Mixtape | Series Masterlist | Myg (m)

Mixtape | Series Masterlist | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader 

☾ Summary: You've had a crush on Yoongi for most of your life. On a holiday trip to the cabin, you’re reunited with Yoongi after not seeing him from two years and things go less than according to plan.

☾ Word Count: 68,554

☾ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers/brother's bff, smut, angst

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Chapter One

→ In which you re-unite with your friends after two years, dragging up old memories, good and bad, and in which Yoongi gets just a taste of what he has been missing.

Chapter Two

→ In which you and Yoongi end up sharing a room in Jungkook's desperation to get laid.

Chapter Three

→ In which you and Yoongi ride the high and enjoy the moment - except you get stuck in a closet with him while your brother is on the other side of the door.

Chapter Four

→ In which it all comes crashing down, and theres no way around, only through.

Extra Chapter

→ Celebrating Agust D is your new favorite pastime

Extra Chapter

→ Yoongi visits you in your city and everything goes wrong

Extra Chapter

→ Yoongi can't stop thinking about the lost cat outside your new apartment

Fallen

You meet a man claiming to be an angel, and he turns your life upside down.

Pairing: Namjoon x F! reader

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut, angst

Rating: 18+

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, swearing, mentions of blood, a little mild blasphemy

For reliablemittenmain and sahmfanficbts. Thank you both for your support, always.

You’re running late for work. Your heels click briskly on the pavement as you sidestep the tourist family, weave through the throng of people congregated by the bus stop and cut through the park. You pull out your phone.

Three minutes. You can be in your building within that time, if not at your desk and technically, that would still make you on time.

You glance over your shoulder as you overtake a jogger, and that’s when you see him.

He’s standing by the fountain, broad shoulders curled in on himself, arms drawn in on his front.

He’s beautiful, all tawny limbs and golden skin, but that’s not why you noticed him.

He’s completely naked.

You stay away from strange men in this city, everyone knows that. You don’t want to be at best, sworn at or at worst, assaulted.

You’re speeding up, about to pass him, when you take one last look at his face.

He’s crying. There are tears streaked down his cheeks, and he looks so unhappy you feel like you’ve been kicked in the chest.

You’re a city girl through and through, but even cold-hearted you can’t just leave him crying and naked.

You slip your oversized, ankle length coat off.

‘Hey,’ you say, holding it out to him.

He looks your way immediately, and something in his eyes makes you feel terribly sorry for him.

Your coat’s straining at the shoulders, he can’t even completely close it over his broad chest, but at least it belts at the waist and covers him down to his knees.

You have no money with you apart from an emergency twenty.

You hand it to him. ‘Here, it’s all I have.’

He looks confused, which confuses you.

‘Can I get you a taxi somewhere?’ you ask.

You pull out your phone and note that you are now five minutes late. Great.

‘Are you hurt?’ you ask.

‘I’m an angel,’ he says. His voice is deeper than you expected.

‘Sure,’ you say, taking a step back. ‘Do you have a family?’

‘I have brothers,’ he tells you.

Relief courses through you. ‘Do you have their numbers? I can call them for you.’

He looks at you.

You don’t know if you’re making a huge mistake, but there’s something so lonely and distraught about him you can’t leave him.

‘Come on,’ you say. ‘I’ve got to get to work, then I’ll help you find your brothers.’

Thankfully, he’s a fast walker.

You see the looks you get as you walk into your building, tall naked man in tow wearing your coat, but you don’t have time to deal with any of that right now.

You work for a fashion magazine, everyone’s seen more outrageous things.

You wave at your assistant as you breeze past her. ‘Aera, I’ve got a friend with me this morning. He’ll stay in my office during the staff meeting.’

Aera eyes you and your ‘friend’ warily, but is as professional and unflappable as ever.

‘What’s your name?’ she asks, politely.

You look at your ‘friend’.

‘I’m Namjoon,’ he replies. His coat gapes open a little, which reminds you.

‘Can you get Minho to send round a rack of clothes in his size?’ you ask Aera.

You wave an arm as Namjoon enters your office.

‘Make yourself a drink if you want. I’ve got a staff meeting to get to, it should only be an hour or so. When the clothes come around, pick anything you want and get dressed. I’ll clear my afternoon so I can help you, ok?’

You’re talking fast, you’re not sure if Namjoon got everything you said, but he seems to have calmed since the park.

‘Ok,’ he says. He smiles a little, and a dimple pops in his cheek on the side where his lips have curved up.

‘Ok.’

You pause by the door. ‘I’m Y/N. If you need anything, ask for me. Bathrooms are that way.’

You leave him sitting on the chaise longue in your office.

***

The staff meeting is running long, as usual, there are increasing interruptions from harried PAs and your in-house photographers are looking increasingly fidgety. Your entire social media team are on their phones, brows furrowed, faces backlit.

‘Thank you, Sungho,’ you say politely to the head of the marketing team.

You face the rest of your team and say, ‘I think that’s enough to get on with – thanks so much –‘

You don’t have to complete your sentence because no one would hear it anyway with the way everyone’s heading out the door.

Nari, your best friend and fashion editor, lingers after everyone’s left.

‘Lunch later?’

‘I’d love to, but I’ve got a problem to solve,’ you reply. ‘I picked up a man in the park this morning and I need to help him find his brothers.’

Nari laughs. ‘Picked up a man in the park?’

‘He was naked and crying.’ You run a hand through your hair. ‘I couldn’t just leave him.’

Nari goggles at you. ‘Are you serious? You picked up an actual random man?’

You have to laugh. Nari’s as cynical as you are.

‘He says he’s an angel.’

Nari catches your arm. ‘Wait. Is this safe? Do I need to call the police?’

‘For what? A man who says he’s an angel?’ you scoff.

You reach the doors of your office. ‘I’ll take him somewhere where he can get help.’

‘Keep me updated so I know where to direct the cops to if you get brutally murdered,’ Nari says. Her words are harsh, but her eyes are serious. ‘Are you sure you’ll be ok?’

‘I’ll be fine, Nari,’ you reassure her.

You open the doors of your office, and are greeted by the sight of Minho and Namjoon.

‘Where did you get this fine man?’ Minho asks. ‘I came over with Supreme but he’s a Fear of God man if I’ve ever seen one.’

You’re about to reply when Namjoon turns around.

He’s dressed entirely in Fear of God’s seventh collection, and you knew there was a reason Minho’s your best stylist, because damn.

Damn.

‘Close your mouth,’ Minho says, smug.

‘I knew there was a reason I hired you,’ you breathe.

Minho laughs. ‘Can we talk about a raise?’

‘I pay you more than I pay myself, Minho,’ you say, raising an eyebrow.

Minho wheels his rack out, and you take a seat.

‘I’ve got the rest of the day to help you,’ you say. ‘Tell me about your brothers. Are they local? How can I get in touch with them?’

Namjoon looks at you. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re going to have to help me here,’ you warn. ‘I can’t do anything unless you –’

‘I don’t know,’ Namjoon says again. Frustration knits his brow, and he says, ‘I can’t – remember how I got here.’

‘Are you hurt?’ you ask. He hadn’t had any visible injuries, from what you saw this morning, but you guess he could have a head injury.

‘I don’t know what I’m meant to be doing,’ Namjoon tells you. He puts his head in his hands.

There’s so much anguish in his eyes you feel yourself softening again.

‘Ok. I’ll make an appointment with my doctor to get you checked out, just make sure you’re ok, then we’ll make a plan, ok?’

You’re a problem solver, you always have been, and he’s just another problem for you to solve. You’re good at that.

***

Thankfully your doctor can squeeze Namjoon in.

You pass Namjoon the tablet so he can put his details in, and he stares at it for so long you can feel your eyelid twitch.

‘Need a hand?’ you ask, finally.

Namjoon looks at you. ‘Yes, please.’

You click through the questions. ‘How old are you?’ you ask.

‘In human years?’ Namjoon clarifies.

You stare at him. Maybe it’s not a physician that he needs, but a psychiatrist.

‘Sure, in human years,’ you say, agreeably.

‘A thousand and fifty-five,’ Namjoon says.

You blink.

‘I’ll round it down to twenty-eight,’ you tell him. ‘When’s your birthday?’

At his blank look, you say, ‘Let’s make it today. Happy birthday.’

‘How tall?’

‘With wings?’ Namjoon asks.

‘I’m gonna put six foot,’ you say hastily.

At least he’s consistent.

You find yourself glancing at his back just to double check he hasn’t actually got wings that you’ve missed.

You make up the rest of the answers and hope Dr Lim will forgive you.

***

You put your order in and sit back, looking at Namjoon curiously.

Dr Lim had done some bloodwork but had pronounced Namjoon as fit a physical specimen as she’d ever seen.

She hadn’t been able to speculate on his delusion that he was an angel, but had given you the number of a good psychiatrist friend.

You haven’t made an appointment with them yet.

Namjoon’s looking around the restaurant, taking in the people around him quietly. In his beautifully cut clothes, he looks like a hyper-real, impossibly glossy version of normal, like the models and fashionistas you work with.

Apart from the look of sadness in his eyes.

‘Do you remember anything else?’ you ask.

Namjoon looks at you seriously. ‘I’ve been thinking about why I’ve fallen.’

‘Fallen?’

‘I was talking to Seokjin about -‘ he swallows and breaks off, and never finishes his sentence.

‘I don’t know how to get back,’ he says, anguished. ‘There’s so much wrongness here, everyone’s so unhappy.’

‘Is that why you were crying?’ you ask, putting your hand on his.

He stares at your hand, and you withdraw it, self-consciously. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ he says, immediately. ‘There were so many people this morning, looking at me and nobody stopped, until you.’

‘People are shit sometimes, including me,’ you tell him. ‘You can’t trust everyone to help you.’

‘Should I trust you?’ he asks.

You smile. ‘Not always,’ you tell him. ‘But I’m trying to help.’

Namjoon makes a scoffing noise. ‘I was teasing,’ he tells you, earnestly. ‘I trust you. You bring light with you.’

You have to laugh. ‘You’re the angel,’ you tease back.

Namjoon smiles at you fully for the first time, and to your delight, you realise he has symmetrical, matching dimples in his cheeks.

You can’t help but smile back.

You’re amused at his reaction to the food you’ve ordered for him. He acts like it’s his first meal in years, savouring each mouthful, eyes filled with genuine wonder at the flavours.

‘More?’ you offer, pushing your unfinished salad towards him.

He finishes it off for you and his soft sounds of pleasure make you feel happy, and, to be honest, a little aroused.

You tamp down your attraction to him. You need to help him, and a beautiful man like him probably wouldn’t be interested in you in that way anyway.

You realise he’s stopped eating and is looking at you. His gaze is strangely penetrating.

You force a smile. ‘Well, now that you’ve eaten both our lunches, what should we do next?’

***

You’re out of ideas, so you retrace your steps to the park you found him in, hoping to jog his memory.

You sit on a park bench whilst he walks around the fountain.

You find yourself wondering for the umpteenth time where he’s come from and what you’re going to do with him at the end of the day.

You don’t know him, but you’ve spent a few hours with him, and you don’t feel as wary of him as you should, considering he’s a complete stranger.

There’s something sad about about the set of his shoulders as he walks back to you.

‘What am I going to do with you, Namjoon?’ you ask.

He looks ahead of him, instead of looking at you.

‘I’m lost,’ he says, almost like he’s saying it to himself.

‘How do you get back?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says, hopelessly. ‘I need to talk to Seokjin, but I can’t feel him.’

‘Tell me about your brothers,’ you suggest.

He looks at you then, and you shrug. ‘We have nothing else to do right now.’

‘There’s Seokjin. He’s wise, and responsible, and he always –‘ his voice cracks.

He rallies. ‘Seokjin always looks out for us. There’s Yoongi – he cares so much about all of us.’

‘Are all your brothers angels too?’

Namjoon smiles, and there’s so much love in his eyes you’re moved.

‘They’re love,’ he says simply.

You smile at him, oddly moved.

‘What am I going to do with you?’ you ask.

Namjoon tilts his head. ‘I think that there’s a reason you stopped for me.’

‘Anyone would have – ‘ you begin.

‘No one else did,’ Namjoon points out. ‘Until you.’

You don’t know what to say about that.

You look away and spot an ice-cream truck. ‘Want to try ice-cream?’ you ask.

You end up buying him two cones because he wants to try chocolate and vanilla.

***

You’re walking down the street in the vague direction of your office building when you pass an art gallery.

Namjoon’s so busy looking at the art he nearly walks into a lamp-post.

You touch his arm. ‘Want to go in?’

His smile is radiant. ‘Can we?’

You can’t help but notice how attractive Namjoon looks in his beautiful clothes, frowning in front of a piece by Choi Wook-kyung.

You’re struck by a sudden urge to take a picture of him.

‘Hey, Namjoon,’ you say.

He looks up, torn between concentration and curiosity, and you take his picture.

He grins at you. ‘Can we stay a bit longer?’

‘I’ll go and get a coffee whilst you stay. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, ok? Stay here.’

You point out the clock above the entrance.

Namjoon nods.

When you get back, twenty minutes later, Namjoon’s nowhere to be seen.

You stop an attendant. ‘Did you see a tall man in a camel coat?’

She nods. ‘He just left.’

You head out the door quickly and look out at the pavement.

He’s gone.

***

You walk around for a while, retracing your steps. You leave your phone number at the gallery in case Namjoon comes back.

There’s no sign of him anywhere.

You’re surprised by how worried you are.

Objectively, Namjoon’s a big guy, he looks like he’s more than capable of looking after himself.

You just don’t want anyone to take advantage of him.

You’re on your way back home when you get a call from Aera.

‘Y/N, your friend Namjoon’s here. He looks upset.’

There’s a surge of urgency in your chest, like a string pulled uncomfortably taut.

‘Be right there.’

You do an about-face and start jogging, grateful that you changed out of your heels before you set out with Namjoon earlier.

By the time you get to your office you’re so tense you can barely breathe.

Namjoon’s sitting in the chair opposite Aera’s desk. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, but he looks otherwise unharmed.

You’re hugging him before you realise it. You feel the tension ease the longer you hold him, so you keep your arms around him.

Finally, he relaxes into your touch completely.

You pull back a little. ‘Are you ok?’ you ask.

His face is so close to yours you can feel his breath on your cheek as he sighs. ‘Better.’

You make your decision as you look at each other, and you hope it isn’t the biggest mistake of your life.

‘Come on. I’ll take you to my place.’

***

Namjoon looks good on your couch, relaxed.

He’s perked up a little since you got home.

‘Do you want to watch a movie?’ you offer.

You put on a drama you think he might like and pass him a blanket.

It’s been a long fucking day.

You wake once, in the middle of the night, disoriented, and realise you’d fallen asleep on the couch with Namjoon.

He looks at ease, comfortable, calm, so you close your eyes and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, it’s morning, and Namjoon’s quietly crying.

‘Namjoon,’ you say.

He looks at you, eyes wet with tears, and says, ‘I dreamed about Seokjin.’

He tells you the rest over breakfast.

Seokjin had told him not to worry, that he and the rest of his brothers were watching over him, and to give it time for everything to become clear.

It’s clear how much Namjoon reveres Seokjin’s wisdom, but practical you wishes Seokjin had been more generous with the details.

You’re planning out your day when your doorbell rings.

It’s Yi-Jin, the man you’ve been dating for a few months.

He looks down at you, brow creased with concern. ‘Are you ok? I thought you were going to call me last night.’

‘Sorry,’ you apologise. ‘Something came up unexpectedly-‘

You break off abruptly as Namjoon walks up behind you and Yi-jin’s expression changes.

Your stomach churns. Shit.

You know how it looks.

The man in your apartment early in the morning. The blankets on the sofa. The two coffee cups on your kitchen island.

Yi-Jin raises an eyebrow.

‘Yi-Jin, this is Namjoon. I met him yesterday, and he needs some help.’

Yi-Jin’s expression doesn’t change. You sigh.

‘You’d better come in. It’s a long story.’

You’re taking Yi-Jin’s coat when he says, quietly, ‘don’t you think your shorts are a bit too short?’

You glance down at your exposed thighs and feel an odd flush of shame.

‘I- I’ll get changed,’ you say quickly.

Namjoon’s standing close to the door, in the same room as Yi-Jin but as far away from him as possible.

He gives you an odd look.

‘Just getting changed,’ you mutter. You force a smile. ‘Yi-Jin’s my boyfriend. I’ll be out in a minute ok?’

You wait for him to nod before you go into your bedroom.

You change into baggy sweatpants and a hoodie.

When you come out, Yi-Jin and Namjoon are standing on opposite ends of your kitchen island.

You introduce them to each other and explain the situation to Yi-Jin.

You don’t mention that Namjoon believes he’s an angel.

Yi-Jin’s jaw gets tenser and tenser as you speak, whilst Namjoon, in contrast, looks relatively relaxed.

You realise Namjoon’s been moving closer to you as you’ve been talking. You put your hand on his arm to reassure him and realise that he’s positioned like he’s protecting you.

‘Can I speak to you privately, Y/N?’ Yi-Jin asks.

Once you’re in your bedroom Yi-Jin starts speaking his mind.

‘You know I admire your kindness, Y/N. I just think it’s a little naïve of you to take this guy in. He could be dangerous, for all you know. I’m just worried about your safety.’

You can’t blame him, it’s exactly what you’d be telling him if he’d picked up a naked woman off the street.

You reach up and hug Yi-Jin. He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head.

‘Will you call me if he says or does anything to make you uncomfortable?’

‘I will,’ you promise.

As Yi-Jin leaves, he stops in front of Namjoon.

‘I’d just like to warn you that if anything happens to Y/N, I’ll hunt you down and make you suffer,’ he says, voice more threatening than you’ve ever heard it.

Namjoon stands his ground. ‘I would never hurt her,’ he says to Yi-Jin.

‘See that you don’t,’ Yi-Jin replies, evenly.

You huff out a sigh of relief once Yi-Jin’s out the door.

‘He’s just looking out for me,’ you say to Namjoon.

‘Why’d you get changed?’ Namjoon asks.

Yi-Jin’s comment about your shorts comes back to you.

‘I wanted to,’ you tell Namjoon.

He doesn’t look convinced.

***

You’re reading through an article on a new designer when Namjoon, who’s been pottering around your apartment, puts a mug on your desk.

You smile up at him. ‘What’s this?’

‘Coffee,’ he says.

You take a sip and swallow it as quickly as you can.

‘You know what,’ you say hastily. ‘Let’s go out for coffee. I’ve done most of what I need to do for today.’

Namjoon looks disappointed. ‘Didn’t you like it?’

‘How many scoops of coffee did you put in?’ you ask, carefully.

‘Five.’

‘Are you trying to kill me?’ you ask, amused. ‘I mean, I love coffee, but that’s a lot, even for me.’

You wave off his apologies and grab a bag. ‘Come on, we might as well pick up food with our coffee.’

It turns out your new angel friend’s muscles aren’t just for show. Namjoon walks around with you, uncomplaining, as you pick up some things you think he might like to try.

You try not to stare too much at the way his biceps flex as he reaches for things on high shelves.

You end up asking him to reach up for things anyway.

Finally, Namjoon asks, a smile in his voice, ‘Is the top shelf coffee really better than the bottom shelf coffee?’

‘I don’t know what you’re implying,’ you say, grinning at him.

He plucks a bag of coffee from the top shelf and takes a step closer, crowding you into the shelf.

‘You keep looking at my arms,’ he says. There’s a confidence in his voice that’s new.

‘You have pretty arms,’ you tell him, smiling up at him, unrepentant.

‘You have pretty everything,’ Namjoon replies. There’s a pause, then he says, ‘Especially legs.’

‘You’re a bit flirty for an angel,’ you tell him.

‘You should meet my brother Jimin,’ Namjoon replies. There’s a flash of sadness in his eyes, and he steps back.

‘You’ll get back to him,’ you say, encouraging. ‘When you finish whatever you were sent down here to do.’

‘I hope so,’ Namjoon says quietly.

Back at your apartment, you set out your groceries and pass him an apron.

‘So how does it all work?’ you ask, curiously, as he’s chopping onions.

Namjoon looks at you.

‘You know,’ you clarify, waving a spatula. ‘The big beyond. Life beyond earth. Life after death. Souls. Angels. Demons. God. Heaven. Hell.’

Namjoon frowns. ‘I don’t know if I should tell you.’

‘Come on,’ you wheedle. ‘A clue. A hint. Anything.’

‘There are many angels. We guide humans through life,’ Namjoon says. He looks at you seriously. ‘We can’t over-ride free will, but we can intervene with certain things.’

‘What do you think you were sent down here to do?’ you ask, passing him a cucumber to chop up.

He looks at it quizzically, so you show him.

‘I think I was sent down here for you.’

Your hands freeze on the knife.

‘Me?’ you ask.

‘I feel connected to you. I didn’t know you when I was an angel, but I think you’re the reason I was sent here.’

‘Like a guardian angel?’ you ask, sceptically.

Namjoon shrugs. ‘At least you got me and not Taehyung.’

‘Why not Taehyung?’ you ask.

‘He loves beauty. He’d refuse to let you out of his sight.’ Namjoon smiles, affectionately. ‘He can be very clingy.’

You laugh. ‘Your brothers sound like fun.’

You look at each other for a moment. ‘Why do you need to help me?’ you ask.

Namjoon looks down at the vegetables on the chopping board.

‘I don’t know. What do you need?’ he asks.

‘I have everything I need,’ you reply. ‘A family who love me, wonderful friends, a job I enjoy, a partner who appreciates me.’

Namjoon lets out the barest of snorts, and you whirl on him.

‘When you’re around him, you act different,’ Namjoon says.

‘Different how?’ you ask.

That’s all you can get out of him.

He’s pretty stubborn for an angel.

***

You take Namjoon on a hike in the hopes that it’ll make him feel closer to nature.

Maybe you just wanted to see him in shorts.

You wonder if God is going to punish you for lusting after an angel.

You wonder if he’s really an angel because so far he seems just like a normal man to you.

Apart from that he’s learnt to cook so that he can make breakfast for you.

You blink away your thoughts as Namjoon says, without turning around, ‘Stop staring at me.’

Your face immediately starts burning. ‘What?’

Namjoon laughs, and there’s a flash of cockiness again.

‘It’s ok,’ he says. ‘I know you like the way I look.’

‘I have a boyfriend, sir,’ you tell him, outraged.

‘I like that,’ he tells you.

‘What?’

‘When you call me sir,’ Namjoon says.

He doesn’t say anything else as you splutter, but somehow the way he snickers quietly makes you feel even more flustered.

You’re in your head, worrying about a deadline at work, when Namjoon stops so suddenly in front of you that you walk straight into his broad back.

‘Oooops, sorry,’ you say.

His arm reaches behind him to steady you and he turns around quickly.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks, concerned.

His hand on your arm is making you feel woozier than smacking your face into his back did.

It’s only when his hand is cupping your chin gently, thumb smoothing over the bridge of your nose, that you get your voice to work.

‘I’m good, Namjoon.’

‘I’m supposed to be protecting you, not hurting you.’

‘Who’s going to protect me from you?’ you breathe, looking up at his pretty face, the dimples that flash as he smiles at your words.

‘Everything happens for a reason,’ he says.

‘Really?’ you ask, curious. ‘Is there a greater plan? God’s plan?’

‘I’m not supposed to tell you –’

‘I get it. It’s classified,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

Namjoon laughs quietly. ‘I wish you could meet Yoongi.’

‘Your sarcastic brother?’ you ask.

‘He’s not sarcastic, just brutally honest. Cynical.’

‘Like me,’ you say.

Namjoon laughs again. ‘Like you,’ he agrees.

***

The cream silk dress you’re wearing is fitted, revealing more of your figure than you normally like to show.

You take one last look in the mirror and pick up your clutch.

Namjoon looks up from the book he’s reading on your couch.

You’d be flattered by the way his book snaps shut and the way he straightens up, staring at you, if you weren’t so nervous.

‘Do I look ok?’ you ask.

‘You look –’

He’s standing now, taking a step towards you as if to take a closer look.

‘You look very beautiful,’ he tells you, and there’s so much sincerity in his voice you can feel most of your nerves fall away.

‘It’s a big event for Yi-Jin, all of the executives in his company will be there,’ you tell Namjoon. ‘I want to look good for him.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ Namjoon tells you.

The doorbell rings, and you answer, buoyed by Namjoon’s response to you.

‘Hey,’ you say, smiling warmly at Yi-Jin.

He smiles back. ‘Are you ready? We should go.’

***

You slide the key into the lock as quietly as you can, hoping not to wake Namjoon.

It’s 4am, and dark in the apartment.

A sudden movement in the corner of your eye makes you jump.

Then Namjoon’s there, hand reaching out to touch you. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I must have fallen asleep on the couch.’

You can barely make out his features in the dark. You’re grateful, it means he probably can’t see you that clearly either.

‘You should go to bed,’ you say. ‘I’m going too.’

There’s a wobble in your voice.

Namjoon says, ‘Wait.’

He looks like he’s about to turn the light on, and so you grab his arm. ‘No.’

Namjoon says, ‘Ok.’ Then, ‘Want some tea?’

‘Sure. Let me get changed ok?’

You slip into a comfy t-shirt and shorts and wash your face. You don’t look too bad, considering.

Your phone lights up.

It’s Yi-Jin.

You send him a quick text to confirm you’re back home safe then leave it charging in your bedroom.

Namjoon passes you a mug of hot tea.

‘How was the event?’ he asks, politely.

‘It was fine,’ you say.

It’d been fine, you think. Yi-Jin had been his usual charming, suave self, and you’d tried your best to keep up.

‘You looked very beautiful in your dress,’ Namjoon says.

There’s a pang in your chest.

Yi-Jin hadn’t said anything about your dress until he’d taken it off you in his apartment. With a hand on your waist, he’d said, ‘Guess you’re glad you can get out of this. It seems a little tight. You look better in less fitted clothes.’

You don’t know what he meant by that, but for some reason you’d felt awful after he said that.

‘You would say that, you’re my guardian angel,’ you say, lightly.

Namjoon’s jaw tightens. It’s subtle. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been looking.

‘Didn’t Yi-Jin like it?’ he asks.

‘Of course, I can wear what I want. He doesn’t get a say in what I wear.’

‘What did he say to you?’ Namjoon presses.

You’re grateful for the darkness as you look down into your cup of tea.

A tear slides down your cheek.

Your voice sounds normal when you speak.

‘He didn’t say anything,’ you reply.

Namjoon says, ‘Hey –‘

You get up. ‘Thanks for the tea. I should get to bed.’

In bed, you bury your face in your pillow and squeeze your burning eyes shut until sleep takes you.

Sometimes you’re so damn lonely you don’t know what the point of it all is.

***

Namjoon looks at you worriedly.

Neither of you were sure when his tenure as your guardian angel was going to end, but you figure as long as he’s here he might as well try to fit in.

Task one of adulting: get a job.

You’d pulled a string and got Namjoon a job with your artistic director, Il-pyo. He owes you a favour, you remind yourself as he eyes Namjoon.

‘He’s got great vision,’ you reassure Il-pyo.

‘Where else have you worked?’ Il-pyo asks Namjoon.

You laugh. ‘It’s his first job, Il-pyo. He doesn’t need the money, his family make enough.’

Il-pyo’s brow lifts, and you know you’ve hit the right button.

You love Il-pyo, but he’s a snob through and through.

‘Come with me,’ he says, voice decidedly warmer.

***

After work you meet up with Namjoon for iced coffees and to catch up on his day.

‘Il-pyo treating you well?’ you ask.

Namjoon laughs. ‘He kept asking which Kims I’m related to.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘I told him my family are involved in justice and he said, ‘say no more’.’ Namjoon shrugs. ‘I guess he thinks we’re in the law.’

You grin. ‘Not just a pretty face,’ you say, nodding in approval.

‘You think my face is pretty?’ Namjoon asks, a cocky note in his voice.

You lean a little closer. ‘All of you is pretty, Namjoon,’ you tell him, sincere.

His hand lands on your arm as you try to lean back.

‘All of you is pretty too, no matter what Yi-Jin says to you,’ Namjoon replies.

You stare at his hand a moment.

Why is he so good at piercing your armour?

You tilt your chin. ‘I know,’ you say, trying to sound cocky yourself. ‘I do work in fashion you know.’

Namjoon smiles at you, serene. ‘So do I.’

You have to laugh.

***

Sometimes Namjoon wakes up early in the morning. You can hear him pottering around, trying to be quiet, as he makes himself tea.

Sometimes you join him in a cup and watch the sunrise together.

He says he likes the quiet of early morning, not that it’s ever really fully quiet in the city.

It’s on one of these early mornings that Namjoon seems particularly restless.

‘What is it?’ you whisper, mindful of your neighbours.

‘I – ‘

There’s a glow in your living room, pooling around his feet.

Your first thought is that he’s been summoned back.

Back to where?

He’d never told you answers to any of the big questions you’ve asked him.

Namjoon’s smiling, and you realise that instead of disappearing, he’s still as solid as he ever was, as are the other six men who’ve now materialised in your living room.

Holy hell.

Wait. Is hell the right place?

It all gets a little blurry after that, because of the light and the glow and the fact there are six beautiful naked men in your living room.

You squeak and close your eyes.

‘Has she never seen a naked man?’ comes a curious voice.

‘I’ve seen many naked men,’ you retort, facing the general direction of the voice. ‘But I’m trying to give you some privacy.’

Namjoon’s deep voice is warm, reassuring. ‘Come on, I’ll get you clothes. Then you can all come back and meet her properly.’

‘I’ll get the kettle on,’ you say, voice still a higher pitch than it normally is. You open your eyes a little too soon and catch sight of a peachy behind and a cheeky smile from a man with the face of an angel.

Or is it an angel with the face of an incredibly hot man?

You think scattered thoughts about naked asses and hot men whilst making tea.

One by one, Namjoon’s angel brothers trickle back into your kitchen.

The first, Jimin, a blond man with the most flirtatious grin you’ve ever seen.

Then Taehyung, a curly haired hunk with intense eyes and a sweet, boxy smile.

Then Yoongi, who gives you a half-smile that immediately makes you want to get to know him better.

Then Hobi, who really does look like an angel, smiling and helping you pour out tea.

Then Jungkook, he of the cheeky smile and perfectly pert behind.

Finally, Namjoon and Seokjin, his wise big brother.

He comes around your kitchen island to give you a big hug. ‘Thanks for looking after Namjoon,’ he says warmly.

‘I think he’s been looking after me,’ you reply, smiling.

You look up at Seokjin over your tea. ‘Have you all been sent to look after me too? Because this is a lot.’

Seokjin smiles, and you admire how ethereally beautiful he looks. ‘We’re just here for a day or so. We missed Namjoon.’

‘Can he go back?’ you ask, concerned for Namjoon. ‘Because I’m sure earth is pretty shitty compared to wherever you’ve floated down from.’

‘Namjoon has a task to perform. Once he’s done it, he’ll come back to us.’

You feel an unexpected pang of sadness at the thought of Namjoon leaving.

‘He misses you a lot,’ you say.

Yoongi glances at you.

‘Does his task have anything to do with me?’ you ask.

‘His task is related to you,’ Seokjin confirms.

You look at Namjoon.

‘Can we do something to speed it along? He misses you all so much.’

Namjoon puts his hand on your arm. ‘I’m also happy here with you,’ he tells you.

You put your hand on his. ‘This world is shitty, Namjoon, you should get out of it while you can.’

You tilt your head. ‘Plus, I can look after myself. I don’t need a guardian angel.’

Namjoon smiles at you, and there’s the tiniest flutter in your heart.

‘Always so tough.’

You’re so busy looking up at him you miss the way Yoongi and Seokjin exchange a meaningful glance.

Yoongi says, ‘Can we spend the day with you, Namjoon?’

***

Which is how you end up going to work with seven beautiful angel men.

You’d told Namjoon he could take the day off, but he’d insisted on showing his brothers how he spends his days.

Yoongi says quietly to you as you set things up in your office, ‘It looks like you’ve been taking good care of Namjoon.’

‘He’s a good guy,’ you say. ‘I mean angel.’

‘I’m not worried about him anymore,’ Yoongi says.

You smile. ‘You shouldn’t be. I won’t let anyone hurt him.’

Yoongi’s eyes are serious. ‘You should let him look after you too.’

‘He does. He makes me coffee every morning.’ You look down. ‘He knows when I’m upset.’

'Namjoon's always been the most human out of all of us.'

You look at Yoongi, intrigued, about to ask more, when he puts an arm around you and you find yourself relaxing into his hold.

You’re startled by Namjoon’s familiar voice. ‘Are you ok?’

You can feel the rumble of suppressed laughter in Yoongi’s chest, but his voice comes out perfectly serious. ‘Just thanking Y/N for putting up with you.’

Namjoon’s voice is tetchy. ‘I thought I’d have problems with Taehyung.’

As if on cue, Taehyung speaks from somewhere behind you, and you shiver involuntarily at the depth of his baritone as he says, ‘It’s my turn for a hug next.’

‘Actually, we should get to work,’ Namjoon says pointedly.

He ushers his brothers out of your office then comes back to check on you.

‘See you after work?’ he asks, dimpling at you.

‘Sure,’ you say brightly.

You watch Namjoon and his brothers walk out and wonder how in heaven you’re supposed to work when so much beauty walks the earth.

***

You’re sitting near the balcony of your living room, sipping your wine and watching as Namjoon and his brothers horse around.

They’ve eaten a truckload of food and seem content now to sit and talk. You love how physically affectionate they are with each other, even Seokjin.

You feel sorry that Namjoon has to put up with whatever task he has to do with you when he clearly misses his brothers so much.

Your phone lights up with a message from Yi-Jin.

Yi-Jin: Hey, I miss you. What are you up to?

You haven’t seen him since the company dinner you went to with his bosses.

Y/N: Nothing much.

Yi-Jin: Want to come over?

In truth, you’d rather spend time with Namjoon and his brothers, but they don’t really need you here either.

Y/N: Sure. I’ll be there in twenty.

You freshen up quickly and go to say goodbye to Namjoon.

‘I’m going over to Yi-Jin’s for a bit. I’ll see you guys later, ok?’

Namjoon tears his eyes away from where he’s watching Jimin and Jungkook arm-wrestle.

‘It’s late. Will you be ok?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ you say, reassuring.

He pulls you into a hug. ‘Call me if you need anything,’ he tells you.

There’s no way you’re calling him away from time with his brothers.

‘Sure,’ you say.

You wave casually at the group of men before you leave. You doubt they’ll even notice you’re gone.

When you get to Yi-Jin’s he’s casually dressed, in sweats, a loose top.

You can see the way his body moves under the thin material.

He’s beautiful. He goes to the gym, looks after himself.

He’s always telling you to do the same.

‘Hey,’ he says, kissing you in greeting.

‘How’s your week been?’ you ask.

‘Amazing. My new PT is great. Really motivating.’

He eyes you. ‘Thought about what I said?’

You try to derail him, because you feel a little sensitive about what he said about your figure the last time you met up.

‘Mmmhmm, what?’ you ask, kissing his ear.

He pulls back. ‘You’re so beautiful. If you signed up to my PT he could really make the most of –’

You kiss his ear again, tongue out, flicking at his lobe in the way he likes.

‘Baby,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m trying to be serious. Don’t you want to look your best?’

‘What’s wrong with the way I look?’ you ask.

‘Nothing. It’s just that you could look better.’

You stop cold.

You think of Namjoon and his brothers and how much they love each other.

You want to be loved that way too.

‘I should go,’ you say, calm, flat.

‘Don’t be like that. I’m just trying –‘

‘Trying to make me feel bad about myself?’ you ask.

You hate crying, but suddenly it’s too much.

‘I gotta go, ok?’

Yi-Jin stops you. ‘Listen, don’t take this the wrong way.’

‘I think we should break up,’ you tell him.

He scoffs. ‘Just over me giving you some advice?’

‘You make me feel bad,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t need that in my life.’

You turn and walk straight out of his apartment.

You can hear him calling your name, but you don’t stop.

You’re two blocks down before your thoughts start to clear.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

It’s close to midnight. You don’t want to go back to Yi-Jin. You can’t go home to Namjoon and his perfect brothers.

Sighing, you look up nearby hotels.

***

You’re coming up to your floor when you hear banging, then lowered voices.

You’d spent a sleepless few hours tossing and turning in a hotel bed before giving up and heading home.

You speed up when you realise the voices are coming from the general direction of your door.

To your dismay, Yi-Jin’s at your door, and Namjoon’s standing in your doorway.

‘Where the hell is she?’ Yi-Jin asks, and Namjoon’s opening his mouth to reply when he spots you.

He’s the first to reach you, pulling you into his arms. You can feel the tension thrumming through his body, the way he relaxes as you hold him back.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks, softly. ‘Where were you? I thought you were with him. My heart stopped when he came around asking where you were.’

You can feel how fast his heart is still beating.

‘I’m fine, I went to a hotel.’

Yi-Jin says, ‘Is this why you broke up with me? The fuck?’

You let go of Namjoon and turn to him. ‘We broke up because you made me feel bad,’ you tell him.

‘And this makes you feel good? Some guy you don’t even know who you take in like some sort of stray.’

‘Yi-Jin, come on, don’t –‘

‘Where the fuck were you last night, Y/N?’ Yi-Jin asks. ‘If you weren’t with me, and you weren’t with him, who the hell were you with?’

‘Seokjin,’ Namjoon says, jaw clenched. ‘Can you take Y/N inside?’

You hadn’t even realised Seokjin was here. To your mortification, you realise that most of Namjoon’s brothers are peering out your doorway.

Yoongi steps up next to Namjoon.

‘Yi-Jin, please can you go,’ you say. ‘This doesn’t need to escalate like this.’

‘Sure,’ he says. He laughs, humourlessly. ‘Does he know how shit in bed you are?’

You hurriedly step in front of Namjoon, blocking his path as Yi-Jin leaves.

Your face is burning with humiliation.

It would have been bad enough to have this confrontation in front of Namjoon, but to have it in front of all his brothers who worship him and barely know you makes you feel physically sick.

‘I guess we’re not getting back together,’ you joke.

No one laughs.

You step past Namjoon and Yoongi, through the throng of men into your apartment.

You walk quietly to your bedroom, close the door behind you, climb into bed and cry into your pillow until you fall asleep.

***

You wake up to a hand on your shoulder.

Namjoon’s sitting on the edge of your bed, face close to yours.

You look at him, then bury your face in the pillow.

‘Go away, Namjoon.’

‘Jimin says we should take you out and cheer you up,’ Namjoon tells you.

‘I can’t be responsible for corrupting a bunch of angels.’

‘The collective noun for angels is a chorus,’ Namjoon points out.

You glare at him.

‘Can you even sing?’

‘A little,’ Namjoon replies before he realises he should just shut up.

‘Yi-Jin’s a jerk,’ you complain.

Namjoon says, ‘He dimmed your light.’

‘Damn right,’ you reply. You sit up, and your loose top slips off your shoulder.

Namjoon’s eyes fall to your bare skin.

‘Shit,’ he says. He ghosts a hand over his lap, and you blink in confusion at the obvious bulge.

Without thinking too much about it, you lean forward and bury your face in his groin, nosing against his erection.

Namjoon groans quietly, and his hand clenches into a fist.

You sit up, heart thumping, shocked and aroused at the sound of him.

‘You’re an angel,’ you say.

‘I’m in the body of a man who’s watched you parade around in short shorts for too long,’ Namjoon replies.

‘What’s God’s punishment for corrupting an angel?’ you ask.

Namjoon gets up. ‘Sex isn’t corrupting me,’ he tells you.

He laughs. ‘If it were, let’s just say I’ve corrupted myself. Many times. In the shower.’

You look at him thoughtfully.

‘If you wanted to bring someone home –’

‘Please,’ Namjoon says. ‘Have you seen yourself?’

He shakes his head. ‘You said Yi-Jin made you feel bad. Why would you believe all the bad things he said and not believe all the good things I say to you?’

You think about that as you shower and get dressed.

***

You really hope Namjoon meant what he said about you not corrupting his brothers, because you’re worried you won’t get into heaven at this rate.

You took the boys out to dinner, then a bar, and things get a little fuzzy after that, but now you’re watching a tipsy Jimin dance shirtless on your table at a club whilst being squashed between Taehyung and Yoongi.

Taehyung leans close, and every time he does it you shiver at his voice.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

He purrs into your ear, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose.

You don't necessarily feel like you want him to stop.

You get up to get some air, and Namjoon’s by your side instantly.

You let him sweep you along through the crowd of warm bodies, the pulse of the beat throbbing through the air, to the exit.

You step out into the cool night air with him.

Namjoon takes a step back so he can see your face.

‘All good, Joonie?’ you ask.

‘Joonie,’ he says, trying the word out, rolling it around his mouth.

His hand is warm on the small of your back. He makes you feel so safe.

‘What are you going to save me from Joonie?’ you ask.

‘I wish I knew,’ he tells you.

‘So you can go back to heaven with all the other angels,’ you finish, for him.

There’s a look in his eyes you don’t understand.

‘Too bad I can’t take you with me,’ he says, quietly.

‘I’m too bad to go with you, Joonie,’ you purr into his ear, emboldened by the alcohol and his earlier response to you.

You brush a hand over the front of his trousers.

Namjoon hisses, then pulls you up against him. His head tilts down, and you hold your breath until your lips meet.

His kiss is sweet and electrifying, sending a jolt through you that you feel to your toes, making heat unfurl in your centre.

‘Joonie,’ you murmur.

He hums his response instead of using words, tongue licking into your mouth in a rhythm that makes your heart pound.

His arms around you feel so good that you could cry.

You push with your foot on tiptoe, and even that slight movement has Namjoon giving way to you, letting you press him against the wall.

You’re unashamed about putting your free hand on his hip, dragging his pelvis against you.

Namjoon hums again, and cups your ass in both his hands, spreading his legs to grind against you.

‘This what you want?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ you tell him. ‘Yes.’

‘You got it,’ he promises you.

Namjoon drags you into the club to say goodbye to his brothers, and Yoongi and Seokjin give you identical knowing smiles as they watch the way Namjoon holds your hand tight in his.

‘Can I get in trouble with the higher ups for this?’ you ask Yoongi, worried because you know the answer isn’t going to stop you.

Yoongi snorts, but his voice is surprisingly gentle when he speaks.

‘You could never get Namjoon in trouble,’ he says, ‘and our Namjoon would never put you at risk.’

You’re trying to decipher his words when Taehyung comes to say goodbye.

‘Are you an angel, or a devil?’ you ask.

He laughs. ‘A bit of both. But aren’t we all?’

You want to say something else but Namjoon’s already pulling you away from Taehyung.

You say goodbye to Jimin and Jungkook, but it’s awkward talking to their bare chests, even if you have already seen them naked, so you don’t prolong it.

Seokjin stops you as you’re about to go. ‘I’ll see you again,’ he says, cryptically.

‘Not if I see you first,’ you reply.

His laughter sounds like bells as you let Namjoon lead you out of the club.

***

Namjoon drops his keys in the dish by the door and in the same movement tugs you closer.

You’re already so close you can feel every ridge and crevice of him, but you press into him eagerly.

His voice, when he speaks, is lower than you’ve ever heard it.

‘Don’t know where to start,’ he says. ‘Want all of you.’

‘Let me,’ you say.

All your misgivings about corrupting an angel fly from your head when he unbuttons his shirt.

He might be an angel, but his body was made for sin.

You run a finger down his torso, between his defined pecs, down his abs to the trail of hair that disappears into the buckle of his belt.

He shivers, and you see goosebumps prickle his flesh.

You kiss down the trail your finger’s just traversed, stopping when you’re kneeling in front of him.

‘Off,’ you say, and Namjoon, always keen to please you, unbuckles his belt.

You undo his jeans, pushing them down his muscular thighs.

Namjoon’s hand curls over the outline of his cock, and you dart your tongue between his fingers as you kiss his hand.

‘Wait,’ you say, looking up at him. ‘Should I say my prayers first? I’m about to defile an angel.’

Namjoon looks torn between amusemement and exasperation.

‘You’re infuriating,’ he says. ‘And deeply blasphemous.’

‘I want you to be deeply blasphemous in me,’ you say, unable to resist.

Namjoon lets out a strangled groan. ‘That shouldn’t sound as hot as it does.’

Your mouth opens again, and Namjoon fills it with two of his fingers.

His thumb caresses the underside of your jaw.

‘Shhhh,’ he tells you. ‘I’ve been waiting to be with you like this for a long time.’

You couldn’t talk even if you wanted to, so instead you swirl your tongue over his fingers.

‘Is that what you like?’ Namjoon asks, heavy-lidded, pressing his hot mouth to your ear.

His voice is so low now you can barely make out the words.

His tongue licks a swirl onto the skin of your sensitive neck, and you whimper around his fingers.

He laves his way down your neck to your collarbones, down the low neck of your top.

His tongue swipes lower and lower until you’re curling your fingers in his hair.

At the first lick of his tongue across your aching nipples, the relief is so great that you keen.

Namjoon gives you exactly what you want, tongue rough and slick across your nipple even as he opens his mouth to take more of your breast in.

You moan as he suckles at your breast, big hand cupping your other breast, squeezing, kneading, the pad of his thumb rough against your nipple.

You press your thighs together, and Namjoon strokes a hand over your skin, down towards the apex of your thighs.

You tilt your hips, and his hand slides over you, cupping you over your panties.

‘Joonie,’ you say, hand over his, hips wriggling.

He laughs quietly. ‘Impatient girl.’

He tugs your panties off, you barely have to lift your hips to help him. He looks up at your face as he slides two fingers into you, confident you’re slick enough to take him.

He fills you so perfectly you can feel yourself pulsing around him. His thumb strokes your clit, experimentally, and you cry out.

Like this, panties around your thighs, his hand between your legs, everything’s so tight you can barely stand it.

You’re about to say his name when his lips crash onto yours again. His co-ordination is so good, tongue licking deep into your mouth as his fingers delve into you, that you’re cumming around his fingers without warning. His thumb massages your clit, and your cry of pleasure leaks out around the seal of his lips.

Namjoon hums his approval, a rumbling sound from deep in his chest. He plants a sloppy kiss on your nose, leaning his forehead against yours as you come down from your high.

When your eyes open, he’s looking at you. Is that affection in his eyes?

‘Let me,’ your voice comes out cracked, whispery. You feel like you’ve shattered. ‘Let me make you feel good.’

Namjoon stares at you for a moment, then a dimple pops in his cheek.

‘You think it doesn’t feel good to me to watch you cum like that?’

Transfixed, you watch as his smile widens and a matching dimple pops in his other cheek.

‘You’re not just blasphemous, you’re also an idiot.’

There’s no heat in his voice, but you’re reminded of Yi-Jin’s words.

Does he know how shit you are in bed?

‘Shut up,’ Namjoon growls, and, startled, your eyes snap to his.

‘Tell the voice in your head to shut up,’ he tells you, eyes steady on yours. ‘Stay here with me.’

He settles his hips over yours, holding himself up so his weight isn’t fully on you.

You can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against you.

‘Stay here with me, my love,’ he pleads. ‘Stay.’

The slide of him into you for the first time makes your eyes squeeze shut.

‘Oh Joonie,’ you breathe.

‘Yeah,’ he utters. ‘Feel me?’

‘Yeah.’

Your hands flutter across the sheets as he starts to move, trying to find something to anchor yourself.

You settle for curling a hand around his arm, thumb pressing into the softness of the crook of his elbow.

Namjoon grunts. ‘Feel so good.’ He grinds his pelvis against yours, and you moan.

‘Shit. There, Joonie, there.’

Namjoon pulls out a little, brow furrowed, chest gleaming with sweat, eyes flicking between your face and where you’re joined.

‘So pretty,’ he tells you.

You want to return the compliment, but he starts moving again, fucking into you so well that you cry out instead.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind. His strokes are confident, strong and sure, dragging you relentlessly to the edge until you’re breathless, his name falling in increasingly urgent cries from your lips.

‘Joonie,’ you moan.

‘Yeah, I know,’ he says. His voice is strained now, but there’s the flash of a dimple as he says, ‘go on, cum for me.’

He snaps his hips again, and you cum, succumbing to the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You think he says your name as he joins you, but you couldn’t swear to it.

Namjoon curls his arms around you, holding you, and you get the faintest impression of a weight over both of you, gossamer light and feathery.

Like wings.

***

When you wake up, your face is tucked into Namjoon’s chest, his arm curled around your waist.

You love the solid warmth of him.

You lift a hand to his chest, and he says, ‘Well good morning to you too.’

You look up at his face.

‘Good morning,’ you say, smiling brightly at him. ‘How does it feel to be fallen?’

Namjoon’s hand slips down to your ass, squeezing lightly. ‘Firstly, I’m not fallen. Secondly, I feel pretty good right about now.’

‘Me too,’ you agree.

You wriggle against him a little, because you like the feel of his hand on your ass.

His cock stirs against your belly.

‘Oooh,’ you say, pleasure in your voice.

You reach down to touch, but his hand stops you.

‘Nah. You don’t get to touch until you’re good and wet for me.’

‘Joonie?’ you ask.

‘I said what I said.’

Namjoon gets up and settles between your legs. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, high up. He looks up at you, eyebrow lifted.

‘You gonna give me what I want?’

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Yeah.’

***

You’re out to dinner with Nari.

She’s one of your oldest friends, you moved to the city together after university, and you’d lived together until she moved in with her fiancée, Junho.

‘How’s the wedding planning?’ you ask.

‘It’s going,’ she says, dryly. ‘The florist bailed so I have to meet another one this week.’

She reminds you about the cake-tasting you’re going to next week.

‘How are things with Namjoon?’ she asks, carefully.

Of all your friends, Nari’s been the most wary of Namjoon.

‘He’s great,’ you say. ‘We slept together.’

‘Was it a religious experience?’ asks Nari, deadpan.

You laugh. ‘It was – like sleeping with a human man, if that man was incredible in bed.’

‘I’m glad,’ Nari says, and she genuinely does sound happy for you.

You smile at her. ‘Not going to tell me off about the girl who stole my Marc Jacobs? The man who stole my laptop?’

Nari laughs. ‘You do have a habit of helping people who don’t deserve it.’

She puts a hand on yours. ‘And dating people who don’t deserve you.’

‘Yi-Jin was hot,’ you point out.

‘Yi-Jin was a hot douchebag who couldn’t appreciate how stunning you are,’ Nari says, acid in her tone. ‘If I run into him again he won’t know which way is up. How dare he say all those things about you.’

Her eyes flash, and you love her so much in that moment you could cry.

‘I’m scared for him,’ you joke.

Nari grins. ‘Someone’s got to be your enforcer. I’m not sure your angel man is allowed to fight. He’s probably too enlightened for fisticuffs.’

You think about how you had to step in front of Namjoon to stop him from lunging at Yi-Jin, and how Yoongi had squared up next to him.

‘I don’t know,’ you say, more dreamily than you’d intended.

Nari gags. ‘Yuck. Please tell me you’re not thinking something sexual right now.’

‘What?’ you ask, flustered.

‘Incoming. I think Namjoon’s early to pick you up,’ Nari says.

You turn and sure enough, Namjoon’s making his way across the restaurant to you both.

He nods politely at Nari. ‘Hi Nari, I agreed with your points at the staff meeting earlier.’

Nari tilts her head, haughty. ‘Fear of God suits you.’

She leaves without a goodbye, and Namjoon looks confused.

‘Does Nari hate me?’ he asks.

You laugh. ‘No. She likes you, a lot, actually.’

You’re walking back home with Namjoon, taking a circuitous route so you can pass his favourite gallery.

As he looks in, curious as though he doesn’t pass it every day, you ask, impulsively, ‘Hey. Do you want to go on holiday?’

Namjoon looks at you. ‘I’d like to go to Venice.’

‘Can you fly us there or do I need to book flights?’

***

Which is how you find yourself on a balcony of the Ca’ d’Oro, looking out into the Grand Canal.

‘So I guess, being a thousand years old, this is modern to you?’ you ask, teasing.

Namjoon leans back, sun dappling his hair, highlighting the angles of his face, kissing his dimples.

‘This is all new to me,’ he tells you.

He laughs, and he looks so young that you hug him.

Later, in the church of Santa Maria Assunta, you say, with mock reverence, ‘You’re the oldest thing in here.’

Without missing a beat, Namjoon says, ‘And yet, you still show me no respect, brat.’

You flirt with him all through the streets of Cannaregio, through the churches with their elaborate frescoes, until he takes you back to your beautiful rented flat and makes love to you with an intensity that evacuates the words from your head and has you clutching at him, desperate for release.

‘More churches?’ you ask, a pout in your voice when he wakes you the next morning.

‘No more churches,’ Namjoon replies, voice completely serious. ‘I’m worried with what we did last night, we might catch fire if we tried to set foot anywhere sacred.’

‘Shall we stay here?’ you ask, already reaching for his hip only to discover he never put any clothes back on at all.

Namjoon shifts his hips to allow you better access.

‘Why don’t you suck my cock instead?’ he suggests, mildly.

‘You’ve got a filthy mouth for an angel,’ you note, from where you’re already licking up from the base of his cock.

Namjoon laughs, low. ‘And you, my love, are divine.’

Afterward, Namjoon lays flat on his back next to you, white sheets twisted around his hips, arm behind his head.

He looks beautiful like this.

‘Is this how you save me? By fucking me into oblivion?’ you ask, breathless still.

‘Is it working?’ asks Namjoon.

‘I don’t know. How can we tell?’ you ask.

‘Guess we’ll have to keep going,’ Namjoon returns.

Once he’s asleep you get up and make yourself a cup of tea and look out at the canal in the moonlight.

You tell yourself you’ll be fine once he’s done his task and has to leave, but increasingly, you wonder if you will be.

***

You’re hurrying down the street, late to meet Namjoon, not really looking where you’re going, and when you crash into someone initially you think it’s your fault.

It’s only when you feel hot breath on your face, the sour smell of sweat, that you realise something’s terribly wrong.

You’re pushed up against a wall, hands pulling at your clothes.

You try to push the man away but he doesn’t budge.

You’re still worrying about Namjoon, about him having to wait for you, when the soft snick of a switchblade makes everything crystallise into focus.

‘Wait. I’ll give you money, my phone. Don’t hurt me,’ you stutter.

The pressure on your chest eases slightly as you push your bag at him. ‘Take it all.’

Your bag’s pulled away from you, and you stand, perfectly still, as your things are tossed on the ground.

You turn your head and see Namjoon standing a few feet away.

It’s all terribly slow.

The sudden appearance of Namjoon startles your attacker, and he lashes out with the hand holding the blade, just as you take a step forward, trying to put yourself between him and Namjoon.

Namjoon’s not slow.

There’s the sound of metal slicing flesh, then metal clattering to the ground, as the attacker flees, leaving you to pick up the pieces.

Namjoon’s still standing, just about, hands over the bloody wound in his chest. Blood’s pouring through his fingers.

‘Joonie,’ you breathe, anguished.

You’re so panicked and upset it takes you longer than it should to realise that the blood’s slowing.

Namjoon’s running his bloody hands over you. ‘Are you ok? Are you hurt?’ he asks.

‘No, I’m fine. You’re hurt,’ you tell him.

‘I’m fine,’ he tells you.

There’s an urgency to his voice you haven’t heard before.

‘Listen to me, my love.’

He grips your face in both his hands until you look at him.

‘You are love,’ he tells you. ‘You’re light and you’re love and you’re perfect. Don’t forget.’

‘What –‘

His lips meet yours, and like always, he steals your breath when he kisses you.

It’s only later, when you’re back in your apartment, that you realise the significance of his actions.

Namjoon’s sitting with his back to you, looking out your balcony.

You put your hand on his shoulder.

‘Was that your task?’ you ask, quietly.

Namjoon smiles at you, and there’s a sadness to him that you haven’t seen since you first met him in the park.

‘It probably was,’ he says.

He laughs, a little. ‘Got there in the end, my beautiful heathen.’

‘I’ll be happy when you get back to your brothers,’ you tell him.

He pulls you into his arms.

‘We knew it wasn’t going to be forever,’ he says, very gently.

‘Nothing is forever,’ you say. You peek at him hopefully, and when he doesn’t say anything, you groan.

‘Really, Namjoon? Not even now?’

Namjoon kisses you.

‘I can’t tell you the secrets of life,’ he says. ‘But I meant what I said when I told you that you are love.’

‘That doesn’t tell me anything,’ you say, and there’s a pleading note in your voice now. ‘I love you, Namjoon. And now you’re going to go, and leave my life?’

He doesn’t answer, not in words anyway.

His lips seek yours, and like the first time and every time thereafter, you lose yourself in his kiss.

He pushes you onto your sheets, and fills you the way he always has, the solidity and warmth of him making you feel safe and secure.

You cry his name as he makes your pleasure soar, even as the weight of him anchors you.

He’s beautiful and he’s divine, and he makes you feel his love even if he’s never said the words out loud.

It’s only towards the end, when he collapses down next to you, that he vows, voice thick and so low you almost can’t make out the words, ‘I’d give up eternity for you, my love.’

You want to speak but you’re floating. This time you feel it, stronger than ever, the impression of wings enfolding both of you in warmth.

It feels like goodbye.

***

One year later

You step out of the church where Nari’s wedding’s just been held, blinking a little as your eyes adjust to the bright afternoon sun.

You look out at the beautiful early spring day, the daffodils starting to bloom, the colour starting to return to gardens outside the church.

Spring days make you think of Namjoon.

Everything still makes you think of Namjoon.

You’d woken alone the morning after Namjoon had saved you from the mugger.

The truth was, he'd saved you way before then, showing you how to hate yourself a little less. To be kinder to yourself.

Every day you tell yourself you’re happy he’s back with his brothers, and you are.

You wish you didn’t still miss him so much.

You watch idly as a family with a toddler walk across the path, followed by a group of runners.

You walk up to the fountain in the church gardens and look at the coin an elderly wedding-goer had handed to you, telling you to make a wish.

You toss the coin in and watch it sink to the bottom with all the other copper pennies.

You make your wish.

When you open your eyes, a naked male ass is in your line of vision.

You’d recognise it anywhere.

‘Hey,’ says a familiar low drawl. ‘Got a spare coat?’

‘Nah,’ you reply, nonchalant even though your heart is pounding triple-speed.

You turn away and head back to the church.

Footsteps sound behind you.

‘Really, you’re gonna leave me out here naked?’ asks Namjoon.

You turn, feigning innocence. ‘Well, I’d invite you in, but it’s a wedding. There’s a dress code and everything.’

‘Damn,’ Namjoon says.

He stops mid-sentence, because you’ve whirled around and thrown yourself into his arms.

‘What is this, Namjoon? A one-night appearance to remind me what I’m missing?’ you ask, between kisses.

‘No. I’m here for good. For the rest of your life. For the rest of our lives,’ Namjoon replies, breathless from trying to get the words out whilst you’re kissing him.

‘Why?’ you ask.

‘Because you are love. You’re my love,’ Namjoon replies.

You pull back. ‘Are you really here, Namjoon?’

‘As long as you’ll have me,’ he promises.

‘I guess that’s forever then,’ you say.

Namjoon’s dimples appear, so sweet you could cry. ‘Forever sounds good to me.’

©hamsterclaw 2022

Author note: Like almost every other writer I know, I get insecure about my writing. Am I shit and are people too polite to tell me? Every damn time I post it's a battle of - is this good? Should I post this? Nah, maybe another time. My big realisation is that no one will ever be as hard on me as I am on myself. So I should be easier on myself! We all should. I liked writing this story a lot - and have an idea for Yoongi and JK in this AU which I’m excited to write! I hope you enjoyed reading.

---

Mixtape | Four (Finale) | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: You’ve had a crush on Yoongi for most of your life. On a holiday trip to the cabin, you’re reunited with Yoongi after not seeing him from two years and things go less than according to plan.

☾ Word Count: 12,798

☾ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers/brother’s bff, smut, angst

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Explicit language, implied age gap (three years), anxiety attack depictions, light depictions of self-deprecating thoughts, drinking alcohol, depictions of drinking and being drunk, petty squabbles between women, light depictions of depression and depressive thoughts, angst (not SUPER heavy but it's there) tough conversations with siblings, Jin is kind of mean and not super understanding, time skips, explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, oral (f. receiving), missionary, forced orgasms, doggy, clit stimulation, light mentions of subspace-similar mindset post sex, fluff

☾ Published: May, 2022

☾ A/N: This is an absolute caffeine fueled writing binge. This chapter is not as long as I was expecting it to be - I edited it down a ton because while I was writing the angst, I started to feel like it wasn't true to the story. Our characters are all mostly mature and honestly, I felt like a very very drawn out fight was not the right move. So I re-wrote the scenes, and this is the result. Thank you for all the amazing people who left comments and read this little four part story. I hope that you found as much comfort in the friendships and Yoongi and reader as I did. I have no idea how to let these characters go, which means I will most likely write drabbles and mini stories here and there because I am feral for them. I hope this lives up to everyone's long awaited expectations!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Sweat beads on your neck, making your hair stick to you. The ache in your back and arms from hauling the cooler full of ice out to the porch is significant. Jimin had accidentally put the ice in the cooler before pulling it to the porch, meaning the pair of you had to haul it full of ice.

The entire house has been put to work with Seokjin at the lead, ordering people around with duties to prepare for the final night’s festivities. Despite the cool breeze outside, you’re sweaty an miserable, huffing and puffing by the time the cooler is in place.

“Why is Jin in charge?” you pant, collapsing on one of the lounge chairs on the porch. Jimin wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt, rolling his eyes. “Because he’s the oldest. That’s what he said this morning, anyway.” 

“It’s technically your party.”

“Is it, though?”

You grin. Seokjin always takes over for these things and though you poke fun and complain about him a little bit, you were all glad he takes on the pressure of party planning. He always makes sure to give people tasks that are suited to them, and it always makes things organized.

It is the only time Seokjin is organized. You can’t imagine how Yoongi is managing to share a room with your brother. Yoongi is meticulous with his laundry and organization of clothes while Seokjin tends to fold nothing before shoving it in drawers. 

Around lunch, Seokjin and Yoongi both come out to the porch to start grilling. Hungry mouths and rumbling stomachs fill the porch as you stand on a ladder, hanging lights that Jimin feeds you.

Though Jimin and Taehyung are now in on your secret, they don’t use the opportunity to poke fun at you or give you secret eyes when Yoongi hands you water. They behave as normal, jostling each other when the food is ready but relenting to let you grab a plate first. 

Everyone eats together on the porch. It’s loud but comfortable. You’re between Taehyung and Jungkook - the latter who steals fries from your plate. Glancing around at everyone, you can’t help but feel a pang. You love this group so much and have been through so much together. You hate that it’s your last day, wanting to stretch this time forever.

This time with them is so rare. You look down at your lap, chewing the corner of your lip. Your flight home tomorrow is early in the morning, and though you know you’re going back with good memories with your friends and a promise of something with Yoongi, you dread going home. 

Everyone lounges into the early afternoon. No one is eager to finish their tasks and afternoon naps become a disease Seokjin can no longer fight. Ren snaps a picture of Jungkook with his head in your lap, asleep. Taehyung is asleep on Jimin’s shoulder, who is asleep on the arm of the couch.

As the late afternoon creeps closer, everyone starts to shake off sleep and get ready. Yoongi catches you alone a single time as he passes you on the stairs, quick to steal a kiss on the cheek while he carries down wires and electrical strips for the DJ setup for him and Hoseok to take turns manning. 

Tossing yourself on the bed, you drift off to sleep, hoping that you can make the last of your night the best.

-

Music pulses from the ridiculously nice DJ setup Yoongi and Hoseok have made themselves. You weave through the living room toward the kitchen, having just come downstairs. There are people already crushed in the living room. Seokjin and Namjoon have carefully rearranged the furniture, pulling pieces into the theater room and locking the door. 

Your eyes slide up to where Yoongi and Hoseok are murmuring to one another over the music. Feeling your gaze, Yoongi’s eyes slide over to you. He’s in a loose button-up shirt, top buttons undone at the throat and tucked into his black jeans. His hair is styled back, a single loose lock of blonde hair brushing his brow.

You swallow thickly. He gives you a smug look and waves before you vanish into the kitchen. You spot Wendy out of the corner of your eye as she leans on the counter talking to Ren. You catch her eye for a moment and you smile out of instinct - it waivers immediately when she doesn’t return it.

With something like guilt and anxiety curling in your stomach, you root around the fridge, procuring the seltzers and beers you want. You feel Wendy’s gaze on you as you leave the kitchen and head toward your destination - he’s been your destination all weekend, but you try not to think about it too hard.

The music is louder by the speakers, vibrating your ribcage as you carefully navigate around the cords taped down to the wood flooring. You hand Hoseok a beer and he grins, kissing the top of your head and showering you in praise as you pass the other beer to Yoongi. His fingers brush yours meaningfully. 

“Thanks, kid.” 

You smile at the nickname and retreat, finding Taehyung at the beer pong table. You’re only there for seconds before Seokjin finds you. “Wanna wipe the floor with these fuckers?” he asks, sipping his beer and looking down at you. “Like old times.”

Your grin is feral. “Like old times,” you agree. 

Old times indeed. You and your brother slip into the muscle memory of your college years, working as a tag team to take down everyone else at the table. You’re cocky and you can be - you both have killer aim and when Seokjin sinks one in, elbowing you to hit the same cup before it can be taken away, you do. 

Jimin groans again, calling for a committee to ban siblings from the table. Even buzzed, you’re a better shot than he is, sticking your tongue out at him. 

Time passes. You’re not sure when Yoongi appears, but he blinks into existence on the other side of Seokjin, cat-eyes watching with muted interest as you work to clear the last of the cups of the pair you’re playing against. 

He whistles. “You two were always good at pong. Is there any betting going on?”

Seokjin claps Yoongi on the back, laughing loudly. “No one would take the bet, I’m afraid. Will you fill the space for me? I have to piss.” 

Yoongi nods. Seokjin switches spots with him, making a beeline for the stairs. Yoongi is casual as he bounces the ping pong ball in his hand. You’re enchanted as he catches it, rings glinting on his fingers. Across the table, there’s a group trying to figure out who had the next game. 

“What are you staring at, kid?”

Yoongi’s dark drawl brings your eyes to his. He’s smirking, eyes amused. He knows what you were staring at, but he loves when you confess to him. Loves to hear you admit it. You know this about him now so you answer, “Your hands.” 

“Remembering what they can do to you?”

“Something like that.” 

Together, you re-rack the cups. You don’t chat much, but you don’t feel the need to. Yoongi fills the space next to you wonderfully. He’s more accurate than your brother is, years of playing basketball in high school showing in his prowess.

You hate how the smallest things turn you on. 

Seokjin rejoins you at some point. Suri is next to him along with Mako, the trio cheering you on as you finish dominating the game. When Yoongi tries to give his space back to Seokjin, you’re surprised when your brother waves him off. He seems content to watch and jeer at others on the side.

You play a few rounds, adding water between your drinks as they begin to stack up. Eventually, you’re unseated by the Maxwell twins, who are arguably more in tune with one another than you and Yoongi are. It doesn’t entirely matter. You’re a little more than drunk, stumbling toward the wine cellar as Jimin hollers at you to get the Merlot. 

Skimming the racks in the dim, dry room, you hum the song you vaguely recognize coming through the shut door. Tapping your fingers along the bottles, you hear the door open and close behind you, feet shuffling down the stairs. 

“Jimin, I swear I won’t take the super expensive stuff, okay?”

A throaty chuckle behind you has you spinning. Yoongi walks down the aisle slowly. “Get the expensive shit,” he encourages. “Jimin’s parents won’t notice.”

“What’d you have to pay for the passcode?” You tease, disappearing in the next row.

You can hear his soft steps on the wooden floor as he follows you. You’re quick on your feet, ducking behind another rack of wine just as he comes around the corner. He groans. “Just the usual: my first child, a favor to fulfill at any time, swearing to never hurt you.”

“Hmm that’s a lot of promises for a wine room.”

“I didn’t want the wine room, I wanted what was inside of it.”

Yoongi beats you to an aisle, appearing at the end. You squeal and twist back, rushing through the room as he laughs loudly. “Where are you running off to, sweet girl?”

“If you want me you’ll catch me!”

You can’t help the giddy feeling thrumming through you. You rush down the farthest aisle of wine, trying to move as quietly as possible. As it turns out, it isn’t that quiet. Yoongi hears you and cuts you off on the jump, making you crash into him with a wild squeal.

Arms wrapped around you, he squeezes and hauls you upwards. Your feet leave the ground as he laughs, spinning you as you shriek and wiggle, trying to get away from him. He grunts before putting you unceremoniously on your feet, but not letting you go.

“You want to break your neck?” he asks as you spin in his arms. He’s only a little taller than you, but you don’t care. You grin up at him, wrapping your arms around his middle and hugging him closer. His breath smells like honied whiskey as he leans close to you. “I’d be really sad, kid.”

“Yeah? How sad.”

“Real sad. I would eat loads of Sour Patch Kids in your memory. Would watch Sailor Moon at least once a day. Would make a few playlists to cry to, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He grins as you huff. You press the underneath your chin against his chest, looking up at him with big, round eyes. “You know I’d make you mixtapes.”

“No one calls them mixtapes anymore, old man.”

“I do. And I will make you mixtapes when you’re gone.”

“Make them for me now.”

Yoongi’s kiss is soft. Your eyes flutter close as you let him press firmer into your mouth. He breaks away before you can run your tongue on his bottom lip like you love. “Okay. I’ll make some for you. Now let’s pick some wine before anyone comes looking for us.”

“Please, no one has looked for us in three nights.” Something passes his face. You can’t pick up on it, but he drops his hands from around you and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

He hesitates. “Not at all, kid. Come on,” he pokes you. “Get your wine.”

So you do. You grab a fruity red with chocolate notes that you had been eyeing and the Merlot. He takes one bottle from you and takes your hand with the other. You swing your hands back and forth, happy to be there. You can’t help but pout when you have to separate at the door, but you get it.

“Soon,” he murmurs, kissing you on the temple and smacking you lightly on your ass as you squeeze through the door and back to the world of the roaring party.

Yoongi excuses himself to take over for Hoseok to control the music. You collapse onto the couch with Jungkook and Taehyung, joining in the drinking games as you uncork the wine

Wendy and Jungkook pass you in the hall. Her eyes are cutting as Jungkook stops you, begging you to share the wine. You roll your eyes, accompanying him to the kitchen which turns into an hour-long mission for cups. Everyone stops to ask him about streaming and ask you about job openings. Your job is cool, but you’re thirsty and there’s sweet wine waiting patiently to meet your mouth.

Cups in hand, the pair of you finally peel away into the living room where a childish game of truth and dare is going on. You’re wedged in a corner with Jungkook, trapped by the Maxwell twins who are grilling you about gaming.

You finish your wine, pouting. Yoongi catches your eye as he walks toward the kitchen, making a cup motion with his hand. You nod, biting your lip shyly as you turn to Jungkook, who watches the whole thing. He raises his brows but says nothing, gesturing toward where Taehyung is sitting on the couch by the truth or dare game which has resulted in a lot of weird making out.

As you walk by the circle of partiers with Jungkook, you hear someone call your name. You laugh, turning from Jungkook to see Wendy sitting next to Seokjin. She tilts her beer bottle toward you with a smile and you think nothing of it, asking “What’s up?”

Yoongi is coming out of the kitchen with two glasses of wine in his hand, making his way toward you as Wendy’s grin increases. Her eyes are hazy, and her cheeks are flushed from drinking.

“Your turn – truth or dare?”

“Uhhh dare, I guess?”

Why not? You’re feeling bold, the alcohol fueling you to lean against the couch behind Ren, smiling. Wendy smiles back, tilting her head as her friend snickers beside her. You’re warm, buzzing, and you don’t see it coming.

“I dare you to tell your brother you’re fucking his best friend.”

The smile drops from your face. Jungkook audibly gasps next to you and the people sitting around the table swivel to face you. Wendy leans back, one leg crossing over the other as she watches you, hands crossed over her chest.

Yoongi has frozen where he stands, just hearing the edge of the conversation.

“What?” you manage to ask. You shake your head, trying to shake off the feeling of being drunk. Everything is too loud and you can’t help but repeat the question, “What?”

“I dare you to tell Jin you’re sleeping with Yoongi.”

“Wendy.” You hear Yoongi’s deep warning from somewhere, but your eyes are only on your brother who looks at Wendy with a frown. She doesn’t dare look away from you, a challenge in her green eyes. You think of the nasty look she shot you earlier and your stomach drops.

You lick your lips, mouth suddenly dry. You search for the words as a flash of heat crawls up your neck, hands shaking as Seokjin turns in his seat, looking at you and rolling his eyes. “As if, Wen.” Seokjin settles his gaze on you. Sees you wide-eyed and sweating. Sees the rise and fall of your chest as you begin to pant. “Wait, you’re joking, right?”

Yoongi cuts through the people who are still partying, making his way to you. Jungkook is at your back, hand pulling at your waist to back you up from the couch. Taehyung gets up from the couch, eyes dark as he takes residence beside Jungkook, two dark knights flanking you.

“Here comes the hero,” Wendy’s friend murmurs next to her, a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyes are on Yoongi, who Jungkook makes room for. “Lie to Wendy again how she was never a threat to your relationship.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ren snaps, leaning forward. She’s red in the face but you barely hear her as she says, “You are such an instigator – you are twenty-seven, grow up!”

“Let’s talk,” Yoongi says to Seokjin, who is staring at Yoongi, the tips of his ears turning red as he opens and closes his mouth. Seokjin’s hands turn to fists as his dark eyes flicker from you to Yoongi. You’re still fumbling, overwhelmed with terror and embarrassment. “Away from everyone.”

“Are you fucking my sister?”

The question makes you flinch. You’re shifting back and forth between feet, pushing at Yoongi to step away. People are starting to turn around and look at you. Eyes. So many eyes. It’s hot in the room and you feel like your clothes are sticking to your chest, like you can’t get enough room. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to loosen it.

 “Jin, stop-” you start to ask, unable to finish the question before he’s cutting you off. Your voice is too small, too frail.

You suddenly feel like the little girl you used to be. Too shy to talk to your brother’s friends, ducking out of rooms when they were around. Your fight or flight kicks in. It’s hard to breathe, so you focus on Taehyung’s grip on you. You focus on his touch as much as you can, trying to level your breathing.

“Are you fucking my sister?” He asks again, standing. His voice is louder. The attention of the party is starting to turn on you in full. The people around the table are staring nudging one another with their elbows.

The focus of the room is shifting to you as Yoongi murmurs for Seokjin to come with him outside to talk. Seokjin isn’t moving, even when Jungkook walks around the couch to pull at Seokjin’s elbow, trying to gently guide him away from the table. Seokjin rips his arm away from the younger, face like a storm. You squeeze your eyes shut, turning into Taehyung who has his arms around you now.

“Answer the question!”

“Please stop,” you ask, voice cracking, but it’s muffled by Taehyung’s chest.

“You fucking asshole,” Seokjin swears. “This is a new low, even for you.”

“Outside,” Yoongi growls. “You’re embarrassing her.”

“I don’t care!”

“Well I do.”  Yoongi looks over his shoulder, addressing Taehyung, “Go get some air.”

Taehyung lets go of you, pulling you away from the scene but you’re rooted in place. “Jin, I-”

“The two of you, man,” Seokjin scoffs, shaking Jungkook’s hand off him again as he storms toward the front of the house. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Seokjin is storming through people, people dodging out of his way. Ren is leaning over the coffee table, jabbing a finger toward Wendy who looks pale in the face as her friends push Ren’s accusatory finger away. Lydia’s hand is on Ren’s elbow, pulling her back.

Another tug on your arm. You turn to see Yoongi, dark eyes searching, brows creased as he cups your face briefly. You turn away from him, but his grip is firm, angling you back to him.

“Just give me some time, okay?”

You wordlessly nod. Yoongi sighs and kisses you on the temple, heading to where your brother has disappeared. Yoongi looks at Wendy and asks, “Why?”

Yoongi doesn’t give her time to answer. He’s charging after Seokjin. Namjoon is telling people to mind their own business. Hoseok has turned the music up so loud that it’s rattling your insides. Familiar hands guide you out of the back door. Down the porch.

Your heart is pounding. The words are ringing in your ears over and over again. The two of you, man. Un-fucking-believable.

Wood creaks underneath your shoes. Gentle arms around your waist – you can smell Jimin’s cologne – orange blossoms and gentle citrus. Taehyung’s fingers are laced with yours, squeezing. You feel something hot on your neck, lifting the hand not in Taehyung’s to touch the heated skin, realizing its tears.

You don’t know when you started crying. The boys take it in stride. They don’t say anything, they led you bury your face into Jimin’s neck. You ruin his shirt, you’re sure. It doesn’t matter. You let everything out, praying that no one is watching you from the porch. It’s ugly and it’s messy, the sobs choking.

“I didn’t-” you gasp over tears, trying to get the words out, “I didn’t mean-”

The sentence doesn’t come to completion. Taehyung squeezes your hand. Jimin has a hand brushing your head, the other secure around your waist. You can’t see Ren, but you hear her voice, high-pitched and cursing somewhere outside.

You want to thank her – to let her know you appreciate the backup – but the shame and the guilt are so powerful that instead, all you can do is cry.

And you hate yourself a little more for it.

Eventually, you sit on the dock. Ren and Jungkook listen as you fill them in on everything, sniffling. Taehyung still has your hand fiercely held in his, refusing to let you go.

It makes you think of when Yoongi asked to hold your hand so it was easier to talk. It makes you sniffle and lean your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

Your friends don’t judge you. No one tells you that you’re wrong, even though you feel like the worst person in the world. You’re quick to blame yourself and none of them are having it, waving off any self-accusation that you can manage.

“I shouldn’t have indulged,” you whisper.

“Having feelings for someone isn’t indulging,” Ren snaps. She’s still hot from her confrontation with Wendy. “Having feelings is a human thing. Hiding it to safeguard your feelings is a normal reaction, and Jin is way out of line for the way he handled that. We are pushing thirty, for fucks sake!”

“I’m a fucking liar.”

“Who isn’t?” Ren demands. “I don’t give a shit that you lied about it. You intended to tell Jin, right?” You nod. “That’s all that matters. It wasn’t to hurt him – it would have been super weird to ruin the trip. Like you know – is sort of happening right now.”

The sound of skin slapping skin and Ren cursing at Jungkook sounds. Jungkook clears his throat and murmurs, “You didn’t ruin the trip – Ren phrased that poorly. But we get why you did it, and Jin has to understand. Honestly? If Jin didn’t know you and Yoongi have been giving each other moon eyes for years, he’s an idiot.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing.

No one goes back to the party. Hoseok and Namjoon hold down the fort. Hosoek comes out with water and briefly ruffles your hair, promising that Seokjin will come around. You can’t find it in you to give him a smile, but you thank him nonetheless.

Yoongi does not come to find you.

Minutes blend together while the five of you talk about anything and everything that doesn’t involve the confrontation. Ren has dialed it down, though she has asked multiple times if you want her to fight Wendy.

Truly, you don’t.

Yoongi had mentioned the night before how Wendy could be. And if you put yourself in her shoes? You understood. Because from Wendy’s point of view, it was like the worst thing was coming true. Something she had always feared in her own relationship with Yoongi ended up becoming real.

You can’t blame her for wondering if you were on the sidelines all along. You can’t blame her for thinking Yoongi lied every time he told you that you weren’t a threat. It’s a wound that she openly nursed in their relationship – not that you knew about it – and now it’s reopened. Fresh.

So she’s lashed out where it could hurt Yoongi, even if it meant hurting you and Seokjin in the process. Because she’s embarrassed, hurt, and feels lied to.

It isn’t a great place for her to be in, either.

As though your sympathies have manifested her, a feminine voice clears their throat. Ren is already getting to her feet, growling at Wendy who stands awkwardly where the splintered planks begin. She has a bottle of water in her hand, half gone and she fiddles with the hem of her shirt.

“Ca? Alone, please?”

“No?” Jimin laughs mirthlessly. “What could you possibly have to say?”

“I just want to talk.”

You touch Jimin as you meet Wendy’s eyes. The eyeliner is patchy and her mascara is smudged a bit. The tip of her nose is red. You realize that she’s been crying.

Taking a deep breath, you say, “Can you give us a few, guys?” None of your friends budge. You roll your eyes and pinch Taehyung. He groans and leads the charge, peeling himself from the dock, pulling Jungkook and Jimin by their shirts. “I’m fine.”

“I’d like to stay,” Ren asserts. You level a glare at her. She huffs and gets up, dusting herself off. “Fine, I’ll stay over there where I can see you but can’t hear. Is that suitable?”

You nod. Your friends aren’t excited to leave you alone with Wendy, who won’t look any of them in the eye. Despite your heart racing and the mounting urge to scream at her, you take a breath and gesture to the empty space next to you.

Ren and the others don’t go far, lingering a few yards away from the dock, huddled together and pretending not to cast glances at you. Wendy looks over her shoulder at them as she sits down on the dock, leaving a considerable amount of space between you.

“They’re good friends,” Wendy observes.

“They are. I don’t think you’re here to talk about them.”

“No. But I wonder if I surrounded myself with friends like them if I would be nicer.”

“Perhaps a little, but you’re an adult. It’s free to be nice and exercise good habits that promote that.”

Wendy sucks in a breath at the harsh comment but you don’t take it back. She blows out the air, tilting her head up to look at the sky. “Yeah, I deserve that.” You shrug. She continues, “I feel ridiculous saying sorry – not because you don’t deserve it, but because it’s only been like an hour and I feel terrible about it.”

“It was an unkind thing to do.”

“You’re right. It was childish and unfair to you, Yoongi and Jin.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because I felt small and insecure. Maybe you don’t know, but Yoongi was always so different about you. I let that shit eat at me for a very long time instead of addressing it properly. You guys always seemed so much more in sync, and I was always envious of how easy it was for you to understand him when I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry that you struggled with that.”

She waves a hand. “I’ll have to get over it. When I realized you guys vanished together last night and when he didn’t answer my text asking if you were a thing-”

You whip your head to her. “He knew you knew?”

Wendy blinks in surprise. She opens and closes her mouth. “I sent a pretty drunk text accusing him of it. And then when I saw you two come out from the wine cellar tonight, I knew.”

You pick at the cracked pieces of wood that make up the dock. Peeling tiny splinters and slivers, you think about that. Yoongi had known that Wendy was suspicious – had commented on her being petty and lashing out and yet, he didn’t tell you.

It’s probably nothing to be upset over, and yet you are. Because this could have been prevented, you could have known there was a target on your back.

Swallowing past the building frustration, you say, “So what changed your mind?”

“I felt pretty gross about it immediately after. Seeing your anxiety attack made me feel terrible because I’ve been there.”

“It felt pretty terrible.”

She nods. “I’m sure it did. I can’t take it back, but I wanted you to know that I’m aware I shouldn’t have done that. It does nothing at the moment, but if it’s worth anything, I’m going to attempt to learn from this.”

“Do more than attempt and I’ll be pleased.”

She offers you a soft smile. Nodding when the silence gets awkward, she pushes herself up from the dock. She hesitates and adds, “You and Yoongi? You make sense. You always have. Jin might be upset for a while, but I think he’ll see that. I’d like to apologize to them both when I have a chance.”

“I think that would be nice. And Wen?” she turns and looks at you. “Thanks.”

Wendy smiles and nods, heading back toward the house. She skirts your friends, giving them a wide berth as they come back, piling themselves on the dock.

“No hair pulling?” Taehyung asks with a pout. You shake your head with a breathy laugh. “Huh. Fights are so much less fun as an adult.”

-

Yoongi and Seokjin are nowhere to be found when you return to the party. It’s died down considerably. Namjoon meets you halfway through the living room, letting you know that the pair of them left the house to go somewhere to talk.

Anxiety eats away at you as the last of the partygoers leave. You check your phone repeatedly but there’s nothing from either of them.

You cannot imagine the conversation they’re having. And though you had begun to mentally prepare yourself for Seokjin’s reactions, you cry when you lay down in your bed, unable to stop worrying that you’ve ruined their friendship to a point of no return.

Sleep is impossible. So you stare at the ceiling, spiraling into a series of memories. You can’t help but sift through memories with your brother as you sniffle, tears occasionally escaping your eyes.

Seokjin is a good brother. He is the best brother. He has always been there for you in ways that you probably haven’t really thanked him for.

As the younger sibling, it occurs to you that Seokjin was so much more of a leader in your life than you realize. It makes you cry a little more, rolling over as the guilt makes your stomach flip.

Though your parents weren’t around much – your mother splitting time between Italy as a fancy and flighty artist, your father working on overseeing multiple construction projects for condominiums in Miami, Malibu, Busan, Hong Kong, and Dubai – and Seokjin had always been there.

There had been the nannies and housekeepers. They were fine and they were responsible. But your childhood is painted with images of Seokjin coming to get you for dinner. Of him faxing your parents’ permission slips for your field trips. Of him hanging out in lobbies of doctor’s offices while you got physicals to play soccer.

And now you’re asking him to share Yoongi.

But shouldn’t you be able to be happy? Your annoyance begins to build. Why aren’t you allowed to have what you want? Why aren’t you allowed to like Yoongi? It isn’t that big of a deal. The world goes on, and it’ll either work or it won’t.

Just as the light begins to turn grey outside, you hear footsteps in the hall. You sit up straight in bed, clutching the blankets in your hands as the door opens. You hold your breath, leaning forward as your brother slips into the room.

He’s still in the clothes from the party.

Heavy silence hangs in the air. Seokjin leans against the door, staring at you. You’ve never felt this before, this gap between you. It’s like even if you held your hand out to him, you cannot breach the wall. He’s so far away, though he’s looking at you with a blank expression.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. “You’re not going to accept an apology, but I am sorry.”

Seokjin shrugs. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“We were going to tell you.”

“Don’t really care.”

That sparks a fire in you. “Is it really the end of the world for you?” You demand. “That I want to date your friend? He’s my friend too.”

“He is my friend first. That was always the deal, always the bargain. I share everything with you and you had to go and fuck Yoongi? Honestly?”

“It wasn’t just that-”

“Yoongi doesn’t date. You know that better than anyone, and when he does date, he fucking sucks at it. You don’t deserve that shit. How many times did you catch him fucking around in college and you think – you think that is love?”

“I never said anything about love,” you snap. “But I want to give him a chance-”

“Two weeks ago he was talking about how dating wasn’t for him. Had an entire conversation about it. Then we get here and suddenly he throws me in the fucking trash for you.”

“That isn’t what he did, and you’re an asshole for saying that.”

“He is willing to give up my friendship with him for a relationship with you. It feels the same.”

“Yoongi loves you. You’re his best friend, this… this changes nothing, Jin. We’re not sharing him, he’s not some child to have split custody over-”

“I gave up my life for you!” Seokjin screams, making you feel small. “Took you to practice, helped you with homework, let you hang out with me and my friends. Always took you places so you didn’t have to be alone, because mom and dad didn’t care if you were alone.”

Your tears spill over. You can’t stop them as you cover your face in your hands. Because his words are honest and laced with a pain you didn’t know existed. “And now everyone is mad at me,” Seokjin’s voice cracks. “Because I’m upset that I have to share another person, another friendship. Because everyone has always given you what you’ve wanted, and I’m not allowed to be upset because my friend would rather date my sister than be friends with me.”

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to understand. It feels like I’m having to give you another part of my life. It’s not – it’s not even that you lied to me. You’re my sister, you’re supposed to lie. But Yoongi? He’s not supposed to lie to me. He is the single person in my life I have been able to count on outside of my single sibling, and he chose you. What don’t you get?”

Fresh tears burn. You feel the sob working its way up, and Seokjin isn’t there to comfort you. He’s worlds away, across the room looking at you with exquisite pain. Because he’s right. Seokjin’s entire life has revolved around you, and the one friend that Seokjin has considered only his now wants to be with you.

“I love you,” Seokjin murmurs. “You’re my sister. I’d do anything for you - I do anything for you. I love Yoongi, he’s my best friend. But you could have just… just talked to me. Instead you chose each other inside of ever thinking about me. Both of you. No one chose me.”

“Okay. I will stay away.”

Seokjin waves his hand, opening the door to leave. “Do whatever you want. It’s already fucking ruined.”

“Jin…”

“I’ll get over it one day, but I’m mad. Let me be mad.” He hits the wall lightly, bouncing his palm on it. “I love you, okay? Have a safe flight in the morning.”

“I love you too.”

Your flight out isn’t far off. You peel the clothes off and step into the shower. Wash the misery down the drain. Scrub the tear marks off your cheeks. Exhaustion weighs heavy on you, dragging every step to change and re-pack the rest of your bag.

A gentle knock on the door draws your attention as you finish zipping the bag closed. You turn as Yoongi lets himself in and you can’t help it – you take in a deep breath, feeling jittery as you do a quick assessment.

He’s in sweats and a long-sleeve shirt. His blonde hair is hidden under a hat pulled so low you almost can’t see his face. But you see the red-lined eyes, the dark circles and the paleness of exhaustion there.

“Can I take you to the airport?” he asks, voice gentle.

It sounds final. Heavy. So you nod wordlessly, pulling your bag from the bed. When you approach him, Yoongi holds his hand out. You give him your bag, letting him do this final thing for you.

The house is undisturbed. Downstairs, you blink in surprise to find everyone except your brother. You say your goodbyes and find them more muted than usual. Namjoon ruffles your hair, an attempt at cheering up but it feels hollow.

Maybe it’s just because you’re hollow. Because you know where this going.

It doesn’t make the silence better for the first fifteen minutes. Pearl light falls across Yoongi’s profile, half of him shadowed and half of him glowing. He looks so beautiful that you angle yourself toward the door, averting your eyes.

Yoongi drives leaned back, a single hand on the wheel. Casual confidence, even though his mouth is tight.

After twenty minutes, he offers his hand over the center console. Palm up. Welcoming. Missing you already.

You slid your hand in his, gentle palms against rough skin. He holds your hand tight and nods. “You don’t want to date.”

“Yeah,” your voice cracks. “It’s… yeah.”

He nods, mouth forming a folded line. His eyes are focused on the road, unblinking. You almost take your hand out of his, mistaking his silence and expression for anger. But his grip is tight.

“Can I convince you otherwise?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice is low and tight, vocal cords strained as the tears threaten you again. “Will he come around?”

Yoongi let’s out a sound somewhere between a hiss and a sigh. “I have no fucking idea, baby.” He glances at you side long, dark eyes tracing your face. “I want to think so. He’s deeply upset, and he has every right to be. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and instead of explaining, I alienated him. It didn’t help that all our friends picked a side. He feels like no one is listening to his hurt.”

“It wasn’t just you.”

Yoongi sighs. His thumb brushes back and forth across your hand. “I can’t sit here and promise you he’ll be okay with it. I have no idea where my friendship with him goes after this. But if you want this, I’m here. If you don’t, I understand.”

“Why do I have to make all the decisions?” you ask in a whisper.

He smiles. “Life is tough, kid. Maybe think about it for a few days. I’m a phone call away.”

The airport stretches ahead of you. Your feet are like lead when you get out of the car. You don’t want to leave. Your heart is screaming to say something- anything.

Instead, you let him pull you into his chest. Notes of sandalwood. Soft lips against your forehead. The brush of his nose against yours as he gifts you a soft, lingering kiss.

Yoongi’s hands drop to his sides as you step back. He gives you a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s no mirth. You nod and take your bag from him. It weighs you down further.

“Tell someone when you land safely, if not me, okay?”

You nod. “Are we… are we allowed to talk?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Okay.”

He smiles, nodding toward the automatic doors of the airport. “Safe flight, kid.”

-

Stars are in the sky, glittering high above you as you sit on the chaise section of the couch. You’re wrapped in blankets, a steaming cup of tea balanced on the cushion next to you as you type and erase. Type and erase.

This has been a game for days now. You don’t know what to say. Asking ‘how are you’ seems like opening the door to false niceties or painful truths. ‘How is your day’ feels just as pointless. So you type and erase, wondering if Yoongi is watching the three bubbles appear and reappear on his screen, or if he’s given up on the radio silence.

You stare at the conversation.

Me: Landed safe.

Min Yoongi: I’m glad.

You already miss the nickname and the cat emoji. You changed it before texting him – somehow thinking about you pressed toe-to-toe with Yoongi in that closet while he carried you to safety on a curated playlist is too sharp.

Me: I’m sorry for everything.

Min Yoongi: Don’t be.

Me: Read 1:43 pm

That was a week ago. You’ve tried to figure out what to say, but you’re not sure if you should say anything at all. You told him that you didn’t want to do this. You have no idea if he and Seokjin are speaking – Seokjin certainly isn’t speaking to you – and you’re not sure if you’re supposed to be friends or not.

Jungkook comes out of his room, commanding your attention. He’s got wireless gaming headphones around his neck, RBG lights turning his face red then blue. His hair hangs in his eyes and he frowns when he sees you, coming over to sit next to you. You snatch the cup of tea before he can spill it.

“How’s the stream?” you ask. You know it’s going well – you’ve been watching on your phone in the dark between trying to come up with something to say to Yoongi at 11:15 pm on a Friday night.

“Good. People are really excited about the release of the new agent and map. What other plans do you have for that?”

You blow out air, hair dancing in front of your face. Leaning your head on the back of the couch, you rub at your temples. Your company has a new character and map coming out in the new season and you’ve been working on the marketing for months.

And now with the last few strings needing to be tied, you feel completely uninspired.

Your season playbook sits on the coffee table. It’s filled with coffee stains and wrinkled pages from water damage. You’re not nice to your notebooks, but you do get the best use out of them. The marketing plan had been finished weeks ago, all mapped out perfectly.

There were now a few loose ends with a streamer backing out of featuring it due to some family concerns. You need to fill the gap for showcasing the new character, and Jungkook is already on the docket for it.

You’ve got a month to fix the gap. Something that is normally not a problem, except you’ve come home with your head hung low and your heart somewhere you cannot reach.

“Just looking for a replacement for Geko. He wasn’t a professional streamer but he has a huge audience for his music and he’s super into gaming.”

Jungkook chews on his lip. His brows pinch in the middle for a second and he suddenly pats you on the back incredibly hard. “Let the chips fall where they may.”

“I- what?” Jungkook is grinning as he rushes back to his room, caffeine forgotten. “Did you just quote She’s the Man?” You yell after him but he doesn’t respond.

You spend the rest of your night switching between Jungkook’s Twitch stream and your hopelessly empty text messages.

-

Gentle hands pry you from sleep. You grumble, looking at Jungkook as he tries to peel the blankets away. Your new blackout curtains shade your room nicely, keeping it cool and dark. Your new haven where you’ve started to slink off to when you can’t stop wondering if you’ve done the right thing.

Another week has passed and you’ve failed to figure out something to say to Yoongi. You’re weary at the edges, eyes swollen and itchy from staying up so late, which is unusual for you. 

Your phone is next to you, bringing back memories of why you stayed up so late – you were struggling with things to say, so you began building a playlist. A way to transcend language and speak your feelings without having to construct the words and the sentences.

“Come on, it’s noon.”

“Leave me,” you murmur. “I’m tired.”

Jungkook sighs. “Can you just come to have lunch with me and some water? Please?”

You let him guide you from your room. The house is cleaner than you remember it being. When you ask Jungkook, he admits he’s been picking up your slack. You pick at the crust of your pizza, avoiding his eyes because you know you haven’t been the best roommate.

Jungkook doesn’t push you for more responsibility. Doesn’t ask you not to leave dishes in the sink. He just lets you be, making sure that you’re fed and bringing you water when he can remember. It’s an unfamiliar dynamic, but he does an admirable job.

And he doesn’t try to encourage you to snap out of it. He has no tough love to give. No harsh words. There is only understanding, and occasionally asking if you’ve spoken to Seokjin. He never asks about Yoongi – either because he doesn’t have the heart to see you shake your head or because he’s afraid to bring him up.

The answer is always the same: not really. Seokjin will answer if you really press him, but otherwise, there are no more weekly phone calls. There are a couple of texts to check in to see if the other is alive, but for the last two weeks, you’re sailing uncharted seas with your brother, unsure how to steer the boat.

Your food is heavier in your stomach than you want it to be. Jungkook tries to sneak in another task by asking if you want to do groceries, but you put it off. He’s clever, though. Ren Facetimes at that exact moment and Jungkook smirks over his phone at you when he answers.

Carefully, you slide off the stool when Jungkook casually says, “Yeah, we were just finishing lunch. Here, keep her busy while I do dishes.”

You stare at him with a curled lip. He’s all grins as Jungkook hands you the phone against your will. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Ren – you talk to her daily. But it’s another way to keep you from your room.

Jungkook – 2 You – 0

“Hi,” you greet quietly, gliding to the couch. “Your boyfriend fed me burnt pizza.”

“Listen,” Ren huffs. “If you want gourmet, you’re going to have to do it yourself. Until then, it’s burnt crust for you baby.”

You smile.

Catching up is easier than you thought it was going to be. By the time Jungkook is sitting next to you, leaning so that you’re both in the shot, you don’t feel like giving the phone up. A breath of ease washes over you as Jungkook grabs the phone, turning off facetime to add Jimin and Taehyung to the call.

No one brings up Yoongi, but it doesn’t feel like their tiptoeing. By the end of the call, you don’t want to sleep so much anymore, agreeing to go to the grocery store with Jungkook. As you slid your shoes on, you touch his elbow. “Hey.” He looks up at you, doe-eyes wide. “Thanks.”

He grins. “What are roomies for?”

-

The next week has good and bad days. There are some days isn’t doesn’t feel like anything is wrong. You have a lead on a fill-in for an influencer to stream the new agent and map play at work, and things are going smoothly. You’re not hiding in your room anymore, and Seokjin is answering a little more.

He even texted to ask if he could get access to the agent earlier than release. You put in a good word – which is really just heading to the development team and having them send the file over to him – and he thanks you.

It feels more normal than it has.

But today is a bad day. Your fill for Geko has another conflict and once again you’re left with a gaping hole in the plan for popular media influencers to showcase game play. On top of that, the strap on your favorite heel is broken at work.

Inconveniences aside, you know what’s really ruining your day.

You don’t dare to grab your phone and look at the last text you sent Yoongi, the one that went through green instead of blue. Somewhere you know you’re the perfect example of first-world problems: look at the girl freaking out because his texts are green now. Did he block her? Did he just not have service?

You don’t think it’s the latter. A few hours after the unanswered green text, you had followed up.

Me: Saved by Khalid

Me: Green, huh? You’re telling me you’re an Android user now?

Nothing. No response.

Your stomach flips at the thought of checking your phone again to see nothing there.

At the end of the day, you’ve checked your phone several times and there’s nothing. You want to vomit as you grab your things and head home. Your laptop and playbook are tucked in your bag, keeping your head down as you dodge through the rain coming down in the parking lot.

You curse when you get in your car, soaked and feeling sticky. You shiver when the AC comes on, jamming your finger to turn it off so quickly your finger bends awkwardly. You curse loudly and in one, quick breath of air – you scream on top of your lungs in the car. Eyes close, fists clenched, a single cathartic yell into the void.

For a second after, you just sit there panting. Slowing your breathing, you open your eyes and turn on the car, already starting to feel a little better after a good yell.

Rainy cityscape passes you by. Staring up at the shining buildings while you’re stopped at the light, a sudden memory flashes through you. What’s your favorite thing about your new city?

You remember your answer. There’s no pressure to be anyone.

Instead of going right home, you drive through the wet streets. The playlist you started curating is on. If you could give it to Yoongi, you think about what you might say. You’ve given each other so many mixtapes and playlists over the years that you think may you would just smile and he would get it.

Because it’s Yoongi. You don’t have to tell him the shape of your heart. He listens, and he knows.

Teary-eyed and frustrated, you wind up at your apartment. Your hair is damp as you shuffle the keys in your hand, letting yourself in.

“Jungkook, can you bring me a towel? I’m soaked and trailing water.”

You wait for your roommates response, but it’s not Jungkook who answers. “Where does he keep the towels?”

Your head snaps up. Seokjin leans on the wall, smirking with an eyebrow arched. “Jin?”

“Hiya.”

“What…?”

“Missed my sister. And honestly?” He shrugs. “Been thinking on some things and felt like I needed to have a conversation with her.”

You don’t think. You just run to him, his arms open as he catches you. You’re soaking his shirt, with both the rain-drenched close and the tears that you were holding back in the car. Seokjin is careful, brushing your hair as he tells you to hush, but he’s there and he’s your brother.

Your brother who loves you, who has come back around for you.

With a towel out of Jungkook’s room, Seokjin leads you to the kitchen where you sit on a stool. He leans on the counter, linking his hands and leveling a serious gaze with you. “I’m going to keep this quick, alright?” You frown, but nod. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and while I’m still pretty pissed the two of you lied to me, I think it would make me a fool and a liar to admit I didn’t see it the entire time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Yoongi have always vibed. He’s always cared about you in his own ways and you have good chemistry. There were times in college I thought he’d ask me to date you, but then he never did.” Seokjin shrugs. “I thought I was making it up.”

You let out air. “Wow.”

“Look – we all fucked up. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, and I’ve been trying to figure out for three weeks how to put into words how sorry I am for how I treated you.”

“You’re sorry? Jin I –”

He holds up a hand and shakes his head. “No. I gave you an anxiety attack, embarrassed you because of my rage, and I said things that I didn’t mean.” Seokjin lowers his face so that he’s eye-level with you. “Being your brother is one of the best parts of my life. And I’m sorry that I made it sound like I resented sharing my life with you – my friends, my time.”

You’re crying now. You wipe your face with your shoulder, curling in on yourself as he pushes onward. “I was hurt and I didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling. I think I was insecure that Yoongi would trade me for you. I don’t know, you guys are a lot more alike. But I realized that my friendship with Yoongi and whatever he feels for you isn’t mutually exclusive.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” you sniffle. “He doesn’t want this – which is totally okay. I don’t blame him.”

“Well, that’s kind of weird.” You raise your brows at his playful tone. “Pretty expensive way for him to tell you he doesn’t like you if that’s true. I mean, who flies here to-”

“What?”

Seokjin pushes himself off the counter, coming around it and hugging you fiercely. You squirm in his arms, confused and trying to pry the truth from him. Seokjin kisses your head and heads toward the door. “I’m going to have dinner with Jungkook.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Left the expensive present in your room,” he adds, opening the door. “And hey? Seriously. I’m sorry and… I’m happy. I’m going to be happy. I want that for you too.”

Seokjin doesn’t say anything else before shutting the door.

Turning slowly, you look at the closed door of your bedroom. Sliding from the stool, you carefully cross over to it, one foot in front of the other. Your breaths are shaky when you reach the handle and turn it, only opening it enough that you can peek inside as if that will somehow lessen the blow if Seokjin is joking.

Your breath catches when you see Yoongi standing on the opposite side of the room. His arms are crossed over his chest, hands lost in the sleeves of his shirt. He’s in ripped jeans and a hat pulled low, staring up at the pictures on your wall.

Silver tears shine in your eyes when you step in the room, but he’s so focused on the photos that he doesn’t turn to you until you tentatively call, “Yoongi?”

He whips he’s head around. His dark eyes light up and he smiles, though it seems a bit wobbly and unsure. You don’t move from the doorway, watching him with your mouth slightly agape. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” he starts. “I had a pretty long speech planned for you, but I think it’s sort of stupid now that I’m thinking about it. It included some things like I’m stupid for not talking you into dating me in the car on the way to the airport. I’m horrible for not telling you Wendy was onto what was going on and giving you a heads up. I’m an idiot for not just picking up the fucking phone and calling you-”

You don’t let him finish. You bolt across the room, because standing in front of you is… well it’s Yoongi.

Your arms slip around his middle and you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face so hard to his chest that you think you might shatter. He squeezes you back with equal strength, two equal forces pushing into one another. His lips are on your forehead, soft as they plant kisses along the crown of your hair.

“You’re not stupid,” you whisper, eyes still shut. You smell sandalwood and his chest rumbles with his laughter. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, Jin brought me. Jungkook’s idea, actually.”

“Really?” You look up at him. You’re unwilling to part, your head still pressed against his chest at an awkward angle. Yoongi looks down at you, cat eyes mystified, humming in confirmation. “That’s nice of him.”

“I hear you’ve been moping.”

“I thought you blocked me.”

“What? Why?”

“My texts when green this morning…”

He smirks. “Finally texted me, huh? I was on the plane.”

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ as he leads you toward your bed. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap. You cling to him, arms going around his neck and face buried in his shoulder. His arms circle your waist, holding you tight.

“What was the message?”

“Saved by Khalid.”

He hums and laughs. “Made me a mixtape?” You nod, closing your eyes and just enjoying the feel of him. “Sweet girl,” he hums. “I made you one too?”

You pull away to look down at him. Your hands rest on either side of his shoulder. He’s glowing, a gummy smile on his face as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your mouth, as though he can’t decide where he wants to look longer. “Really?”

“Yeah. Didn’t know what to say. Thought maybe…”

“The music could do it for you?” He nods. “Me too.”

“I missed you,” he admits. “Often. Painfully. Shamefully. Should’ve turned the car around and made Jin talk, all three of us like adults. I was so afraid of pushing too hard and ruining it though.”

“Me too,” you admit. Your hands thread the long hair at the nape of his neck. “What now?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I’ve always been here to give you what you want, whatever you need.” He squeezes your hips. “I’ve always been yours – for years, even though I didn’t know it. So if you’ll have me officially…”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You whisper, heart pounding in your ears.

He grins up at you. “Something like that.”

“Kiss me,” you demand.

“Absolutely.”

Yoongi tastes familiar. He’s warm and you light up inside as his soft mouth presses against yours, sure and confident. His lips are everything as they pry your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours.

Your fingers dig into the hair at the back of his neck, your legs squeezing his waist as you kiss him with everything you have.

Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth the way he knows you like and you moan without having to be quiet for once. He pulls away, spit slick on berry lips, eyes blinking in a haze. “You are remarkable,” he murmurs, hands rubbing up and down your side. You chase his mouth with yours but he escapes, laughing when you whine. “I will not go another two years without you. I won’t go another fucking second.”

“Then stop stopping kissing me!”

“That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense, Min Yoongi.”

His smile is beatific. “On that, we can agree.”

Yoongi kisses you again. He lets the pair of you fall backwards, his hands slipping under your blouse, palms spreading on your back. You giggle, hips rolling lightly, like the way he hisses when you grind down into him. 

His hat knocks off of his head, your fingers pulling at his hair. When you open your eyes and break the kiss for air, you make a surprised noise and sit up, straddling his waist. Yoongi looks at you with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, his hands settled on your hips under your shirt.

“Your hair is black!”

He gives you his sideways smirk. “Like it?”

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurt.

He laughs loudly, fingers gripping your hips. He rolls his hips up, catching you with his half-erection and making you moan deep in your throat.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice low. “Wanna run your fingers through it while I eat you out?”

“Fuck,” you blurt, loud.

Your world spins as he rolls you over. Yoongi’s mouth is sucking marks onto your neck – hard His tongue is quick to follow, brushing over and soothing the ache as he maps out his want on your neck, your collar bones. His hands brush over your clothed breasts, squeezing.

“Don’t have to be quiet now,” Yoongi pants, kissing you again. You pull at the hem of his shirt. You want it off. “Been dying to eat this pussy for weeks. Wanna hear you this time.”

“Please,” the shirt is stuck under his arms, Yoongi is too distracted to let you take it off.

You growl at him. “Take this fucking shirt off.”

His chuckle is like gravel. He leans up, taking his shirt off and tossing it. You don’t wait for him to come back down to you, greedy hands pulling at his belt loops, mouth meeting his stomach, his chest. You nip his flesh, looking up at him through hooded eyes. His head is tipped back, eyes fluttering as you litter his soft skin with bruises.

Yoongi lets you have fun. You taste the sweetness of him, flicking a tongue over a nipple when he pulls you back by the hair, crashing your mouths together. Yoongi pins you down again, nearly shredding your shirt as he tears through the buttons, tossing it.

The room is stifling as you press against one another, driven by the space weeks apart created. You feel high, whining into him as he pulls your pants down, hands going right for the prize. Yoongi plays with your wet folds, fingers deft and attentive. It sparks pleasure deep in your stomach, twisting. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. He’s nibbling your ear, your pebbled nipples pressing against his chest, creating friction. You’re vibrating all over, every touch magnified by the sounds he lets out. “Feels good.”

His fingers pull your panties to the side, brushing up and down your slit softly. “Mmm, wet just the way I like it.”

Yoongi’s hand vanishes and he gets up. You pout. He brings slick-soaked fingers to his lips, deliberately making eye contact as he grins and slides them into his mouth, pink tongue slowly tracing the tips. “As sweet as I remember.”

He peels your underwear off, dropping them to the floor. Yoongi doesn’t lavish your thighs this time – he has time to do that. You feel it in the way his hands go under your legs, pulling them over his shoulder – he’ll take his time later.

Right now, he just wants you.

You gasp when his tongue traces your aching hole. Your hands shoot to his hair, silky soft as you hold him there. He hums, lazily dipping his tongue in to gather your juices. It feels so fucking good. He zigzags his tongue up your pussy, following the same circular motion around your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking hard.

“Oh fuck yeah,” you gasp, not caring that your voice carries up to the ceiling. “Fuck your mouth-”

He hums, enjoying the sounds he draws from you as he alternates between sucking at your clit and licking your hole. He eats you out vigorously, determined to cover every inch of your dripping pussy with his mouth. He’s noisy, humming and moaning with satisfaction as he sucks at you, wetness dripping down his chin.

“Missed you in my mouth,” he pants, looking up at you with fucked out eyes. You’re hypnotized, watching as you cradle his head between your legs. He grins, working his tongue between his teeth on your clit, making you kick your legs. “Such a pretty fucking girl, squirming under my tongue.”

Yoongi latches his mouth on your clit, sucking hard. You cum suddenly with no warning and a scream, lurching forward. He pins you down, sucking harder and sending you into a blinding frenzy. You can’t stay still, screaming his name until he relents, mouth kissing up your thighs as you pant, heart thundering through your entire body.

You can feel your pulse as you gulp for air, going boneless as he kisses up your stomach, circling your belly button before reaching your breasts. You whine when he licks lazy patterns around your nipples, using his teeth to pull at them.

“Yoongiiiii.”

He nips your soft flesh. “Hmmm?”

“Sensitive.”

“Good,” he mumbles, kissing you on the mouth. You lick into him eagerly and he smiles into the kiss, working his pants off. “Gonna let me split you open?”

“Please.”

He kisses you, shuffling you up the bed. You pry your legs open for him, wet and eager. He sees how pliant you are for him, eyes rolling back into his head as he takes a breath, trying to gain his composure. You don’t let him, raising your hand to your mouth and spitting in it generously before reaching between your legs and wrapping your hand around him.

“Fuuuck baby.”

You grin as he shivers. You pump him leisurely, spreading your spit up and down his velvety shaft. You love how heavy his cock is in your hand, watering at the way it twitches in your palm. You rub the head of his cock against your pussy, both of you groaning.

“Want you,” you pant, pressing the tip into your hole. He lets you take the lead. “Missed your cock so much.”

“Just my cock?” he teases.

“Shut up.”

Yoongi gets you back. Before you can slide him in, he jerks his hips forward, plunging in and hitting your g-spot on the first stroke. You go wild, thrashing beneath him as he grins, pulling all the way out and repeating the motion.

“Oh my fuck.” You’re grabbing at his back, nails digging in. You try to find purchase on anything, searching for something to ground you as he fucks into you hard and fast, his precision dead on. “Fuck – I’m gonna come again.”

“Yeah?” he demands. “Already?”

You nod, eyes squeezed shut. It spurs him on. He grabs your hips, planting you firmly on the bed. Your hands grip his wrists as you begin to breath faster and faster, nearly sending yourself into hyperventilation as you hold your breath, the coil in your stomach shooting toward the sky and shattering the clouds.

It happens fast – you come around Yoongi, nearly going numb as you clench on him. You’re vaguely aware that he’s cursing, pausing his thrusts as you squeeze, pussy unrelenting. You collapse onto the bed after, barely able to gulp down air. He’s slow to thrust again, watching you with his mouth open, wonder on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” you rasp, voice raw.

He noses you. “That was fucking hot.” He pulls out of you and you furrow your brow when he flips you over. You shiver as he props your ass up in the air and spreas your thighs apart. “You’re going to do it again.”

Fuck. You have no idea if you can. But when he slides back into you, the stretch glorious and his pace slow, you think Yoongi can coax whatever he wants out of you. He’s always been able to. From the moment he made you tell him your name, or made you play piano for him, Yoongi has been able to get you to do what he wants.

Because you’ve always been his. Even when you were in different orbits or on other pages, you were bound to come back to him.

With the realization that you were built for him, you find the energy to fuck yourself back on him. He makes an appreciative noise, strokes deep and slow. He grabs at your ass, gripping tight as your skin smacks wetly together, your cum staining the places your skin meets.

You don’t think. It’s just Yoongi, the sounds he makes, and the way he makes you feel. The way his tip brushes that sweet spot in you, making your head hang between your arms as you work his cock.

Yoongi sneaks a hand around your waist, finger gently pressing on your clit.

“I don’t know if I can,” you beg. Yoongi is gentle, finger applying the barest pressure. You feel your stomach curl and you curse, tears streaming from your eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“My sweet girl,” he grunts, fucking into you harder. Your orgasm is slowly building and with the way his hips start to stutter, you know he’s close. “Together, yeah?”

You nod your head. Words are beyond you and you can only focus on the steady rhythm of his fingers on your pulsing clit and the deep slide of his cock.

Yoongi manages to do it again – he draws a gentle orgasm from you, long and soft as you drop down on the bed, ass pressed to his pelvis as he holds onto you with a bone-bruising grip. He moans your name, holding you to him as he comes, gasping for air.

Hours or minutes pass by. You’re not sure. There’s just soft bliss and the heat and tangle of blankets.

Yoongi pulls out of you, cum oozing down your legs. Stumbling and a little unsteady on his legs, he trails to your bathroom, knocking into the door. You barely manage a laugh, eyes shut as you drift a bit.

You flinch when you feel a warm washcloth on you, gentle as he wipes your legs, your battered pussy. You whine when he brushes the rag against your clit and he laughs with a soft apology. When he’s gone, your hand stretches on the mattress, seeking his warmth. It finds him on his return, slipping into the bed and seeking the warmth of your side.

Eyes fluttering open, you look at him in the dim light of the room. He is flushed pink and smiling your favorite gummy smile. You brush sweaty strands of hair from his eyes, fingers resting on his cheeks.

“I’m very happy that you came for me,” you whisper. “I missed you.”

“Missed you so much I made a ten track Mixtape.”

“Let’s listen.”

“You have a CD player?”

“You’re joking?” You crack your eyes open at him again and see him smiling shyly. “You burned me a CD?”

“I was feeling sentimental,” he defends. “I even wrote the tracks on it in sharpie like I used to.”

Your fingers brush his swollen, pouted lips. “What was the first song.”

His grin grows. “Saved by Khalid.”

-

Yoongi adjusts the headset on his head. The lights and soft background are perfect as Jungkook helps him click on a few settings in OBS. Jungkook gestures to the ‘go-live’ button before he steps out of the frame, walking around the other side of the row of setups where you’re watching.

The inside of the facilities is beautiful. He’s never been to your job, but he’s impressed with the setup and the way you command the room. Though Jungkook is there to help Yoongi with the streaming basics, something Yoongi is mostly unfamiliar with in the gaming world, you’re there for the materials.

You’ve perfectly placed his awards behind him. You’ve given him the chair with the company logo. The headphones of one of their partners. You’ve helped him construct the tweets, the teases in preparation of a long stream to debut the new agent and maps for your company’s came in conjunction with a new single.

It’s well thought. It’s a good partnership. But most importantly? Yoongi sees the way you lift your chin a little higher and push your shoulders a little straighter with pride when they commend you on the partnership.

And Seokjin is there. He’s happy and smiling, clapping Yoongi on the back and bragging that his sister is way cooler than he is. And Yoongi is so inclined to agree. Especially when you whoop his ass in the test rounds before the stream.

God he wants to fuck you stupid. But he can do that later. He has all of the time with you in the world. He doesn’t have to waste a single minute worrying he has to sneak in moments with you, that he has to hide behind doors.

“You ready, Jin?” Yoongi asks, looking at your brother. He’s on a setup much nicer than anything he’s ever had – and he’s made sure to tell you multiple times you should give him one – but he nods. You have no idea how he convinced you to get you to let him in on this. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Yoongi hits the live button. The window changes, immediately flooding the chat with viewers as he grins at the camera. “Hi guys,” he says awkwardly. His eyes glance up at you over the screen and you give him a shy smile. His heart flutters. “Welcome to today’s stream. I’m Agust D and today we’re trying how the highly anticipated new map and agent with my friend Jin. Let’s get it.”

“Yah – why is your username Mixtape?” Seokjin demands, clicking through the menu.

Yoongi’s eyes meet your sparkling ones over the monitor. “A joke between me and a close friend.”

“Alright, Mixtape it is.”

Yoongi smiles. “Mixtape it is.”

Previous Chapter | Extra Chapter

---

A little show

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: uni au, pure smut with a dash of plot, some fluff, strangers to lovers

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: Who knew that getting off in the uni bathroom to get away from the world's most boring lecture could lead to getting absolutely railed by a cute postgrad student... but third time's the charm, right?

Warnings: slight exhibitionism, masturbation in a public bathroom, sex in a public bathroom (for once they're even using condoms lol), yoongi is a little shit but he'll rock your world, dirty talk, slight choking kink, dom-ish yoongi, who am i kidding he's a fucking beast, fingering, backshots, rough sex, some begging, biting and marking, they literally don't talk to each once before fucking

A/N: oof this was totally unplanned but i cannot be held responsible for anything after seeing the d-day concert movie, this is all yoongi's fault. also it ends surprisingly fluffy for the filth that's contained within

credit for the divider to @saradika-graphics, thank you so much <3

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself awake while the lecturer droned on, his nervous slightly stuttering voice carrying through the classroom and lulling everyone into a half-asleep haze. Every Tuesday I had to sit through 90 minutes of this man stumbling through every topic, trying to connect with the classroom full of people while anxiously stepping around the whiteboard projecting his presentation.

I was fully understanding, this was his first year teaching and he still hasn’t shaken off the stage fright, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I had never enrolled into this class and rather spent the time doing literally anything else. It didn’t help that it was an afternoon lecture, dragging on until 5PM, which was usually the time I was already completely fried.

I looked around, noting the other students similarly fighting off sleep or browsing internet on their notebooks, some valiantly still trying to keep their attention on the lecturer and failing miserably. I watched the girl in the row in front of me order a cute sweater, deliberating between two colours for about ten minutes before choosing strawberry pink. I approved.

My body was screaming from being bent over the desk in my boredom, back bent so crooked when I straightened out it cracked vertebra after vertebra like a xylophone from nightmares. I sighed, squirmed around, checked the time. Only 5 minutes have passed since I last looked. I barely suppressed a groan. I couldn’t sit still for longer than a minute, leaning back then pressing forward, folding and unfolding my legs, just trying to find a comfortable position to spend the next 40 minutes in and failing.

After 5 more minutes I reached a boiling point, playing with the thought of just booking it halfway through, but instead my unoccupied brain started entertaining itself by slipping into a territory that it deemed more fun. I started thinking about what I’d rather be doing, where I’d rather be, flushing slightly from embarrassment but surrendering to these thoughts as they presented at least some form of entertainment.

I made it barely 10 minutes before I was so painfully wet and aroused I definitely couldn’t make it through the lecture anymore. I had to do something about it, now.

I wasn’t shy about the fact that I occasionally enjoyed wanking in some more public spaces like bathrooms, the thrill of someone possibly coming in and having to keep quiet was getting to me. I didn’t indulge in it often, just when I got really bored and my brain immediately went to “let’s get off to entertain ourselves” instead of doing something normal like other people, just when I was sure there was only a slight chance of someone actually coming across me.

But thinking all that, I realised I’d never taken such liberty while I was in the uni building, probably just thinking about getting out of there as quickly as possible, but fuck, this lecture was getting to me. Somehow it felt more morally wrong than some other random ass places, but I deliberated on it. We were in a secluded corner of the building, it was really high and there was no elevator, the classrooms were smaller and above there was construction going on, which resulted in this place usually being totally deserted except for those unlucky souls that still had lectures here. I was pretty sure there was no other class going on here right now and the chance of someone from here going to the bathroom at the same time was slim.

On a whim I decided to take the risk, my body heating up knowing I was about to give in to the need. I quickly stood up, grabbed my phone and made my way outside. The hall was empty except for a single guy sitting by a table directly across from the bathroom door, but I figured it would be fine. He was wearing headphones anyway, head bobbing to a beat I couldn’t hear and fingers nimbly clicking something on his laptop and toying with the mouse. I slipped past him quietly and went straight for the bathroom door.

Inside was quiet, as if cut off from the outside world, the only two toilets both empty and door wide open. I went to the further one, not that it made much difference with how small the room was, but it still made me feel a little better.

With the door closed and locked for better feeling of security, the excitement finally got the better of me and I rushed to stick my hand into my skirt to pull down my tights and panties, fingers immediately finding the slick folds.

I bent over, the stall small enough to allow me to lean on my elbow on one wall while my ass pressed into the other, fingers going straight for my clit and wasting no time in pressing on it and circling it desperately. Quiet sighs of pleasure spilled from my lips, body trembling with pleasure heightened by the fact I was in a public space.

I barely even touched myself and I could already feel how fucked out I was getting, knees shaking and the pleasure mounting dangerously fast. In my mind I imagined myself bent over the toilet and a warm presence behind me, getting fucked good, strong hands gripping my waist hard, pulling me back on the cock like a toy while telling me to shut up, laughing at me while I bit my fist trying not to let the whole university know how good I was feeling.

My orgasm was approaching embarrassingly quickly, the pad of my finger furiously toying with my clit while my knees were shaking with the mounting pressure waiting to snap. I was so wet I felt my juices dripping down my thighs, dripping onto my hand and making my finger slip all the time as I tried to get myself to cum as fast as possible.

That didn’t seem to be that hard as I could already feel myself hurling towards the edge, cunt spasming around nothing, desperately wishing to be filled, as my ass pressed harder into the wall and my back arched. I could feel a little cramp starting up in my wrist, but I didn’t let up, keeping the pace on my clit as I felt the start of an intense orgasm, the sensation bursting through me like a tornado and I let out a moan muffled into the crook of my elbow. My knees buckled with the force of it and thank god that I was still leaning on the wall otherwise I would have for sure fallen down.

My whole body relaxed, thighs and knees still shaking as I tried to get my breathing back under control. The bathroom was suddenly eerily quiet now that there wasn’t blood rushing through my ears and I wasn’t blinded by my own ecstasy, and I flushed in embarrassment but still couldn’t stop myself from a little joyful giggle leaving my lips in breathless wonder.

I took my time getting myself back into order, cleaning myself up and righting my clothes again. I was in there for only about 15 minutes, so there was no reason to rush. I did notice that my legs had a little boneless swagger to them as I suddenly went from high strung in boredom to perhaps a little too relaxed, a stupid little grin pulling at my lips as I swayed my hips leisurely.

But that changed the moment I walked back out onto the hall. The second I was out of the bathroom I immediately found myself in direct eye contact with the sole student sitting out there. I only had a second to note he was very attractive before I realised he was watching me with the air of amusement, eyes darkening and a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back and gave me a once over.

I flushed under his heavy gaze, freezing like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he knew what I’d been doing in there, something in my demeanour must have given me away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes lingering on my hands clutched together before amused grin set onto his face.

I broke out from the daze suddenly and set into motion again, escaping his hungry eyes and entertained aura, hurriedly scurrying back into the classroom where I sat stewing in my own shame for the rest of the lecture.

When I walked back out after we were dismissed, the hall was empty, to my great relief.

“Come on, you should come tomorrow at least for a little bit,” Jungkook whined, pouting at me and hands tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. I gave him an unimpressed look, firmly resistant to his charms, which probably made me the only person in the world that was capable of that.

“I told you Kookie, I’m not feeling it this week,” I said for the fifteenth time that day, “Maybe next time.” The dance major cutely stomped his foot and tugged on my sleeve again. His wild hair flailed around with the wind, probably getting into his eyes, but he ignored it in favour of annoying me.

“But the next party won’t be for god knows how long,” he whined, giving me his ultimate puppy eyes and blinking cutely, “Come on Y/N, you need to let go a little.” Now, I would lie if I wasn’t swayed a little bit, but the exhaustion was weighing on me and I was looking forward to just having a quiet evening in ignoring all of my responsibilities and pretending I have no essays due and there aren’t any deadlines I was missing.

“I’m sorry Kook,” I softened my tone a little to convey I truly was apologetic, smiling at him gently, “I promise I will definitely go to the next party.” The man brightened and straightened out, letting go of me and setting out on the sidewalk leading out of the campus.

“I have your word! No takebacks!” he shouted excitedly and I ran after him laughing. I knew he wouldn’t let me forget it, so I just resigned myself to going to the next party even though I quite disliked them. I had nothing against partying, but I just preferred to go clubbing and dancing, not spend my evening sitting on a stained couch in someone’s living room listening to total strangers get zoinked out of their minds and talk about assignments. But I would go for Kookie. Just once though.

We walked side by side for a moment, just enjoying the awakening spring. It was still pretty cold outside, but the sun shone more often and the temperatures were enough to wear just a light jacket instead of coats with shawls, so I soaked in the atmosphere. People were beginning to filter outside, sitting around on the green grass, talking and studying, and it was nice to see.

Looking around I suddenly froze, standing still in the middle of the path while Kook continued for a few more strides before he realised I wasn’t following. He gave me a confused look, but I was already fighting an embarrassed blush and didn’t pay him much mind.

On the grass by a big tree was quite a familiar looking student, his long wavy dark hair similarly pushed around by the wind as he bobbed his head to music presumably playing in his headphones. He was wearing all black, standing out as a sore thumb in contrast with the green lit up by sun, but he was fully engrossed in his laptop and paid no attention to anything going on around him.

“Hey Kookie,” I called out to my friend, finally looking at him, “Do you know who that guy is?” I discreetly pointed in the man’s direction, hoping I wouldn’t draw anybody’s attention by being a fucking weirdo. Jungkook was a social butterfly despite his shyness and he seemed to know half the university (probably a side effect of hanging out with Jimin all the time), even people from majors that had nothing in common with his, so I was pretty confident he would be able to correctly identify the menace of my life.

“Who?” he started confusedly looking around, eyes jumping around the students just living their lives. I tried pointing again, hoping he would see where I meant without having to outstretch my arm fully. “There, that guy in the black sitting under that tree.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally locked onto his figure and a recognition immediately lit up his face. I chuckled. Of course he did know him.

“Oh sure!” he exclaimed, “that’s Yoongi hyung. He’s a little bit university famous.” I looked at him in shock and then glanced back to the expressionless man sitting on the lawn.

“Famous? Famous how?” I pressed for more info, this time it was me who way playing up the cute act, hanging onto Jungkook’s arm and batting my eyelashes at him. He gave me an amused smile, seeing right through me.

“Well, he’s handsome and yet cool and mysterious, girls love that shit,” Kook played it up, flipping his hair sassily and fluttering his lashes, making me scoff at him amusedly, “Plus he’s a rapper and sometimes performs in the local clubs and bars, so he’s pretty popular.” I turned us away from the black-clad student who was still unaware of anything going on around him and pulled us back onto the path.

“I see,” I hummed noncommittally, not giving him any indication of why I would suddenly ask about Yoongi, but based on the amused looks Kookie was giving me, he must have had an inkling why the sudden interest.

“He’s actually in the same year as Joonie hyung, they’re interning together at the same studio,” Jungkook continued, keeping his eyes on me to gauge my reaction. I hummed again, not saying anything anymore and just sending him teasing looks.

“If you come to the party tomorrow, Yoongi’s for sure gonna be there,” Kookie mentioned seemingly casually, watching me out of the corner of his eyes as he pretended he didn’t care mischievously.

I only shot him a glare and pulled on his arm, leading us out of the campus towards the café where we were supposed to meet Jimin and Tae, Kookie’s friends who graciously adopted me into the group after I got befriended by the shy giant.

For the rest of the afternoon I could feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, his lips pulled into a barely concealed smile as he fought the impulse to tease me in front of the boys about what he must have thought was an embarrassing crush on the school’s resident heartthrob. I ostentatiously ignored him, only shooting him warning glares here and there to which he always responded with shit-eating grins. Jimin and Tae kept giving us confused and entertained glances but ultimately decided against asking what was going on, much to my relief.

God, if they only knew the truth about why Yoongi even was on my radar in the first place.

The next Tuesday I walked into the classroom again, fully determined to sit through the whole lecture and not move even an inch from my seat. This time I chose a chair in the back, where I could comfortably be on my phone and distract myself from the thoughts of last week, from the attractive man and his smirks. I wondered whether he was sitting there again today, listening to what I now assumed was his own music, laid-back and effortlessly hot. I began to squirm in my seat again, but I quickly tempered it down, scolding myself gently for having such a one-track mind.

Once again I made it through an hour and with 30 minutes left, I began to face a crisis. The boredom was getting to me and I needed to use the toilet, my bladder screaming for help and making me shift around on my chair in discomfort. I thought that I couldn’t really face the bathroom without getting extremely embarrassed, but in the end I lost the battle to nature and got up.

Only, stepping onto the hall, I looked up and lo and behold, there he was – Yoongi sitting peacefully by the window and clicking away on his computer, his big black headphones firmly on as always. The movement by the door must have registered at the corner of his field of vision and he eagerly looked up.

The moment his eyes laid on my figure, frozen once again in the hallway and heating up under his stare, he smirked widely like he won the lottery, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the chair. With his gaze following my every movement I hurried into the bathroom, cheeks blushing and knees turning into jelly.

On instinct I went to the furthest stall and locked the door behind me shakily. Having taken care of my business I paced the stall nervously, already feeling myself bend under the tension. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, knowing Yoongi was sitting outside fully aware of the nature of my little trip last week, but his demeanour, the winning smirk and dark eyes made me want to break that promise.

Embarrassingly enough, I could already feel myself getting wet again and I begun to lose the conviction to just walk away and go sit back into the classroom for another terrible 30 minutes. The thoughts of Yoongi waiting in the hallway, hungrily watching the bathroom door and thinking about me with my hand up my skirt were getting to me and I finally broke.

Swiftly pulling down my tights and underwear I didn’t waste anymore time in sticking my fingers between my folds, gathering the wetness and rubbing the swollen bud begging for attention. I couldn’t hold back the little sighs and moans of pleasure, my body hyper-sensitive and the lust coursing through my body more intense than I could remember ever feeling.

It didn’t take long before I was choking on the moans I desperately tried to stifle on my arm, knees shaking and close to buckling and pussy clenching on nothing, feeling so empty and so desperate for anything I was losing my mind.

And if I was deliriously cumming on my fingers only a moment later while imagining Yoongi fucking me roughly in the uni bathroom, that was only my business.

With trembling fingers I quickly cleaned myself up, blushing when I realised I was so wet the whole top of my thighs was covered in my sticky juices. Putting myself back together I rushed to scrub my hands clean and soon I was standing behind the door, taking a few deep breaths but the excitement still getting the better of me and I eagerly walked out, expectantly looking for Yoongi’s reaction with a little sly smile on my face.

And I was not disappointed.

The second I stepped out, his head snapped in my direction, confirming that he really was waiting for me to come out. His cheeks were also lightly dusted with pink from excitement, his eyes as dark as midnight with his pupils blown wide with lust. He immediately licked his lips, eyes raking over my form and taking in the shaky knees and trembling hips, the blush on my face, both from recovering from an orgasm and shyness, hair a mess and lips bitten red.

Yoongi suddenly stood up and I realised that he packed up his laptop and headphones, all his stuff probably stuffed into his neat backpack that hung off of his shoulder. He side-stepped from the table and leisurely made his way towards me, black dress pants nicely hugging his form, white tee tucked into them accentuating his slim waist and a thick black oversized shirt hanging off him in a way that made me slightly feral.

But there was something else he wanted me to see, and I clocked it as soon as he got close enough, cheeks absolutely blazing red and my pussy valiantly clenching again even after such an orgasm.

He was hard. When my eyes slid down again to appreciate how the pants fit him so perfectly they landed on an unmistakable bulge, the front of his pants tenting in a tell-tale sign of how much he enjoyed my little show. I gasped and suddenly all confidence sapped from my body and I was left aroused and aching, willing to do anything. He watched me with a mix of condescension and arousal, knowing how easily he won over me and loving how receptive I was to just a light teasing, how the blush spread down to my collarbones and my mouth opened subconsciously, eyes glazing over and brain no doubt filled only with the thoughts of his cock.

But with an arrogant smirk he passed right by me, heading for the door of the men’s bathroom. Only when he was halfway through the door, he threw me a look over his shoulder, winking at me and his grin turned wild and rough. Then he disappeared inside.

I was left in the hall gasping for air, body ravaged by tension and lust and head full of images of Yoongi standing in the bathroom stall and hurriedly yanking at his cock, the red tip wet with pre-cum, the liquid getting smeared all over his length by his eager hands trying to get himself to completion as fast as possible. I imagined him grunting, head thrown back and mouth open but still curled into that annoying smirk.

A door opened somewhere a little down the hall and a mess of voices flowed out, startling me out of my reverie and I realised I had been just standing in the middle of an empty hallway staring dumbly at the bathroom door. I felt the bashfulness catch up to me and it sprung me into movement. With one last look at the door I scurried back into the class and spent the last 15 minutes staring into the wall with flaming red cheeks.

When I walked out after the class ended, Yoongi was back to his place, sitting completely relaxed into his chair and grinning lazily when his eyes caught mine. I felt my whole body jerk with a bolt of lust, but I ducked my head and quickly ran down the stairs, rushing out of the building and towards the café where the boys were already waiting for me. Jungkook stared at my flustered face with an unreadable expression, and I let him think whatever he wanted, too preoccupied with fighting the image of Yoongi cumming all over himself just twenty minutes ago thinking of me masturbating just a wall over.

Later that week, after many orgasms, much deliberating and a whole lot of shame I decided I needed to hear his voice. I kept thinking back to how Jungkook mentioned he was in the same year and major as Namjoon and that he was a performing rapper, and I knew Namjoon put his stuff online. And if Yoongi really was a known name in the bar scene around the area, he must have too.

Asking Jungkook about his stage name would be too humiliating, so instead I decided to rake through Namjoon’s insta because he must have his friend’s account there somewhere, hoping Yoongi would forgive me a little social media stalking. Firstly I scrolled through Namjoon’s posted pictures, but he rarely tagged other people. Most of his pictures were of artworks or Joonie doing something silly and living his best life.

So I switched to the pictures that others tagged you in. It took a while, but I was able to see that most of them were from this guy Hoseok that I had seen around but haven’t really spoken to. I knew he was a double major because he did dance like Jungkook and Jimin, but I had never realised he was also in the same major and year as Namjoon. He seemed to post a lot from the studio, often with Joon hunched over his computer in the background, but after some digging I was able to find one that had them all in it.

It was also from the studio, it must have been the one the boys were interning in, presumably all of them together. Hoseok’s face was grinning in one corner as he was taking the selfie and even though it was dark, you could clearly see two men sitting at a table together and discussing something with serious looks on their faces. A laptop sat between them and one of them had his hand lying on the pause button. It was Yoongi and Joon. Only their side-profile could be seen in the photo, but it was unmistakably them. The description only said “hyung is scolding joonie again” but tapping on the photo it showed that both of them had been tagged. Bingo.

Yoongi’s account was full of mostly dark pictures, some from the same studio and some were of him on stage mid performance, but there weren’t as many as Namjoon and Hoseok had on theirs. I scanned some of them quickly, but even though he looked super hot and the photos were extremely well done, it wasn’t the reason of my searching.

I checked the name of the account again – it was Agust D. And there was a link in the bio. Without thinking I clicked it and was transported to Spotify, Yoongi’s entire career laid out clearly in front of my eyes in the form of three albums.

I spent the evening listening to them, letting his music wash over me and losing myself in the beat and the lyrics. No matter what I was looking for when I wanted to listen to it, I got everything and more. I suddenly understood all those star-struck students that according to Kookie trailed hopelessly after Yoongi, the man had a real talent and an aura that just sucked you right in, like a fly getting trapped in a very smug spider’s web.

His voice was surprisingly lower and rougher than I anticipated, the songs had no shortage of him growling or screaming, emotions pouring off of his voice in waves that just swept me along.

And I couldn’t wait to find out what he sounded like when he was getting his rocks off.

The next Tuesday I climbed those 4 floors of stairs confidently, wearing a short skirt and cute heels, gingerly picking a spot in the class that would allow me to slink off in the middle of the lecture again. Yoongi wasn’t sitting in the hallway yet, but I believed he’d show up soon enough.

The anticipation was coursing through my veins, making me jittery and giggly. From the corner of my eye I could see a classmate giving me a strange look, mouthing at me if I was okay and I nodded hurriedly, giving her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t pay any attention to me when I had to leave.

If the two lectures before were unbearable, this one took the cake. I could barely contain myself, squirming in my seat, trying to make myself comfortable while I checked the time every 2 minutes, wishing half the lecture had already gone by and always getting disappointed at how early it still was.

My mind was going into overdrive, feeding me ideas and fantasies, replaying last week’s encounter on loop. I couldn’t see anything except for Yoongi’s lopsided smirk planted firmly on his face as he made his way into the bathroom to jerk off, his face as he came thinking of me.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and I was absolutely losing my mind, thighs pressing together and hands tangled into the fabric of my skirt, bunching up the material. I made it 40 minutes before I grabbed my phone and sneaked out onto the hall.

Yoongi’s head shot up immediately, already sitting by the window waiting for something. This time I didn’t freeze up, instead I was the one who smirked at him and confidently walked up straight to the bathroom. He watched me raptly, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. Couldn’t help but notice that today he didn’t have his laptop out, he just sat there and watched me, but I moved forward not giving it much thought.

I raised my eyebrow at him and winked right as I disappeared into the bathroom, the door falling shut behind me and sealing me inside in the calm and quietness. I rushed to the furthest stall, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock, too horny to think clearly.

I couldn’t believe this was getting to me so much, but the moment I managed to slide my tights low enough and ran my hand through my folds, I was already so wet it was astonishing. I laughed at myself in disbelief as my finger found my clit and circled it. Who would have thought this would become my weekly routine, jerking off in the bathroom while a guy I’ve never even talked to sat outside smirking.

But not today it turned out.

Just as pleasure began coursing through me at the ministrations, pleasured sighs leaving me freely as I got cocky not getting caught until now and the squelching of my wet pussy getting played with rang through the quiet space. Then, I heard the door open.

Immediately I froze, hand stopping but still stuck between my thighs. Slow silent footsteps made their way towards the stalls and I hoped whoever this person was, they would take care of their business quickly and leave right afterwards, but they seemed to be taking this in a really leisurely manner. I was holding my breath, counting the seconds, ears straining to catch any kind of sound coming from them.

“Don’t stop on my account, kitten,” a gruff voice suddenly piped up, the footsteps stopping right outside my stall. Relief and lust rushed through me at his appearance and I couldn’t hold back a desperate whimper, the fingers on my clit going back to work. There was a chuckle behind the door and then he was pushing it open.

I must have been a sight, underwear and tights pushed under my ass, skirt bunched up around my hips, bent over with my back arched leaning on the wall as I desperately played with myself, mouth open and eyes glazed over.

Yoongi’s eyes raked over me and he hummed lowly in appreciation. He made his way in lazily, shutting and locking the door behind him before leaning on it and just watching for a moment. I tried to put on a show for him but I was truly gone, the three weeks of built up arousal carrying me high and my body racing towards the edge in record speed.

I watched him back, watched his dark hungry eyes, his tongue peeking out to wet his upper lip, the way his hands flexed by his hips, twitching with the need to grab himself. I could see his bulge clearly, the tight black jeans barely able to contain it, and I was going crazy for it. When my eyes jumped back to Yoongi’s face, he was smirking at me knowing where I’d been staring at. What I wanted.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the door and stepped towards me. Startled I straightened out, fingers stopping once more. He descended on me hurriedly, pushing me into the wall with his body, caging me in. Our faces were suddenly only breaths apart and Yoongi took his sweet time, teasing me by getting closer and pulling away with a laugh. I whined, my clean hand coming up to tangle in his hair and he let me, watching me from above as I writhed against him, wordlessly begging for any touch from him.

Finally, he took pity on me and with a cocky grin smashed our mouths together, immediately prying my lips open and licking inside, claiming me roughly and thoroughly. I moaned into him, body arching into his and he pressed closer, pressing me into the wall again and our bodies touched from our heads to our toes. His hand went to my neck, wrapping around it lightly and grabbing my jaw to keep me still as he kissed me with all his might.

Now with both hands I grabbed onto him, one going around his neck and one around the waist, and he broke the kiss to laugh at me quietly, turning my face with his hand so he could kiss around my ear.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that kitten?” he whispered, voice gravelly with arousal, “Coming in here every week… playing with your pussy… making yourself cum… and then coming out and giving me those eyes, cheeks still flushed from your orgasm and yet playing so coy and shy… you’re such a minx.” I tensed, eyes rolling back as he started nipping at my neck, laying wet kisses and bites all over any skin he could get to.

I didn’t even notice when Yoongi’s other hand found its way between my legs, fingers roughly pressing onto my clit. I choked on a moan, head falling back and hitting the tiled wall, hands flexing into his clothes. He bit my shoulder enough to leave a mark, chuckling at my loud keening before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear again.

“Last week I thought I would go crazy sitting there,” Yoongi continued, almost growling into my skin as his fingers twisted meanly around my sensitive nub making me tremble, “I couldn’t focus on anything, not when I knew how much you wanted to give me a show. Almost went to jerk off at least five times but I held off until you came out to repay the favour.” He chuckled again, hand tightening a little on my neck as he leaned back to look at me.

I tried to get my breathing under control but I was stuck with my mouth hanging open, noises flowing out freely as if this wasn’t a public bathroom. Yoongi didn’t seem to mind though, quite happy to watch me come undone just from a little teasing.

“It was the same for me,” I whispered, looking into his eyes and this time playing coy very much on purpose, licking my lips and batting my lashes to play it up, “Had to sit through the rest of the lecture while thinking about you in here. Was hell.” He snickered darkly, immediately catching onto my act.

He hummed, finger dragging across my lower lip, fascinated for a moment before he snapped back to himself, mouth pulling back into a smirk.

Without a warning his other hand moved lower, fingers tracing my entrance before two of them plunged inside. I moaned out, body seizing up at the sensation. I was wet enough that they went easy but there was still the pleasurable sting of being stretched out on two digits.

Yoongi certainly wasn’t the type to waste time. He hummed satisfied, watching me with those dark eyes, testing the waters with a few shallow pumps before he started finger-fucking me earnestly. Just like everything else, even now he wasn’t gentle, flicking his wrist up and pushing his fingers as far as they could go, curling them to scratch at that one magic spot that had me seeing white.

I whimpered loudly, hips gyrating to ride the motions, already feeling the stirrings of a powerful orgasm lurking on the horizon. Like a shark sensing blood Yoongi chuckled and twisted his fingers on the next thrust. I keened, hands flying up to tangle into his clothes and hair, hips jerking and chasing after the feeling.

“So selfish, kitten,” he tsked at me, still keeping his cool even though I could see his erection attempting to burst through his pants, “only thinking about your own pleasure. No respect for others, huh?”

My first instinct was to apologise, but I got choked up on the words when he started up his pace again, so instead I decided to be a woman of action. Slowly trailing my hand down his torso, feeling him up on the way, grabbing onto his chest, his slim waist, until I finally reached his crotch.

With the first touch he let out a light groan, fingers stuttering and eyes falling shut for a moment, then he was suddenly back onto me, kissing me wildly while his hips fucked into my hand, letting out gruff groans and sighs into my mouth, which I accepted gladly.

For a moment we were just lost in each other, not caring about the noise or the place, just pleasuring each other, touching, feeling. Then Yoongi was tearing away, hand flying from my pussy and stepping back. I couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that left me, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his amused face.

Instead he grabbed me and turned me around until I was leaning on my arms on the wall behind the toilet, one leg up on the closed lid for support. I shivered in anticipation, knowing what would come next. Yoongi was moving about behind me, clothes shuffling and rustling. Then his sweater hit the floor. I turned my head to watch just as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a silver packet. He grinned at me and winked when catching my eye, then reached out to me, condom in hand.

“Can you hold this for me for a second, darling?” he asked as sweet as honey, but there was something devilish twinkling in his eye.

“Of course,” I answered him. I meant for it to be sassy, but it came out on a breathless whisper as I took the packet and watched Yoongi’s hand run through his hair before setting on his belt. He unbuckled slowly, attentively watching my eyes soaking in every second as he pulled the belt through the buckle and out of his pants. Fingers toyed with the button before popping it open, tongue wetting his lips and hungry eyes eating me up. I trembled under his attention but held still, not even breathing as his fingers grasped at the zipper and pulled it down.

Tired of playing, he pulled his tee out and put the hem between his teeth, revealing his taunt stomach and pretty waist. Winking at my obvious gawking, he finally pulled his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing free. The sight of him shocked me to my core, standing there with his t-shirt in his mouth and a smug glint his eye while he leisurely fisted his flushed red cock. I could feel my pussy gushing and clenching around nothing, desperately calling to be filled up.

Yoongi plucked the condom packet from my limp hand and made a quick work of putting it on. He lined up behind me, hands finding my waist to pull my tee from the skirt, making contact with bare skin.

I gasped when I felt his cock slide through my wet folds, but quickly keened and arched into it. One of Yoongi’s hands tightened on my waist while the other disappeared to grab his length.

“Easy now,” he chuckled at my trembling body, my hips chasing after his cock and trying to entice him into fucking me.

“Please,” was all I could get out of my mouth, “please Yoongi, just fuck me.” His hand tightened again and there was a beat of silence before he snickered.

“So you naughty girl do know my name,” he teased and I froze for a moment, embarrassment flooding me. I turned to him again to see him smirking at me, tee hanging off of his form. “I heard it around,” I whispered sheepishly. He hummed, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Not really fair, is it?” he teased some more, a mischievous expression taking over his face, “Is it, Y/N?” I narrowed my eyes at him jokingly and he grinned.

“Now, what’s your excuse, mister?” I asked him sassily, “Not like I’m a campus celebrity… unlike someone here.”

“May or may not have asked Jungkook cause I saw you two hanging out,” Yoongi admitted easily, laughing at me when I paled.

“God,” I groaned, “No wonder he was getting so cheeky whenever you came up in a conversation.” At that Yoongi raised his eyebrow again, amusement dancing on his features.

“That happen often?” he asked impishly, leaning against me and once again letting me feel his cock sliding through my folds. I gasped a little and blushed even darker. “You’re Namjoon’s friend, so occasionally,” I bold-faced lied straight through my teeth and from the look on Yoongi’s face, he was aware but let me get away with it.

There was a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, mischievous little smiles on our faces, and then Yoongi hummed, pulling his tee back up to his lips and biting down on it. I shuddered, the lust once again taking the fore-front seat in my mind. This time he didn’t stop for anything, grabbing himself with one hand and the other going to my waist to hold me in place.

The tip of his cock circled my entrance and I subconsciously clenched, a gush of wetness leaving me. I whined and wriggled in his hold and he tsked at me again before sliding inside in a single thrust with a light condescending giggle. I groaned, pussy immediately squeezing around the intrusion, feeling every inch and ridge. There was a hitch in Yoongi’s breaths, both hands migrating to my waist and grabbing so tightly I felt his nails digging into my skin.

He barely gave me a second before pulling out and thrusting in again, setting a rough pace from the get-go. All I could do was bury my head into the crook of my elbow, biting into the soft flesh there to keep myself from moaning loud enough for the whole school to hear.

The stretch of his cock was exquisite, the slight burn heating up my already sensitive body to a near boiling point. With every thrust there was a tiny twinge of pain that left me breathless, desperate to muffle any noise that could cut our meeting short.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care much about noise, hands on my waist mercilessly pulling me back onto his cock and fucking me with so much force I felt my whole body twitching with the overdrive of sensation, the slapping of our sweaty bodies against each other and the wet squelch of my weeping pussy getting filled to the brim loud enough to substitute for our own sounds. He was grunting gruffly, the noise seemingly leaving his mouth involuntarily and getting muffled by the tee.

I turned my head slightly to look at him, and god, he was a vision with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and face the picture of ecstasy, body rippling with the motion of his pumping hips and strong veiny arms and hands gripping onto me hard enough to go red with the force. I couldn’t hold back the moan and he toppled his head forward to look at me, a tired self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips at seeing my fucked out expression.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” I gasped out breathlessly, chuckling at his teasingly narrowed eyes, “You have such a dirty fucking mouth, can’t stand for it being shut.” Yoongi laughed, throwing his head back in delight. Within seconds the piece of fabric joined his sweater on the floor and he leaned forward, hands picking on my own shirt with a mischievous expression.

“Shouldn’t you even the score?” I loved how deep and gravelly his voice became with arousal, even when he was being mischievous I could hear the growl in it and it drove me crazy. I scrambled to listen to him, tearing the shirt off and flinging it behind us. Yoongi’s hands immediately travelled up, playing with the edge of my bra before swiftly undoing the clasp and dragging it off. I gasped lightly at his skilled handiwork and giggled, but Yoongi was already preoccupied with kissing along my shoulders and shoulder blades.

His hips angled better and then jerked them into me again, cock sliding even deeper now. I groaned and arched into him and that was his que to start fucking in earnest again. In this position I could hear the strained sighs and grunts every time he slid back inside, the rough deep pace taking a toll on us both.

The back of my thighs was burning from standing bent over and straining my hips for this long and it added to the mix of feelings running through me. I could feel my orgasm catching up with me, Yoongi’s cock now hitting a spot on every thrust that made me want to scream with pleasure, sliding in so deep I swore I could feel him in my belly and it was so good my head was spinning, and all that came out of me were raspy moans. Yoongi bit into my shoulder, grunts raising in octave, hands pulling at my body to meet his thrusts.

I prayed to god that the walls were thick enough to keep the sounds from escaping onto the hall. I knew that if someone stepped inside now, there would be no masking what was going on, we were both too gone for that, just chasing our pleasure.

I was so close, the weeks of build up and the foreplay and teasing making me delirious. There in that moment I just wished I could stay like this forever, to feel this delicious ecstasy for the rest of my life, but I was so close to snapping I just needed a little extra push even though my head was so high in the clouds wishing to be never brought down.

“Please Yoongi, god,” I choked out, “please, I’m so close.” That seemed to snap Yoongi back into his attitude again, but he couldn’t hide how affected he was too.

“What do you want, kitten, mm?” even he couldn’t talk properly through the gasps and grunts, but still tried to sound as cocky as possible. Instead of talking I grabbed his hand and brought it down between my legs.

Yoongi pressed himself to me closer to make the reach more comfortable, his chest glued to my back as he nibbled on my neck and shoulder, giggling breathlessly when his naughty fingers started drawing tight quick circles on my clit.

My moans got louder, the pumping of his cock, hitting so deep inside of me, combined with the stimulation on my clit made me seize up, whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook me. Yoongi groaned every time my pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper and closer to his own end. Both of us were so sweaty we stuck to each other, the temperature in the stall rising so high it was almost unbearable.

“Yoongi,” I gasped out, just repeating his name breathlessly as I barrelled to the climax, feeling the beginning of the tingling washing over me, pussy seizing up. Yoongi’s hands were like vice on my body, my waist littered with red indents of his nails, some already purpling slightly.

“I know, kitten,” he whispered into my neck, “Me too, you can let go.” The moment those words left his mouth my orgasm exploded over me, enough to blind me and send my ears ringing for a few moments. I let out a raspy groan, hands scrambling to find purchase on the wall and if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s hold on me, my buckling knees would have sent me crashing to the floor, but all I could focus on was the euphoria blooming through my body, flooding all my senses with so much pleasure I could barely fully register anything that was going on. Yoongi fucked me through the peak, hips losing rhythm and all decorum until finally he gave last few hard pumps and stilled too, coming with a drawn-out moan, hands pushing our hips as close together as they could go.

We clung onto each other as we attempted to catch our breaths again. I felt my arms slipping on the tiles as the pleasant ache started setting into my hips and lower tummy, legs screaming for a reprieve as my brain slowly came back into function. I blinked my eyes open, not even realising I had closed them at some point. Yoongi was basically hugging me from the behind, draped over me just breathing deep, faced smushed into my shoulder blade. Then he chuckled.

“You think we’re still in the clear?” he laughed, “How thick do you think these walls are?” A giggle tumbled out of me and before I knew it we were both laughing breathlessly, bodies still pressed close.

“This is officially the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I told him, shaky knees trying to keep my weight as I started to gather my wits. Yoongi let me go easily and helped me find my balance as my whole body ached, back killing me after Yoongi railed me like a madman.

“And here I was, thinking this was just regular Tuesday for you.”

I slapped his shoulder lightly, but the blush on my cheeks revealed that I couldn’t really say anything to that. His amused snickers told me he was well aware, so I just stood there and watched him slip the condom off, tie it up and then just awkwardly stand there not knowing what to do with it.

“Guess I can’t just casually drop a used condom into a bin in the girl’s bathroom,” he stated nonchalantly, and I giggled at him. In the end he grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and hid it inside, putting in on the closed bin lid for the moment.

Next Yoongi swiftly cleaned himself up and pulled his jeans back on, but when I reached for the paper to do the same, he swatted my hand away. With a much gentler smile he got it himself, kneeled in front of me and started cleaning me up, gently wiping away the mess left on my centre and thighs. I watched him attentively, the soft look on his face making him look boyish, only the naughty glint in his eyes reminiscent of the man he was just a few minutes ago.

When our eyes met, I returned the smile, hand instinctively going to tangle into his hair. I meant to just card it through the dark wavy locks, but the heated look he gave me had me shuddering again, fingers tightening. Yoongi smirked, tongue licking at his lips sensually just inches away from my exposed pussy.

“Still thinking about naughty things, kitten?” he said, voice dark and deep, “Like the sight of me on my knees for you?” I hesitated for a moment before untangling my hand and gently pushing him with a blush.

“I see,” Yoongi hummed thoughtfully, “maybe next time then.” With a wink he stood up and when I didn’t move he motioned for me to start dressing up with a smirk, handing me my bra and t-shirt. We slowly clambered out of the stall, stretching and trying to get all the body parts to working order again.

“How about,” Yoongi drawled out, self-assured and with the attitude of someone who just got their rocks off, “you ditch the lecture you never really go to anyway and we grab something to eat?” I stopped in my tracks, shocked but pleasantly surprised at his offer. I checked the time quickly.

“There’s only like 10 minutes of class left, I can sit that out and then we can go,” I answered, smiling softly, but Yoongi smirked with all his might, something devilish glinting over his face. He leaned towards me, grabbing me lightly by my shoulders.

“Not looking like that, you can’t,” he whispered meanly and spun me around. The moment I laid my eyes on myself in the mirror, I gasped. Yoongi was standing behind me grinning like the devil admiring his handiwork. My neck was littered in little bites and spots ranging from dark pink across red all the way to purple. Yoongi let out a satisfied hum, almost sounding like a purr, his hands going across my waist to pull at the tee tucked into my skirt to reveal more reddish purplish bruises from his fingers.

I turned in his arms and slapped his shoulder lightly, completely flustered by his antics. “How can I walk out of here now? Everyone will know what I’d been doing instead of sitting at the lecture,” I whined, more embarrassed than angry, but Yoongi’s laughing face was totally free of any remorse, “I look like someone beat me up.”

The man said nothing, just pulled me closer to kiss me gently. I looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before I whined again: “I don’t even have a scarf with me today.” He burst out laughing and patted my hip softly.

“I’ll get your stuff, you wait here,” he whispered conspiratorially and with one last wink he was gone. It took him only three minutes to stick his head back into the bathroom, looking a little ruffled and a lot amused.

“I suggest we get going fast, I’m afraid a guy leaving the ladies restroom isn’t as inconspicuous as I wished it was,” he got out quickly, smirking impishly and handing me my coat. I tried to wear it in a way that covered most of the marks, but it was futile, more than half of my neck still on full display.

I walked out of the bathroom the same moment the door to my classroom opened and students started filing out. Yoongi exchanged a single glance with me before we both took off, running down the stairs like we were being chased, only stopping once the building doors slammed shut behind us.

“Jimin’s café?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, still trying to get his strength back and leaning on his knees. I grinned at him and grabbed his hand, already pulling him in the right direction.

“Sure, let’s go!”

Bonus:

“Holy shit! The fuck happened to you?” Jimin exclaimed loudly enough for the whole café to hear the moment he saw me walk through the door. Jungkook and Tae, who were sitting at a small table near the counter to keep Jimin company while he had his shift, turned to look at me only for Kookie to promptly spit out whatever he was drinking.

“Holy shit!” I gave him an unimpressed look and walked up to Jimin to order.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him sassily, but Jungkook was grinning mischievously, a knowing glint in his eye. I flushed under his gaze and looked away at which he started laughing loudly.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually did it,” he giggled, properly entertained by the situation and by my embarrassment. Tae was watching it all unfold, confused look on his face.

“Did what?” Jimin asked, similarly confused.

As if on cue the door opened again and Yoongi stepped in, ignoring everyone currently staring at him and walking straight to me, arm curling around my waist to pull me closer to him. He bent down slightly to whisper in my ear: “Got rid of the evidence successfully.”

“Holy shit!” This time it was Tae who screamed, coming full circle. I gave their smug smiling faces an annoyed glare and turned to Jimin to order again, but he was trying to conceal his grin behind his hand. Even more vexed I turned to Yoongi who was smirking smugly like a cat who got all the cream, hand possessively squeezing at my bruised waist.

“On second thoughts, we shouldn’t have come here,” I said to no one in particular, then turning my narrowed eyes at the man of the hour himself, “and wipe that smirk off your face, mister.” There were giggles from the boys all around us, but Yoongi just swooped down and kissed me softly, then pushed us closer towards the counter.

Jimin cleared his throat and tried to put on a professional expression, but there was mirth in his eyes that I just knew I was going to get all the teasing later. Tae and Kookie cleared out the mess at the table and made space for us to sit down, one looking more amused than the other.

I gave them both the stink eye and ignored them, checking my phone instead, trying to reply to all the messages I’ve missed in the last hour. Around me there was silence, everyone just sitting there looking at each other grinning, before Jungkook cleaned his throat and exclaimed:

“God, fucking finally! Thought Yoongi-hyung was gonna talk my ear off about you!”

“Kookie!” There was a pretty blush spreading on Yoongi’s cheeks, a polar opposite to the cocksure man that was railing my brains out 20 minutes ago. I giggled and squeezed his arm. He gave in easily, leaning towards me.

Then he set his eyes on Jungkook and narrowed them teasingly. “We’re gonna settle that later you brat.”

---

fall apart & redefine | knj

(or, things are hard. namjoon falls back into old habits.)

→ pairing: idol!namjoon x f. reader → genre: porn with plot | angst, smut, canon compliant → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: vague prior relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, namjoon is really going through it (a lot of talk about mental health, unhealthy coping mechanisms, identity crises), basically namjoon’s 220721 live happens and he booty calls his ex, when you try your best but you don’t succeed aka when you’re selfish and a lil toxic and trying to be better but aren’t sure how, this is basically a three-thousand word blowjob, so smut warnings: oral (m. receiving), some hand action, one very brief instance of dom!joon. this is basically my yoongi fic in a different outfit. → wordcount: 3.5k → listen to: 5 seconds of summer - take my hand • troye sivan - angel baby • duncan laurence - arcade • bloo - i’m the one • stray kids - red lights • keshi - xoxosos • blanks - lost in the moment → a/n: started this forever ago (literally right after the aforementioned live, so we are not gonna talk about how long it took me to write 3k words) and needed to get out of my slump so i’ve finally finished it. thank you to jess & bee for all of their help, always. thank you to namjoon for posting sadboi shit on his ig stories.

Namjoon shouldn’t have called you.

Czytaj dalej

---

Reprieve

You're the newest recruit to Namjoon's investigative team. Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, you've met before, and he knows about your past, which is why he doesn't trust you.

Pairing: Namjoon x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, police detective Namjoon, smut

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: Sex and swearing, non-graphic violence, mentions of drugs, gangs

Kim Namjoon’s heart is thumping in his chest, fuelled by adrenaline and terror. He’s in the middle of a drug deal that’s gone very badly wrong.

He’s undercover with his partner Hoseok, standing on the opposite end of the warehouse.

There isn’t gunfire yet, but weapons are drawn, fingers on trigger guards.

His partner angles his head to the exit. He’s called for backup, but they’re at least five minutes away.

There isn’t anything in the police manual that explains how to deal with this. Namjoon glances at Hoseok, who’s now signalling something he can’t make out.

What the hell is he trying to say?

The room is full of men with guns and itchy trigger fingers, apart from one woman, unarmed.

Namjoon feels that this situation is wrong, somehow. The only women who get involved in things like this are usually girlfriends of bangers or part of the gang, or being exploited in some way.

He meets her eyes.

She looks back at him evenly. She looks preternaturally calm.

Sirens cut through the tension, and the characters in the tableau start to murmur. Namjoon’s not sure who the first person to run is, but he knows who he has to follow.

Kang Min, the leader. Namjoon keeps his eyes on him as he makes his way through the warehouse.

The sound of a cocked trigger makes his heart stop.

Namjoon turns and realises there’s a gun levelled at his chest.

‘The fuck,’ comes a female voice. ‘Let the kid go.’

Namjoon watches as the woman he saw earlier steps in between him and the loaded gun.

‘Not the time, Jae. Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

Namjoon’s already moving. He hears swearing, the sound of a slap, but he doesn’t look back.

***

Back at the station, Namjoon’s in between conducting interviews with Hoseok when he sees her again.

She’s sitting slightly apart from the men. There’s an ugly bruise over her cheek, a cut close to her left eye.

He walks over.

‘Thanks for stopping that guy from shooting me,’ he says.

She flicks her eyes up at him. ‘You’re too young to die. Get better at protecting yourself or get out of the line of fire.’

She looks down, and Namjoon takes that as the end of the conversation.

Later, then he’s starting on the paperwork, he spots her booking sheet with her name and date of birth on.

L/N Y/N. Fuck. She’s younger than he is.

***

You’re early for the interview, but that was a mistake because looking at everyone else here is making you nervous.

Inside you’re the girl from the bad side of town. You doubt any of these middle-class twentysomethings have seen half of what you have.

It doesn’t make you feel any better that you can hotwire a car, shoplift with ease or that you know three ways to disarm a man without leaving a mark.

Right now, those are useless skills, because they’re not needed in this job. And you need this job.

‘L/N Y/N? You’re next.’

You nod at the woman running the interviews and wish you hadn’t worn a light skirt suit because you’d give anything to wipe your sweaty hands now.

The door opens, and a tall man holds out his hand to you.

‘L/N Y/N? I’m Kim Namjoon.’

You clasp his hand and give it a firm shake, then look up into his face.

It’s your first mistake.

It’s the man from the warehouse five years ago. The man who looked so nervous he was asking to be targeted.

The man you stopped Jae from shooting.

If he recognises you, he gives no sign.

The interview, with Kim Namjoon and two other men whose names escape you, goes fine, up until the point where they ask about previous jobs.

You shift in your seat. ‘This is my first job,’ you say, flatly.

One of the men looks at you curiously, but before he can say anything, Kim Namjoon is standing, offering his hand again. ‘Thank you for your time, we’ll be in touch by the end of the week.’

You can’t wait to get out of there.

You’re sitting in the café next door when the door pushes open and Kim Namjoon walks in.

You don’t know if he’s seen you, but you’re not going to call attention to yourself.

You look down at your coffee. The pastry that had been flaky and warm now tastes like sawdust.

His voice makes you jump.

‘Do you live close by?’ he asks.

‘Not far,’ you say, pasting a smile on your face to cover your nervousness.

‘Why do you want this job?’ he asks. His eyes are serious as he waits for your answer.

You click through the list of model answers in your head before deciding on the truth.

‘I lived it. Your other candidates will find links, but I’d guarantee you I’m the only one from that room who knows Kang Min’s son goes to school with the Sung family heiress.’ You shrug. ‘I can search a database as well as any of them, but I can put it all together too.’

You look up at him.

‘Why would I trust you?’ he asks. His face is unreadable.

You get up. ‘Do you have to ask?’ you ask him. ‘You’re alive, aren’t you?’

His hand lifts as though he’s going to stop you from leaving, but you aren’t done yet.

‘I need this job,’ you tell him.

It’s the closest to pleading you’ve ever come in your life. His expression softens, just enough for you to see that he’s wavering.

‘We’ll be in touch at the end of the week,’ he says.

You nod.

The call comes at the end of the week that you’ve been successful at interview and that you’re to start the following week. It’s an administrator who calls you to let you know.

You’d been hoping to speak to Kim Namjoon again.

***

It’s near the end of your first week as part of Kim Namjoon’s team, and so far all you’ve done is look up various snippets of information for members of the team.

You spend most of your days working alongside a young but serious looking man called Jungkook. He’s quiet, probably a little shy, but he helps you out a lot as he’s been working for Namjoon’s team for months.

You’re asking Jungkook about cross-referencing arrest warrants when you see the change in his demeanour. In one second flat, the soft, kind Jungkook you’d been talking to turns into serious Jungkook, sitting up straight, eyes wide, ready to take orders.

You know who he’s responded to even without turning around.

You stand, to give yourself extra height, which is ludicrous, because he still towers over you.

Kim Namjoon is tall, broad and intimidating as fuck.

He nods at you. ‘Can I speak to you about something in my office?’

You’re already stepping forward. ‘Yes, of course.’

You stand nervously in front of Kim Namjoon. He’s perched on the end of his desk.

‘Comms have intercepted a call about the Victoria Pier,’ he says. He pulls off his glasses and tosses them on his desk.

‘It’s an unusual location,’ you say, frowning. ‘They’ve never used it for a drop before.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Namjoon says.

‘Unless –‘

He looks up at you, waiting.

‘Kang Min’s new daughter in law used to date a guy who ran a small business out of the town next to the pier,’ you say.

The way Namjoon’s eyebrows rise show you that this is news to him.

‘Who was the guy?’ he asks.

‘Chan Jung-hyuk,’ you say. ‘Prick.’

Namjoon waits for you to say more.

‘I dated him briefly,’ you say shortly. ‘Anyway, I can check out the link.’

Namjoon nods. ‘Bring your findings directly to me by the end of shift.’

You nod and are heading out the door when he stops you.

‘Is your car the white Hyundai that parks near the end of the lot?’ he asks.

You look at him curiously.

‘You need to get it checked. It’s leaking oil.’

You feel your cheeks heat. ‘I’ll sort it,’ you say.

***

Your father was the bookkeeper for the Kangs for most of his life. He’d inherited the job from his uncle before him. Your family have worked for the Kangs for generations, a step removed from the violence but always aware of it.

When your father died a few years ago, there had been no one to take his place from your family. You’re an only child, your mother died when you were very young.

It was the perfect opportunity to get out.

Your father had been well-respected, loyal and reliable. He’d kept you as separate from his work as he could have, as a result you’ve always been on the outskirts of the gang, with no involvement with anyone from the gang.

Kang Min had sent you his condolences after your father’s death, and for a while you’d waited for a summons. It had never come. You’d chosen to move away from your family home and to start a new life.

Working for the police had seemed like playing with fire, but over the years, with no contact, you think perhaps you’ve got away with it.

The job you’ve got now pays good money, with hours that suit you and is close to your new home. Plus, you’re technically just a data drone. There’s nothing about you to attract any attention.

It’s exactly how you want it.

Namjoon eyes you as you finish explaining your report.

‘The other members of the team don’t know about your link to the Kangs,’ he tells you.

‘There’s no link,’ you reply, terse.

Namjoon scoffs. ‘Hoseok may not remember you from that warehouse, but I sure do.’

‘If I hadn’t saved your life, you wouldn’t remember me either,’ you tell him. ‘Seems unfair that I should be punished just because I stuck my neck out for you.’

Namjoon stares at you.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle. ‘You’d been beaten when I saw you at the station that night. Was that because you stopped him from shooting me?’

‘I can’t remember,’ you say. You may not be part of the Kangs but you’re no snitch.

Namjoon nods. ‘Thanks for your report. It’s very helpful.’

‘Will there be anything else, sir?’ you ask.

He shakes his head, and you leave his office, breathing a sigh of relief as you do.

***

You’re frowning over your car, trying to get it to start, when another car pulls up alongside you.

You glance over as Kim Namjoon rolls his window down.

‘Good morning,’ you say.

‘Car trouble?’ he asks, getting out.

He’s in his shirtsleeves, you can see his jacket thrown over the passenger seat.

You watch as he rolls up the cuffs, forearms flexing, biceps pressing against the material.

He catches you looking.

‘The car,’ he prompts. His lips are perfectly straight, but there’s a spark of something in his eyes.

‘Sorry,’ you say distractedly. ‘It won’t start.’

‘I’ll give you a jump but I think you’ll need to take this to the workshop,’ he says.

You don’t know the first thing about cars apart from how to steal one.

You think you’d better keep that information to yourself.

After an unsuccessful jump, Namjoon shuts your car hood for you. ‘I’ll give you the number for the garage I use. My friend Taehyung is pretty skilled.’

You nod.

‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift to work,’ he says, opening the passenger door. He picks up his jacket, and you slide into the seat.

Namjoon’s a good driver. You glance over at him as he weaves through traffic.

‘How are you finding the job?’ he asks, without looking at you.

You lean back into the seat. ‘It’s great,’ you say, honestly. ‘Jungkook’s fun to work with.’

‘He’s a good guy,’ Namjoon agrees. ‘The info you got checks out,’ he confirms to you.

You hadn’t been worried that it wouldn’t, but you guess if you were Namjoon you might not trust you either.

You chew on your bottom lip worriedly as you look out the window at the passing traffic.

You wonder if Namjoon knowing about your past is going to colour his judgement of you.

You need this job, it was the highest paying out of all the jobs you were qualified for.

You realise Namjoon’s watching you in the rearview mirror.

You wonder what he thinks of you.

‘It’s routine to double and triple check all the information I’m given,’ he says to you. ‘It isn’t personal.’

‘Of course,’ you murmur.

You can’t get out of his car fast enough.

***

It’s a team dinner at the bistro opposite work.

You’ve never really been in this kind of situation before, but at least you know Jungkook.

You recognise Hoseok from your interview. He smiles at you kindly.

You’re relaxing a little, the rest of the team seem nice, when a familiar figure enters the restaurant.

You freeze in your seat, then hurriedly get up and excuse yourself.

It’s Hye-jin. You went to school together, which is fine, but you happen to know she’s dating a member of the Kangs. Which would also be fine, apart from that she has the biggest mouth this side of the planet.

You don’t think anyone will be interested that you were sitting with a table full of cops, but you can’t be too careful.

You let yourself out the back entrance of the restaurant, through the kitchen, and startle as a hand reaches out to grab your arm.

‘What’s up?’ Namjoon asks.

His voice is quiet, almost casual, but his eyes on you are shrewd, observant.

‘I feel sick,’ you say, hoping your voice sounds as casual. ‘I thought I’d leave early. I was just about to text Jungkook.’

‘Let me take you home,’ he says.

‘What? No, it’s fine, I’m getting a taxi.’

What does this man want from you?

He hasn’t let go of your arm. His voice hardens. ‘Do I need to be worried about you?’

His words are laden with meaning.

‘I’m not a snitch,’ you tell him, evenly. ‘I’m just not sure it’d be good for me if the Kangs knew I was working for the police.’

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll take you home, then I think you’d better tell me the whole story.’

You stare at his hand around your arm. ‘What are you going to do if I don’t go with you?’ you ask.

He drops your arm immediately. ‘I’m asking,’ he tells you.

You consider the repercussions for your job if you don’t talk to him.

‘Sure,’ you say. ‘I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’

Namjoon takes you home. You lead him up to your small apartment. There are no pictures anywhere, you know how it looks.

‘My parents are dead,’ you tell him. ‘I have no family.’

You tilt your chin. ‘My dad used to work for the Kangs. He was their bookkeeper until he died a few years ago. I haven’t heard from Kang Min since.’

Namjoon’s sitting on your couch despite the fact you hadn’t invited him to sit.

‘Why do you need this job?’ he asks.

‘I need the money.’

‘I can’t afford a mole in my team,’ Namjoon tells you.

‘I’m not a mole,’ you say. ‘But if you can’t trust me you might as well fire me. If you’re suspicious of me, your team will be too.’

You can’t believe you’re being judged for risking your own life for Namjoon, but in your experience, life’s never been fair.

‘What were you doing at the warehouse that night?’ Namjoon asks.

‘I was dating one of the guys. Jae. No one ever believed I wasn’t a part of it. They knew my dad was the bookkeeper.’ You smile, but there’s no humour in it.

‘Jae couldn’t believe it when I stepped in front of you. Like I couldn’t believe it when he slapped me with his gun.’ You shrug. ‘I guess it was a night of surprises for all of us.’

‘Why did you stop him?’ Namjoon asks. He’s still looking at you, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

‘Honestly, Namjoon? I didn’t believe he’d shoot me. I didn’t think you deserved to die.’

You give Namjoon a cold look. ‘I’m rethinking that now.’

To your surprise Namjoon laughs. ‘A lot of people say that about me,’ he tells you. ‘That they want to kill me.’

You slip off your jacket. ‘I can’t imagine why,’ you say.

Namjoon stands, and you realise he’s staring at you again.

You follow his gaze and too late, remember your tattoo. It’s visible under the gauzy material of your blouse, a swirling snake that curls under your breast and around to your back.

You take a step close to Namjoon. ‘If you want to see it close up, you’ll have to buy me a drink first,’ you tell him, hoping to throw him.

He looks down at you, unmoving. There’s heat in his gaze now, making you feel warm all over.

His hand comes up, thumb brushing your lower lip so gently it’s almost like you’re imagining it.

You flick your tongue out at his thumb. His hand curls over the angle of your jaw, fixing the position of your face.

He leans down, slow, giving you plenty of time to move away.

Like you were ever going to.

You meet his lips eagerly, closing your eyes at the feel of him. His lips are firm and warm. He kisses you slowly, dragging his lips over yours, tugging at your top lip. He slants his head to get closer, and you slip your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like the sake he’d been drinking at dinner.

When you pull away, you lean your forehead against his chest, trying to catch your breath. His hand cups your head, holding you to him.

He huffs out a breath.

‘What am I going to do with you?’ he says.

You’d answer, but it sounds he’s asking himself more than you.

***

Jungkook’s looking at you thoughtfully, and this worries you, because nothing good ever came of Jungkook thinking.

You think you’re as smart as him, but he has a knack of hitting the nail on the head.

‘Pocky?’ you offer, hoping to distract him.

Jungkook accepts. Now he looks faintly ridiculous with a chocolate stick on either side of his mouth, like tusks, but that thoughtful look is still in his eyes.

You get up and start sorting through the crime scene reports Namjoon’s had delivered to your office.

‘I was walking to my car last night and this guy came up to ask about you,’ Jungkook says.

The chocolate stick in your hand snaps.

‘Yeah?’ you say. Your back is to Jungkook, thankfully he can’t see the expression on your face.

Jungkook hits a key on his keyboard. ‘This guy.’

You turn around to see the database picture he’s pulled up and helpfully zoomed into.

It’s Jae.

Specifically Kim Jae-beom, your ex-boyfriend who was a hairsbreadth away from killing Namjoon, all those years ago.

‘He’s an ex,’ you tell Jungkook.

‘There was a drug bust a few years ago, before I started. Namjoon and Hoseok were leading the case.’ Jungkook’s looking at you. ‘I was reading through the reports, and I recognised your picture.’

You look Jungkook fully in the face but don’t say anything.

Your face healed a long time ago, you don’t even have a scar, but right now it feels like it’s burning.

‘Where are you going with this, Jungkook?’ you ask.

Jungkook asks, ‘Why was he looking for you?’ His expression isn’t unkind, but you sense he’s not going to let it go until he gets an answer.

‘I don’t know,’ you say, honestly. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in years.’

‘I think I should let Namjoon know,’ Jungkook says, gently.

‘Sure,’ you say. You know you shouldn’t feel hurt, Jungkook’s just doing his job, but part of you had thought your relationship was friendlier than colleagues. You’ve been working together closely for months, you think you get on well.

That’s what you’d thought, anyway.

All day, you wait for Namjoon to haul you into his office and ask you again about your previous gang ties, but it doesn’t happen. By the end of the day, your nerves are frayed.

You nod goodbye to Jungkook and head for the bus stop. Your car’s still at the mechanic, Namjoon’s friend Taehyung seems reliable but you won’t be able to collect it until next week.

You’re already thinking about going straight to bed when you reach your apartment. You’re fumbling with the keys when a shadow falls across your door.

‘We need to talk,’ says Jae.

You shove your keys into your pocket. ‘What about, Jae?’

‘Can we do this inside your apartment?’ Jae asks. He’s not really asking.

You let him in and wait.

‘Are you working for the police?’ Jae asks, as soon as the door’s shut behind him. He leans against it. Ther’s no other way out of your apartment.

‘I just do data entry and follow up parking tickets,’ you tell him. You’re only partly lying. ‘A job’s a job.’

Jae’s still leaning against the door, the there’s a tenseness to his posture, like a coiled spring.

‘You should find another job,’ he tells you, flatly.

‘There is no other job,’ you reply. ‘And I was lucky to get this one.’

Jae moves quickly. In a move too fast for you to fully follow, he’s got you pinned against the kitchen counter, hand out flat. Your wooden chopping board slams down on your hand, and you hear the thud before you register the pain.

You push out at Jae with your other hand, but he’s strong.

‘We have a history, which is why I’m going easy on you,’ he tells you. It’s ironic given the flat look in his eyes. He doesn’t look like he cares at all that you’re writhing in pain.

‘If I have to come back, it’s not just your hand that they’ll have to put back together,’ he says.

He slams the board down on your hand again, and you bite your lip until you taste blood in your mouth.

He’s gone before you can say anything else, leaving your front door ajar.

***

You take two days off work, just until you can move your fingers without crying. Thankfully, it’s your non-dominant right hand.

Even so, Jungkook notices.

He raises his eyebrow at you.

You’re not telling him a damn thing if you can help it.

You’re staring at each other in challenge when you hear pointed throat clearing.

You look up to see Kim Namjoon.

‘Y/N, can I see you in my office please?’ he asks, politely.

You stand and follow him. You resist the urge to glare at Jungkook before you go.

Namjoon stands behind his desk, as though he wants to put distance between you. You haven’t seen him since you kissed him.

‘Please sit,’ he says.

You’ve barely sat back before he asks, ‘What happened to your hand?’

‘I was clearing out boxes in my apartment, and a stack of books fell on my hand,’ you lie. You’ve been practicing it so much it rolls of your tongue smoothly.

‘Is it broken?’ Namjoon asks.

‘It’s just a little swollen,’ you reply.

‘You should get it checked out,’ Namjoon advises you.

‘I have,’ you say, briskly. ‘Anything else?’

‘Jungkook said one of the Kang clan approached him to ask about you,’ Namjoon tells you.

‘It was Jae,’ you say.

Namjoon’s looking at your hands folded across your lap. ‘Did you speak to him?’

‘The Kangs know I’m working for the police,’ you tell him, honest. ‘They want me to find another job.’

Namjoon nods. ‘Do you want a transfer?’

You shrug. ‘I don’t think going to a different department will solve the problem. They’re not going to check which division I work for, they just don’t want me working for the police.’

‘I can help you find another post,’ Namjoon says.

For some reason his words, like Jungkook’s, cut deep. On some level you understand that he doesn’t want trouble in his new investigative unit, but he’d been prepared to take you on when he thought you might give him intel on the Kangs. Now he’s quick to cut you loose when there’s the slightest hint of trouble.

You haven’t done anything wrong, but it feels like you’re being punished anyway.

The memory of his lips on yours makes it feel even more like he’s pushing you away.

It was foolish for you to ever think you might be able to escape your past.

‘Sure,’ you say. ‘I’ll put in my resignation.’

Namjoon gets up. ‘It’s safer for you to have another job,’ he says.

‘It is,’ you agree. You look at the floor. ‘Will that be it?’

You spend the rest of the day working solidly. You’re preparing to leave when Namjoon stops by your office.

‘Need a lift home?’ he asks.

‘I’m fine, there’s a bus,’ you say. You force yourself to meet his eyes.

‘It’s on my way,’ he says.

***

Namjoon walks you up to your apartment despite your protests. You look around a little warily for Jae but thankfully he’s nowhere to be found.

‘I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow,’ Namjoon says. ‘If that’s ok with you.’

‘Thanks for the lift,’ you tell him.

You’re halfway into your living room before you realise it’s all wrong. You’re looking for the baseball bat you laid near your front door when there’s movement in your peripheral vision.

You’re shoved up against the wall, stars behind your eyelids as your face hits the exposed brick.

Jae’s merciless, strong, his hand curled around your neck squeezing so tight you can’t breathe.

You struggle against him, elbows out. He lets out a grunt as your elbow connects with his chest.

You both freeze as the knock on your door sounds.

It’s Namjoon, calling your name through the door.

Jae’s hand closes over your mouth.

All you know is, Namjoon’s bigger than Jae and you could sure use his muscle right about now.

You stomp down on Jae’s foot, just enough for Jae’s hand to slip off your face, then scream as loudly as you can.

The knocking stops, then the door shakes in its frame as Namjoon puts his weight into kicking it open.

Jae shoves you onto the floor and runs to your bedroom. He’s out the window before you’re up.

Your door flies open just as you’re about to get to it.

Namjoon’s breathing hard, scanning the room.

‘He went out through the window,’ you tell him.

‘What the hell happened?’ Namjoon asks. His words are harsh, but his hands are gentle on your face as he examines it.

‘Kang really doesn’t want me working for the police,’ you say. You hiss as Namjoon’s thumb brushes across a tender spot on your brow.

‘Do you have ice?’ Namjoon asks. He’s already heading for your freezer.

***

You’re trying not to get flustered at Namjoon’s proximity to you, but you’re failing. His warm hands are cupping your face as he holds a makeshift ice pack to your forehead.

You lift your hand to take over holding the ice pack, and you see his gaze fall to your hand.

You’re glad Namjoon was there to help you, but you don’t need to give him information he didn’t ask for.

He’s asking now, though.

‘Your hand. Did books really fall on it?’ he asks.

‘Jae,’ you say.

A muscle flexes in Namjoon’s jaw.

‘Why didn’t you just tell me Jae was threatening you?’

You look at him warily.

‘We’re the fucking police, Y/N. We look after our own.’

‘I didn’t realise I was considered one of you,’ you say.

‘That’s a failure of my leadership. You’re part of my team.’ Namjoon shakes his head.

You get up. ‘Want a drink?’

Namjoon gets up to help you. ‘Where else are you hurt?’

You catch sight of your face in the mirrored surface of the toaster. ‘Nowhere,’ you say, wincing at the sight of the graze across your cheek and forehead.

‘Why did you come back, anyway?’ you ask, curious, as you sip your water.

Namjoon frowns. ‘The front entrance to your building. There was a dent in the metal frame.’ He shrugs. ‘Also, I wanted to ask about your hand.’

‘Well, thanks,’ you say, belatedly.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear you could come to me,’ he tells you. He looks regretful. ‘I’m also sorry about kissing you. It was – inappropriate.’

You look up at him, straight-faced. ‘Not as inappropriate as what I wanted to do with you.’

Namjoon stares at you for a moment, then huffs out a humourless laugh.

‘How could any man look at your face and want to hurt you,’ he mutters. He doesn’t sound like he’s asking you, so you don’t answer.

He tosses you the ice pack. ‘Come on. I’ve got a spare room at mine. Why don’t you stay at my place tonight?’

***

You’re sipping a mug of tea Namjoon’s made you and looking around Namjoon’s house. He lives in a two storey in the suburbs, it’d been a half hour drive from yours.

Namjoon’s looking at you.

‘Do you want another job?’ he asks.

You choose your words carefully. ‘It’s probably for the best. The Kangs are aware I’m working for the police, and you’re aware of my links to the Kangs. I’m a liability.’

‘You’re not a liability,’ Namjoon says. ‘I don’t think you’re working for them.’

You laugh, dryly. ‘Jungkook and I are at a crossroads. If you’re ever worried about a mole in your unit, never suspect Jungkook. He’s so loyal to you I thought he was going to kick me out himself.’

Namjoon’s frowning, so you add, ‘it’s not just about you trusting me Your team has to trust me too. It’s only a matter of time before someone else finds out.’

‘Finds out what? That you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that you saved my life?’

You look at each other.

‘You don’t owe me just because I did that.’ You put your hand on Namjoon’s arm.

‘You stepped in front of a loaded gun, for me.’

‘I didn’t know you. I would have done it for anyone.’

‘Still,’ Namjoon says, frustrated. ‘You did it for me.’

‘So what, now you’re responsible for me?’ you scoff.

‘Yes,’ Namjoon says. ‘Also, I hired you. I put you in this situation. And if I’d broken that door down faster you wouldn’t be sitting there looking at me with that goddamn huge graze on your face.’

‘Don’t look at me then,’ you say, tiredly.

‘That’s the problem, that I can’t fucking stop looking at you,’ Namjoon replies.

You stare at him.

‘Should we just stop talking and fuck instead?’ you ask.

There’s a flicker in Namjoon’s gaze.

‘If only fucking was the answer,’ Namjoon says. He gets up. ‘Go to bed. I’ve got to do some thinking about tomorrow.’

***

You’re quietly heading towards the door the next morning when Namjoon calls out from the kitchen.

He comes to the door, two mugs of coffee in his hands.

He holds it out to you.

‘If you’re going to sneak away you might as well have breakfast first.’

‘I wasn’t going to---’

You break off at the look on his face.

You take the coffee he’s holding out to you, and set it down. You take his other mug and set it down, then tug his arm.

You reach up and curl your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him. He leans down, and you go on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips.

Your arms loosen, and you’re slipping down a little when he curls his arms around you, big hands cupping your ass.

‘Did you sleep?’ you ask him, between kisses.

‘Not a wink,’ he tells you, voice husky, sexy.

‘I thought about you,’ you tell him. ‘Like this.’

Namjoon nibbles your neck. ‘Hold on,’ he says.

He carries you to his bedroom, his king bed with its rumpled grey sheets.

‘Are we doing this?’ he asks, kissing down your neck, tugging at your t-shirt.

‘Hey, I saved your life,’ you tease. ‘You fucking owe me.’

Namjoon laughs.

‘I’m going to show you how grateful I am,’ he promises.

***

Namjoon’s hands are splayed on your back, smoothing over your skin as he kisses you. He’s slow, languid, like he has nothing but time.

You, however, have been fantasizing about his arms around you ever since that night at the restaurant.

‘C’mon, Joon,’ you whisper to him, positioning yourself in his lap, legs spread to accommodate his torso. You roll your hips over his to encourage him.

Namjoon’s pulling the front plackets of his shirt that you’re wearing apart. He slips a hand over your tattoo.

‘What the fuck is this?’ he asks, fingers tracing the snake, from bevelled head, down the coiled body, to the tail over your hip.

‘It was easier to blend in than to stand out,’ you tell him, kissing his neck. Your tongue flicks against his ear. ‘Especially when I started dating Kangs.’

Namjoon groans. ‘Do that again.’

‘This?’ you ask. You nibble at his ear, pressing your lips to his neck. He smells delicious, woody, musky.

Namjoon’s big hands curl over your ass as you roll your hips against his again, helping you grind on him.

You bite his neck, and he groans again. ‘Fuck. Let me get a condom.’

You help him slide his briefs off, just enough that his rigid cock is freed, slapping against his skin. He’s so hard you’re worried it’s going to hurt.

Namjoon presses the condom into your hand. ‘Put it on me,’ he says.

You’re tearing into it when his hand slips between your legs, fingers sliding through your arousal. He slips a finger into you, and you clench involuntarily around him.

‘One more,’ he grunts. He slips another finger into you, other hand over your hip, thumb stroking over your clit.

Your hands tighten over his cock, and he groans. ‘Fuck.’

He jerks away, pushes you back onto the bed and presses his whole face between your legs. He licks you out in earnest, humming his approval as you get slicker and wetter for him.

‘I need –’ You break off, and Namjoon nods.

‘I’ve got you,’ he tells you.

He slips the condom that’s dropped out of your hand onto himself, coming back to rest on top of you.

‘You ready?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

He watches your face as he positions himself, pushing in slowly, inching his way in.

Your hips wriggle and you push up, trying to take more of him.

‘Joon,’ you plead.

He laughs darkly. ‘I’m here.’ He pushes in another inch, so maddeningly slow you could scream.

He dips his head to kiss you as he pushes the rest of the way in, tongue invading your open mouth as he fills you with his cock.

‘Good?’ he asks.

You open your eyes when you realise he’s waiting for an answer.

You nod. ‘Good. Keep going. Fuck. Keep going.’

Namjoon’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he thrusts, filling you again and again, rocking against your clit. His thumbs on your hips feel like they’re bruising you, but you’re barely aware of it, too caught up in how good he feels.

The weight of him, the stretch of his cock, the sweat glistening between your bodies.

You cry out as he fucks you, relentlessly pulling you to the edge with him.

‘Go on,’ he urges. ‘You’re nearly there.’

His voice, already deep and low at the best of times, sounds guttural, more of a rumble than actual words.

Another push of his hips, a well-timed long stroke of his thumb, and you’re cumming on him. Namjoon’s hips stutter as you cry his name, and his rhythm falters, a low moan falling from his lips as he spills into you.

He’s panting, trying to catch his breath, when you curl your arms around him, pulling him down to you.

‘Don’t want to crush you,’ he utters. ‘Your hand.’

‘I like the weight of you,’ you tell him.

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

Again, he doesn’t sound like he’s really asking you, so you don’t answer.

***

Again, you’re nervous, but this time it’s a situation that’s more familiar to you.

You’re not the girl from the wrong side of the tracks trying to pretend to be middle-class and uneventful at an interview.

Today, you’re on your own turf.

Kang Min used to come to your house to meet your father when you were a girl, and they used to drink and talk and smoke well into the early hours of the morning.

You didn’t always stay up with them, but Kang Min was never anything but kind to you.

You bow as you approach him, at a hole in the wall noodle restaurant your father used to take you to as a child.

‘Uncle,’ you say, politely.

He sits back, and there’s a sudden flare of fear in your chest as you wonder if you’ve misjudged this situation completely.

Instead, he smiles. ‘Y/N. You’ve grown up.’

‘I found this amongst Papa’s things,’ you tell him, holding it out. ‘I thought he’d want you to have it.’

He looks at it as you place it on the table in front of him.

It’s a silver box lighter, the one your father always used to use when they smoked together at your house. You’ve polished the tarnish away yourself.

He looks up at you. ‘Your father was one of my best friends, you know that.’

‘I know, uncle.’

‘He never wanted you involved in the business,’ he says. ‘I’ve always respected his wishes.’

He looks at you shrewdly. ‘What’s this about you working for the police?’

‘I needed a job,’ you tell him. ‘I can’t live off the inheritance.’

‘He wanted you taken care of. I promised him I’d do that,’ Kang Min says. ‘Will you find another job?’

‘I’ve resigned,’ you tell him, truthfully.

‘He built up a trust for you. I’ll give you access,’ Kang Min tells you. ‘I’d have given it you sooner if you’d come to me.’

‘I didn’t know – ‘

He cuts you off. ‘I’m not going to involve you in anything, as long as you give me your word you’ll not lose your loyalty to your father’s memory.’

His eyes flicker over the tattoo that’s faintly visible through your gauzy shirt. You hadn’t been entirely truthful with Namjoon. The tattoo had never been for the men you dated. It’d been one of your father’s ideas to prove your loyalty to Kang Min after he was gone.

Your brilliant, pragmatic father who’d taught you how to hotwire a car, shoplift with ease and three ways to disarm a man without leaving a mark.

‘I won’t forget,’ you tell him.

He smiles then, eyes on the lighter you’ve given him.

‘See that you don’t.’

***

Namjoon’s waiting a block away from where you met with Kang Min. The relief on his face when he sees you makes you feel warm inside.

‘Done?’ he asks.

‘Done,’ you say.

You’re another block away before you speak again. ‘You’re going to help me find another job, right?’

‘What would you like to do?’ asks Namjoon.

‘I always wanted to learn to fix cars,’ you say. ‘Think Taehyung will take me on?’

Namjoon whistles. ‘I think you’d be hot as a mechanic.’

‘I don’t know though, who’s going to save your ass at drug busts?’ you tease.

Namjoon levels you with a look. ‘You know that was one of my first cases as a detective.’

You raise your eyebrows. ‘And?’

‘I’m a better cop now than I was.’

You nod. ‘More careful?’

Namjoon gives you a crooked smile. ‘Stakes are higher now that I’ve got your pretty ass waiting for me at home.’

‘Damn, you haven’t even taken me to dinner yet?’

‘Let’s go right now,’ Namjoon says. ‘Then I’m taking you home with me.’

He curls his arm around you and you lean into his embrace.

You don’t know how this is all going to work out, but it’s a promising start.

©hamsterclaw 2022

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