering, and then you sit up. The covers slide down off of you, bunching in a heap just high enough to cover the lower curve of your breasts. 

Seokjin’s unabashed about staring at you when you’re together like this.

You roll your eyes. ‘Seokjin.’ Your voice is softer in tone than the usual guardedness you address him with. 

‘Kiss me,’ Seokjin says. The words are out before he quite knew he was going to say them, and they hang in the air. 

He rarely shows vulnerability. He’s Kim Seokjin after all, a scion of the Kim family. He’s wealthy, outrageously good looking, privileged. He gets everything he wants with little effort on his part, and that’s exactly how he likes it.

Except you. 

He’s been trying to get your attention since high school. You sleep with him willingly, but you’ve never once asked for his company without him having approached you.

And here he is, begging for a kiss like some —-

The thought flies out of his head when you lean forward, put your hand on his chest, and kiss him. Your lips are sweet, familiar, and you know how he likes to be kissed. 

You’ve been kissing Seokjin for years, and you’re so good at it he can’t imagine a life without you.

Seokjin breathes in your scent, realises he’s humming quietly as you kiss him. His love for you thrums through his skin everywhere you touch him.

When you pull away, his eyes open.

Your expression is difficult to read. 

‘You’re such an asshole, Seokjin,’ you sigh.

‘I know, but you love it,’ he agrees. ‘Kiss me again.’

You shake your head. ‘I have to go.’

Seokjin says, ‘Stay. I’m good for another round.’

‘I can’t.’ 

‘Worried you’ll fall in love with me?’ he asks, injecting mocking into his tone.

Oh the irony.

‘I’m already in love with you,’ you say. You’re getting up, picking your clothes off the floor. ‘That’s the problem.’

Seokjin’s heart leaps. ‘I’m in love with you too,’ he says, simply. Truthfully.

He thinks he sounded heartfelt, but the history of fucking around between you paints over the present so easily.

You roll your eyes at his declaration. 

‘Convince me next time, Seokjin.’

He slips into the asshole persona he wears all the time around you. 

‘Please,’ he says, feigning nonchalance. ‘I don’t have to convince you of anything. You’ll be back.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree. 

You throw him a smile, affectionate but with a sadness to it that tugs his heart. 

‘See you.’

***

The beginning

‘You’re ridiculous,’ you scoff, fastening your bra.

The man who’s just fucked you breathless doesn’t even blink, stretching languidly on the bed.

He’s so long his feet hang over the edge. He turns over, and despite yourself, you can’t help but admire the expanse of golden skin on show.

You know that his skin is as warm as it looks. 

The sheet covers his ass, just barely. 

You feel like tugging it down so you can admire his bare butt too.

‘I’m ridiculous, but you’re still here,’ Seokjin purrs, turning his head, catching you staring at him.

His smile turns into a smirk. You want to slap it off his face, but you think he’d like that too much.

‘Anyway call me when you want to do this again.’ 

His voice is silken, and between the beautiful tone of it and his gorgeous body and face, you’re sorely tempted to jump back into bed with him.

You pick up your phone and dial. 

He raises an eyebrow at you when his phone rings, but he answers anyway.

‘Y/N?’ he says.

‘Yeah, can we fuck again?’ you ask.

Seokjin says, like the asshole you know he is, ‘Kind of busy right now.’

You glare at him. ‘Busy doing what?’

He laughs, and you marvel at his audacity. 

You hang up and storm out of his apartment.

Your phone rings when you get down to street level, but you don’t answer. 

You’re never going to pander to Kim Seokjin again. This is the last fucking time.

***

When Kim Seokjin was 17, he was the same height he is now, but only half as much of an asshole.

You were the prettier one then, the girl known for her artistic talent. 

He’d approached you one day after school, saying your name as you’d walked past him.

‘Yes,’ you’d answered politely. He was in your class but you ran in different crowds.

‘Can you help me make a card?’ he’d asked. 

‘What kind of card?’ 

‘A greeting card for Valentine’s day,’ he’d explained, walking with you to your next class. 

Sometimes now, when he’s feeling especially dickish, he claims to have kickstarted your entire career as a graphics designer.

You personally think that Seokjin was born to work in his father’s company. He has no discernible talent or skill but he’s always been good at delegating.

Anyway, you’d spent hours creating a beautiful card for him, personalised with the name of one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school.

He’d arrived at your senior prom with her on his arm.

He hadn’t so much as said hello as he’d swanned past you.

You were well into your second year at university before you’d realised he was at the same university as you. 

You were at some house party trying to get away from some drunken jerk when he’d walked right up to you and inserted himself between you and the jerk.

‘Don’t bother,’ he’d said to the jerk in a loud stage whisper. ‘She’s terrible in bed.’

Jerk dispatched, he’d then looked to you for approval.

You blame society for lifting men up who do the bare minimum. 

You’d let him fuck you in one of the bedrooms. 

And then again, a week later, at some other guy’s birthday party.

And then, regrettably, in a skanky club bathroom. 

Your little friends with benefits arrangement with Seokjin had imploded at the end of your final semester of second year. 

You’d been working on your final project with your partner, a quiet but sharply intelligent guy called Yoongi. You and Yoongi had ended up scoring the highest in your class.

You remember standing in the corridor outside the faculty office, admiring your name at the top of the list, when Seokjin had said your name.

Just like that first time, in high school, you’d turned, looked at him, and replied, ‘Yes?’

‘Want to go celebrate?’ he’d asked. 

His idea of a celebration had been to take you to his apartment off campus and to eat you out until you were sobbing his name. 

He’d offered to make you ramen after, which is when you’d discovered he had a roommate. 

Your fiercely intelligent project partner, Yoongi. 

Yoongi had looked as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

He’d given Seokjin a long look that you couldn’t understand, and then apologised to you. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Yoongi had said, politely. ‘Seokjin doesn’t often have guests over.’

‘I can’t imagine why,’ you’d replied. 

‘I just wanted to eat pussy in peace,’ Seokjin had muttered.

‘Don’t be an asshole,’ Yoongi had said, sharply. 

You’d watched in amazement as Seokjin’s mouth had snapped shut.

You’d said something about leaving then, and Yoongi had offered to drive you home, but all you’d wanted to do was get away.

The next time you’d seen Seokjin had been at a wedding of a mutual friend. 

Seokjin had been one of the groomsmen and you’d been a bridesmaid.

He’d smiled at you warmly at the rehearsal dinner, and although you’d been wary at first, he’d looked so handsome in his suit you’d been totally disarmed.

You’d let him pull you into a hug, and his hand had drifted down your back to the top of your ass.

‘Your ass is bigger now,’ he’d murmured.

You’d looked up at him and snapped, ‘Too bad I can’t say the same about your dick.’

He’d frowned. ‘It’s a compliment,’ he’d insisted.

You’d scowled back at him and ignored him for the rest of the dinner.

At the wedding, he’d escorted you down the aisle, quieter than usual. 

He’d been so quiet you’d asked him if he was ok. 

He’d blinked at you and replied that he was hungover and tapped out from fucking the maid of honour after the rehearsal dinner.

You’d dropped his arm as soon as it was acceptable to do so. 

You’d been applying for jobs after your company went out of business, when you’d seen your dream job advertised.

The ad looked like it was tailored for your skillset, the only downside being that it was for a subsidiary of the Kim conglomerate.

Seokjin’s family company. 

You’d run into him after your interview, just as you were leaving.

‘Y/N,’ he’d said, looking genuinely pleased to see you.

You’d been pleased too, before you remembered all of your history together.

‘How’ve you been?’ he’d asked. 

You’d told him about your job interview over drinks, culminating in a night of mind blowing sex.

A few days later you’d been offered the job.

You doubt he’d had anything to do with it, but you’ve never asked.

***

Han Yeri’s the person you work most closely with as part of the design team, and over the past few months she’s become a good friend too.

She eyes you over the screen you’re currently staring at. 

‘Let me guess, you saw him last night,’ she says, tossing a paperclip at you.

You look up at her, surprised.

‘You always look off after you’ve seen him,’ Yeri says, shrugging. ‘Disgruntled.’

Which begs the question, why do you continue to see Seokjin?

You avoid her direct gaze and the unspoken question.

‘I guess I like things that are bad for me,’ you say, morose.

‘Good dick is hard to find,’ Yeri says, ‘and he must be fucking good in bed for you to hate him so much and yet keep coming back to him.’

She’s not wrong.

Seokjin’s incredible in bed.

When you’re with him, really with him, his mouth loses its sardonic twist and softens into smiles and pouts. His height, often used to tower over you when he’s being particularly irritating, becomes thrilling rather than annoying. 

He holds you like he likes you, whispering praise that makes you melt for him, if only for the moments you’re in bed together.

As soon as you get out of bed, though, he makes you want to push him off a cliff.

Yeri’s looking at you, amused. 

There’s a knock on the door behind you, and Yeri straightens up when she sees who it is.

You turn to see Mrs Song, your head of design, accompanied by Kim Seokjin and a man who looks pretty familiar.

The man smiles at you, and as soon as you see the way his face crinkles you recognise him.

It’s Min Yoongi, your project partner from all those years ago.

‘Yoongi!’ you say, greeting him with a big smile.

He says your name, and you notice how beautifully he’s dressed.

‘I don’t get greeted like that,’ Seokjin murmurs so only you can hear.

You ignore him.

Mrs Song clears her throat. 

‘Y/N, you’ll be leading the community engagement project on tech safety, and working closely with teams from Mr Min’s company,’ she informs you.

‘I hope that arrangement is agreeable to you,’ Yoongi says, smiling politely at you. ‘You come highly recommended.’

‘Of course, it’s a wonderful opportunity,’ you say honestly.

‘I’ll have my project lead reach out to you,’ Yoongi promises. ‘What are you doing tonight? I’d love to catch up on what you’ve been doing since uni.’

‘She’s having dinner with me,’ Seokjin interjects smoothly. ‘We’d love for you to join us, Yoongi.’

Yoongi looks between you and Seokjin, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He looks like he’s about to say something but his phone rings, and his slight smile blooms into a full one, lighting up his serious face.

His wedding ring glints as he lifts his phone to answer.

At odds with the soft expression on his face, his tone of voice is neutral, cool, when he answers.

‘Jagiya, let me guess, you’ve hired out our house for filming and we have to move to the pool house for a month.’

His voice lowers, and he laughs softly at the response he gets. 

‘Of course there’s only one bed. I’m having dinner with Seokjin and an old university friend, would you like to join us?’

He listens intently, face softening. ‘Want me to ask Mrs Gye to make you soup? I won’t be late back, ok? Sleep in my bed.’

He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. ‘I’ll see you later, my love.’

Seokjin pouts when Yoongi hangs up. 

‘You didn’t give her a kiss from me,’ he complains. 

You’re oddly endeared, you’ve never seen this side of Seokjin before. He’s cocky, self obsessed, borderline mean at all times, but never — cute.

‘She doesn’t want kisses from you,’ Yoongi replies, raising a brow, unbothered.

Seokjin scoffs at the absurdity of the notion that anyone might not want a kiss from him.

Yoongi’s already nodding to you. ‘I’ll see you later, Y/N, I’m looking forward to it.’ 

He walks out with Mrs Song. 

You glance at Seokjin to find he’s looking back at you. 

‘We didn’t have dinner plans,’ you say. 

‘I’m aware of that,’ he replies. He doesn’t deign to explain. 

He sighs. ‘I’ll have to call Kara and let her know I can’t see her tonight.’ 

You roll your eyes. 

‘Can you wear that black dress?’ asks Seokjin. 

‘Can you go away so I can work in peace?’ you retort. 

Seokjin blinks like you’ve hurt his feelings. 

You’re about to get back to work when he asks, ‘Are you on your period? Your tits look so nice.’ 

‘Get out of my office, Seokjin.’ 

***

The place you’re meeting Yoongi and Seokjin for dinner is close to your office, thankfully, because you’d lost track of time finishing off a project for a charity.

By the time you arrive, both Seokjin and Yoongi are already seated.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ you say apologetically.

Seokjin gets up to pull your chair out for you, and you don’t miss the look Yoongi throws Seokjin. You hadn’t realised that the two were so close, still.

Yoongi spends a lot of time telling you about his wife. You’re not one for society gossip, but you’ve heard a lot about their unconventional relationship.

It seems to be working for Yoongi, softening his edges, blunting the sharpness of the man you once knew.

Seokjin leans back in his chair across from you, busying himself with ogling the bare skin of your cleavage.

You fix him with a stern glare, but unsurprisingly, he’s undeterred.

‘Behave, Seokjin,’ says Yoongi, mildly, raising a brow. 

‘‘You must spend a lot of time keeping Seokjin in line,’ you say, deliberately trying to provoke Seokjin the way he provoked you. 

‘He only seems to misbehave around you,’ Yoongi observes, neutral. ‘He always has.’ 

You’re surprised, but saved from answering by the arrival of your appetizers. 

***

After the meal, Yoongi’s collected by his driver and Seokjin seems reluctant to leave, lingering by your side, until you say, dryly, ‘Is there anything I can do for you, Seokjin?’ 

He brightens. ‘Yes. I have a bottle of Malbec that I opened yesterday and I need help finishing it.’ 

You snort. ‘Why don’t you bring it over to Kara’s?’ 

He mumbles something that doesn’t make any sense. 

‘Speak up,’ you say, nudging him gently. 

‘I’d rather share it with you,’ he says. 

Your first reaction is disbelief. 

Then you realise he’s still looking at you, face completely serious. 

He doesn’t seem to have a punchline at the ready. 

‘Seeing you with Yoongi made me realise how you’ve been a part of my life for a long time,’ he continues. 

Seokjin shrugs, an elegant slight rise of his broad shoulders. 

‘The wine was a gift, and I’d rather share it with someone who means something to me.’ 

For the second time tonight, you’re stunned into silence. 

Then you scoff. ‘You mean someone you like fucking.’ 

Seokjin laughs, looks away. His profile in the moonlight is beautiful, straight nose, firm jawline, and the curve of his neck makes you think of all the times you’ve kissed him. 

If you really think about it, you’ve kissed him a lot. 

‘I like fucking,’ he admits. ‘I make sure you like it too, don’t I?’ 

You can’t deny it. 

‘I’ll share your Malbec with you, Seokjin, and your bed,’ you say, finally. 

His smile is blindingly pretty, but doesn’t make your heart race so much as the way he reaches over and grasps your hand. 

It feels loose, transient. You’ve never held hands before, not out of bed, anyway. 

You’re thinking of something to say when he says, teasing, ‘God, your hands are clammy.’ 

You try to pull away but he grasps you tighter. 

‘A little sweat never stopped me before,’ he remarks. 

‘Shut up, Seokjin.’ 

He laughs again, but he keeps holding your hand, and you don’t try to pull away again. 

***

The elevator to Seokjin’s penthouse is virtually soundless, doors sliding shut with a snick, elevator rising up with the faintest of hums.

He’s standing closer to you than he has to, body turned towards yours, chest brushing your shoulder.

He leans down, tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, affection in his gaze.

Butterflies start fluttering in your stomach.

You share a smile.

The elevator doors open, and he opens his mouth to speak, but you never hear what he has to say, because as soon as he escorts you out of the lift you’re greeted by a stunning woman in a silken dress, a pout on her lips. 

‘Seokjin,’ she says.

The man in question glances at you, and in his expression you read a mixture of chagrin and embarrassment.

‘Kara,’ Seokjin says, nodding politely.

Kara shoots you a look. ‘I thought we had plans, Seokjin.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I thought we had plans too, Seokjin.’

There’s no way you’re making this easy on him.

Seokjin says, ‘I’m sorry I cancelled on you, Kara.’

‘Well it’s fine, you’re here now,’ Kara replies.

You can see the brick red flush travelling up Seokjin’s beautiful neck, although you’re not thinking of kissing him now.

At this rate, he’ll be lucky if you don’t castrate him.

‘Perhaps we’ll share your Malbec another time, Seokjin,’ you say, smooth as silk, extricating yourself from the situation.

He says your name and really it’s your own fault for believing that a man like Kim Seokjin could ever change.

You turn around and exit the way you came.

***

Yeri, sitting on the sidelines beside the batting cage, winces as you swing the baseball bat and knock a ball straight up over the fence.

‘Let me guess,’ she calls. ‘You’re imagining it’s his balls you’re hitting.’

‘Even better,’ you call back, fixing your baseball cap on your head grimly. ‘I’m imagining it’s his face.’

‘He has a pretty face,’ Yeri says, trailing off when you glare at her.

‘No one is arguing that he’s pretty,’ you spit out. ‘That’s why he gets away with it.’

‘With what?’ Yeri asks.

‘Being an irritating, self-centred, cocky, arrogant, asshole!’ 

You miss the next five balls and throw your bat on the ground.

‘Whose idea was it to hold the company sports day here?’ you growl.

‘I’m sure as hell not going to tell you whilst you’re in a murderous rage,’ Yeri says.

She hands you a bottle of water. 

‘Come on, let’s do something else. Something without weapons.’

Which is how you end up in the three-legged race.

You’re waiting for Yeri to finish chatting to friends when you realise that Seokjin’s knelt at your feet.

You feel a tie tightening around your ankle and pull away, but you’re too slow.

‘What the hell, Seokjin,’ you hiss. 

‘I didn’t hear any complaints when I tied you up the other day,’ Seokjin replies. He gets up, brushing off his knees.

You keep forgetting how tall he is.

‘You didn’t complain when I tied you up either,’ you point out.

‘You can do anything you like to me,’ Seokjin replies. ‘Come on, let’s win this race.’

‘It’s not a —‘

You break off when Seokjin wraps an arm around your hip and starts running.

‘I hate losing,’ he tells you.

‘Me too,’ you agree.

Seokjin grins. ‘That’s why I love you.’

Your eyes snap to his, but he’s turned away, focusing on the finish line with a sharp, quiet precision that you have to admit is attractive. 

You wrap your arm around his waist to support yourself and concentrate on keeping up with his longer strides. 

By the time you cross the finish line, he’s bright red and panting, as are you.

‘Did we win?’ 

You look around for confirmation and realise that you’ve come in second.

Seokjin’s kneeling again, loosening the knot, freeing your leg.

You suck in a breath as he rubs his thumb tenderly over the welt in your skin from the tie.

‘Shouldn’t have tied it so tight,’ he says, looking up at you. ‘Does your leg hurt?’

‘Only my pride at coming in second,’ you reply.

He smiles. 

‘Come on, let’s take you home. Unless you want another go at swinging a bat pretending you’re hitting me.’

‘You saw that?’ you ask, grimacing.

‘It’s the same face you make when I tell you no,’ he says, casual.

He smirks at you. ‘You’ve never liked being told no, have you, brat?’

You don’t bother with an answer.

***

Seokjin’s broad back is to you as he soaps up in the shower, his wet hair plastered to his neck.

You’re watching the way his back muscles flex as he moves, when he says, in a knowing voice, ‘Are you staring at me again?’

You scoff. ‘You’re full of it.’

‘And you’re full of me, aren’t you, baby?’ he asks, voice velvety.

He turns around, takes the shower puff out of your hand.

‘Turn around,’ he says. 

You look up at him, deciding whether or not you’re going to do as he says.

‘Stop making that bratty face at me,’ Seokjin says, unphased.

His hand lands on your shoulder, and you let him turn you so you’re facing away from him.

He reaches out, traces the line of your spine with his finger, making you shiver.

‘You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you,’ he muses. 

He washes along your shoulders, down to the dip at the small of your back, runs the shower puff along your ass cheeks.

Then he replaces the puff with his hands, kneading lightly at your shoulders.

He grasps your sides with both hands, thumbs along your spine, fingers splaying under your breasts.

Your breathing quickens as his fingers travel up, cupping the weight of your breasts.

He pulls you closer, snug against his front, so he can hold you flush to him with one arm as he touches your breasts with his other hand.

Your nipples harden with each slow pass of his palm, slick with soap, sensitive from the jets of water streaming down on you.

His cock, nestled between your ass cheeks, grows as he touches you.

‘Look at this body,’ he says, low, into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe. ‘Look how you respond to me.’

You close your eyes and moan as he plucks at your nipples, and his cock swells even more, blunt head now nudging at your entrance.

He tilts his head down, and you turn your face to his for a kiss.

His mouth slants over yours, lips warm, tongue seeking.

You turn to get more of him, and he groans as you plaster yourself to his chest.

His now fully hard cock slots between your thighs, and you tighten them, rubbing yourself against him.

The thick vein along the top of his cock feels so good against your clit.

He leans down so you can get your arms around his neck, takes a step so you’re against the wall, so he can grind against you.

He curls his fingers around his cock, lifting it up so you can rub your clit against the underside of him.

You look down and moan at the view of him against your belly, head glistening with pre-cum.

‘It’s being wasted,’ Seokjin grunts. ‘Here, let me put it inside you.’

He lifts your leg, pulls it against his hip, and enters you.

You’re sore from the sheer number of times you’ve fucked tonight, but your walls still tighten around him, taking him in.

The drag of his cock is such a familiar pleasure you could cry.

He stops when he’s in you all the way, croons your name with an affection that makes your heart feel light.

Like it’s about to take flight in your chest.

Like he means more to you than you care to admit.

‘Seokjin,’ you say, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

‘Stay here with me,’ he says. ‘I’m right here.’

His touch makes you feel simultaneously weighted and like you’re floating.

Each thrust sends you higher, until you’re curled around him so tightly you can barely stand.

‘There you go,’ Seokjin grunts.

He tilts your face to his, kissing you deep, and swallows your cries as you come around his cock.

You’re vaguely aware of him calling your name as he spills inside you, but you’re more aware of how tightly he’s holding you, like he doesn’t want to let you go.

***

Present day

The company New Year’s eve party tends to start off civilised and then rapidly descend into mess and debauchery.

You’re in two minds about whether you want to go to it this year, last year you’d been hit on by Steven from payroll and equally irritatingly, Seokjin had been too busy being fawned over by Sera and Seulgi from finance to do anything but send a few smug smirks your way.

You recap your lipstick, smooth down the sides of your dress, and sigh.

You really ought to go, you’d promised Yeri you’d be there.

By the time you arrive at the venue, the party’s in full swing.

You spot Yeri with her latest crush by the pop-up bar, wave and head off in search of canapes.

You should have left enough time to eat before coming, you realise, looking grimly at the leftovers.

You remember the stash of chocolate you always keep in your desk drawer and head up in the lifts.

There’s a light on in your workspace.

Funny, you don’t remember leaving it on.

You peer around the partition to see Seokjin sitting at your desk.

He looks up guiltily as you tut loudly.

‘There’d better be enough of that chocolate bar left for me,’ you say, pulling up a chair.

Silently, Seokjin hands you the other half of the chocolate.

‘Remember that card you made for me?’ he asks.

‘The one that directly led to you getting laid?’ you ask.

Seokjin grins, crooked.

‘I was going to give it to you.’

You raise an eyebrow, incredulous.

‘Really.’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I chickened out.’

You’re not convinced.

He reaches out, knits his fingers with yours.

There’s something oddly sad about the curve of his mouth.

‘I’m tired of this,’ he says, quietly.

Your heart drops.

‘Tired of us?’ you ask.

His eyes are intent on yours. ‘Tired of not telling the truth.’

‘What’s the truth?’

‘I don’t just want us to fuck around for another ten years.’

If you’re honest with yourself, that’s not what you want either.

You’ve promised yourself you’re not going to pander to Kim Seokjin ever again, but have you ever really given him a chance? 

You’ve always given your body freely to him, but you’ve never really given him access to your heart. 

You’ve been too afraid of getting hurt.

He’s still watching you, so you say, ‘I don’t know if I’m any good at dating, Seokjin.’

‘Me either,’ he says. ‘But there’s no one else I’d rather fuck it up with.’

His fingers are still knitted with yours.

You smile at him, unguarded, for the first time in a long time, and he smiles back.

‘Let’s go,’ he says.

You have no idea where he means to take you, but as you skip down the front steps of the building with him, you feel lighter than ever.

It’s a New Year, and a new start. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | Min Yoongi pt. 2

Fantasy/historical AU, viking Au (attempted lmao), Yoongi x female reader

More angst (you know me by now), Yoongi is still an asshole, things taking a dramatic turn

cw: sexism, mentions of war, Jungkook's humour (I've decided I'm blaming my painful unfunnyness on the character now)

word count: about 3k

Yoongi and you had been married for a month now and you’d kept your promise. You were ice cold, you only talked when spoken to and you hadn’t as much as smiled in Yoongi’s general direction. The servants and everyone else in the castle treated you with respect and subservience. One might even say they seemed scared of you. Only you knew this all to be a farse. At night, when you were alone you cried yourself to sleep. It had been a month and you’d made little progress. Every day felt as empty as the last. Days before the wedding your mother had told you that an arranged marriage without love wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. She said you would find things to love, running the household or eventually your children. But as a princess there was no household to run and how were you supposed to have children if your husband wouldn’t even look at you. You admit that you did want children. If you couldn’t have your husband close to you at least you would have them. They would be something that you could devote yourself to in this empty life. Since your wedding night you and Yoongi hadn’t spoken about the subject again. You assumed he would come knocking on your door every night, asking over and over. This was the way most of the men you’d met and heard of acted when it came to sex, but he left you alone. It seemed that maybe it was up to you to come to his door, but over your dead body were you going to give in to him first.

You got out of bed and got dressed. It was customary for maids to help women of your status with this, but you had quickly made an end to this habit by sending the maids out every morning. Now they didn’t even bother coming in anymore. The typical attire of a princess consisted of a white underdress and a heavy garment over it. Today you chose a blue dress. You leave your room and head to the dining room for breakfast. Yoongi is already sitting at the table. You were infinitely thankful for the rest of his family and the ever-present servants. If they weren’t here every moment you spent in the same room as Yoongi would be spent in agonising silence. You always sat next to your husband, as was customary. His brother sat next to you on your other side. Jungkook was a small dash of light in the dark tunnel that your life had become. He was nice, funny and actually tried to engage in conversation with you. He was the reason your days here weren’t spent in complete loneliness. You had no romantic feelings for him, but still found yourself wishing you’d have been married off to him instead. Marriage with him might have been easier, might have worked better than with Yoongi. “Good morning, your majesty. How did you sleep?”, Jungkook asks in that overly polite tone he often liked to use with you. “Nothing to complain about, my lord”, you replied, equally nasal. “Not really suitable for a prince to be playing games with his future queen, is it?”, sounded a grumpy voice from your right. You had already noticed that Yoongi didn’t appreciate it when you had too much fun with Jungkook. It made you want to do it all the more. At this comment you settle your gaze on the empty chair in front of you, the one where the queen is supposed to sit, and rigidly stare at it. “We are expected to attend next week’s festivities together”, Yoongi poses and somehow his voice sounds softer. He’s bent slightly towards you, but you stay unmoving. “okay”. Yoongi finishes the rest of his meal in silence as you occasionally say something to Jungkook. As Yoongi gets up, he says: “your chambermaid will tell you when it is time to prepare. She’ll give you the clothes you’re expected to wear as well”. You merely nod. 

Yoongi walks through the huge, stone hallways while lost in thought. He got what he wanted, a wife that never let her emotions get the best of her, one that was rational and let him do as he wanted. You were perfect, there was nothing you did wrong, and somehow, he still despised you. Whenever he tried to make contact with you, you rejected him. There was nothing but one-word answers from your side. He felt that you hated him and that made him dislike you. He knew he would never be as charming as Jungkook, but you could at least try to form some sort of friendship with him. The most important reason however, was that he hated the way he felt when he looked at your emotionless face. You looked like all life had been sucked out of you, while at the same time there was a deep silence lying in the still waters of your eyes. It made him feel horrible, it was his fault, he’d never admit it. He knocked on the door of his mother’s bedchambers. “Come in”, he heard her weak voice call. He pushed open the heavy, wooden door and stepped into the room. She was sitting half upright on the bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows. The sunlight coming from the high windows hit her face nicely. He sat down in the chair next to her. “How is married life, son?” “To be honest, I barely talk to her”. The queen looked at him with a questioning look. “I just don’t really like talking to her”. “Why?” Yoongi sighed and stayed quiet for a while. He made a vague gesture with his arm and shrugged: “It’s like she’s not really there. When she always responds as short as possible and only speaks when spoken to. I think I don’t like talking to her because I know she doesn’t like me either”. His mother looks out the window a second, before speaking: “You think she’s cold?” “Yes exactly”. “Yoongi, you’re my son and I love you, but you’re not the warmest person either. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like talking to you either”. “But I try so hard to seek contact with her”. “I think a husband and wife should have more than just contact”, the queen said, smiling. Yoongi was quiet again. “Could it be that you feel guilty?” At this Yoongi got up: “No that’s not it!”, he said raising his voice. “No need to get angry”, she said calmly. “I’m not, I just have things to do”, was the last thing he said before leaving the room.

You’re walking through the gardens of the castle. It was spring now and getting warmer. In this kingdom, warmer still meant well below what others find agreeable, but your people were used to it. People had started dressing lighter and the sun shone more often. You also felt lighter. After months of basically ignoring your husband, you had decided to be more welcoming. Your sister had been right. As a woman all you could do was make the best of it. About a week ago you had started being nicer to Yoongi. You smiled at him during meals and asked him how his day was going. Yesterday you spent the evening together playing a traditional board game. You suggested it. It was nice, you’d laughed together for the first time ever, even if it was still awkward. Things started looking up, maybe you could find happiness here after all. You let your hand brush over the newly growing flowers and enter the halls. Tonight was the night of the festivities and you planned to go to your husband and ask him what was expected of you tonight. You could ask any of your maids, but this was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Yoongi. As you near the corner you hear giggling. Your ears perk, even with Jungkook’s presence everything happening at the castle was a grim affair. Giggling was not something often heard around these parts. “Your majesty, behave”, you hear a female voice tease. Dread fills your stomach. You round the corner and there he is, his hand on her lower back, his nose in her hair as she opens a door. He looks up for a split second. You don’t know if he saw you, you’re still quite far away from them. Even if he did see you, it clearly doesn’t matter to him, because he and the maid enter the room. You hear shushing and more giggling and then the door shuts. You welcome her back with open arms. That all familiar emptiness, or at least that’s what you wish this feeling is. It’s not, it’s pain. It hurts you more to admit it. It’s horrible to realise that you let this man get to you. You promised yourself you would never feel again when it came to him and here you were, seeing blurry from the tears trying to find your way back to your rooms.

Tonight’s festival marked the beginning of spring. Everyone in the city gathered on the main square every year to sing, dance and eat together. It was your favourite thing as a child. Today was the first year you couldn’t enjoy it. You were expected to walk through the crowd at the height of the festival. The king and queen first, although the queen wouldn’t attend due to her illness, then the crown prince and his wife and lastly the second born son. You’re waiting in the carriage. You and Yoongi are seated next to each other, Jungkook sitting opposite of you. The air is tense. You still have no idea if Yoongi noticed you earlier today. You have a feeling that he might have because he’s tenser than usual. So are you. “Alright someone say something before the awkwardness drives me to jump out of the vehicle”, Jungkook says while uncomfortably squirming on his bench. You and Yoongi both remain silent. “By Odin, I bet the mute choachman is better company than you people”. At this you let out a giggle, that in its turn makes Yoongi scoff. Wanting to relieve Jungkook of his suffering you offer: “What do you think the head druid will predict tonight? I hope not another failed harvest like last year”. “Me personally, I’ve been hoping for golden rain ever since I was a kid”, Jungkook jokes with that signature, boyish grin of his. “The druid’s prophecy is no laughing matter Jungkook, Y/N is right. We better hope for a fruitful harvest this year”. “Alright Mr. Cranky, maybe you should jump out of the carriage”, is the last thing Jungkook mumbles before getting kicked in the shin by his older brother. This time you laugh out loud and even if it was just unconsciously, Yoongi is proud that he was finally part of the reason why.

Your carriage arrives after the king’s and when you get out the mass of people outside cheer so loud you almost cover your ears. Almost, because you’re sure that if you did Yoongi would have something to say about it later. You and Yoongi link arms, which is probably the most intimate you’ve been since the wedding. You walk through the path of people to the thrones that have been set up at the head of the square. There are six thrones. The king and Yoongi sit on the two most extravagant ones in the middle. You sit next to Yoongi and Jungkook next to you. Two men are already sitting on the thrones next to the king. These are the head druid and his apprentice. At the end of the evening, they will perform a ritual to predict the fate of the kingdom. During the meal you and Yoongi barely exchange a word. After however, when you’re watching the city’s people dance, Yoongi chuckles at seeing a young man almost trip and light his hair on fire with one of the torches. The man manages to do a sort of twirl and prevent this horrible fate from happening. “That’s Jimin”, Yoongi states: “He’s a bit of an idiot but a good man. He’s the son of the farmer that delivers food to the castle. You might have seen him help his father with the deliveries, the old man is getting sicker and sicker”. You haven’t digested the events of this morning yet and honestly the fact that he’s acting as if nothing happened is pissing you off. “So, you’re just going to act like I didn’t see you grope a maid this morning?”, you ask without looking at him. “Y/N”, Yoongi starts, but he’s interrupted by the booming voice of the king. You hate that man for the way he talks to you and for the way he speaks of his wife as if she’s a burden, but you have to admit you’ll always have respect for the way he can make a crowd of hundreds of people shut their mouths. “People of Sargon, turn your eyes to the fire. The Druid will perform the prophecy!”. His voice could reach the deafest of men. The druid got up. You had never seen him from this close. He was quite a young man; most druids were older than stone. He had pitch black hair filled with silver jewelry. It ran over his broad shoulders like a black waterfall. When he turned to bow to the king you saw his face. In your nineteen years of life, you had never seen a man so handsome. After that, his apprentice got up and turned to do the same. This man had dark eyes and an almost equally handsome face. “I think these druids have a potion to make themselves look better, it’s not fair”, Jungkook whispers. “You look fine Jungkook don’t worry about it”, you smile back. “Don’t ya think I oughtta get to the bottom of this then ey?”, he asks in that accent you’ve gotten so used to. “Yes Jungkook, as prince of the kingdom I think you should make it your first priority to interrogate two druids on why they look so good”, you retort. “Exactly my thoughts”, he grins, but he can barely finish the sentence because Yoongi reaches over you to softly hit his brother upside the head. The druids walk over to the huge fire. The head druid reaches into his pocket and takes out some dried leaves. His apprentice is holding a wooden bowl with a purple looking oil in it. He dips the leaves in the oil and then throws them on the fire. For a moment, nothing happens. The square trembles with suspension. All of a sudden, the flames turn black. In all the years you’ve attended the festival you’ve never seen a fire this dark. It roars and seems to double in size. The head druid is caught off guard and stumbles to the ground. The flames shoot higher than ever, before turning back to their normal size and colour. Everyone is quiet. The man named Jimin, who was laughing seconds before is now looking at the druid with fear in his eyes. That same fear is visible in the eyes of each person in attendance. You feel the heat on your face fade away as the druid whispers: “war”.

After the druid had uttered the word war a shock wave had rolled over the square. The king had ordered the druid and his apprentice to accompany you back to the palace. Once arrived there, he immediately called all his advisors to gather in the main hall. You and Yoongi had followed them in. “What is she doing here?” the king’s voice sounded throughout the entire hall. “She’s my wife and the future queen of this kingdom. She needs to know what’s going on”, Yoongi defended. “Your mother never sat in on things like this”. “I plan on doing things differently”, Yoongi said sternly. The king grumbled but didn’t complain further. “Seokjin, what is the meaning of this”, the king yelled angrily, as if it was the druid’s fault that the fire had behaved this way. “I don’t know your majesty; all I know is that this means war. I don’t know with whom. I don’t know how long, and I don’t know how high our chances of winning are. The rest of the of the evening was spent with old men arguing with even older men about what to do. Eventually they concluded that we would have to wait. After hours the druids had managed to convince the king and his advisors that it was too early to decide anything, but the king decided to start training his men more fervently.

After this evening regular life continued, albeit with a dark cloud hanging above all your heads. Everyone seemed stressed and anxious at all times. You and Yoongi also went back to normal. Normal meant back to how it was before you decided to be nicer. You never brought up the affair with the maid again, and neither did he. That evening at dinner the king showed, once again, why everyone tried to stay as far away from him as possible. “Why is she not pregnant yet?”, the king asked, although a better term would be, demanded. Of course he didn’t ask you. He asked Yoongi and acted as if you weren’t in the room, like always when he said something about you. “I don’t know father. We haven’t had any luck yet”, Yoongi answers stoically, without looking up from his plate”. “I bet it’s her fault. She’s barren and tricked us into marrying her into this family”. “That is not it!” You raise your voice. You’ve barely ever said a word at this table and the king is made of the same thing your nightmares are made of, but you refuse to let him talk about you like this. The room becomes impossibly tense as the king looks at you. It almost felt as if you could feel his stare sting in your eyes. “Father, you will not talk about my wife like this”. Yoongi says calmly. “Oh, really son? So it’s not her fault? Is it yours then?” Yoongi and the king share 5 full seconds of murderous eye contact before the king delivers the final blow. “I should have known. The Gods refuse to bless you with an heir after what you’ve done”. Yoongi slams his fists on the table and gets up so roughly his chair falls to the ground. He stands still for a moment, glaring at his father with murder in his eyes, before storming out of the room. The sound of the door slamming can be felt in your ears long after he leaves.

Later that evening you are sitting in your chambers. You’re reading a novel when there’s a knock on your door. “Come in”, You say curtly. Yoongi steps into the room. He doesn’t peek his head in first like the servants do. He always enters rooms with the confidence of someone who belongs, something you could only dream of. At least now, when you were a child, you could do the same thing. Somewhere along the way you lost the confidence. It happened to every woman in this godforsaken kingdom. “We should talk about producing an heir”, Yoongi offers carefully. “Oh really, now you want to come to me. For months on end, you leave me alone in the cold of the night but when daddy dearest brings it up you listen”, you bite. “I just think he raises a good point. We’ve been married for months and people will start expecting good news soon”. “What is it really? Are you starting to get lonely, does our stone-cold crown prince need someone to warm his bed?” halfway through that sentence you had gotten up and started getting closer to him. He grabs you by the wrist of the hand you had been pointing in his face with: “You will not speak to your future king in that way!”, he spits through his teeth. You refuse to stand down, so you say: “Maybe my future king should go find another servant to produce a successor with, I bet she speaks to you in whatever way you want, doesn’t she?” Yoongi lets go of your hand. For a moment it looks like he’s about to say something, maybe even apologise. But then he disappears from the room without saying a word. You flop down on your bed. Maybe you were too harsh. You have to admit that you did desire a child to raise. It would give you something to do, someone to love in this cold castle. You would also be lying if you said you didn’t desire Yoongi in that way. When you saw him at that council hall a couple of weeks back. When he had argued with his father about protecting the country, when he had argued to stay calm and not make any rash decisions, he seemed in his element. He was good at this, he was good at strategy, he was a born leader. Seeing him like that had shot a feeling through your body like you’d never felt before.

taglist: @lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jjkwifestyle @viankiss

[raplinesmoon]

Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader)

pairing: Hoseok x afab!reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: the mafia, mentions minor character death, cursing, smoking, alcohol use, use of weapons, strained relationships with parents, mental health issues, mentions threats against people Hoseok cares about, brief, non-graphic depiction of blood and injuries, breakups, makeups, a cameo by one Xu Minghao, Hoseok and OC are both very closed off and bad at communicating, Hoseok is lowkey an asshole for most of this, happy-ish ending, smut warnings: making out, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teeny bit of cockwarming

a/n: Hello it is me, profusely apologising because there is no reason this should have taken this long to write, other than I had the worst case of writer's block ever, but I missed Hoseok and I needed to see this through. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I hope you all enjoy &lt;3

listen to the playlist here!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok? 

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people who weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night. 

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon, Yoongi, or their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father. 

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind ran with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of. 

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across from him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

The doors of the elevator screech shut, the sound doing nothing to drown out the pounding of your heart. The soft tiny plops of raindrops echo on the grey floor, falling from Hoseok’s hair as he freezes at the sound of your voice.

You suck in a breath, lungs desperately searching for air, unable to squeak out anything beyond his name. Brows furrowing, you check him for any signs of injury, relieved when you find nothing but his blank eyes blinking back at you. You didn’t have to ask him where he’d been tonight. Both of you already knew.

It infuriates you that even after everything, after all this time, he still manages to have this effect on you. You hate how you can’t take your eyes off the lean curve of his neck, or the tiny mole above his heart-shaped smile.

A chill runs down your spine, despite having never stepped foot out in the rain. 

“Why are you…” your throat feels heavy, struggling to get the words out, to ask him why he ended up here of all places. Especially when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again after the last time.

“Choi’s men were tailing me, I had to get them off my back,” he barks, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he looks into your weary eyes, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on, more gently this time. “If I’d have known, I would never…”

Never what? Never managed to infiltrate the one place you thought you could be free of him, from the past the two of you shared?

Your shoulders slump against the panel, and you realize you’d never pressed the button to go up, too consumed by his presence. Finally managing to muster up the focus, you turn away, hearing the elevator creak to life.

“You’re always sorry. How can I be sure that this time, you mean it?”

Hoseok is annoyed. First of all, this damn elevator is taking nearly too long to go anywhere, and he longs for escape from this metallic box that’s imprisoning you both. Second of all, your words cut at him, sharper than any knife and hotter than any bullet any of Choi’s men could have sent his way tonight.

As far as he remembers, you’d been the one to end it. You’d been the one to walk away from your arrangement.

He doesn’t know why he grits his teeth, biting down to combat the throbbing pain in his temples. You were supposed to be gone, your goodbye delivered in the same way the designer bags and packages piled up at your doorstep - neat, polished, shallow, the ties that had brought you together unraveling before they’d even had a chance to be joined properly. 

Unfinished business. That’s what you were. And Hoseok hated unfinished business. But somehow, he’d never managed to hate you. You’d never given him a fair chance.

. . .

Hoseok shrugged the wife beater over his head with a grunt, immediately turning around to see if he’d woken up his sleeping companion, but she remained unfazed, her soft snores echoing into the pillow. 

He lets his eyes linger over her body appreciatively one last time before he slips on his leather jacket and is out the door. For a brief moment, his hand twitches, yearning to reach into his pocket and call Namjoon for old times’ sake, detailing every last detail of his lascivious romp. The thought is abandoned immediately, Hoseok’s mood souring at the thought of his former best friend. Namjoon had no trouble leaving all of them behind, so why should he even bother? Instead, he reaches into his other pocket, his frenzied emotions finally calming down when he pulls out the lighter. Ducking under an awning, he checks his surroundings for anything suspicious before affirming that the coast is clear, lighting up and taking a drag. The smoke drifts away on the nighttime breeze, and Hoseok follows, roaming the city streets. 

It’s lonely at this hour, not another soul in sight, but Hoseok prefers it that way. Gone are the days when he and his friends would run through the city, stealing cars and honking horns at everyone for fun. Now, shit had hit the fan big time, and there was no room for fun anymore. With Namjoon gone, Hoseok, along with Seokjin and Yoongi, had been sucked into the tangled web of duties he’d left behind, each stepping up in their own way.

Holding a gun in his hands for the first time had been a sobering experience for Hoseok. It rattled him that if he pressed down on the trigger, so many things could change in a split second. He’d heard the higher-ups in the organization rave with glee about how much fun it was putting the city’s other families in line, Namjoon’s father at the head of them. And for a brief moment, Hoseok understood what it was that Namjoon had run away from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off about it though. 

His lips turn up in a smile when he takes in the graffiti on the building in front of him, thinking back to his younger, more rebellious self, before faltering. Someone else was there. 

He wonders if you’re cold, the thin satin gown doing nothing to protect you from the chill, and he wants to laugh at the contrast between his well-worn leather jacket and the jewels dripping from your ears. They must cost a few thousands of dollars, money he’d never had in his pocket. His eyes scan around for someone, anyone – a boyfriend, or a husband maybe. But you’re alone.

Nobility has never been Hoseok’s forte - Namjoon and Seokjin had always been the womanizers, and poor Yoongi had been in love with the same woman for over ten years, but he clears his throat, prompting you to turn around, eyes widening at your company.

If he catches a glimpse of unshed tears in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Kids these days, huh? They’ll do anything to cause a little chaos,” he quips, a sinking feeling building up in his chest when you don’t respond.

“Ma��am,” he grapples with whether he should ask for your name, “do you need me to walk you home?”

“Did you read it?” your voice is quieter than he expects, yet he draws closer, wanting to hear more of it. Coming to stand beside you, he takes in the captivating features of your face, made all the more alluring by the shadows cast across them.

Following your gaze, he looks at the mural on the wall. A giant wave, Hosukai-style, crashing into a set of words. “After me, the flood,” your voice whispers, and Hoseok feels a rush of emotion at the way you say it, his mind circling back to everything that had happened in the past few years - the dark cloud that had settled over all their lives with Namjoon leaving, the city’s underbelly coming to life, crawling out of the woodwork. 

“I have to go,” you interrupt him, heels clacking against the pavement, before Hoseok’s gaze turns sharply on you, the desperation in his eyes begging you not to go. Come sunrise, he’d be forced back into the same grim routine, but right now, it felt nice, standing here with you.

“Will you be okay getting home alone?” he asks, grappling for any chance to prolong the moment.

“My driver is around the corner,” you tell him. “Thank you for keeping me company, –”

“Hoseok,” he fills you in, his chest aching with the desire to ask for your own name, but you’re already gone.

. . .

Hoseok wakes up the next morning to the rattling of the blinds, the sunlight causing him to immediately shut his eyes and bite back a groan. There was only one person who’d have access to his apartment at this hour – and exploit it.

“Eomma?” he rasps, burrowing his head further into the sheets. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget Hoseok-ah? Hurry up and get dressed, everyone’s waiting! You have five minutes.”

Forget what? His mother’s fussing continues in the background as she leafs through his closet, no doubt trying to find him a suitable outfit amongst the many pairs of ripped denim and oversized shirts he prefers on a day-to-day basis. Hoseok wracks his brain, trying to remember what could have called for such an occasion, but comes up empty, his mother’s stern warning echoing in his ears. 

As per usual, if it had anything to do with the organization, he’d do best not to ignore it.

Slipping on the stark white shirt and tie she’d chosen, the fabric itches against his skin, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the mess into something somewhat presentable. He’s sure there was little to be done about the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of tobacco emanating from him, and hoped that whoever these important guests were, they wouldn’t catch onto his late-night activities from the previous day. 

Stumbling into the hallway, Hoseok hears the faint chatter of voices, his father’s bellowing laugh a stark contrast to his mother’s delicate titter, and is immediately confused. Conversations with the bosses of the organization weren’t usually so… enthusiastic. 

When he rounds the corner to his living room, he stops in his tracks. Sitting next to his mother and father is another older couple he doesn’t recognize. They reek of wealth that his family could never even imagine, he notes, the polished Italian leather of the man’s shoes and the older woman’s massive diamond ring speaking for themselves. But he could honestly care less. Because to their left side, sitting on his favorite armchair, is you. The woman from in front of the mural. You’re clad in a simple sundress today, but you still manage to be nothing short of breathtaking against the backdrop of the sun’s rays. 

“There you are, Hoseok!” his father beckons him over jovially, but Hoseok remains frozen. “This is Mr. and Mrs. ____, and their daughter ____.”

Hoseok’s turns his gaze to his father, watching him recoil at the sharpness present in his son’s expression, a thousand unspoken questions lingering on his lips as to why these people were here, what purpose they had in his home, his space.

“We’d like for the two of you to get to know each other,” your mother speaks up with a smile so wide, he’d assume it’d been plastered onto her face. 

“Why?” he finally manages to whistle out in between grit teeth, looking only at you. But you don’t meet his eyes. Instead, your gaze is looking out his window, at the city beyond, the same loneliness from last night ever present in your eyes. 

“Because,” his father continues uncertainly, fidgeting the glass of wine in his hands, “___ is going to be your wife.”

You can feel Hoseok’s eyes glaring into the back of your head as he follows you wordlessly down the hallway. Moments pass before you come to a stop outside your apartment, and you hear the faint stumble of Hoseok’s boots as he stops unexpectedly in his tracks. His warm breath fans against the back of your neck for a brief moment before he straightens with a grunt, and you resist the urge to shiver, despite having never stepped foot into the rain.

The lock clicks, and he follows you inside. You can hear him rustle behind you as he struggles to remove his coat and boots, but you look straight ahead, hoping the darkness can hide how your fingernails are digging into your palm. 

“I won’t stay long,” his low voice breaks the silence. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Please,” you manage to muster up your most polite sounding voice. “Have a seat. I can get you something, maybe some water, o-or a cup of tea…” 

You want to curse your voice for wobbling in his presence, hating the way he still affected you even after all this time apart. Your brain bades you to walk away instinctively, and so you pad into the kitchen, wanting to put distance in between you and Hoseok so he can’t hear the rapid fluttering of your heart. The noise pounds in your ears as you rattle around in the cupboards, cursing when you realized you’d forgotten to turn on the light. It seemed embarrassing to do it now, and so you reach aimlessly, looking for some coffee. 

The pot bubbles, and in mere moments, you’re clutching two steaming mugs, finding your way back onto the living room. Hoseok has settled himself onto your couch, taking extra care not to rest his soaked shirt against the back of it, instead hunched over and dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingertips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me…” he gestures to it, twirling it around in his fingers. “I know you don’t like the smell.”

You’re unsure whether to be touched that he remembers, or uneasy at the way he says it so monotonously, as if you’d still judge him for something so mundane when so much else had happened in between you.

“Here,” you set down the coffee in front of him, taking the seat directly opposite. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

The warm liquid burns your throat as you rush to take a sip, and you nearly sputter trying to keep it down. Over the rim of your cup, Hoseok remains frozen, his own mug steaming and untouched. His dark eyes bore into you, studying your face, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn.

If he notices the bags under your eyes, he says nothing. The same way he says nothing when he probably remarks at your simplistic clothes and lack of jewelry, a far cry from the expensive dresses and diamonds he’d been used to seeing you in. 

“Were you about to go out?” Hoseok asks, and the question catches you off guard. “I’m sorry if I stopped you from going somewhere.”

“Or meeting someone.” The last part is a hushed whisper, mumbled underneath his breath, in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch him. But you had. You wish he’d stop apologizing. It makes you feel guilty when you shouldn’t be, like he’s trying and you’re shutting him out, when in reality it’d been the exact opposite. 

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes to life, a text message lighting up the screen. You freeze when you see who it’s from, quickly snatching your phone and cursing in your head. Minghao was a friend of a friend, the two of you running into each other a number of times over the past couple of weeks, before he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you for a coffee date.

You’d told him you’d think about it, and now here he was, lighting up your phone to ask you about your decision. Of course, how was he supposed to know that the reason you’d been holding off was the very man sitting in your living room, whom you’d almost married, and still couldn’t seem to let go?

Clutching your phone to your chest, you turn it to silent, setting it down beside you. Hoseok’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his lips turned up in a faint smirk, as though he’s remembering his statement from earlier. 

You take another sip, willing the caffeine to give you some strength, to rein in the bare threads of this conversation back to your control.

“How are your parents?”

Hoseok is taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected it from you. There had once been a time where you’d been bright eyed and eager, wanting to know everything about him, bombarding him with question after question every time you were together. And yet somehow, he’d never managed to give you the time of day, always giving brusque answers and half-hearted excuses that there were other things that needed his attention.

He knew it was just a poor attempt to fill the silence, but his heart lurches at the thought that there’s so much you don’t know anymore. Namjoon coming back, Seokjin running away, the life that Hoseok knew being turned inside out. What’s more unsettling is the fact that he yearns to tell you, despite knowing he’d lost the privilege to do so.

“They’re okay. Doing well,” he lies through his teeth. “We all are. How about yours?”

He thinks it’s an innocent question, but he watches your fingers blanch as you grip the mug so tight, he thinks it’ll break. 

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper out softly, and his heart stops. “I haven’t spoken to them since– you know.”

Hoseok feels dizzy at your confession. What do you mean you hadn’t spoken to them? Suddenly, it all begins to make sense in his head. The fact that he hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, because he hadn’t expected you to live alone, with your austere clothes and hair tossed up into a messy bun. It was so different from the woman he’d known, the dazzling one he’d written off as hollow in his mind, the one he was incapable of forming a real relationship with. 

And here you were, living the exact opposite of the cozy life he’d painted for you in his head. He thought you’d be fine, that you’d move on, your family offering you up to the next prospect that came along. And you’d accept them, like you’d accepted Hoseok with all his flaws, not caring that he could barely give you what you deserved.

His thoughts flash back to the last conversation you had, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed.

I can’t live like this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he watches annoyance flash across your face. He knows he’s done nothing but apologize this entire time, but it probably isn’t even worth a damn. No consolation would ever make up for losing someone that meant everything to you. He’d known that when Namjoon had run away.

“Hey,” you set the mug down, leaning over the table. For a brief second, he sees your hand reach out blindly in the darkness, almost as if it’s searching for his, but you withdraw just as quickly. “I’m okay. I really am.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending,” Hoseok blurts out, and he watches you jolt in surprise. “Why do you always have to pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing affects you? Is it the society training? Or do you really just not care about what happened at all?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over Hoseok’s words in your head.

“The same way you can pull the trigger on someone and be able to lie in your bed and fall asleep,” you seethe, a venom that Hoseok has never heard in your voice. 

“I knew who you were Hoseok. I knew what kind of man I was marrying. You think it didn’t affect me? You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits because of what you did, what other people could do to you?” 

You rise up, palms quivering as you open and close them, strolling over to the window. Hoseok watches your shoulders shake before they slump completely, and he knows that you’re crying.

He’s up before he can stop himself, feet ready to walk out the door. He’d fucked up the moment he’d stayed in the elevator with you, all the ugly feelings between you coming to a head, ones he’d struggled so hard to keep buried. 

But his body betrays him, instead leading him right behind. He pauses until he’s just close enough that if he reaches out, he’d be able to grab your arm and turn you around to face him. But he waits instead.

“I did what I did because I realized I was chasing a ghost,” you huff out, resignation in your tone. “I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted you to care so badly. But you didn’t. I don’t want any part in whatever you’re caught up in, Hoseok. Whatever has a hold on you so badly that you couldn’t even look beyond your cynicism to give me a chance.”

“I just want to survive.”

Hoseok grips the bathroom sink, knuckles turning white. His cell phone clatters on the counter beside him and he has to keep from heaving. This whole thing was a mess – no one had counted on Namjoon coming back. Even less so on him refusing to take up his father’s mantle. And so the threats continued – the words from the anonymous phone call still ringing in his ear, your name echoing across the line.

While he didn’t know what he felt for you, or whether he could even marry you, Hoseok knew you were an innocent person. You didn’t deserve to be the victim of your parents’ greed, them using you to bury their secrets in the hands of even more powerful people. You deserved gardens full of flowers and meals together every night, not coming home to an empty bed. Or a fiancé who couldn’t spare a moment during the entire night to even dance with you. 

He’s so lost in his brooding that he doesn’t hear the door the click behind him, the soft tapping of heels on the floor coming up behind him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask him gently, and he feels the bristle of your hand on his jacket. 

So much was wrong. You couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, straightening up to adjust his jacket. “I’ll need to leave soon. I can have the car stay behind for you.”

The farther away he got from you, the better. That way no one could hurt you – or him. 

“I can go with you,” your voice echoes from beside him, “I was getting tired anyway.”

Hoseok turns to face you, watching you recoil at the red rimming his eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Before he knows it, your face is drawing in closer, and he can smell the rosé on your breath. Your lips barely ghost against his, and he has to fight every nerve ending not to grab your hand and run away from here, somewhere where he wasn’t Hoseok, and you weren’t ____, and you didn’t need protecting from everything around you – most of all him. 

His paralysis slowly melts away and he’s pushing you away without realizing, the door to the bathroom suddenly materialising in front of him. 

“Like I said,” he doesn’t bother turning around, knowing his heart would twist at whatever expression he found on your face. “I’ll have the car stay behind for you.”

Before you can wrestle with the weight of your confession to Hoseok, a hand is clamping over your mouth. Caught in a silent scream, you turn your eyes to see Hoseok lifting a finger to his lips, willing you to stay quiet. And that’s when you hear them. The voices.

Raucous laughter echoes through the hallway, tinged with malevolent glee. The air around you feels cold, a breeze at the base of your spine, and you instinctively curl into Hoseok.

“Come out, come out,” the disembodied voice cackles from the hallway. “Are you hiding from us, Jung? Found some poor rich girl to use as a body shield?”

Your hand seizes Hoseok’s wrist clamped against your mouth, nails digging into his arm, the fear taking over. Slowly, his wrist lowers, slipping to take your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?” 

He’s so quiet you almost can’t tell he’s said it at all. You nod reluctantly, eyes continuing to dart to the door.

“Go hide underneath the bed. Lock the door. I may or may not come back but please stay inside. Don’t come looking for me.”

His voice is clipped, the faint hint of nerves colouring his tone, but his eyes are filled with a resoluteness you know all too well. You’d spent the better part of over a year staring into them, hoping they’d look back. And now they finally were. 

“Be safe.” Your voice comes out louder than you’d intended, but there’s no anger in Hoseok’s expression. All he does is nod, and then you turn, stumbling down the hallway to your room, never bothering to look back until you hear the door click behind you.

. . .

Hoseok’s heart pounds in his chest, a strange pain settling in his ribs – he never expected to be in this position again. His sense of duty had always been his biggest downfall – and while you were no longer his, he owed it to you to make sure he gave you exactly what you’d asked him for – the chance to survive, to come out on the other side of this. That’s why he had to settle this once and for all.

Choi’s cronies linger at the other end of the hallway, too dumb to notice Hoseok slipping out of your door, reaching for the revolver he’d kept hidden in his coat pocket. A chill settles in his bones as he runs his fingers over the metal.

The brief events of the night play over in his head – the rain pounding against the pavement, the ding of the elevator, the now-cold mug of coffee that sat on your coffee table. And then there was you – your eyes, the softness of your skin, the faint smell of gardenias that lingered on your skin.

And it hits Hoseok that while he was very much alive – he’d been in mourning. Mourning for the friendships he’d never be able to recover, for the youth that had been taken away from him. But most of all, Hoseok’s heart mourns for the relationship he’d never gotten to have with you. The glass walls he’d so carefully put up around himself shatter, making way for a torrential deluge. 

After me, the flood.

He remembers the first night you’d met, how he’d been drawn to you without even trying, the portrait of the wave. He remembers the months that passed afterwards, where you drew closer to him and he drew back. He remembers the regret he’d buried deep in his heart for not kissing you back the night of the gala, not knowing he’d never get another chance.

But most of all, he remembers the somber expression on your face the day you’d ended things, pressing the engagement ring back into his hands, the very same ring that was still sitting in the first drawer of his nightstand. 

Choi’s men finally perk up, noticing Hoseok’s solitary figure lingering at the end of the hallway, smirks twisting on their grotesque faces. A shot rings out, and Hoseok thinks of you now, hiding under your bed. And then he charges.

The alleyway was grim at this time of day, the sunlight barely able to reach beyond the towering skyscrapers, the clouds casting everything in grey. Rain fell softly from the sky. You clutch your coat tighter around you, unable to stop looking at the mural of the wave.

So much had changed since you’d first seen it. And yet it was still the same.

You know Hoseok from the thud of his boots against the pavement, coming up beside you. His head turns, an eyebrow raised in your direction, wondering why you’d asked to meet him here of all places.

You avoid his eyes, fingers clasping around the blue velvet in your pocket. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees the box, confusion marring his handsome face. 

A knot forms in your chest when you watch the confusion turn into alarm as you press the box into his hand, the dazzling diamond no longer on your left finger.

“I don’t understand,” he grunts, breath visible in the cold air.

“We can’t do this anymore, Hoseok. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

“Was it something that I did?” he questions you, desperation creeping into his voice.

You scoff, watching him flinch, pain on his face. 

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s what you haven’t ever been able to do. It’s been an entire year, Hoseok. I’ve watched you answer every phone call that comes your way, disappear into the night to do god knows what, run whenever your friends call. And in that entire time, have you ever thought about us? About the future?”

You take a deep breath.

“I know that neither of us chose this, but Hoseok, we were engaged. Did that mean anything to you?”

He squares his shoulders, fists clenching at his sides, a tick in his jaw.

“You don’t understand. I-I’m not good for you, ___. I dont think I’ll ever be. There’s too much that’s happened, too much I’ve lost. But please don’t walk away like this.

“I thought it’d be enough,” you whisper, and Hoseok freezes. You didn’t know he’d heard you.

“I thought me loving you would be enough for the both of us. But it’s not. I need more. I need someone who I know will come home to me every night. But what I need even more than that, is for you to let me walk away so I can breathe again. So I can be myself.”

Your eyes are just as sad as the first time Hoseok saw them, and all of a sudden, you remark at how stagnant the two of you had been together.

“Hoseok please, I know I can’t ask you to do it if you love me, but if you’ve ever cared about me, even the tiniest bit, let me go.”

You watch him open the box, gazing at the ring. Moments pass by before he slips it into his own pocket, his eyes flitting to the wave as he gives you a small smile, the most genuine one you’d ever seen.

“Goodbye, ____. 

Hoseok’s fist rattles against the door, before he slumps over, heaving for breath. The pain in his side licks at him like the flames of a fire. He hisses when he presses a hand to it, eyes widening when it comes away covered in blood. Those fuckers had managed to get him. Shit.

His eyes are about to close when the door springs open, the wide eyes of Kim Namjoon taking in his battered figure. 

“Hobi, what the fuck?” Namjoon seethes, offering him an arm and pulling him inside. Slinging an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, the two of them hobble to Namjoon’s kitchen, the burning in Hoseok chest causing him to let out a loud groan.

“Hyun is sleeping,” Namjoon chastises him, and Hoseok bites his tongue, remembering that this Namjoon was dealing with a pregnant wife and a toddler. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“I made a mistake, Namjoon. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have tonight. I fucked up, but I-I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Hoseok feels himself shake as the words pour out, the ruined mission the furthest thing from his mind. He tells Namjoon everything – from being tailed to running into to you, to how he’d left, not knowing whether you were okay or not. 

“That was a dick move,” Namjoon huffs.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looks up at his best friend, who looks more pissed off than he’s ever seen him. 

“I said what I said. That was a dick move, just leaving her like that.”

“I don’t need a lecture on running away from you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon wipes away the blood on his side, and Hoseok bites his tongue at the sting of the alcohol, before slumping into the chair next to him. 

“You’re an idiot, Jung Hoseok. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel things for so long, and I know it’s because you think that everyone around you is going to leave, or that you’ll lose them. But I’m telling you right now, that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”

“You have to let yourself just be, Hobi. Just let go. Enjoy things - life, your friends, your family. Be open to the possibility of love. It’s the only thing that can keep the darkness away.”

Namjoon’s voice shrinks when he says the last line, and Hoseok knows his friend is far off in his own mind, battling the demons that plague him. 

“I think I’m too far gone for that, Namjoon,” Hoseok tells him. “Maybe some of us weren’t meant for happiness. Maybe some of us needed to make sacrifices so others could live the lives they wanted to.”

“That’s a damn lie if I’ve ever heard one, Hoseok.” Namjoon striaghtens, rising up from the chair. “I know you’ve been angry at me for leaving, for keeping you all in the dark. I know how much it hurts to not be able to share your happiest moments with people you love. And I’m sorry for that. But you have a chance to change things.”

“Listen Hobi,” Namjoon crouches down to his level. “I want to be the best man at your wedding – I want to be there for you in all the ways you didn’t get to do for me. This is my way of making amends, but you need to fix whatever this is between you two.”

“What makes you think she’ll even take me back? I was awful to her… god, she didn’t deserve that Joon. She deserves so much better.”

“Do you love her?” Namjoon asks him, and Hoseok is shocked when he doesn’t even have to pause to think about it. He wants to start over, to be by your side, to have a chance to love you properly this time around. 

“Second chances come when you least expect them, Hobi. Think about what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out into the rain last night. And don’t let it happen again.”

The knock at the door startles you, your phone clattering to the floor. Swearing under your breath, you pick it up, perusing the message from Minghao once again. He was nothing if not persistent. And Hoseok was never coming back. You’d convinced yourself of that.

It’d been over a week since he’d left you that night - the promise to keep you safe burrowing its way into your heart. And then radio silence. You’d heard the gunshots in the hallway, but when you’d opened the door, no one was there, the only evidence of the showdown being the faint splatters of blood on the wall. When the police had questioned you, you’d left Hoseok’s name out of it – those words echoing in your mind, instilling a false sense of loyalty in you.

Why did you think things would be different this time around? It’d been foolish to assume that Hoseok thought anything more of you. But you couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the gentle touches, the way he’d promise he would never let anything happen to you, and you fell for him all over again.

Throwing your phone aside, you grumble as you make your way to the door, making a mental note to respond to Minghao later, agreeing to the date.

Swinging it open, you freeze when you see who’s on the other end. Hoseok, looking worse for wear with bruises on his jaw and a nasty cut on his forehead, nervously twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded - unable to speak as you take him in, his dark, inquisitive eyes gazing into your shocked ones. 

“You better let me in, ____,” he says with a grin. “Or the neighbours are gonna think I did something really bad this time.”

Wordlessly, you open the door to allow him to enter, watching as he slips off his coat and shoes, an exact repeat of a week ago. You watch him, trying to open your mouth and say something, ask him anything, but nothing will come out. 

“These are for you,” Hoseok nearly shoves the bouquet in your hands and you watch him rub at the back of his neck, his ears reddening.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” you finally manage to ask him, setting the flowers on your coffee table. Your concern wins out over your confusion once again, but the whole scene is odd – him, smiling in your apartment, the late afternoon sunlight casting half his angular face in a mysterious shadow.

“Just a little nick to my side,” he lifts his shirt up, your eyes widening at the bandages on his abdomen. “But actually, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day I let you walk away, and I can’t live with it anymore.”

You take a step back, unable to breathe. The space in between you seems to have lessened considerably, and you can make out every delicate detail of his face. Dizzy, you put some distance in between the two of you.

“Everything hurts, ___. It hurts because I look at you and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, knowing how much pain I put you through. It hurts knowing that you’re so kind, so understanding of someone like me, when I don’t deserve it at all. And what hurts the most is knowing that I love you, and I’ve been lying to myself this entire time because I’m afraid you’ll leave just like everyone else, but I lost you anyway.”

Hoseok’s voice cracks on the last words, and you watch him sway, gripping onto your counter for support.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” you finally manage to look him in the eyes, tears spilling out of your own. “I thought I was crazy, because ever since you walked out that door a week ago, all I’ve been doing is waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here,” Hoseok closes the gap between you, arms wrapping around you. You breathe in the faint scent of tobacco on his leather jacket, mixed with the spice of his cologne. “And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

You grip his lapels, before your arms come up to wrap around his neck, running your fingers through the soft hair at his nape. 

“What if it’s not different this time around?” you whisper into his neck. “What if nothing changes?”

“What if it is?” his low voice rumbles into your hair. “Can you trust me, ___? One more time?”

You take his hand in yours, bringing it to your chest, his lips parting in awe at the fluttering of your heartbeat.

“Only you can do that to me,” you say softly, a smile gracing your lips. 

Before you know it, Hoseok’s lips are crashing against yours, and you can feel him release a euphoric sigh, groaning into your mouth. It’s slow, tentative in the way he waits for your body to respond, never pushing more than you’re comfortable with. Eventually, even the small bit of distance in between you becomes too much to bear. You card your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in your chest.

It feels too short when he pulls away all too soon, lips tinged with red and eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the night of the gala,” he rasps, warmth blooming in your chest at his confession. “You were—, I mean you still are, breathtaking.”

You can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand, watching his entire body soften at your touch. 

“Come with me,” you ask him, eyes turning down the hallway to your bedroom. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. 

Hoseok tries to ignore the rapid rushing of blood in his ears, his focus narrowing to your head resting on his shoulder, the two of you looking out at the city together for the last little while from your bed. It’s somewhere he never imagined he’d be, but he’d felt the ice around his heart melt the moment he’d finally kissed you for real, warmth filling his veins.

And despite relishing in your presence, it was spiking to a fever pitch. He’d tasted you, and now he couldn’t get enough. All it takes is a brief moment for you to look in his eyes, and he’s pulling you into him once again, mouth hard on yours, unable to resist the desire for more, more, more. 

You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He uses one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to hike your dress up to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in. 

He kisses you again, his lean body hovering over yours, hands roaming everywhere – your arms, up your neck, and on your thighs. He inches higher and higher, fingers ghosting over your core.

“Hoseok please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You part your thighs for him, and he wastes no time, pulling your soaked underwear to the side and dipping his fingers into your arousal. He presses another hard kiss to your lips, catching your moans in his mouth while he works you open, leaving you trembling underneath him.

You whine when his fingers leave you, clenching around nothing, coming up to cup your exposed breasts in both hands while he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans against your chest. “How are you so perfect? How are you even mine?”

His voice breaks, and you mouth at his jaw, mirroring his actions until purple bruises begin to bloom in the spots where your lips previously were.

“I’m yours,” you nip at his bottom lip. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Believe me,” he smirks. “I like it. I like it a lot actually. Let me show you how much.”

With adept skill, he manages to remove your panties in seconds, throwing them to the wall. The clinking sound of his belt drives you mad, and your hands join his, the two of you awkwardly fumbling to remove it.

You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes.

“Some other time, love,” he whispers, voice lowering a few octaves. “Right now, I need to feel you.”

You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Move, please,” you beg him, and he obliges, hiking one leg up over his shoulder to open you up for him, the wet sounds of your pussy accompanying the fluid snap of his hips. His knuckles grip the headboard, turning white while he pins you underneath him, unable to take his eyes off the way your tits bounce with every thrust. His hands grip at your ass, every jerk of his hips an excuse to hold you tighter, until he can see your skin redden underneath his fingers. 

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the sparks underneath your skin, lighting you up like a livewire.

“Come for me,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Hoseok speeds up his thrusts to join you, roaring when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths. 

Moments pass like this, him remaining inside you while he burrows into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your damp skin. Eventually he pulls out of you with a soft whine, brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair at your temple, before rising. 

You trap his wrist in your hand, panic settling in. He watches your expression change and immediately stiffens, cradling you against his chest.

“That expression you always talk about, the flood. I-, I looked it up. And I know the life I have isn’t ideal, and maybe things will only get harder, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life not caring anymore.”

“Do you know what I was thinking of that night, looking at the wave?” you mumble in his ear, and he gazes at you inquisitively, watching the way your skin glows under the moonlight as you take a breath.

“My whole life, people have forced me into this box, this image, of someone they want me to be – the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. It’s been suffocating. All I wanted that night was a taste of freedom - that feeling of happiness you have on a beach, feeling the waves crash at your feet. And then I saw you.”

Hoseok leaves a kiss in your hair, his fingers intertwining with yours. Briefly, his heart drops at the absence of the ring he’d given you on your finger, but he knows when you’re ready, it’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting for you. And the two of you will step into the flood, together. 

a/n pt. 2:  Okay long ending note here. First, please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) Second, I don't normally say this but the writer's block really got me good with this one, so I apologize if it's not up to my usual standards (pls be kind tho). And third and last, this fic definitely would never exist if it weren't for the wonderful Guarded series by Ana (@xjoonchildx). I think about it more than is necessary and this is definitely my tribute to the impeccable Captain Jung.

As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi &lt;3

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be removed): @jalexad @secfir @hobi-love @back2bluesidex @temptingempress

[jwirecs]

Recommended BTS Fics of January 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of january! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Break The Ice ( pt2 ) || @yoonivy​​🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ There are three rules to become an official Puck Bunny: 1. You have to love hockey. No exceptions. 2. You have to had slept with at least three hockey players. Starters, no benchwarmers. 3. And most importantly, have fun! (oh child that ending. oh sweet mother lord.)

Perhaps Love || @mangowillow​💕💔✅

↳ for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

Cupid’s On Holiday || @persphonesorchid​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ You don’t get it, you’re a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re smart, you’re tidy, hell you’d give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend’s competitive archery teammate is telling you he’s Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You’re not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove ‘em.

University Superstar ( pt2 ) || @jungkookstatts​🔞💕💔✅

↳ Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system… 

Are You Ready, Angel? || @gukkieslover​​🔞💕💔🔄

↳ jus your first time with sweetheart boyfriend koo, some plot there and could maybe be a series if people like it enough?? (link is to their masterlist!)

In Plain Sight || @bangtanstanst​💕✅

↳ A secret relationship isn’t exactly easy to hide, especially not when you work together – and when you make the most of some alone time during a grocery run, you get a little careless. A little too much so, perhaps.

Jealousy || @ryulvrsblog​ 💕✅

↳ Jungkook brings his pretty girlfriend to a meet up with his old college friends who oc has never met before, normally oc would shy away from social interactions like these, but when she sees a girl taking interest in her boyfriend, oc decides to take matters into her own hands. oc gets jealous and kisses jk twice, jk is in shock at his girlfriends bold actions, jk gets a little possesive too

Jealousy 101 || @bluewhale52​​🔞✅

↳ Yoongi posts his Hip Hop 101 video on BangtanTV and shakes his booty for all Army to see. Unfortunately he forgets that ONE person gets dibs on first viewing.

Letting Off Steam || @wnderkoo​ 💕✅

↳ a bad day on track has jungkook storming off and disappearing. where else would one find him but in the comforting arms of his loving girlfriend?

Clingy || @bonny-kookoo​​🔞💔🔄

↳ In which Jungkook is a professional hybrid heat-partner who just wants to do his job (ngl i might have to read this one again because i forgot how it went)

Human || @angelicfangz​​🔞💕💔🔄

↳ humanity is evil it can be something so twisted but it has its honey gems. It has people so sweet that your teeth hurt. You had those people and you messed it up resulting in you losing them but what happens when you find yourself in a hybrid sanctuary by the same people who made you feel what you've always wanted, human.

Wait, Little Rabbit || @bangtanflirt​​ 🔞💕💔🔄💯

↳ You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Candy Cane || @oneofthemillionarmy​​💕💔✅💯

↳ SUMMARY LINE: CHRISTMAS PROMPT #19: CHARACTER A DOESN’T FEEL THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT BUT CHARACTER B, WHO LIVES ABOVE THEM, KEEPS PLAYING CHRISTMAS CAROLS REALLY LOUD.

Entombed || @97erstan​​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ (no summary but fighter!jk + drama???? yes pls)

Hooking || @mapofthesea​​​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ The home opener of hockey season is crazy for everyone, but when star defensemen Kim Taehyung takes a specific interest in you, who are you to turn him down?

How Many Things || @myg-butterfly​​​​💕💔✅

↳ Yoongi invites you out to a party with him, and in trust, you say yes. But what happens when you lose him in the crowd, just to find him again with someone else by his side? In the midst of panic and longing, you wonder how many things he thinks about before he gets to you.

Motor Head || @jeonjcngkook​​ 🔞💔✅

↳ jungkook doesn’t like seeing someone else have your attention, so he decides he’s gonna do something about it.

Much Better || @yoonivy​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ On a night out with your girlfriends to let loose and forget about your ex, you meet a man that you are instantly attracted to, like magnets on the dance floor. But he reminds you way too much of the one that broke you heart… Can Kim Taehyung prove to you that he is not like your ex at all?

Pink Sapphire || @jiminrings​​​💕💔✅💯💯💯

↳ having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he’s easy to love. your relationship’s perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn’t think sometimes — and that’s what makes it the easiest for you to hate him. alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

Placebo || @bangtangalicious​​​​ 🔞💕💔🔄

↳ a scientific compatibility test matches you with your soulmate, except he's everything you hate and you're everything he stands against.

Camboy!Tae Mini Series || @hisunshiine​​ 🔞💕💔✅

↳ Give me all of your love, gimme something to dream about. KTH is your favorite camboy, and as a loyal subscriber, you are chosen to test out some new features on the platform he uses to go live. He’s really good at selling his viewers a dream, and as a thanks to a new milemark he’s hit on the platform, he’s choosing one winner to get their fantasy scene. (summary is of the first part! and i fully enjoyed reading this)

I See You || @i-am-baechu​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ The L/N family has always been different from other families. For starters, they see ghosts. Y/N hated this gift but as she grew older, she became used to it. Through her college years, she hasn’t seen that many ghosts but that was because they all left alone after her breakdown towards an upcoming test. When one of her classmates has a ghost attached to him, she realizes she needs to get rid of the ghost because it was starting to annoy her with the constant talking and poking her head. How come she never noticed his smile or his bright brown eyes before?

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle - jjk | five

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jk and yoongi showdown (by showdown i mean they just glare at each other a bit), THE BUSAN CHRONICLES BEGIN!!! anyone who has read throttle know how important busan is for these babies he he, depictions of sex that aren't smut (i'd argue?), hair pulling, she's on top, existential crisis thoughts during it all, unprotected sex, creampie, HELLO KIM TAEHYUNG, he's a sleaze, ANGST, cc watches jk wank himself off <3, a lil mutual masturbation moment, cute kisses <33, cums on her tummy <3, character insight! backstory! ugh! i love the busan chapters! i'll upload the rest of the busan chapters now too

word count - 18.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook has a face straight from a nineties rom-com. Boyish charm, eyes that linger; teeth that nibble on thin lips, and a smile that breaks like sun through a thunderous sky.

You're convinced that if he actually was a movie star, you'd watch every single film he was in - twice, at the very minimum. Maybe one would even become your comfort movie, for the days when real people felt like too much to handle; solace through the silver screen. 

His nose slopes and points so delicately at its tip, that you always find yourself staring; marvelling. Wondering how an angle so simple could have you at such a loss for words. Eyes are wide and dark, they're like a vat of melted down dark chocolate, slowly hypnotising you with every stir of the rich delicacy. 

It's when he smiles, though, that you really find yourself lost in everything he is. It's radiant, the way those plunging, round eyes of his crease at the sides, a deep line forming beneath them. His brows raise, and the dewy skin on his cheeks begins to tighten as they apple, and then his teeth - pristine, you think, ignoring any imperfection - are on show. You're home. 

Home in his laugh, in his happiness, in the way that he always seems to be like this around you. Home in how he always finds an excuse to be touching you in some capacity, home in the sanctuary of unspoken words, and home in the hopes that maybe one day, he'll be brave enough to say them.

Hope is a funny thing, though.  So much to gain and yet so much to lose - but if you never really had it, can it be considered a loss at all?

You're musing about this when Yoongi comes in through the side door, palms slick with motor oil, a few streaks staining his face and his shirt from where he's been a little bit careless. He cocks a brow, and throws you a cautious, coy smile. 

"What are you doing here?" He angles his body away from you, almost as if he suspects you're about to throw something at him. His tone is slow, reserved, a little bit accusatory, if you do say so.

"My job?" You question - but you know exactly why he's asking such a thing. 

You're always getting Jieun to cover you these days. He thinks you've barely worked enough shifts to cover the rent this month - and he's right.

He just doesn't realise that you have money sitting in the bank from stocks and bonds that had been purchased in your name when you were just a few months old. Rich people shit. Shit you wished you didn't understand, but were thankful for nonetheless. You may not be on good terms with your family, but you're not ignorant of the fortune you've had as a result of their choices. Having the ability to run from them is a privilege in itself.

"You still remember how to do it?" He teases. "Don't forget to offer the customers a receipt, and make sure you always pull up the right pump tab. Don't wanna be charging a soccer mom for some asshole's jeep tank."

"I remember, Yoongs," you say with a roll of your eyes and a narrowly hidden smile. He likes this smile of yours; the one you don't want to give but can't help but deliver regardless. "Thanks for the crash course, though." You thread your fingers together and stretch them in front of you. The way they click together has Yoongi looking at you like you've just shagged his dad. "Sure you don't wanna work my shifts all the time?"

"I'm sure," he nods. "Not a chance in hell I'm covering for you again."

And then there's that look on your face; the one he can never resist indulging in. 

"Don't you dare," he says.

But you've always been up for a challenge.

"Yoooongs," you sing, voice high and sweet, like a hit of coke up his nose and down to the back of his throat, washed clean with Ribena. He knows what's coming, and he knows he won't like it - but he does like the way you bat your lashes for him. "Watcha doing this weekend?"

There's a resistance, but the invisible string that tugs on his lips is stronger than he cares to admit. He smiles, and you know he's where he's always been; wrapped right around your little finger.

"Why?" he deadpans, not hiding his infatuation well. "You asking me out?"

He laughs as if it's not what he wants more than almost anything in the world; as if he doesn't know it's the last thing in the world you'll be asking.

You laugh too, but it's to cover the guilt that weighs down on you. You thought he'd be over it by now.

"Not exactly."

"You should really start dating someone who respects your work schedule," Yoongi jokes, but it's kinda totally not a joke. He doesn't say it, but he'd always respect your work schedule. Would never ask you to make compromises for him; would never ask you to prioritise him.

But Jungkook doesn't do that, either. It's your choice.

"I'm not dating anyone," you say. It's childish because even though you aren't technically dating Jungkook, you're not exactly not dating him either. The 'what are we' talk hasn't happened yet. You're not ready for it. He won't ever be ready for it. You don't know this though, so you just think you're at the same stage, which is a whole lot more comforting. Think that things will progress naturally. Fall into place when they need to.

"But you're about to ask me to cover for you so you can go on a date, no?"

"...No?"

I mean, you're not. 

You're not going on a date with Jungkook. You're going to his childhood town. So you're telling the truth - no dates involved.

But fuck, he'd held your hand as you stood beneath his shower together, telling you all about how he was going to take you to his favourite places, and you'd giggled when he told you that he'd force you to go swimming in the ocean with him, even if it was below zero.

You'd told him that it was fine, that you love winter beaches, and then you'd challenged him to a race from sand to shoreline. He'd agreed, of course, and then your laughter had dissolved into the pitter-patter of his shower, the warm water running over your body like a poor imitation of his hands, which were preoccupied elsewhere.

So no, you're not going on a date.

You're not dating Jungkook, full stop.

But you are existing together. Most nights these days. He works a night shift here and there, and sometimes you just need a little alone time - but more often than not, you'll head to his after work and wait until he finishes whatever he's working on. Your toothbrush has moved from the bathroom cabinet to the pot by the sink. 

Your presence is undeniable, even if you are in denial.

Feels like you're lying to everyone, including yourself. 

Especially yourself, actually.

Yoongi's back stiffens, his soft gaze that once was on you hardening as he glances out towards the forecourt. He nods curtly to his line of vision, and you know. He doesn't have to say anything because you can read Yoongi like a book.

His eyes look green in this light.

Beneath his breath, he mutters, "Speak of the devil."

And what a devil he is; dressed down in a pair of dark jeans with a black raincoat pulled over his head. You're down so bad that you're enamoured with the fact he's dressed for the weather, as if he's not a fully grown man very much capable of making such choices. 

You think it's cute, and imagine him looking out the window as he was getting ready, heading back to his wardrobe for the anorak upon seeing the rain.

By the time you turn back around to tell Yoongi to fuck off, he's gone; snuck out the back to finish whatever work he was doing. He's not interested in watching you play happy families with some fucker he knows isn't worth your time. Jungkook could have been a brain surgeon, a charity worker, a fucking saint, and Yoongi still wouldn't have cared. 

And by 'wouldn't have cared', he'd have been internally seething and ignoring the very existence of him, regardless.

"Just can't stay away, can you?" You say as you turn on your heel to walk away from Jungkook as soon as he enters the store. You're getting around to the cashiers' side of the till, creating distance.

Not because you want it, but because you think it might make him want you more.

It does.

"The cashier at Kang's ain't half as pretty," he flirts, and you swear that smile of his might send you to an early grave.

"Checking out other women, are we?"

"I'm here, aren't I? Not at Kang's?"

You want to argue with him just for sake of the flirt, but that anorak is really doing a number on you. All you wanna do is squish his cheeks and tell him how cute he looks in polyurethane-coated nylon.

"Touche," you grin, but it's muffled as he rests as palm on the kiosk and uses his other hand to pull you closer and steal a kiss. It's a risky move. Something he shouldn't really be doing. Not when there are three windows behind him. 

He's on display like a puppy in the pet shop windows downtown. Anyone could drive by. Pull in. Anyone. Daegu ain't as big as it likes to pretend to be.

"So, I'm lying," he says, voice sweet and low. "I actually do have an ulterior motive."

"Mhmph," you breathe through your nose, rolling your eyes. "You're a boy, Jungkook. I know you didn't drop by just to ask how my day was."

"Okay, one - ouch. And two - I always want to know how your day is."

For a chronic liar, he's refreshingly honest when he wants to be.

"But?" You encourage, not wanting to skip the flirting, but anxious of the outcome for whatever it is he's here for.

He pokes at the bagged sweets like he so often does, his tattooed fingers gently prodding and pushing them about with no real purpose. He appears distracted, but he's anything but. You know this now; know it's just a Kookism.

"Buuuut," he takes his time, dragging out the word because he knows it will drive you insane. "I was thinking why don't we just head over to..." he pauses. Suddenly feels uncomfortable declaring the plans you have so publically. What if he hadn't noticed someone behind a shelving unit? What if your coworker is listening in? He carries on as if he didn't skip it, but waffles so much you don't have a chance to interject. "Straight after work? We go straight from here? You finish round about now, don't you? I know we were gonna wait till the morning, but I got itchy feet, baby. Wanna get outta this place."

You nod as his questions pour out like a broken faucet. You don't have to worry about your shifts, 'cause Jieun's already swapped with you. You'd struck a deal to work her typical early shift that day in return for her covering you over the rest of the weekend. 

Truthfully, you weren't going to ask Yoongi to cover for you earlier - you were just going to ask if he'd watch the shop for 5 minutes until Jieun arrived so that you could escape a little earlier than you were meant to. He'd only just started his shift, opting for a later rota than usual. Weird, but not weird enough for you to question it too hard.

"Lemme just get changed," you smile, having come straight to work from Jungkook's apartment that morning. 

The way you're always in each other's company, it's as if he'll suffocate without you around - which admittedly does feel like it's true, but it's more so that he's scared of what could happen if he's not there watching over you. Scared that someone will interfere with what he's doing. Scared the rug will get pulled from beneath your feet before he's gotten a chance to scatter pillows on the ground beneath you.

Running late, you'd skipped dropping by your place that morning. You weren't feeling all that fresh, despite the shower you'd had at his that morning, thanks to the second-day clothes you'd arrived in, so had opted for the uniform spares in the back rooms. The sizings were all off, and you're pretty sure you felt filthier in them than your own clothes, but it was rare for you to ever feel all that hot in your work uniform.

Jungkook is left alone in the shop as you head to the backrooms. He figures your colleague will be out soon enough to man the tills, so goes about looking a little busy. Eyes up the stale pastries that are definitely past their best in the cabinet next to the till. Reads the magazine covers, and wonders why the fuck people care so much about celebrities.

It's as he's flicking through a copy of Drivers Weekly that he hears a cough. "We prefer it if people don't read the magazines in the shop."

His eyes land in the direction of the voice, towards a man who is shorter than stature than Jungkook, but somehow feels taller. Broader. Stronger. A better man. Competition. 

"You must be Yoongi, right?" Jungkook nods, voice a little hoarse. He's on edge. Doesn't like the way Yoongi is looking at him as if he can see straight into his soul - not that he'd find much there. 

That's the trouble that comes with making a deal with the devil; he'll eat you from the inside out. It won't be long before Jungkook implodes, bones caving in on themselves. He's got a little while left to go until then, though. Maybe some major organs left to harvest. A little bit of liver for all the soju he's gonna need to drink to get over this, and the tiny sliver of his heart that belongs to someone else. 

To you. 

"Heard a lot about you," he continues. 

Yoongi laughs. It isn't kind. "Funny. I've heard fuck all about you."

He stays stoic as he watches Jungkook purse his lips; shoulders rising ever so slightly and dipping again as he nods, letting out a scornful laugh. "Right."

Despite all he's done, all the stupid little mistakes he's made, Jungkook isn't dumb. He knows how to read people - and currently, Yoongi is a pair of burning red capital letters: F. U. 

A petty remark rests on the tip of his tongue, one that could spark and ignite the dry wood of the bridge between the two men. There's no water beneath it yet. Jungkook would incinerate the entire structure.

Best not to. Not yet, at least.

"Hey babe," he calls instead, loud enough for you to hear, and direct enough to crawl beneath Yoongi's skin. You muffle a response to let him know you're listening. "I'm just gonna wait in the car, alright?"

"Okay!"

"Don't keep me waiting too long," he flirts, but he's looking at Yoongi. He's smirking. Eyes narrow. Winning. "We've got a hotel room to check into."

It's childish and he knows it, but he wants Yoongi to know exactly who's gonna be making you cum that evening. 

You're cringing, knowing that Yoongi will be mentally imploding, but you also think that Jungkook is none the wiser. "Go wait in the car!"

"There's a place just off Gwangalli," Yoongi says, his attempt at looking unbothered fairly convincing - but not to Jungkook. He's convinced that everyone wants to fuck you just as much as he does, so would have always figured Yoongi was jealous. "A shoreline hotel. She really loves it. Maybe you should book a room there next time."

The insinuation is clear; Yoongi knows where you like to stay. For all Jungkook knows, maybe he's even stayed there with you.

But Busan is Jungkook's old stomping ground, and funnily enough, he does actually listen to you. He knows all about the hotel you love, and the fact you've never actually stayed there. Just dreamt of it; bridge views over the harbour, sleek marble coating the walls.

He also knows that it's overpriced and that there's a far better hotel just a few blocks up that doesn't get half as much attention. It's the place he's booked - 'cause fuck taking you home to meet the family - for the weekend. 

Apart from the final night.

He's got you the hotel you love for the final night.

He'll say goodbye to Busan with you, just as you feel like you're saying hello.

There's an acute awareness that things between the pair of you won't always end happily, so he's trying to make the memories sweet. Giving you happy endings to daydream about when you forget that you hate him, as you inevitably, eventually will.

He's so caught up thinking about it that he forgets to reply to Yoongi. His train of thought is interrupted by Yoongi once more, his voice low this time. He's trying to avoid being heard by you.

"Just... be careful with her."

Silence in the wake of Yoongi's request deafens them both. His words are weighted. Jungkook knows Yoongi is telling him to take care of you, but part of him can't help but wonder if it's a warning. Maybe he should be careful of you, instead. 

He's not the only one with secrets. Naive of him to assume he is.

"Thought you were waiting in the car?" You smile as you finally emerge. 

Jungkook's eyes are on you immediately, and suddenly you're not the only one with a chime in your stomach. There's one in his too, and it's humming to the beat of his heart.

He'd already figured that you'd stolen one of his shirts before he woke, thanks to the fact your dress was hooked over the back of his desk chair that morning.  It's grey and faded, a billion sizes too big, resting just below your midthighs. You're wearing tights again, because of course you are.

He knows, within about a second, that he isn't gonna be able to make it to Busan without being inside of you at least once. There's gotta be a side lane close by that you won't get caught in. Shit. Maybe he should just take you in the back rooms right now. Yoongi'd get over it, he's sure. 

Cheeks a little hot, Jungkook is cringing at himself as he feels the blood rush to his cock. He can't be getting a semi in a GS-fuckin'-25. Wouldn't be the first time, but-

"Kook?"

"Sorry," he says with a smile, and pretends as if he was listening all along. "Was just talking with - sorry, what was it again? Yooji?-"

"Yoongi," you correct sweetly, eyes so smitten that Yoongi thinks stabbing himself in the eye with a motor oil dipstick would be less painful.

"Yeah, that. Didn't really how much we have in common. Both love our cars, real penchant for good soju..." Both wanna rail you so hard you forget your own name. "Interesting guy."

You look over to Yoongi, and it's clear as anything that he doesn't agree with a single word of what Jungkook is saying -but you think Jungkook is trying, and that only makes those eyes of yours even drunker in lo-

"You not have a hotel to get to?" Yoongi grimaces.

"Pollution's bad today, baby," Jungkook mumbles softly into your hair, ignoring Yoongi. It's said out of concern for you, but also for himself. 

It's easier for him if your face is a little obscured; easier to deny that you're the one he's holding onto for dear life as he leads you out of the shop. You think nothing of it, pulling up the mask that had been resting below your chin before the cold wind gets a chance to hit your face.

He's not wrong - the midday skies are clouded, a thick smog obscuring the mountain peaks that you love to look at so much. You love the winter sun, but it has you wishing for rain. It always clears the skies a little more; brightens the world up.

Daegu is dreamy, in the obscure, nightmarish kind of way that made you eat cheese before bed as a child. The best kind of dreams were always the ones that made you feel something - and as Jungkook starts up the pony, you're terrified. 

It's not a big deal. Going to Busan is casual. But being invited into a world that is exclusively his? Well, that's not casual at all.

It's weighted and deliberate, and intentional. He wants you there. Wants you in every aspect of his life, and yet you haven't even had the 'what are we' conversation yet.

You wait until Jieun arrives, just a minute later, before you make your departure. She says goodbye with a knowing look, and Yoongi is already out back working on breaking up a written-off car that came in for parts earlier that morning.

Jungkook's hand is on your back as he guides you out, the mask he had insisted on you wearing for air pollution purposes obscuring your face. It doesn't stop his eyes from darting all over the place, making sure he hasn't missed anyone lurking. He knows he's getting sloppy; that he could trip up at any point, and fall at the feet of the men who had sent him into your shop all those weeks ago.

But as the pair of you pull onto the highway, your dainty hand resting at the top of his thigh, nothing but the open road ahead of you and the smell of your perfume wrapping around his senses, he doesn't care.

He'd do it all again, he thinks.

In fact, he thinks he'd kiss you sooner, just to get a few more in. Your days are numbered. He knows you're not gonna last long enough to see the cherries blossom, and maybe it's better that way.

When he got into this mess, he was in search of a spring day to break; the seasons to change, and life to renew. The deeper he gets, the more futile he realises that dream was. You're the only thing he wants to see bloom, these days.

Such a shame he has to cut you from your roots, and watch you wilt instead.

────────────

Jungkook doesn't know what 'home' feels like anymore, and hasn't done for quite some time, now. He doesn't know what it feels like to be completely content, nor at ease, within his own body. 

Sometimes, though, when he's behind the wheel, the balls of his feet pressed to the pedals, he thinks it might feel close.

When the scent of gasoline seeps through the vents, and a toxic combination of burnt rubber and wiper fluid clouds the atmosphere behind his tinted windows, it seems like he could have a grasp on what it means to be 'home'. Or to have one, at least.

Maybe that's why he clings to the idea of you so much, and the way that your hair smells like gasoline. 

It's a trick of the mind; a subtle deception that perhaps you could feel like 'home', too.

He thinks of this as his car rolls onto a street he hasn't visited in what must be years, by this point. 

He's silent, glancing over to where you nap peacefully in his passenger's seat. Light scatters through the branches of trees which are yet to bloom, refracting as it hits the pale stone in your necklace. The underside of your chin is painted in rays of rainbow light. Your throat, too. Impossible, he thinks, for someone to be so ethereal without even so much as trying. Thinks that you're magic. 

But magic isn't real. He knows that deep down, beneath the scent of your hair and the taste of your rainbow stained skin, you're not real, either.

You're an illusion; a projection, just like that refracted light. 

Still, he smiles as you begin to stir, neck aching from the uncomfortable position you've had it in for the last thirty minutes. 

"Morning, sleepyhead," he teases, while you squeak and stretch your body out at far as you can. Palms on the dash, your head feels all stuffy and horrible, the nap only serving to make you feel even more sleepy. You bring the back of your hand to cover your mouth as you yawn, brows raised, eyes closed. 

"We here?" you mumble, turning to face the road, only to find the view is obscured by cargo lorries ferrying things to the harbour.

The shipping container next to you is a deep navy blue, its history etched onto the corrugated steel with white chalk markers. It rusts at the joints, paint flaking off and scattering into the atmosphere. It's remarkable, you think, how even things built to sustain the most brutal of weathers can still have areas of weakness.

"Just about," he nods, turning the radio up a little louder now that you're awake. His phone is plugged into the aux for once, but it sounds like it's still your playlist going. It's not. He's been crafting his own, taking note of the songs you like, and adding his own into the mix. Subtle integration of you into his life, perhaps. "About 10 minutes away from the hotel."

You hum a response as you sit up a little straighter, a frown on your face. You hadn't meant to sleep through the journey, but late nights with him and early starts at the gas station have really been doing a number on you.

Jungkooks thinks he's benefitted from your sleepiness, as it made you so bloody endearing that he found himself wanting to let you sleep, instead of pulling into a vacant side-road to sort out the awkward hard-on he's had since the moment he saw you in GS25 earlier on that day.

There had been a brief moment, when the pair of you had stopped by your place to pick up your travel bag, that he'd considered making a move - but you were excited to get going, and so was he.

Why waste time in Daegu? He wanted out of there. Wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere. Wanted to hold your hand in public, with your mask off and your hood down, just to watch the way other men would double-take you. 

Maybe because it's unknown - being with you, without fear of getting caught - or maybe it's because his intentions with you have changed in recent weeks. Whatever reason it is doesn't matter, though. The outcome will still be the same.

You watch as the cargo trucks begin to roll into gear, and then you're chasing the sun, heading towards your destination. Jungkook hasn't told you anything about where you're staying, just that he thinks you'll like it. Part of you hopes it will be that hotel you love along the shoreline, and as he takes a right onto the next road over, edging closer and closer to the shore, you think you might be in luck.

These hopes are short-lived, though, when you see a sign with the branding you know so well - even if you've only ever seen it online - and watch it disappear in the rearview mirror.

Funnily enough, there's no disappointment that follows this realisation. You couldn't care less where you stay. All you seem to care about is who you'll be staying with.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips when his indicators begin to tick, and his hand, flat against the wheel, begins to pull clockwise. The place he's turning the car in to is nice. Too nice. There's a surface level car park, for starters, not one tucked beneath the first floor of a drive-in motel, like you'd half been expecting. 

The exterior walls are finished with European style red bricks; purpose-built and not in keeping with the dated architecture of its surroundings. There's an attitude to the building; attention-seeking without trying, refined yet unassuming. It reminds Jungkook of you, in a way. Reminds him of how no matter what you do, his focus always seems to be on you.

"Had this place on my bucket list," he says. "Opened up around the time I left town. Always said I'd stay here if I came back with someone else."

His last comment is unnecessary. He doesn't need to tell you he'd never brought anyone home to Busan, and yet he does, because it somehow feels important. 

A hotel resident swings through the front door as you're getting out of the car, and you can't help but notice that the chime is eerily similar to the one of the GS25 door. Identical, almost, to the one in your stomach. 

"Pretty," you muse, adoringly looking at the ivy that trails up and down the side of the building. 

"Prettier in summer," he says, taking your luggage from your hands and tilting his head forward as if to say 'ladies first'. "There's another vine running through it that blooms like nothing I've ever seen before. It's too cold for it to flower, yet, I think."

You smile as you listen to him talk, enamoured that a man so brash and bold can be so delicate and gentle when he wants to be. Mindless chatter fills the space between you as you enter the lobby, and wait for the concierge to check Jungkook's booking on the system, just to find out there's been a free upgrade.

"Wish she hadn't announced that," Jungkook mumbles in your ear as you head towards the elevator. "Totally would have pretended I'd splurged out on the upgrade instead."

You laugh, and tell him that he's stupid - and that you also saw the room rates by the front desk, so in your eyes, even the standard rooms are a splurge.

He shrugs, and insists he got it cheaper online thanks to some bullshit discount he can't be bothered to lie too deeply about. He wanted to experience this hotel, and he wanted to experience it with you. He'd have paid the price, whatever. 

Chances are he'll be making the money back in a weeks time, thanks to you, anyways. 

Thanks to you. Because of you. In spite of you. Whatever. Same difference. 

Same disgusting guilt that coats his skin like oil and drips from his body. Dare you strike a match, he's sure he'll set fire. Ablaze with the glory of whatever the fuck he feels for you; the flames of his failures smoking him to suffocation. Failure to act quick enough, failure to control himself, failure to do wrong by someone that feels so right. 

He shakes the thoughts from his head, his guilt steeped stomach a constant aide-mémoire.

"613," he reminds you of the room number as you reach the sixth floor. 

It's not quite the top floor, but it's far enough up that your view of the harbour will take your breath away, you're sure.

He laughs when you squeal in response, thankful for the fact you don't try and downplay your excitement like he knows you would have done when he first started seeing you.  He assumes you're comfortable now. Assumes you trust him. Assumes you feel safe. Assume, assume, assume. You're rubbing off on him, it seems.

He's got a rucksack on his back, and your own bag hooked is over his shoulder, yet he still uses his free hand to hold onto your waist as he walks behind you. He's so desperate to keep you close; fearful of what could happen if you ever were to part. His fingers grip a little tighter when you take a stride further than he anticipates, and he doesn't shuffle back when you finally reach the door. He rests his chin on your head instead, and watches the light on the door handle flash green when the room key taps against it.

The pair of you walk into the room in the same position, your back pressed to his chest, his strides wide behind you, so that he can walk in time with you. It's clumsy, and awkward, and hard to synchronise, but both of you are laughing so much that you're almost distracted from the view that floods in through the wall-length windows. Almost.

You stop in your tracks when you see it, gasping at the sight. Jungkook looks up from your hair, his arms tight around you, to see what you've noticed - and then he notices it, too. 

"Holy shit," you say, unable to articulate anything else. 

The ocean in front of you spans for miles; endless upon the horizon, with nothing but Gwangalli bridge standing in its way. Boats dapple the vast expanse, tiny and delicate, obscured by the incredible distance between you. 

It's blue. Blue, blue, blue; the skies, the sea, the way you feel sorrow in your chest from never having seen anything so beautiful before.

Jungkook is smug as he whispers into your hair, "Boy did good?"

You've not even looked at the crisp white sheets, yet, freshly laundered on a  queen size bed, nor the decadent hotel decor that you're sure will be identical in every single room. The other rooms don't matter to you, though; just 613, and the boy with bleach blonde hair who had driven you to Busan in his bright red pony. 

The stuff of fairytales, some might argue.

"Boy did good," you whisper back, turning your head to steal a kiss. He smiles into your lips, your body his to move as he pleases, as he begins to walk you to the bed. 

A soft puff of air blows around your body as it lands on the outrageously fluffed duvet. He crawls onto the bed with you, one hand on your cheek, the other laced with yours above your head. 

"View like this and all you wanna do is waste it?" You grin into his lips, voice as sweet as his touch.

He's quiet as he presses his lips to your throat, slow as he trails his tongue down it.

"Not a waste,' he says, as his teeth graze ever so gently. The firmness of his crotch is devastatingly erotic as it presses against you. "And fuck the view. Rather look at you."

You go to argue against him, but he's adamant you're far prettier. Tells you if it means that much to you, though, he'll be willing to take you from behind so that you can look at the view - which is how you end up wrapped in a duvet, hair a mess and mascara a little smudged half an hour later. 

You're sat together on the floor, backs against the side of the bed, looking out at the view as his arm drapes around your shoulders. His lips are nestled into your hair, because it seems to be his happy place, but neither of you are talking. Just existing, like you so often like to do together.

There's an unspoken understanding that this is an unusual occurrence for the both of you. 

He doesn't do romance. He doesn't really do anything that would ever indicate a shag is more than just a shag. He'll compliment, and he'll charm, but he'll never say any words of actual worth. Not like he does with you. He doesn't cuddle, doesn't snuggle, doesn't kiss outside of the realm of a fuck. Again, not like he does with you.

When you turn to face him, catching the countenance in his eyes as he looks at you - chin, nose, eyes, lips, eyes again - you know that any kiss that could follow would be fatal. 

It would seal the deal that neither of you have been brave enough to make.

There's hesitation. His breaths are heavy, prick still a little plump beneath the sheets that covers his modesty, but he's not hard. Not horny. It's not what's leading his thoughts, nor his actions. 

And then, suddenly, but somehow also so perfectly predictable, he kisses you. 

It isn't simple. It isn't just because he can - but it's also not for any ulterior motive, either. It's soft, his lips not as hard against yours as they usually are. They squeeze your bottom lip, then release. And then he does it again. No welcome intrusion of his tongue. No hands roaming to your chest. No smile as he does it. 

But why would he be smiling when he's terrified? 

He just kisses, and kisses, and kisses. He makes no further moves, not even when you let the sheets slip, nor when you hook your leg over his lap and move across to straddle his thighs. You're so incredibly wet, his touches minimal, yet so deeply intimate, that he can feel you leaking all over him. His cock is flushed, stiff, and stood to attention, resting against the base of his abs. 

Still, he doesn't really touch you. His wrists are resting on the top of your thighs, but his palms aren't lying flat. They're open, not balled into fists, and you can't quite figure him out. You feel shy and insecure, because why isn't he touching you? Doesn't he want you? 

But then you go to pull away from his lips, and he whines and shakes his head.

Come back, baby, he wants to say, but it gets trapped in his throat, and all he can get out is a little grunt. 

He knows he's being pathetic. Knows that he must look like a fucking weirdo.

Part of you wants to laugh; wants to ask where the man who ate his own cum out of your pussy and spat it into your mouth is. 

Most of you, though, is consumed by the sheer terror that's encompassing him. You feel it too. All of this is so unfamiliar, and scary, and alarming and yet so... safe. 

His palms finally lay flat, prowling to your ass, where he squeezes as if to say hello. Eventually, he pulls you further up his lap. You're raised above him, the heat of your pussy so warm, and welcoming, and inviting, that he simply can't hold back any longer. 

No words are spoken, you simply nod. 

You aren't kissing anymore. Just looking at one another. He doesn't drop his gaze when he lines himself up with your entrance. 

It's only when you sink down onto him that his eyes close, as his head leans against the corner of the mattress. The expanse of his throat is pristine, not a hickey in sight, and you like it this way. It - you - somehow still feels like a secret. One shared, but one that is safe. Just for you. Just for him. For one another.

Jungkook lasts longer inside of you than he thinks he will. The silence is only broken by hushed whines and dulcet groans. Your hands rest on his shoulders, and stay there the entire time. It's almost like you're both petrified that changing position will change the way that you're feeling. You look at one another like you're holding hands across a tightrope, dependent on one another to stay alive. 

If he falls, so do you. 

But it's not the falling he's afraid of. Not really. He's been enjoying the freefall for the past few weeks, now. It's the inevitable crash and burn that scares him.

There's something about the angle, the way he's got you deep and slow, that has the tightrope tying itself in pretty little bows around the bell that lives rent-free in your stomach. 

Jungkook sees the way that your brows begin to furrow. He grunts as your lips rest ajar, restless gasps shying away, hiding in your throat. His hips keep at the pace he's set. He knows what's happening, and even though he's spent the last couple of weeks desperately trying to not let happen, he knows he's gotta let you come undone. 

He wants you to. Needs you to. Needs to know that it's not just him that can't control himself.

It's euphoric when it happens. His arms wrap around your back, pulling your chest to his, and only then does he realise how hard your nipples are; how much your entire body has begged him for this. He squeezes you so tightly that your back clicks, but he doesn't really worry because you're shaking on him, muscles out of control as the orgasm he was fucking into you finally cascades over your body. 

You're thankful for the way he's holding you close, your pussy so tight that Jungkook finds himself whining into your neck; and then he's kissing it, pressing his teeth to your skin, holding them there as his muffled moans vibrate against you. 

'Shouldn't-' he thinks, even his thoughts stuttering and getting all confused. 'Shouldn't do this. Gonna end in tears. Gonna end - shit. Gonna fucking end. Shit. So good. So fucking good.'

Pussy so good he swears he'll fuck it forever, and then his thoughts catch up with him, and he's spiralling all over again. 

'Fucking disaster. Heaven in human form. Temptress devil dressed as an angel. Shut the fuck up, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,' he begins to scold himself. 'Prick. She never fucking lied -' And then his head is battling against itself. '-but she did though - she didn't - did-'

"Shut the fuck up."

He doesn't even realise he's said it until your laboured breaths and spent body seem to falter, but you fail to muster up anything more than a "Hmm?"

You're sure you must have heard him wrong.

"Nothing. Not you," he husks in your neck, though he can't really get his words out 'cause he's seconds away from spilling into you. "You sound so good, baby. So good. Gonna make me cum so fucking hard." He knows he shouldn't be encouraging it, but he can't stop. "Keep moaning for me, baby. Let me know how good I feel."

You hum a laugh, so sweet and saccharine that Jungkook thinks you must be laced in some kind of addictive substance. It's the only way to explain how he feels. He's an addict, hooked on you. 

The moans that roll off your tongue aren't fake, but you let yourself be a little louder for him. 

"Like that," you tell him. You're already done, spent, but you want him to feel just as good as you do, even if his size has you feeling a little sore by now. You encourage him, knowing that it'll become painful if he doesn't finish soon. 

It almost feels like there's something holding him back, though. You think he's just edging himself. You don't notice the way the lines in his forehead crease together in such a way that they almost spell out words. You'd have studied them, if you had noticed. Would have convinced yourself that you could read 'trust,' in the lines, and not 'traitor,' instead.

You move your hips against his, ass bouncing against the top of his thighs in a way that you haven't done for the entire session. He's been working so hard for you that it's about time for you to return the favour, it seems. 

The way his neck stretches back, eyes shut, lips pouted and perfect as he fails to formulate anything other than "fuck, baby," lets you know it's appreciated.

'I'm going to fucking hell,' he tells himself. 'When I die, which seems like a sooner rather than later kinda thing, I'm going straight down to the pits. Pussy like heaven, so fucking good that it's a sin. Angel. Angel, angel, angel, baby. Gotta have you. Can't let anyone else have you. Fuck, no. Shouldn't. Shouldn't have you. Fuck it. Need you. Oh, god. Like that. Like that.'

He pulls on your hair so that you're sat up straight as he rams into you, your fucked out face the only thing he wants to see when he finally succumbs to your body. He nods at you, as if he's trying to say something that you don't quite understand. Letting you know he's close? Letting you know that he feels the same way, too? It's unclear, but you're in no position to ask - so you just nod back, and let the rapture happen.

"Shit," he all but whimpers, and then he's in purgatory; heaven and hell meeting at some kind of divine intervention as he spills all that he is into a vessel of freedom that he isn't sure he can afford anymore. "Jesus Christ," he chokes, the mess of his load leaking from you and down his shaft. 

The lines in his forehead have smoothed, now, brows open, eyes half-closed. He laughs, once, twice, unable to stop himself. He forgets it all in the wake of his orgasm; his turmoil, your troubles, the turbulent path he knows he's about to go down. 

All he can think about is you, him, the present, the physical. The right now. The way that you're in Busan, and how the dreary streets of Daegu can't hurt you. 

Rather foolish of him to think that little deaths would have you falling in love, when he's the one whose head feels like cotton candy, heart beating like a butterfly bursting from its cocoon. 

The screen of his phone is alight on the dresser, again. You had noticed it earlier, but neglected to say anything; mainly because you didn't want to lose the moment, but also because you feared that whoever was on the end of the line could have you losing him, too.

The freedom of your arrangement, the unspoken boundaries, affords you great comforts, but also leaves you with lingering doubts. You aren't naive. You know that men his age - men in general - aren't ones to be trusted with your heart. Platonic, romantic, familial. Not a single man has ever deserved to hold it in their hands, and any that you have given the chance to have dropped it at the first hurdle. It's a death sentence, you think, giving Jungkook your heart.

So you simply won't.

But in the comedown of a fuck that really didn't feel much like a fuck, more like a meeting of minds, bodies, consciousnesses - fuck it - hearts, you find yourself thinking that maybe it would be nice to try. 

You're still in his lap when he stands, his cock inside of you, even if a little soft, now. He's gentle, and slow, taking you with him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. There's comfort in his silence as he leads you to the bathroom; familiarity in his feverish need to shower.

His phone continues to ring out on the dresser, silent and sinister, the glow of his screen the only source of light other than the moon that pours in through the windows. He clocks it as he turns to close the door, while you let your body become acquainted with the pressure of the shower on your skin.

And then, he presses the door firmly shut. The world can wait just a little longer, even if only for a night. 

Tonight, he's yours, even if you never asked him to be. 

He's yours, because he knows that come next weekend, you really will never ask him to be.

But you're just as much his. 

He'll wrap you up in a fluffy white towel, and lay down with you in white sheets, that are creased only by the illustrations of your entanglement. He'll give you a tissue, white, to clean yourself up with, after he loses himself inside you once again. He'll laugh with you, teeth on show, white, as you talk into the early hours of the morning. He'll watch the moon reflect in the ocean waves with you, white, until you both fall asleep.

And you'll feel all pink; rosy cheeks, blushed lips, bubblegum heart and peachy pigmented skin from his kisses that bloom like posies. Pink like the early dawn skies over quiet ocean waves, and pink like your favourite wine that can get you tipsy with just a few sips. Pink and pretty like his lips that pout even when he's asleep. Pink like the pads of your feet as you tiptoe to the bathroom to get a glass of water as quietly as you can. Pink, like the faint light next to the plug socket where his phone is plugged into a charger. Pink, like the tiny light at the top of his screen to let him know he has a flurry of unread notifications; missed calls. 

Except it's not pink at all. 

It's red. 

Your eyes are just tired, and you're deluding yourself. Just like you have been of every single red flag that Jungkook has presented to you so far. 

But when you look at the mess of blonde hair that belongs to the man hidden in the white sheets which have kept you warm all night, everything is pink again. 

"Sleep," he mumbles as you crawl back into bed, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His lips rest in the crook of your neck, a lazy kiss delicately finding its home there. 

"I'm sleeping," you whisper, the white lie nothing more than a joke that you're both in on.

"Promise?" he sleepily humours you, to which you smile.

"Pinky."

────────────

There's a magic to sea air.

It's not quite Disney, and definitely isn't Hogwarts, but it's something. It makes you feel all excited, and giddy, and like the world is at your feet. If you say the right words, or swish and flick a little bit of driftwood in the right order, then maybe you'll find that the world isn't all that hard to acquire.

Because maybe it's not the sea air that's magic. Maybe it's just what comes with being beside someone like Jeon Jungkook.

You quickly learn that there's a side to him you never knew. It's one that's incredibly mundane, but just as refreshing as the peach teas he points out to you on every cafe menu, 'cause he knows how much you like them, and doesn't want you to miss out on the opportunity to indulge in something you find such simple pleasure in.

Jungkook smiles.

He smiles a lot.

He smiles at the harbour views, at the elderly as they walk past, and at the market stall owners who charge him far too much for a stick of strawberry tanghulu. He smiles when you ask him about his life in Busan, and he smiles when you get distracted by every single dog you walk past, regardless of the conversation you've been engaged in.

He smiles when you tell him you fancy Italian for dinner, instead of engaging in an awkward back and forth of 'what do you want?', 'no, what do you want?'.

He smiles when you reach the halfway checkpoint of the Igidae coastal trail. You're leaning on the wooden bannister, clearly out of breath but pretending to look at the view instead - and it's a beautiful view, at that. Clear blue skies, waves that crash and mellow within the same second, and an endless cerulean sea.

He thinks about all the possibilities out there, and half-wonders if maybe he could just get on a boat with you and say goodbye to the choices he's made.

The only choice he's been sure of lately is you, and when his horizon is blocked by your sloping shoulders and claw-clipped hair, he's pretty sure you're the only opportunity he wants to experience from now on.

He's never walked this trail before, but he wanted to show you the best of Busan, hoping it would convince you that you're also seeing the best of him. As he pulls on your hand, pointing out the little numbers some poor soul had scribbled on the stairs to reassure other hikers how many were left, you're positive that you'd walk the trail a thousand times over, just to be met with his smile at the end.

Because Jeon Jungkook smiles.

He smiles and he smiles and he smiles.

He smiles over dinner, in a tight little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, that at least attempts to make pizza authentic, even if they do have '+corn, 500w' next to every single option. He smiles when he tells you to put your card away, 'cause it's on him, and then he smiles when you trip on the ledge between the restaurant and the street.

You don't fall because he's holding your hand with a grip so tight you swear your fingers might actually fall off.

"One beer and you're legless," he teases, his hold on your hand tightening as he loops his arm over your shoulder. It's a warm embrace; one that fills your nose with the scent of his aftershave, and plasters an equally large smile on your face. He's infectious, it would seem, and not once has he insisted that you wear a mask since you arrived in Busan.

"Fuck off," you laugh, walking down the street together as if this is how it's always been.

Not a single person gives you a second glance, not even the middle-aged men sat drinking outside of the bar at the end of the street. It's dark, lamposts and decorative fairy lights guiding you home, the city alive with the hustle and bustle of whatever happens after dark. The noraebangs in the area are all hostess bars, and the actual bars are packed, so home is where you're headed. There's no company you'd rather keep than one another's.

"I love this place," you muse. There's a vibrancy here that you've been missing in Daegu, but if you were to take a moment to think about it, the cities have nothing to do with it. It's the boy, and the lack of distractions from him, that you really enjoy.

"Home sweet home," he replies nonchalantly. "Ain't nothing like it."

"You miss living here?"

Your question is met with silence. You leave it a moment, thinking that Jungkook is just debating his answer. Perhaps it isn't something he's ever given much thought to before. That seems like a safe assumption to make.

The answer would reveal a truth that Jungkook isn't quite ready to admit to just yet - but he wants to admit it. Wants to tell you everything.

All the things you should know, and all the secrets he wishes you'll never find out.

It's inevitable that one day you will find out, and he wonders if it would hurt more coming from his tongue. Regretfully, he thinks it will. To lie is to be merciful, or so he tells himself.

"You're so-" he begins so decidedly that it's almost a surprise, yet he cuts himself off. It's like he shocked even himself with the outburst. He glances down to his hand - the one you're holding onto - laughs, and then gazes back to the end of the street, where the dark tide is rolling onto a shallow beach. With a shake of his head, he says 'fuck it' to his reservations, and tries out a little honestly. "You're fucking with my head, you are."

There's a smile on his lips despite the accusation, and it has you smiling, too. You think nothing of it more than flirtatious banter.

"Oh yeah?" You toy. "How so?"

He knows this tone of yours, and knows you've taken it well; knows that all he can do is play along, so as to not raise suspicions. He doesn't mean to be so erratic with his thoughts, and in turn, his words - but he isn't kidding. You really are fucking with his pretty little head.

"How are you not?" He flirts back. "Can't think straight when I'm around you."

He watches as you drop your head, your nose all scrunched up, in the same way his own nose scrunches up whenever you're too kind to him. The only difference is he doesn't believe he's being kind at all.

You deserve more than he can - or is willing to - give you.

There's untapped potential between the pair of you, that will sadly remain that way. He figures he should make the most of this while it lasts; hold your hand as much as he can, get lost for days in the scent of your hair, and make you laugh for hours on end. He knows he'll miss hearing it when it all ends.

You don't know it yet, but you'll miss it too.

Maybe you'd do things differently if you knew that your time was limited.

"You're stupid," you reply rather childishly, because it's the best your bashful brain can think of. "Is that why you nearly hit me that night on the bridge? When you were racing? Too distracted by how much of a mindfuck I am?"

"You have any idea how much easier my life would have been if I had just hit you?" He muses, looking down at you.

You wait until he's finished his words to look back at him, but you wish that you hadn't, 'cause there's a look in his eyes which makes you think he isn't lying.

It should scare you - but like an uncomfortably awkward damsel in distress from a vampire movie, crushing on a bloke who is definitely a little bit too creepy for anyone's liking - it doesn't.

"Far easier," you guess, not letting your smile drop. "Waking up next to me must be torture."

"Waking up next you," he nods. "Sharing my aux with you, paying my water bill after learning just how much you like showers hot enough to kill a lobster. Hate it all."

"Oh god, me too," you say quickly before his lips cut you off for a second, only to let you finish a moment later. "Hate it so much. So glad we're on the same pa-"

This time, it's not the lips of the boy you like a little too much cutting you off, but the voice of a boy you're sure you could grow to like just as much, if ever given the opportunity.

"Well I fuckin' never," a voice booms from across the street in your direction.

You ignore it, not really thinking anything of it - just some rowdy lads who are talking amongst themselves after a few too many beers, you assume - until Jungkook's head snaps in the direction of the voice.

His expression is startled, but quickly softens to his usual boyish disposition. There's a defensiveness, though, to the way his hand tightens around yours - until he drops it altogether.

"Kim Taehyung," Jungkook beams, adjusting his posture so that you're partially shielded from the man across the street, who's checking both sides to make sure it's clear before he crosses.

He's handsome, in a way that's entirely different to Jungkook. His broadness isn't exclusive to his shoulders, but the way he carries himself, and the sleazy smile that rests on his lips where a cigarette fits snug. He exhales, and crosses the road, the grin on his face only getting larger.

"Jeon Jungkook," he nods, greeting him with such familiarity that you feel all embarrassed.

You've no idea who this man is. His name has never been mentioned before. In fact, no names have ever been mentioned. There's little you know about Jungkook.

Sure, you know how he mindlessly fidgets, and how he whines when your tongue strokes against his taint, but what do you really know about him? Nothing of any value. Nothing that signifies you're of any value to him.

"And who's this?" Taehyung asks, but Jungkook's reply only further confirms your assumptions.

The question is addressed to you, Taehyung looking just as dangerous as that cigarette in his mouth is. He's a slow burn, you think, the kind of boy who'll grow on you, and before you know it, you'll be just another victim of his charm. It's unsurprising that he would be acquainted with Jungkook. After all, the company you keep is a reflection of yourself.

You look to Jungkook, who looks over his shoulder back to you. He's not really looking at you, per say, not how he does when you're alone. When he turns back to face Taehyung, you see the way his cheeks rise to smile, and you don't mind his coldness all of a sudden.

But then he opens his mouth and you think if you weren't such stone-cold bitch, you'd cry.

"Just a friend from Daegu. No one special."

It's humiliating, granted, but any reaction would only serve to embarrass you both - so you simply keep quiet, and smile. Your brows lift a little, eyes on Taehyung, who takes a toke as he looks between you and Jungkook.

He's smirking as he exhales, like he knows Jungkook is full of shit.

"Well, fuck me. I gotta find myself some friends in Daegu. Taehyung," he says as he holds his hand out for you to shake, with a look on his face like he hasn't eaten for a week.

There's something about him that's refreshing. He's an asshole, yes - undeniable - but at least he doesn't pretend not to be, like Jungkook does. He's undressing you with his eyes in the same way that Jungkook does with his hands. And for what Jungkook just said? You're pleased. Maybe you should let Taehyung take you home instead - after all, according to Jungkook, you're just a friend from Daegu. No one special.

"Uh-uh," Jungkook shakes his head. He's teasing, but he steps further in front of you, blocking Taehyung from your vision. "I know what you're like, Tae. Hands off this one."

The way he's talking makes you wanna turn on your heels and walk all the way back to fucking Daegu. Whoever it is that's currently shielding you from the danger of a fuck boy isn't Jungkook. Not the Jungkook you know at least.

"I'm just a friendly guy," Taehyung jokes back. "You know me. What brings you back home? Haven't since you since the wake. Been a while."

Jungkook's back stiffens, but Taehyung doesn't notice.

"Just some family stuff. Thought I'd make a weekend of it." He tilts his head back towards you. The movement has Taehyung's eyes on you again. To feel so unapologetically desired is thrilling, but it kind of makes you sick. You want Jungkook to hold your hand. Signify that you're his. Tell Taehyung that he doesn't stand a chance. But of course, he doesn't. "Thought I'd show her around. Visit some old haunts. How have you been?"

"All good," Taehyung replies, not really interested in what Jungkook has to say. It's formality, really. If he cared that much about what Jungkook had been up to, he would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. "Saw your brother yesterday, actually."

God, it's like one sucker punch after another. A brother? You've no idea who this man is.

"Seeing him tomorrow," Jungkook nods, and again, it's bloody fucking news to you. "He good?"

"Baby's keeping him up all hours apparently, he looks fucking exhausted. Met the baby yet?"

"Nah, nah, tomorrow," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by how... mundane the conversation is. You can't tell if they're friends, or if there's something more troubling at play. Everything feels coded, but you're struggling to read into it. You're too fixated on how much of Jungkook's life you're unaware of.

"Oh, nice," Taehyung replies. "You should come by the boxing club while you're in town. Be good to see you. I'm sure the boys would be pleased to see Busan's finest back where he belongs." He looks over Jungkooks shoulder to you, again, and smiles in that sultry way you're sure enables him to never go without a bed to sleep in. "Bring your friend with you. Think we could all do with a new friend."

The way he talks is crude. It's unapologetic, and if it were any other man, you'd probably be repulsed - but you're too busy being pissed off with Jungkook to care.

"Think I could do with a new friend, too," you hum back, lips pouty, chest a little pushed forward. "See you there?"

"Oh, I'll be waiting," Taehyung almost fucking moans.

Jungkook presses the pad of his thumb across the tops of his fingers, one by one, clicking them in their sockets. His frustration is evident, but the grave he's in is one that he dug himself.

You may feel like you don't know him, but he knows you. He should have anticipated that you wouldn't play nice after he said something like that.

But oh, on the contrary - you think you are playing nice. Very nice. For Taehyung, you'll be the nicest girl in the world.

And that's all Jungkook can think about.

It's intrusive, the thought of just how nice you can be.

He's thinking of your hair, all nice and tied up in a ponytail, and how Tae's hand could wrap around it. He's thinking about your pretty little knees, and how good you look when you're on them. He's thinking about your chest - God, he fucking loves your chest - and how it stands to attention when you're cold. And of course, you'd be cold, 'cause he's imagining all of this happening in the back rooms of the boxing club. At least you wouldn't be able to come, but he's barely been making that happen lately, anyways.

If there's one thing he hates more than the idea of you with Tae, it's himself.

Taehyung says his farewells, and lets his gaze linger on you for far too long, and says "you've got a look about you, friend from Daegu. Something familiar," before heading back to where he came from. The gaggle of lads he was with are still waiting for him. It seems as if he's in charge; the ringleader of sorts.

It intrigues you.

But he doesn't entice you the way that Jungkook does.

There's no softness to him, not like Jungkook with his big, round, chocolate button eyes and ever-scrunched nose.

You're mad at him now, though. Pissed. In fact, you begin to walk away as soon as Taehyung is gone, because you simply don't want to be around him any longer. You're even thinking about booking yourself in for a separate hotel room. Fuck his gestures, and fuck the effort he's made. Means fuck all, now.

Who the fuck does that? Who brings you to their hometown - into their life - and turns around and dismisses what you are to them so cruelly? He'd paid god knows what for that hotel, driven the pair of you to the city, paid for everything despite your protests, and asked for nothing in return.

You know full well that if you'd have gotten back to the hotel before the Taehyung incident, and had been too tired to fuck, or just not in the mood, Jungkook wouldn't have cared. Even sex wasn't something he seemed to think he was owed. Not like most guys.

He'd have probably stroked love letters onto your back with the tip of his index finger until you fell asleep, instead.

See, there are - or at least there were - no expectations with Jungkook, which is probably what makes this all so disappointing for you. Foolishly, you thought you had a good one in him.

He's a man, though. How good can they ever really be?

Heels clicking against the pavement as you walk, you sound far more powerful than you feel. You want to take your stupid fucking shoes off and launch them at his stupid fucking head. How dare he reduce to nothingness.

"Hey," he calls after you, as if he hasn't just torn your heart out, hands all bloody while he toys with it. "CC! Hold up!"

There's a trail of blood as you walk that leads to the hole in your chest, and so he follows it like a bloodhound in search of its prey.

He repeats his call when you ignore him, catching up with you far too easily for your liking. You don't like getting caught.

"What?" You snap, arms folded across your chest, but you keep on walking. A gaggle of girls walk by, far too drunk to be in heels that high, and they coo a little bit as they clock Jungkook. You find yourself sneering. "Oh look. Some more friends for you to make."

"Hey, c'mon," he reaches out for you but you shake him off, so he tries again, a little harder. It doesn't hurt, and if you want to, you can pull away.

Shamefully, you can't bring yourself to. Those with the power to hurt are also apparently those with the power to heal - and all you want is for him to put your heart back where it belongs and kiss it better.

"You know I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" You fight, because that's all you're really good at. "Mean it? Mean to say it? Or didn't think that this actually meant anything?"

"Fuck," he seethes a little, teeth gritted and jaw sharp. He loosens his grip on you, and rubs the pads of his fingers against his jaw instead, tongue pressing into the side of his cheek. His nostrils are flared, and there's bite behind his bark. "Don't turn this into something that it isn't."

"I'm not turning it into anything," you say so calmly that it's almost unsettling. "But turn it into what? A lovers tiff? No worries. We're just friends, babe. Can't turn it into one of those."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable."

"CC-"

"I've got a name," you remind him. "Maybe use that, instead. CC feels a little... I don't know. More than friendly? And we wouldn't wanna blur those lines, would we?"

"Christ. Can you stop?" he pleads, the frustration he feels overwhelmed by the desperate need to control the situation. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't think you know what you meant, Jungkook," you shrug, because fuck letting him think you're hurt. "You just let some guy fuck me with his eyes, because according to you, we're just friends. You saw that, right? You saw the way he was looking at me like a piece of fucking meat? And you let him."

Jungkook doesn't say anything for a moment. His body is stiff, as if he's rebooting; calibrating to find an answer. Yes, he had let Tae do whatever the fuck he liked, because it was easier than explaining the truth of who you are to him. Safer. In his eyes, it had been a lesser of two evils, but you're seeing Jungkook as the only evil.

Your chest is beating so hard in your chest that the thump, thump, thump has drowned out the chime that's usually there.

"No," he tries again. "It's not like that. I know what I said, but it's not what I meant."

And then you do that thing again. You calm yourself, your voice so serene and superficial that it makes his skin crawl. He can tell how angry you are, and yet you're so fucking pleasant. It's psychotic - but how can he complain about your anger when you're fucking smiling at him like he just saved a bird from drowning?

"You don't have to explain, Jungkook. It's cool"

"No," he protests, but it's met with vacancy behind your eyes. "I do."

"No," you say, tone firm and assertive. You don't need to be let down gently. Your feelings don't need to be spared. "You know what I'm like. I need to stop making so many assumptions."

Ouch. He can practically feel the dagger you have for a tongue slicing at his heart.

"Well what did you assume?" He asks, because playing along seems like the only way he can get you to engage in conversation with him.

"My assumptions are mine," you say quietly, walking closer towards him, until your index finger can tap against his chest. "Maybe if we were friends, I'd share them with you. But I don't share with people who only know how to take. From the look in Taehyung's eyes, it seems like he knows how to give a thing or two, so who knows, Jungkook? Maybe I'll share with him."

Jungkook is silent.

It's a threat. He fucking knows it's a threat.

All those missed orgasms seem like a terrible idea, now. He thought he'd been helping, thought that you'd just think he was an idiot, like any other guy who didn't know where the fucking clit was. Thought it would help slow the feelings that are developing regardless.

But you knew he knew.

He's a fucking connoisseur. He's had you coming undone in ways that no other man has ever gotten close to. For him to suddenly forget how to make you tremble on his fingers was laughable.

You'd chosen not to mention it, because foolishly, you thought that you were the issue - but if he's gonna hurt your pride, then you're gonna hurt his right back.

You shake your head, and walk to the curb, raising your arm for the taxi that's hurtling down the road. There's a screech as it comes to a stop, almost like a reset button being pressed.

You feel a weight being eased from your chest, glad to have finally put him in his place for the no-gasm issue, but a new weight is just as heavy on your feet. You open the door, think about getting in, but can't. For some reason, the idea of leaving without him has you close to tears.

Asking the driver to wait just a minute, you turn to find him fixated on you, those soft chocolate eyes of his so warm as they stare you down. His brows are lifted, mouth firmly pursed shut, but you can see from the way his chest is beating that he's breathing heavier than his lungs can really manage.

You've never seen him cry, but you think you might tonight.

"C'mon," you eventually say, knocking your head to the side. You've a lot fight in you, but far more fear. You don't know what you mean to Jungkook, and you're not gonna kid yourself and pretend like you feel secure in it - but you know what he means to you. The idea of him staying elsewhere has you feeling all feeble and pathetic. You don't think he would, but you know that he could. "It's late. Let's just go back to the hotel."

He stuffs his hands into his front pockets and looks down, the usual confidence he wears masked by a thin layer of shame. It has a sheen to it; a stain. He's not the man that he wants to be for you, and he knows you're starting to wise up to it.

"Kook," you encourage, but he still resists.

He doesn't deserve this; doesn't deserve you. Doesn't deserve the olive branch you're extending, when he knows he should be on his knees begging like a dog.

He could do that for you. Beg like a dog, in his own, fucked up, kind of way.

On his hands and knees. Begging.

In fact, he thinks it's the only thing can do for you right now.

And so he gets in the taxi as you ask, and stays quiet.

The drive is silent, but taxi rides often are, so he tries to ignore it. When you go to pay, he holds your hand back, and offers up his card instead. The grip he has is gentle, but it burns like the heat of a thousand matches, and when it leaves, you're left smouldering. You don't want to lose the heat, no matter how much damage it can do.

Silence permeates, and dulls the chime in your stomach that you'd expect to hear in a hotel elevator with Jungkook.

So much silence.

Silence as the door to your hotel room clicks open, and silence as you kick off your shoes. Silence when your bag is tossed on the bed, and silence when Jungkook's shoes join your own.

There's silence as he walks to stand behind you while you look out onto the midnight sea, and there's silence when he presses a kiss into the crook of your neck.

There's silence when he whispers your name, and silence when you hum in satisfaction from the way his lips feel against the expanse of your throat.

Silence so loud that you want to scream.

Silence so loud that you wouldn't be able to hear the scream regardless.

Silence, silence, silence that is so fucking loud, you must be deaf.

But you can hear the small intakes of breath that he takes between the kisses he peppers on your skin. You can hear the click of his lips, and the way he whispers 'I didn't mean it,' as if it would eradicate the hurt caused by such a simple exchange of words.

And then his hands of fire are creeping beneath your shirt, and you're all warm and pliable for him.

You so desperately want proof that he didn't mean what he said, and if there's one thing you're sure of, it's that he doesn't fuck you like you're just a friend.

So you think you might just let him.

He can tell you're apprehensive and he knows why, and that he has to prove himself to you. Moonlight pours in through the window, and you're bathed in it like some kind of ethereal goddess that will surely disappear when dawn breaks. He has to make this last.

He strips you of your clothes, and funnily enough, it isn't the most vulnerable you've felt in the last few hours. In fact, you feel confident, now. You know what you're doing when it comes to matters of the body. Matters of the heart? Not so much.

Your capabilities for either of those aren't required now, though. This is all on him.

He encourages you to the bed, so you sit by the foot, and wait for instruction.

"Lie down," he says, eyes remarkably on yours, and not your tits instead. It must be a first.

It's curious how softly he looks at you; almost like you could break.

Maybe it's because he knows he has to be extra careful, because he's the only one capable of breaking you.

And so you nod, because maybe, just maybe, he could fix you, too.

In fact, when he gets to his knees and grips his palms around your ankles to drag you closer to the end of the bed, you can almost feel your heart swelling. Healing.

Y'see, it's familiar, and safe, and certain; Jungkook will fuck you, and you will mistake the way he kisses you when he cums as a declaration of something more than what it is.

For now, though, he's only thinking about ways to get you off. Anything is on the table. He'll do it all. Do whatever you ask. Do things you're too afraid to ask.

He spreads your legs apart, and spends longer than is normally comfortable staring at you. He's appreciating it; the way your lips slowly part, a little damp and so delightfully warm. He loves your scent. Wishes he could bottle it up - but for now, he'll settle for drinking from the source.

When his tongue strokes against you, it's slow. The pressure behind it feels intentional, the warm studs of his tongue piercing making your toes curl from just one touch. He exhales against you, then inhales because - fuck me - you smell divine. His tongue licks again, languid and flat, his head nodding ever so gently. The change in movement has your hands gripping onto the sheets, a shallow affirmation of 'fuck, Kook, yes' spurring him on.

He hums against you, and you swear it's better than any vibrator you've ever had. It's almost as if he's saying something, but can't get his words out - which would make sense, given the fact his mouth of full of your pussy. His tongue points, as his palms rest on the underside of your thighs to angle you a little better for him.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance, and it has you mewling. Wetness seeps into his mouth, sweet and musky, just how he fucking likes it, and he's doing that thing where he whines against you again, and you swear you might just cum right there and then.

It's noticeable, though, how your grip is on the sheets, and not him.

Your heels are digging into the duvet, not pressing against the top of his spine, and your fingers aren't in his hair.

Still, your pussy is leaking onto his tongue, and arguably, he could be fooled into thinking you've let down your guard for him.

But you haven't really.

He can see this; the way you've detached sex, and the pleasure that it coexists with, from the emotional intimacy he's fostered with you.

It's like he can touch you, but you're scared to touch him. You're using him - and he knows he deserves it.

When he pulls away from you, clear strings of slick connect his mouth to your core. The sheen covers his lips, his chin, the tip of his nose. Moonlight drenches him, and in turn, so do you. He watches how your chest heaves as his fingers come to replace the pressure from his tongue on your pussy.

Your body may be his, but you're not.

'Touch me,' he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by how badly he seems to have fucked up the one good thing going for him - and so he pushes his fingers into you, hoping that he'll be able to get you forgetting about the fact he's no good for you; get you wanting him like you used to.

And you do.

Oh god, you do, so badly.

There's nothing you want more than to have your fingers tangled in his hair, have him hissing when you pull a little too hard, keeping him locked in position against the mess he's made - but you're embarrassed. You fear that by taking any kind of leading role, you'll be forcing him to play along to something he isn't really all that into.

As much as you could pretend like you don't care about what happened earlier, it's chewing you apart, inside out, making it harder for you to get there.

Your body keens for him, though. The sounds of his fingers working your pussy are lewd, and only amplified when he spits on it in that way he always does. It drives you insane, but even now, you're floundering.

"Hey," you whisper, and your hand finally comes to rest against his hair. He leans into your touch, heart stiff in his chest as it appears to stop beating altogether. How a touch so simple can have him so damn wrecked is beyond him. He hums a response, and is met with a gentle tap against his bleached ends. He looks towards you to find you looking back, and the stillness of his heart is replaced with a beat so loud he swears it sounds like a thunderstorm is hurtling across the ocean. "Stand."

Your voice is soft, and Jungkook is confused, but he doesn't question it. He does as he's told, because quite frankly, he'll do anything you want at this point. He'd get on his knees, on his back - fuck it, he'd even get face down, ass up, if that's what you wanted - but you don't. Not now, at least. Maybe another time.

Right now, you want him as vulnerable as you feel.

When he stands, he keeps his fingers inside of you. He's gentle, massaging, making sure the movements aren't too rough. You've never shied away from things getting a little heated, but there's a time and a place for that. You don't want it hard. You want soft. Soft, soft, soft, like his eyes.

"Clothes," you say, almost timidly, unable to string your words together in a way that makes coherent sense. He knows what you mean, though, and slowly pulls his fingers from you, not caring to wipe them off. You're pristine, in his eyes. He couldn't care less about how dirty you could make him. He'd wear it like a badge of fucking honour.

He takes his shirt off first, eyes never leaving yours. He can see the way your heart is beating beneath your chest, and decides pretty quickly that he needs your tits in his mouth at some point before the night is done. His favourite fuckin' feature of his favourite fuckin' person - when he's horny, at least. He could list a million things he likes just as much, but his brain kind of just short circuits when he can see your chest looking all heavy and pliable and like it belongs in his mouth.

There's a clang, the metal of his belt tapping against itself, his tattooed fingers working quickly to rid himself of all his constraints. He pulls it from the loops of his trousers, tossing it on the bed just in case he'll need it later.

Your lips rest ajar, but you close your legs a little, watching him unbutton his jeans. He lets them drop, revealing the white of his Calvins.

He usually wears dark boxer briefs, which are always welcomed by you - but there's something about the white that has you salivating.

The outline of his cock is thick. He's stiff, and there's a tiny tell-tale mark of precum leaking from his tip. The contrast of his honey skin against the crisp white is the kind of visual you'd expect to see on a Hollywood billboard; not in your hotel room with you.

He'd worn them deliberately, expecting this kind of reaction, but had anticipated a far different feeling in the room.

The look on his face doesn't match the confidence that his strong body oozes. His wide eyes are just as vulnerable as yours. You both look like you're gonna fucking cry, which is actually kinda funny, when you think about it - but you don't laugh.

Perhaps that would be the most vulnerable thing you could share with him, and he with you: tears. There's a heaviness between the pair of you, the weight of unspoken words, hidden truths and deceptive intentions, which have led to the cluster fuck that is the relations of which you engage in.

It's just fucking, but it's also not. Not really. If it was just fucking, he'd be railing you right now, just like he did on that very first night you spent together.

But instead, he's cautious as he asks, "Where do you want me?"

You have to bite your tongue and stop it from saying 'inside me.' You're trying to keep your heart safe. Distance is needed. You're scared he's gonna steal it if he gets too close.

Pulling your legs up, cross-legged in front of him, you give him a look that he doesn't understand, but one that he knows means no harm.

He thinks you're asking permission to move, so he nods, and is proven right. You crawl a little further towards him, on your knees, until you're at the end of the bed. You sit up on your knees, shorter than him still, but the height is more matched than it is when you're standing on solid ground.

You give him that look again, and so - of course - he just nods. He's yours. You can do whatever you fucking like to him. He'd take anything you'd give him, pleasure or pain. He's stoic in the way that he stands, but you can see his jugular vein beating like he's just gone three rounds in the boxing ring.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, right where the V of his hips meets the fabric, your eyes are on his.

It's torture, knowing you could be watching his thick, swollen cock spring free, but this isn't about the sex. Not really.

He bends a little, pushing his underwear to his ankles, kicking them off to the side and resuming his position in front of you. You still haven't looked at his cock, even though the thought of it has slick wetness seeping onto your inner thigh.

Your hand finds one of his, and pulls it to his cock. It throbs as you wrap Jungkook's hand around it, nodding at him, before retreating.

He's stood at the end of the bed, naked, hand tight around his fat, leaky cock, eyes on yours as you sit by the pillows. Your legs are crossed, knees up, covering your chest, light from the moon washing over you both.

He looks heaven-sent in this light. A white halo whisps around his fluffy blonde hair, the thick lines of his tattoos defined, his body carved from marble. And yet there's still a softness to him. It's in his eyes. Big and round; home in human form.

And so, for all the fear, for all the ways he has you scared about his intentions, for all the sheer instances of turmoil you put your heart through, none of it really matters.

In this moment, you feel safe.

"Wanna watch," you say quietly. You can see the way he swallows, his chest doing a terrible job of hiding the fact he actually seems to be a little bit nervous.

"Watch?"

You nod. "Wanna watch the way you get yourself off."

The request is simple, but it feels more complex than that - and it is. You want him vulnerable. You want him weak. You want him falling apart all over you without even so much as a single touch from you.

In his heart of hearts, he knows all this.

He knows, and still, he wants to do it for you.

There are sins to repent, and this feels like a start.

"Wanna see the way you touch yourself when you think about me," you continue, because you like the way his eyes look so pure and chaste at such a request.

There's a shadow to his face, the moon only illuminating half of his body, but it runs deeper than that. Divine feminity is a gift from the celestial body that watches over you, and it overcomes him, too.

Despite the hardness of his muscles, the metal of his piercings and the stiffness of his cock, he's so, undeniably soft for you.

Soft and velvety, just like his eyes. Soft and timid, like the boy who cried wolf and finally got caught. Soft, and softer still, when he says your name in such a hushed tone it barely reaches your ears.

"You do that, right?" You ask, though the answer is granted by how utterly enthralled he is with you - or at least, your body. "You think of me when you touch yourself?"

He nods, licking a slow stripe across his lower lip, before biting down on it.

His tight fist begins to roll up his cock, slowly bringing it back down again to the base of his shaft. There's a hypnotic quality to the way his foreskin retracts, exposing how red and flushed the tip of his cock is. There's desire burning through it, and he needs you - your pussy, your mouth - to soothe it.

He knows he isn't getting it, so instead, he revels in the pain that comes with being refused your body.

He's tepid as he starts, but his pace quickly builds, and so does the way he's moaning. It's a miracle you can even remember how to breathe. His torso is tense as he lets the pleasure run over his body, head tipping back, the expanse of his throat thick and wide, just like his cock.

He hums, imagining the way your pussy is leaking as you watch the show he's putting on for you.

He's not a performer, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the way he moves his body has you thinking that maybe in a past life, he could have been. You'd pay good money to watch him on stage. You'd devote yourself to him. Watch from the crowd as he sold himself to a thousand people every night. He'd be the main event, the headlining act, and maybe if you were lucky, he'd stick around for an encore.

What a shame, you think, that he never took advantage of his boyish charm and deliriously handsome face - but more fool him. You're the one who gets to reap the benefits, as you watch him now, free of charge, front row seat.

And yet, somehow, he seems to adore the crowd more than the crowd adores him. It fills your ego. Has you convinced that you've ruined this poor boy's life. Maybe you have.

"You're gonna think of me for the rest of your life," you tell him of your conclusion from your perch up by the pillows.

He so often talks in definitive certainties, that it's only fair you return the favour - but, remember, you're just friends, according to Jungkook. Best not to get ahead of yourself.

You find yourself prowling down the bed on all fours, stopping just beyond his reach. There's something primal about his gaze now. Predatory - but you aren't his prey. You're not going to get caught.

"Give it twenty years," you simper, rolling onto your back so your ankles are by the pillows, eyes on his cock as you tilt your head back. Kneading one of your boobs, you let your other hand dip between your legs. "When you're married, and your poor wife can't get you hard anymore, it's gonna be me who you think about."

"Shit," he hisses, both hating and loving what you're saying. Hating it because you're probably right, but loving it because, again, you're definitely right.

"It's gonna be me," you repeat. "When you get hard in your car, 'cause another girl has put her hand on your thigh. It's gonna be me you're thinking about."

He wants to protest. Wants to tell you that there'll never be another girl. He'd be lying, probably, but fuck knows why he'd ever give you up. Would have to be insane, you think, or something like that.

You know just as much as he does, that symbiotic energy like yours doesn't occur all too often.

"When your couples therapist asks what you think could be done to spice up your dead marital bedroom, it's gonna be me - gonna be this, right now - that you think of."

"C," he husks, unable to even get the full term of endearment out. There's a clammy sheen to his body now, his arm jerking at such a pace his veins are all engorged and pretty, just how you like them.

"It's gonna be me," you say again, barely a whisper, but it's enough.

And he agrees. "It's gonna be you."

Victory and defeat all in one blow; you're his forever, but it's likely he won't be yours.

He senses the heaviness behind his words, and the weight they've put of your chest, so he tries distraction as a method of easing it.

"Open your legs," he husks, the final syllable catching in his throat. When you do as you're told, he fucking whines.

The slickness pooling around the top of your thighs is sticky and hot, strings of clear fluid connecting your legs - all of you - together as you spread yourself for him. He nods, and it's your turn to obey, now.

Your fingers begin to rub at your clit, and Jungkook almost just give himself upright in that second. He swallows back the saliva that's pooling in his mouth, his cock growing hotter and heavier in his grasp. The way he's pumping himself is gonna have him finishing far quicker than he'd like, but he can't stop.

Not when you're looking up at him like that. Not when you're matching his moans.

"Don't stop," you almost beg as you see him begin to ease up. Returning his eyes to yours, his lips are parted. His hand continues to jerk, just a little slower.

"I gotta," he whines, but does as he's told, his grip a little looser than it had been. The muscles in his abdomen are tight. His balls, too. You want them in your mouth.

He watches as you turn, resuming the position you'd been in earlier.

As you wrap your arms around his neck for support, Jungkook finds himself grunting, picking his pace back up. He can smell you, your gasoline hair and sweet pussy, and it has him unable to think straight. Unable to do anything other than jerk himself off for you, because it's what you want.

The world. He'd give you that. If you wanted it, he'd give you it. He thinks he'd give you anything. Everything. Whatever he could.

The only thing he can't give you, not really, is himself.

And so he'll settle for everything and anything else your heart could ever desire.

But as your lips meet his, he knows that he's fucked, and that the only thing you really want is him.

Your kisses are slow, and tepid; a stark difference from the way his hand is working his cock, but it's everything he needs. How selfish, it is, that he still gets what he wants.

Unaware, you pull away, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing his as you say, "you're gonna cum for me, now."

He tries to ask where, but you just kiss him instead. You kiss, and you kiss, and you kiss, and he's so fucking consumed that he barely notices when he starts gasping against your lips. His body begins to stall, muscles mirroring the way he begins to stutter, and then it's happening.

The tip of his cock is pressed against your stomach as he begins to unload himself, once, twice, and then he's sensitive, and trying to pull back, but he's still coming and - "Oh, fuck, babe" - he's painting you white with the innocence of the way he feels about you.

It's everywhere by the time he's done; your tummy, the underside of your breasts, dripping down to the mound of your pussy. He can barely fucking breathe, so caught up in the way it always feels to have you kiss him through his orgasm.

His hands grip your jaw, pulling you in for more, because he needs to distract his mouth from the words he's scared are gonna tumble from it. You both ignore the fact they're covered in the seed that's just spilt over onto them. It's nothing new, after all.

It's not like he's gonna declare love, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, he just doesn't know how the fuck he feels - and that's dangerous.

Unpredictability only leads to messiness, which it could be argued is what's happening right now.

Still, Jungkook hooks his hands beneath your ass and moves onto the bed with you, and thinks it's a pretty nice problem to have.

His cock is firm still, nestled in the warmness of your pussy as your legs wrap around his hips. Neither of you care about his cum, and it's interesting how often you seem to be covered in one another, with no desire to rid yourselves of it.

He didn't make you cum, but it was your choice, this time.

It's funny, because you're one who is scared now that an orgasm could have you falling in love. You don't want to give him that power back. Not yet, at least.

Your kisses dissolve into light pecks, the pair of you unable to hold back from worshipping one another. But you must, for it's foolish to idolise mortal Gods.

"This doesn't seem very friendly, Kook," you whisper.

Your chest feels uneasy as you joke. He closes his eyes, hanging his head in shame against yours, knowing that it was him and his inability to ever say the right fuckin' thing that had you refusing to fuck him that evening.

He's not stupid. He knows you stopped him from making you cum. He knows why. And he hates himself for it.

He presses a kiss against your cheek, once, twice, and works his way to your lips. It's goofy, the way he's planting little seeds of love all over your skin, but only time will tell if he'll water them. For now, you think you'd quite like to imagine the wildflower garden that could bloom in their wake.

"It's cause it's not, CC," he admits. "It's not very friendly at all."

And then, you just can't seem to help yourself as you tease, "Even if I'm just a friend from Daegu?"

He smiles, because he knows you're trying to soothe the burn of his words. Naked, spent, and vulnerable, Jungkook rolls off of you, repositioning himself so that you can rest your head on his chest. Still, neither of you care to get cleaned up. There's no disgust, nor discomfort.

More fool the both of you for thinking that this isn't love.

"You're my only friend from Daegu," he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. It's not strictly true, but he sort of wishes that it was. Wishes he knew you before he knew them.

"What about your other friends?" You ask gently, because maybe it's your fault you don't know more about him. Maybe you just haven't been asking the right questions.

Jungkook pulls the comforter over your body, 'cause he can feel how hard your nipples are against his torso, and guesses that you aren't exactly still horny now that you're asking him shit like this. Again, there's zero care for clean up just yet. Zero care for anything but one another.

And then you tack on an extra little question that has Jungkook mentally groaning.

"Who's Taehyung?"

Convinced that you're snug like a little comforter-human-burrito, Jungkook holds you tightly. He's still stark bollock naked and doesn't really care to be covered, but he wants you warm. Wants you happy.

And knows that your happiness, now, rests on open communication.

"I knew Taehyung in high school," he eventually admits. "We were both on the boxing team, and we were friends, but -" he stops, and laughs a little. "Well, I kept beating him. So on the days I'd stay behind and work on my form, shit like that, Tae would..." Jungkook sighs. And then he laughs again. "This is so embarrassing." He gently shakes his head, and then thinks fuck it. You deserve the truth, so the truth is what you're gonna get. "I started going to club more often, thought about going pro. I was pretty serious about it. Got to the point where Tae couldn't compete with me - but one thing he could do, apparently, was fuck. And I didn't know, but apparently, he could turn that into a competition, 'cause on the days I trained alone, he'd go hook up with my girlfriend."

It doesn't upset Jungkook anymore. Not really. Annoys him a little - and means there was no way he was letting Taehyung think you meant anything more to him than just casual sex.

"Shit," is all you can say.

"Yeah," Jungkook sighs. "Went on for like, 6 months. I didn't know till my dick started fucking burning. Turned out he'd given her chlamydia from someone else and in turn, me."

"Bastard."

"Right? At least wrap it up if you're gonna fuck about. Anyways, after that, it was rare for him not to pursue any girl I was interested in," Jungkook finally admits, and it feels good to get it out. Good to share. Fucking fantastic, actually. "Me saying what I said... It was a defence mechanism more than anything, and I'm sorry. I just didn't wanna give him any reason to try it on with you."

You nod slowly, because there's a lot to unpack. "What happened? With the girl?"

"We broke up," he says honestly. "That was the nail in the coffin, really. He's done it with a few other girls I've dated or fucked since then, to the point where it's definitely a pattern of behaviour, but I tend to avoid serious relationships. If I'm being honest, I haven't had one since."

"Since high school?"

God, it's mortifying, he thinks. "Since high school."

Heartbreak is a funny thing, though. You're similar in that regard. Neither of you ever want to give another person the power to break the one thing keeping you alive. It's just asking for trouble.

Then again, every single fucking thing about your 'friendship' is asking for trouble. Maybe it's fitting.

"I'm sorry," you say, because you're not sure what else to say. He squeezes the comforter bundle you're in and shrugs.

"Don't be. Just please don't have sex with Kim fuckin' Taehyung."

You laugh, because such a thing feels absurd - but it would do. You trust Jungkook. You care about Jungkook. Care for him. Care for his opinions, his well-being.

Would be a shame if that ever were to change.

But that doesn't feel like a possibility right now, so you simply don't think about it. Instead, you ask the question that you've been holding back, because you wanted to at least look a little compassionate before you got ahead of yourself.

"So what you said to him about me," you begin, and he rolls his eyes, 'cause he knows exactly where you're going with this.

"So what I said about you."

"You lied."

"I lied, CC."

The way he whispers it back to you has you all giddy and docile for him. He's dangerous, in the most delectable way.

"You like me," you accuse, and you're met with a shallow kiss, his lips curving upwards because he can't help but smile at how fucking smitten you look.

"I'm terrified of you," he smiles. "The way you make me feel scares the living daylights out of me, CC. This isn't... I'm not good at this. I mean, hello? Been out of practice since high school."

"Mmmm," you interject, questioning his statement. "You've fucked plenty of girls since high school."

His eyes roll again, because he knows you're just trying to get him to be specific.

"What do you want me to say, huh, CC?" He nudges his nose against yours, his grin prevailing as he sinks them down into a kiss. "That I spend my whole entire fuckin' day thinking about you? You stay at my place all the time. My Netflix account reckons I'm halfway through season one of Gossip Girl." You smile. It's a guilty pleasure. You watch it at his place when he leaves early for work, or on the days you arrive before him. "There's a spare toothbrush by my sink, and it's yours."

The way he emphasises 'yours' has the chime in your stomach ringing like a church bell.

"I haven't been serious about anyone since high school, so yeah, I'm a bit out of practice. I don't wanna put labels on things or move too fast or say things I can't take back. I just know it would really fucking sting if you slept with Taehyung," he smiles, attempting to lighten the fact he's basically just put his heart on the line for you. "So please just... don't."

The issue is, Jungkook's forgetting himself.

He's forgetting that you're not just you. He's not just him. The way you met wasn't organic like you think it was, and he's letting himself get wrapped up in the idea that the pair of you are just normal people who found one another despite all odds.

The thought creeps into his mind, but frankly, he wants it to fuck off. So he kisses you. Slow and deep. Just him, and you.

If he'd have met you under different circumstances, he'd have probably already asked your father's permission to-

And then it hits him. The reminder that he can never have a happy ending with you, all thanks to your fucking father.

Jungkook asked you to come to Busan for a reason. There are things you need to see, things you need to understand before it all goes to shit.

"I want you to come somewhere with me tomorrow," he husks against your lips, your noses stroking gently against one another. "Somewhere important. I've got some errands to run, and I'll see my family alone, but after that, I wanna show you something."

You nod to confirm that it's okay. Of course, you don't mind him seeing his family alone, and you could do with running a few errands yourself, so it works out well. He's opening up. Sharing. And that's all you can ask for.

It has you thinking that maybe you should do the same for him.

"Thank you," he whispers.

It's a loaded phrase, and you're not sure which part he's thanking you for, but you accept it nonetheless.

This is progress, you think.

Funny, 'cause Jungkook's the blonde one. If anyone should be a dumb bitch, it's him.

But the blonde is fake, and he's smarter than he should be after all those blows to the head in the boxing ring.

You're private school educated. Could have been anything you wanted. Could have had the world. Your daddy worked hard to make sure of it.

But as Jungkook leads you to the bathroom, stripped of everything except for the stain of his sex, you think you already have the world.

You think, for once, you finally have something good that isn't the result of nepotism or political fear.

Your daddy worked hard. He worked real hard. He gave you the world, and then some - but the world doesn't come for free, and there's a little collateral that he never counted on caring enough to fuck with his self-made solar system.

Yeah, your daddy gave you the world.

But it's Jungkook's job to give it back to its rightful owners, whether he wants to or not.

And so, as the shower begins to heat up, and the pair of you are doing what you do so well, his phone begins to buzz in the bedroom. It goes unnoticed. It's not Jungkook's priority anymore, which leaves him in quite a predicament.

The outside world can wait for a moment. He's letting himself indulge in the fantasy of you one final time.

What a brilliant, intangible fantasy you are.

But fantasy is just that;

a lie.

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one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch. 5

A/N: Lmao hi! I'm back and this chapter is sorta boring but trust the process! Hopefully next chapter will be much sooner! Basically I post a chapter once I have the following one or two done~ Please enjoy and send asks and all that! I keep meaning to make a banner for this series, and one day I will have one!! As usual everyone thank @rapline-heaux my wonderful beta reader who read this months ago lmaooo

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere Mafia! BTS x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, Taehyung and Jimin being mean, abandonment

By the time Jungkook returned to his apartment, all six of his lovers were seated around his dining table, waiting for him. The men looked at the youngest with an aura of moderate annoyance. They hated tardiness, and Jungkook could only imagine the story he spun about you.

“How are you going to be late to the emergency meeting you called?” Jin asked, sighing as he checked his nails impatiently. 

“Go on, tell em where you were.” Taehyung snipped, but Yoongi clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Don’t bother, he already whined about it.” Namjoon sighed out.

Jungkook snorted, “Yeah, I can tell by the way Jimin looks pissed too.” The MMA fighter bristled at this but sighed, crossing his arms. 

“I’ll never understand what you guys have against her.” Hoseok rolled his eyes, “How is she, dare I ask?” He sarcastically spoke, “According to Tae she’s the Devil incarnate.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes at this, landing on the man in question to send him a glare, “Did he tell you how much of an asshole he was?” 

“Funnily enough, he neglected to mention his behavior.” Yoongi spoke, not breaking his eye contact with Taehyung who shrunk in his seat a bit, “I also will never understand why she gets under both of your skin so much.” He looked to JImin who shifted in his seat, “None of our trysts have ever gotten to you both.” 

“She’s different.” Taehyung snarled bitterly. No one said it, but the sentiment was there. You were different because Jungkook kept going back to you. You were different because instead of making him worse and leaving them to pick up the pieces, you made him… better. You helped him come from the depths of rock bottom in a way none of them had been capable of doing due to their own internal battles, and it weighed on the two men in a way that guilt could never fully encapsulate. 

“Anyways.” Jungkook spoke, plopping down next to Yoongi who sat at the head of the table, “I’m sure everyone here wants to know why I called you here?” He asked, and the men looked on expectantly. It was rare for Jungkook to call these meetings, especially so close to the anniversary date. Truthfully, he was surprised that they were all even able to attend in the first place, but it was all fate after all, at least in his eyes, “Well, I have just given us the best anniversary gift yet.” The men in the room perked up noticeably. 

“Did Byungjoo seriously give you something useful?” Jimin asked curiously, “I thought I was supposed to go in tomorrow because he’s not talking about the old man’s whereabouts?” He looked to Namjoon whose gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook.

“Yeah… you told me he wasn’t squealing?” The CEO asked suspiciously.

“And he didn’t, not about Byungyeol.” Jungkook confirmed, “But he did mention something… about the girl.” Yoongi’s back was pin straight as the younger man spoke. 

“Isn’t she dead?” Hoseok asked, making Yoongi’s jaw set. 

“Hey, we don’t know that for sure,” Jin argued for the sake of the second oldest who waited for Jungkook to continue with bated breath.

“Oh come on.” Taehyung huffed out, “That fire–”

“Enough.” Yoongi grit out, “Let him finish.” 

Jungkook smiled a bit, all too eager to finally have you out in the open, “She’s alive.” The room went still as he continued, “He gave me her name, and I had to check it out to make sure he wasn’t lying but… I found her.” 

“No way.” Jimin gasped, turning to the older man who had a lump in his throat, “What did you wanna do with her, boss?” The title was a bit sarcastic, “She sharing the same fate as Byungjoo?” 

“No.” Jungkook and Yoongi spoke in unison, making the two look at each other curiously. Everyone in the room knew Yoongi had a certain fixation on finding the green girl, especially as they were preparing for the fall of the Moon group, but they weren’t sure why. The only person who really knew had been Jin who remained as tight-lipped as ever about the topic. 

Yoongi cleared his throat to break some of the tension, “No, I don’t think I plan to kill her.” He spoke cooly, but Jungkook’s jaw set at the mere possibility.

“None of us will be killing or harming her.” Jungkook proclaimed, making the two bosses in the room glared at him. 

“That’s not your call to make, JK.” Namjoon reminded him, but he shook his head in defiance.

“Why do you even care?” Jin asked curiously.

Taehyung watched with squinted eyes as he studied the scene before him. Jungkook never once cared about who lived or died. Hell, he hated attending most meetings. It didn’t make sense why he’d care about some random girl he didn’t know–

Oh. 

Rage bubbled in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, “It’s because she’s been right next door this whole time, isn’t it?” He piped up, and Jungkook’s glare at him deepened, “She’s fucking dea–” Taehyung stood and Jimin followed suit.

“Sit down.” Yoongi hissed, and the men had no other choice but to listen as he turned to the maknae, “Is that true?” 

Jungkook pursed his lips and let out a short laugh, “And I had no fucking clue,” He admitted, and Namjoon wanted to bang his head on the table. All of the men knew that Jungkook wouldn’t lie about this kind of thing, not when it meant so much to Yoongi, but still–

“How could you be so careless–” 

“We all thought she was dead!” Jungkook defended himself, and Yoongi remained quiet, “None of us knew her name, how she looked, hell, we didn’t even know her real age, evidently.” He sighed, “She didn’t even know about me.” 

“What?” Hoseok chimed in, “You’re telling me this is all a coincidence?” He asked incredulously, but Jungkook stood his ground.

“The reason I’ve been so off these days?” He offered, and his boyfriends stiffened, “She saw Namjoon on the news as Bangtan Corp’s CEO, and she… I mean, she’s not an idiot. She added two and two together.” He bitterly admitted, “Our one rule was shattered, so we agreed to go our separate ways but…”

Jin scrunched his brows as he took it in, “You couldn’t let her go, could you?” He asked, and the implications made the men in the room feel ill. Jungkook, the man who could have multiple one-night stands in a night without feeling an ounce of affection for them, couldn’t let you, his friend, walk out of his life, “Jungkook you…”

“She was all I had during…” He trailed off, and the other men could fill in the blanks, “We found each other at our lowest, and now I see why she was so skittish at first it…” He sighed, “It was fate, I see that now.” 

“Fate?!” Taehyung guffawed, “She was playing you!” 

“How?!” He challenged, raising his voice back, “It’s been years and she’s never once asked me for anything!” 

“Everyone calm down, okay?” Hoseok tried to mediate, “Look, I agree with Jungkook, there’s no way she knew or was playing him.” He defended and Jimin scoffed, “I’m serious. I was the one who watched her those days, alright?”

“Byungjoo had no idea I even knew her.” Jungkook mentioned, “I didn’t tell him I did, obviously. He just… immediately gave me her name and her phone number.” He said, but sighed, “She got a new phone the day after she saw Namjoon on the news, you know.” He admitted, “I know now Byungjoo called her that day and she freaked out, now I know why.”

“Freaked out?” Yoongi asked, expression unreadable. 

“Why would she freak out if her uncle called?” Namjoon asked, the Moon family was supposed to be tight-knit.

“She’s…” Jungkook tried to find the word, “I don’t think she was raised how we thought at all, hyung.” He admitted, and it made the older man’s stomach churn, “I think we need to reevaluate everything we thought we knew about the Moon family.” Whispers in the Underworld spoke of a spoiled yet deadly princess who got everything she wanted at the snap of a finger. You were supposed to have been pampered to a nauseating degree. 

“Why don’t we ask her ourselves?” Jimin bitterly added, unbelieving that you could be anything other than what they’d been told.

“Fine.” Jungkook surprisingly agreed, “But not tonight.” 

“What are we even going to do with her?” Jin asked finally, “If we’re not going to kill her then what?” He felt the need to add, “We can’t let her run. Obviously, she was planning to.” 

“We hire her.” Yoongi announced and all of the men except Namjoon looked at him in surprise.

“Just like that?” Hoseok chuckled, “Very well then.” 

“What use do we have for her?” Jimin hissed just as Taehyung stood.

“You’re joking.” Taehyung seethed, “Hire her to what? Stab us in the back?” 

“I haven’t heard anything to suggest she has any allegiance to her family.” Namjoon reasoned, “And she is a nurse, has been Jungkook’s very own for a while now.” He added with a tinge of bitterness, “It only makes sense that–”

“No way in hell am I going to the green girl prodigy killer to heal me.” Taehyung scoffed.

“Then don’t.” Yoongi clipped, making the man scowl further, “But if you need to, she is our new nurse, effective immediately.”

Hoseok, utterly amused, beamed a bit at this, “And no more coming to me to patch you up anymore.” He added, making Taehyung click his tongue, “I’m no good at it and it makes me have to cut into our supply.” He defended. Hoseok had some medical training, he had to in order to be the knowledgeable pharmacist he was now, but he didn’t like using it. 

“And who’s going to tell her?” Jin asked, seemingly unphased by the night’s events, but he seldom was.

“I will.” Yoongi proclaimed, “I’ll speak with her tomorrow and lay out the terms after we hammer them out tonight.” Jungkook stiffened at the idea of the other members seeing you, but it was unavoidable. All he really cared about was the fact that your heart would remain beating and you would be relatively free. 

Jimin glared at Jungkook, “What did you two talk about over there?” He asked.

Jungkook stiffened at the memory of just moments ago before returning his lover’s harsh gaze, “Have something you wanna say?” 

“Interesting that Jungkook gets to keep his toy.” Taehyung spat, making the man in question snarl before Jimin had a chance to say anything. 

“She is not a toy.” Yoongi hissed to everyone’s surprise. He cleared his throat, letting the heat melt from his body, “She is now a vital member of the group and should be treated as such.” This made Jungkook smile.

—

“...And then you tie it like this.” Eunhwa explained, tying the know just above the tip of your gash, “These are poligecaprone sutures, best for general tissue repair, like this.” She was so dutiful in her words, you almost envied how well-spoken she was. Eunhwa was a new instructor since the last one stopped showing up, and you didn’t have it in you to worry when she was so rotten. So far, Eunhwa was quite kind, but she made a displeased face at your wound, and you wondered if she blamed you for it. Father did, after all. He always said you had no business being as clumsy as you were.

Nevertheless, you watched the needle enter your skin and the knot she tied carefully as you nodded, ten-year-old mouth trying to form the word in silence as you did the next suture, the pattern being interrupted, “Pol–” You cut yourself off, looking at Eunhwa with surprise at the fact that you made a noise. You knew the rules, you knew legacies don’t speak unless they have something useful to say. 

You gulped, waiting for admonishment or a behavior report to be made and handed to your uncle, but instead, she smiled, “Do you want help sounding it out?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” You whispered out. 

A brief moment of sadness, an emotion you couldn’t identify yet, flashed on her face before she dutifully guided you through the word. 

You completed the knot and she checked your work with a nod, “Very good.” She mused before her eyes flicked to yours, “Did it hurt? Your father suggested I not give you numbing cream, but if it hurt too bad I can try to convince him.” She offered, but you shook your head. She looked at you quizzically, “It didn’t hurt?” You shook your head again. It hadn’t hurt more than anything else you’d taken, “You don’t want me to talk to him?” 

You swallowed, left with no other choice but to talk, “I can take it. I must.” You echoed his words, “It’s my job.” You solemnly spoke and Eunhwa paused for a moment, before nodding. 

“Very well.” She spoke softly, “I won’t talk to him, then. Just, speak freely around me, okay?” She asked, “I won’t tell, I promise.” 

You nodded, unable to say that you didn’t know how to speak freely.

—

If sleep found you, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Your eyes opened, and it felt like a mere blink. Nevertheless, the sun was slowly beginning to light the sky. The world was still turning for you, for now. You wondered how long you could keep that up. 

It wasn’t going to be long now before the devil was coming to collect your soul in the form of one of the Bangtan men, so you decided to use your last moment to speak to the only other person who ever cared what you had to say. 

The line rang only twice before she picked up, and before she could say anything you spoke, “It’s over.” You breathed, “They found me.” 

“What?” Eunhwa asked, and you could hear a door close, “No, that can’t be–”

For the first time in your life, you cut her off, “It’s okay.” You breathed out shakily, “I lived a bit.” You wanted to say you were ready to die, but you weren’t. You weren’t and the fact made you envious of your past self. A puppet with no concept of a life to live can’t fear death.

“No you didn’t.” She seethed, making your jaw clench. She was right. Your life had just barely started. You still had so much to learn and so many things to do that were now evaporating right before your eyes, “Are you sure they’re going to kill you?” She asked, and your brows scrunched.

“They’ve been looking for me this long.” You pointed out, “Why would they keep me alive? Even if Jungkook were to plead my case.” 

“Why would they kill you though?” Her voice was too hopeful for you, but you let her speak anyway, “Why would they kill someone they’ve been pursuing this hard?” 

“Eunhwa–” You were cut off by a sharp knock on the door that made your stomach fall, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” She hissed, but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I-I’m going to make a few calls and–” The knock on your door pounded louder this time, and you smiled sadly. 

“I have to go.” You simply said before hanging up. You took a deep breath before approaching the door. You figured death was best faced without thought. You had spoken to the one person from your past life that would miss you, and that was enough. 

The doorknob was unbelievably cold in your hand as you opened it. You didn’t realize you were looking down until you were left to stare at the fanciest pair of dress shoes you’d seen in a while. Finally, you looked up to face the man before you, and it was like time stopped for a moment. Something about his sharp eyes was eerily familiar, and it nearly gave you a headache trying to think about it. 

Yoongi on the other hand, found himself blown away by you. Finally, after years of searching and clawing his way through unwritten records of the underground, here you were. Right under his nose this whole time. How many times had he passed you in the elevator or in the mail room? You were beautiful, stunning even, so how could he have missed you for this long? He watched you drink him in with knitted brows and a brief flash of recognition nearly made him jump back. Could you truly recognize him, even after all you went through since? 

“Do… Do I know you?” You asked, and Yoongi smiled. You could see the melancholy dripping from the expression, making you feel even more uneased, “Are you here to kill me?” You asked, voice smaller than you hoped but you supposed it wasn’t going to matter much pretty soon. 

“Quite the opposite.” He quickly corrected you. Yoongi couldn’t kill you even if he wanted to. You may not be able to recognize him, but he’d know your face anywhere. It was his one comfort for a long time until it was ripped from him, “May I come in?” He raised a brow and you shrugged. 

“I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.” You mumbled under your breath before walking to your couch. 

Yoongi shut the door behind him, studying your form. Even in this despaired state, you were full of more life than he’d ever seen before. A smidge of jealousy boiled in his blood at the realization Jungkook got to see you laugh and act aloof like a friend would this whole time. He shook it off, sitting on the armchair next to the evidently second-hand furniture you sat on, “Needless to say, I am involved with Bangtan.” You nodded, eyes clouded with a million different emotions, “I am Min Yoongi, one of the seven bosses.” You sat on the couch next to the chair, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I don’t recognize you like I do Namjoon.” You spoke, studying his face further. 

He flashed you a tight smile, heart panging from hearing you say you don’t recognize him, “I’m in charge of running our underground operations and appearances.” He explained and your mouth formed a small O for a moment. 

“Wait.” You spoke, studying him further, “Min…” His surname stuck to your lips for a reason you couldn’t place, “I know that name I…” You bit your lip, you prided yourself on remembering faces and placing them just as well, but something about him clouded that ability, “Did I…” 

“No, I don’t have a vendetta against you.” He shook his head, and you scrunched your brows, “I do against your father and uncle, but you’ve done nothing to harm me.” He spoke, “It’s why we plan to let you live.” 

“And not them.” You finished for him, heart dropping a bit when he nodded. You knew you should’ve been more upset hearing that your father and uncle were to be murdered, but you didn’t care too much if you were being honest. It wasn’t as if they would’ve felt any different if the roles were reversed, even if the child in you was mourning them.

However, Yoongi was unnerved by your lack of reaction, “Does that upset you?” He asked, genuinely unable to tell. 

“Not really, no.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to nor trained in the art of lying all that well, “So I get to live?” The glimmer of hope in your eyes squeezed at his chest in a way that made him shift a bit.

“In exchange for something else.” He confirmed, and your body went stiff as you waited for him to continue, “Your time and knowledge.” 

You sighed. Fuck, you were screwed if he needed you to know anything of use, but most importantly, you were tired, “If you think I’m at all still connected to the Underworld…”

“No, no.” He stopped you short, and you looked at him quizzically, “I would’ve found you long ago if you were.” You nodded, and his confidence was all you needed in order to see him for what he was. He was the man who triggered the downfall of your family. You wanted to hate him for it, but you couldn’t, not really, “We all agreed to hire you on as our new nurse” Your breath hitched at his words, mind swimming with a million different things, “We will compensate you for your time and stock whatever supplies you need. You will also have our protection.”

You nodded, but you could hardly believe it, “Who will be my patients?” You asked.

“The seven of us.” He didn’t need to elaborate much further than that, “The lower echelons have their own designated medical services.” He explained, and you were a little impressed by it it all. Your father’s organization was not nearly this… well, organized. You and Eunhwa were the primary medical services for the upper echelons and the lower members had to fend for themselves.

“And can I still have my current job?” You asked, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded. 

“Yes, it’s best that way.” He confirmed, “If any of us need you during your work hours, we will make sure to tell you beforehand so we can coordinate that in a way that doesn’t look suspicious.” He said, but it all sounded too good to be true. 

You fixed a sharp look on him, “What else?” 

He sighed, “Tomorrow, we plan to have you come forward.” You had to grip the couch to stop your bones from turning to jelly at the fear that burned you from the inside, “Without revealing your identity fully, of course.” He quickly added, but it did nothing to ease you, and something about your evident panic made him feel sick, “We plan to have you announce your intent to bring your father and uncle to justice. It may draw the old man out.” He leaned forward, trying to catch your panicked gaze that’d been darting across the room, “All you have to do is record a voice line tonight, include something that only you would know, and send it to me.” He said, and it slowed your heart a mere fraction, “We will take care of the rest.” 

“How will you explain this to the public?” You asked, but he simply shook his head, “They’re going to demand my head I bet.” You were a cold-hearted killer. You knew that the few people that did hear of you firsthand had seldom good to say. Who even knew what your father publicized about you? You stayed away from the news because you didn’t need to know. 

“How scared you are right now tells me that the public will never have been so happy to be wrong about someone.” He mused, and your brows scrunched in confusion, “You were supposed to be some prissy spoiled heiress who killed when she bribed to.” 

“Bribed? Spoiled?” You balked, shaking your head, “That–” You didn’t even know what those words really meant until you met Jungkook, “How did–” 

“Your father controlled the narrative for a long time.” He spoke, words heavier than he knew, “He won’t now.” He spoke as if it were so simple, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but be honest about what kind of man he and Byungjoo were.” He chuckled, no amusement behind it, “Taehyung will be by in a bit to take your statement and give you the contract.” He stood, and you wanted to complain about Taehyung being the one to do it. However, you held your tongue, only nodding, obedient as ever and you hated it. But what choice did you have? 

“Yes, sir.” You sighed, and the silent submission made Yoongi feel disgusted with himself. 

“No need for that.” He shook his head, making you look up at him in confusion, “Please, just call me Yoongi.” His plea was a little too noticeable, but you nodded anyway, “I’m not your father nor your uncle.” He said softly, but that was only something you would believe when you saw it for yourself, “Were they…” He stopped, trying to think of how to ask such a thing, “You really weren’t spoiled or sheltered, were you?” He asked, already knowing just by how you looked away. 

“No, not in the way you think.” You breathed, “I was an employee more than anything.” You murmured, embarrassed for some reason, “I see that now more than ever.” 

“I see.” He simply said, “And Jungkook…” You stiffened at the mention, “Has he been good to you?” He asked against his better judgment. This wasn’t his business, no matter how much he wanted it to be. 

You nodded, and he felt his shoulders relax, “No one had ever been so kind to me.” You refrained from cursing him for bringing the Underworld back to your door. Not only were you unsure how angry you were, you doubted his boyfriend would fancy hearing it. 

“Good.” He simply said before taking his leave. 

—

“Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” Taehyung said when you opened the door to reveal him and Jungkook’s favorite MMA fighter, Park Jimin, at his side. You didn’t even have the energy to be surprised as he regarded you with as much hatred as Taehyung held, “So let’s get this over with.” He pushed past you to enter your apartment. Namjoon trailed behind them, at least having the decorum to nod at you.

You thought about introducing yourself to Jimin, but decided against it at his glare, “Right.” You simply breathed. 

“First, here’s the contract.” Jimin shoved the paper toward you as you read through it. You may not have been the best speaker or the best writer, but you could sure as hell read. Reading was all you could do for a long time. When you signed your name, his nose scrunched, “You write like a grade-schooler.” He spoke, and it pricked at your deepest shame. You had only been writing for the most part for five years.

The pen snapped in your hand, but you paid no attention to the ink that spilled onto your skin, “Fuck you.” You hissed, taking him aback for a moment. 

“Watch it.” Taehyung snapped, pausing as he set up the equipment. 

“I don’t talk back unless spoken to.” You snarled, moving to wash the ink off, “I don’t need this from either of you, especially not tonight.” You sat at the table, waiting for him to position the mic, “So let’s just get this over with, I have work tomorrow.” 

“Everyone relax.” Namjoon finally spoke, “We can be adults about this.” He glared at the three of you, before letting his gaze land on you, “I’m going to ask you questions, and you respond accordingly.” You nodded. 

“Okay, Ms. Moon, I say as this is not your real last name, please address your father Byungyeol.” He spoke into the mic. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. What the hell was there to say? You had laid it all out to him five years ago. You had shown true and genuine weakness, real desperation, and he didn’t hesitate in turning his back to you. 

You looked at Namjoon, expression totally lost and much more vulnerable than you wanted. Something about the way you looked like a puppy tugged at his heartstrings a bit in a way he didn’t understand, “What? Don’t wanna disparage your precious dad?” Taehyung taunted, snapping the CEO from his trance.

Your eyes snapped to him in a sharp glare, “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t know one thing about me?” You seethed, but he looked less than convinced. 

“Look, just pretend he was rotten and mean and you’re scared of him.” Jimin spoke to you as if you were a child, and it only made you angrier, “You should be used to lying, come on princess.” 

“Enough!” Namjoon silenced the two men, “If you upset her it’ll show in her statement.” He spoke, as cold as ever, “Behave.” He ordered before looking to you, “Now, tell me is Byungyeol a good man?” 

“No.” You spoke, immediately, and you were both disappointed when he waited for you to elaborate and you had nothing to say. You didn’t know how to do this, and it pissed you off. Jungkook knew how to keep you talking all the time, and so did Eunhwa, but outside of them, you were a mere soundboard. Namjoon could see the frustration on your face, and it unsettled him. 

Why were you having such a hard time talking? He looked around the room to see his lovers glaring harshly down at you and figured maybe that was the reason. He sighed, “How is she supposed to feel comfortable saying anything with you two looking at her like that?” He asked, shaking his head, “Bring Jungkook or Hoseok in.” He waved them off with a sigh. 

“No, it’s fine.” You grit out, the pride in you swelling, “They can think what they want to.” You didn’t even dignify them with a glare, “Again.” You nodded at Namjoon who finally broke his disbelieving look at you with a sigh. 

“Okay.” He fixed his tie despite this whole thing only being audio, but you supposed it just made sense he was constantly aware of his appearance, “Let’s try a different approach.” He announced, “Just talk directly to your father.” He said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “Tell him to turn himself in and be sure to mention something only you would know. Do the same with your uncle for the sake of optics.” He ordered and you wanted to say you weren’t sure if your father committed his actions towards you to memory. Odds are many of those days and nights tattooed in your memory weren’t out of the ordinary for him, as mundane as brushing his teeth. However, you shut your mouth. It wasn’t your problem if it didn’t work. 

You nodded and he gestured for you to start after Taehyung clicked the record button, “Father, I…” You took a deep breath as you tapped on your thigh mindlessly, “I think it’s time to atone for your sins.” Your words were shaky, “Remember? We don’t show fear, and you shouldn’t now.” The words were heavy on your tongue, “You told me that you find me in three years… that we would be a normal family after I begged you not to leave me alone, all by myself in a world I never got to see.” You wanted to choke on your father’s false promise, “It’s been five years since that day, and I’ve grown up a lot since then. I understand now more than ever how wrong you were about so much, and I have solemnly accepted the consequences of my actions under your guidance.” Your leg began bouncing as you spoke, “It’s time for you and uncle to do the same.” You tried to think of anything else to say, but it was all you had, so you looked at Namjoon, “Good?” 

His eyes were clouded, and you were unable to make out how exactly he felt. However, one thing remained that was clear, he was undeniably skeptical of you. That was fine, you didn’t need his trust, you just needed your heart to be beating, “Yeah, that’ll do for now.” He nodded to Jimin and Taehyung, “If he doesn’t come forward, we may need more.” You nodded, and that was thankfully enough for him. 

“You can let yourselves out.” You sighed, “I’m exhausted, so goodnight.” You didn’t bother to wait for a response as you turned on your heel and shut your bedroom door behind you. 

Namjoon opened his mouth to mention that they didn’t have a key, but you didn’t seem to care anyway. He sighed, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his chest as Taehyung packed up. 

“She’s the worst.” Tarhyung grumbled under his breath as Jimin curtly nodded. Namjoon rolled his eyes, knowing the two men well enough to see when they felt a twinge of regret. It was obvious at least some of what they heard about you was incorrect– if your statement was to be believed, that is.

----------------------

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