Silly Babies. They Were Still Trying To Make It Work In Their Own Silly Way.

silly babies. they were still trying to make it work in their own silly way.

i adore this so much. bc it absolutely highlights how deep their love runs that even when they are million things they could get rid off they would never be done with it. there’s just too much love between them. the whole time i didn’t know what led them to breaking up with each other, they just did, but not once did i feel like wanting to find out.

i was cheering them on in their fight to come together. to make up this one final time that all of it, the hurt the distance, the longing, the melancholy, the upset… all of it feels silly. and it did. i was shaking my head at them. clearly they never wanted to and they took their time but they made it back to each other.

i enjoyed this so much. you did such a good job.

ex-things - m.yg.

genre: angst (after breakup!) (4.8k)

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

masterlist

-

“scarf,” you say as soon as yoongi appears at the door, you fail to hide your smile when he throws his head back in exasperation and throws the door open.

you push past him and enter his apartment which looked…exactly the same.

but then again, you did just break up some ten minutes ago so, of course, it would be the same.

you don’t know why you expected the universe to shift just because your heart was broken.

and as you throw back the cushions on his sofa, push the things on his coffee table, look under the sofa and table, and walk past him to check the coat rack and then the kitchen, you feel his piercing gaze following your every step.

you knew where it was.

it was in your bedroom.

or well, his bedroom now.

“can you hurry the fuck up?” he groans and in that second, you eye the black plastic cover filled with two or three soju bottles sitting on his kitchen counter.

you swallow and yell back, “can you just let me look for my scarf in peace?”

another groan.

a stomp on the floor.

“fuck, i’ll mail it to you,” yoongi makes his way into the kitchen with loud steps and you arch your eyebrow at him, then look towards the green bottles shining on his counter, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and spits out, “i was going to drink today before anything ever happened, don’t feel too special.”

“really?” you muse, clinking them against each other, and in the next second, yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s pulling you, gently, towards the door.

“i’ll send it when i find it,” he murmurs as he pushes your coat, your car keys, and your phone into your hands, and you don’t say anything for a while.

you clutch your belongings and stand by the door until you notice how yoongi's eyes are bloodshot, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. his shoulders rounded with an invisible weight, and you feel guilty for leaving.

“a-are you okay?” you ask, it feels stupid to ask because you know, you were the same as him.

he laughs bitterly and throws you a glare, you notice how his hands tremble beside his body, and you look away to save him and yourself from the pain of asking again.

“i just broke up with my girlfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” he breathes out, you wonder if it pains him like it’s paining you to hear his words, “now, can you leave?” yoongi gestures towards the door again.

you sigh, “wait a minute,” and enter your his home again.

“what now?” he throws his hands in the air and stomps after you.

he watches you grab the scarf from under his bed, he turns his eyes away when he sees your hands shaking while holding it, “did you know where it was?” yoongi breathes out, his face and voice in disbelief.

you don’t say anything again.

and when you leave, he pours himself glass over glass to forget the trembling of your jaw and how you paced around the apartment while knowing exactly where you kept the scarf.

he laughs again, the sound is strange, rough, and just wrong without your laugh chiming with him.

he pours himself a glass again.

-

it’s been a week.

“hi,” you say as yoongi walks into his house, he jumps a little, clutching his chest as his eyes widen to look for you.

you raise a hand to wiggle your fingers at him as a ‘hello, hi, ex-boyfriend, you’re back at your home and so am i!’ and yoongi blinks.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, i was loo-“

“wait wait, how did you even get in?” yoongi frantically marched to his front door and twisted the knob to check for any damages and you roll your eyes.

“i found your key under the potted plant. speaking of which, do you want to get robbed or something, why would you even put it there?” you throw your hands in the air as you sip tea, grimacing as the strange, bitter taste of yoongi’s favorite green tea spreads in your mouth.

“first of all, stop drinking my tea, you don’t even like it” you put the cup down with a sheepish smile and fold your hands on the table.

“and second of all, i didn’t think i had to worry about any ex-girlfriends breaking in, my bad,” yoongi complains loudly and you press your palms to your ears, shaking your head, “i’m not even here to see you, i’m here for…well, i’m here for,” you struggle to finish the sentence.

and yoongi glares at you.

“what is it?” as he moves his head to pin his glare on you, his soft, freshly straightened hair moves with him.

“straightener!” you say loudly, clapping your hands, and yoongi’s eyebrows narrow again, “you’re going to get wrinkles, yoongi.” you point at his eyebrows but he doesn’t let up, you’re sure that his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“okay! i’ll be on my way once i get that,” you wander off into his bedroom and yoongi throws his head back in exasperation.

your straightener is easy to find because well, it’s not yours, it’s his and it’s just sitting on his vanity but yoongi doesn’t bat an eye at that.

he only watches you move around his home with his arms crossed on his chest and an unreadable satisfaction on his face.

and when you leave, you can’t help but notice that for all his annoyance, he never tells you to not come back, and he never tells you to find everything you own and leave at once.

with that knowledge, you leave his home with the biggest grin on your face.

-

“you need to get out before my booty call gets here,” you happily eat your ice cream on the kitchen counter as yoongi walks into your home as if he owned it.

did you mention that he was the one to bring you ice cream?

your favorite too, one scoop of hazelnut and one scoop of brownie.

“ha ha, very funny, you should start thinking of a career in stand-up” he responds with a roll of his eyes and you giggle even more, sliding down to catch up with his pace around your home.

“what are you here for?”

“t-shirt, you know the one you stole,” yoongi shrugs and glares again, walking right into your room and you follow with hands closed behind your back, “which one?” you muse as you remember all the (10) t-shirts you’ve stolen from him.

he looks back as he nears the closet, eyes narrowing at you, “how many do you have?”

“how many can you remember that i have?”

yoongi groaned in sheer frustration and you crawled on your bed, watching him pick apart your closet, and glaring at you whenever he found one of his t-shirts in there.

for a moment, it was amusing.

it was the funniest thing to watch yoongi get annoyed, you always enjoyed it.

but in the next moment, when he was around his fifth t-shirt, you felt this ache slowly develop in your chest and spread across your throat and then your mouth, then it was everywhere.

it was this dull throbbing that you couldn’t shake and your eyes dropped to fiddle with your fingers instead of looking at him, collecting his belongings from your home.

because, just two weeks ago, it had been your t-shirts too, hadn’t they? and it wasn’t just your home then, it was yours and his, wasn’t it? sure, you had separate apartments but it never felt like that, it felt like you had two homes and both homes belonged to both of you.

and now, you only had one.

you had wrapped your arms around his back when he was in your room two weeks ago, he was here now but you couldn’t even touch a hair on his head without feeling like you’ve crossed a line.

your head was starting to collect the ache and make a home for it so you ask, “are you almost done?”

you didn’t mean to ask him that, you actually very, very badly wanted yoongi never to leave so you could believe again, ‘i have two homes, i have two toothbrushes, two mugs, two keys, two doors, and two of everything’ but yoongi pauses, he collects the t-shirts he found and nods, “yeah, i’m done.”

when he walks out of your room, the ache finally takes over your head and you follow him with dazed eyes and stumbling feet.

at the door, yoongi stops, he turns around with concern brimming in his eyes and that is enough for your hands to shake again, “you good?”

“i just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” you deepen your voice to mimic his and yoongi shakes his head with a small laugh, “you better be okay,” he says at the end, and his voice is so soft, it feels like cotton pressed into your cheeks.

and you nod because if yoongi says you have to be okay, you’ll find a way to be okay.

but when he leaves, you are back to having just one home, with one toothbrush in the bathroom, one mug in the kitchen, one set of keys in your purse, one door, and one of everything else.

and you’re sorry to yoongi.

because you don’t know if you can be okay.

-

a couple days passed again.

you had an angry yoongi pacing in front of you as you watched.

“you’re being ridiculous,” yoongi shoves a hand through his hair, glaring at you as you sit with arms across your chest and refusing to look at him.

“i’m not,” you huff out and he rolls his eyes.

he did that a lot.

he did that a lot with you.

“i didn’t steal your plushie, are you fucking kidding me?” yoongi whines and walks away into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

you follow him and right at the doorway, you don’t enter, you just watch his even more sunken eyes and even more rounded shoulders with conflicted eyes.

a part of you wanted to hug him.

a part of you wouldn’t mind killing him.

a part of you wanted to kiss his shoulders to lift them.

a part of you wanted to leave a red mark on his face.

but all parts of you, you couldn’t trust or believe.

these past few days, you couldn’t trust or believe anything actually.

yoongi senses your eyes on him, he knows how you look at him and how you seem to show so much with just a gaze but he holds strong.

you were broken up.

you shouldn’t be here.

hell, he’s not sure if he should be here or not either.

but he betrays himself over and over again, he lets you into his house and you let him into yours, and he feels ridiculous every time he closes your door, he’s not sure what you feel when you close his.

“i threw it away,” he shrugs his shoulders, eye muscles tensing oddly, he’s not sure if you notice or not.

“what?” your whisper is so quiet, yoongi wouldn’t have known you were speaking if he didn’t see your lips moving.

“i threw it, okay? there was no use of it being around here anymore, so i fucking threw it away,” he didn’t mean for his voice to be loud, and he didn’t mean for his words to hurt but maybe he did, maybe he wanted to hurt you.

but he loves you?

but he’s also okay with hurting you.

to an extent.

yoongi had never understood why he couldn’t love properly, why his love for others and himself had to hold a touch of pain, a touch of misery, but it was always out of his control.

it had been different with you.

for a while, that is.

but he was back to his roots now, pain and misery and love and affection held his hands and danced around him.

and he had to dance with them too.

“i threw it,” he repeated, but your plushie was tucked into his pillows, into his sleep, and into his days and nights.

it was stained with salty tears now, it was stained with the ice cream he ate after he left your home, and he didn’t want you to see it.

for a moment, you both didn’t even twitch in the wrong direction, yoongi watched the dark liquid in his cup with growing intensity and you waited for him to tell you that your plushie was safe.

“fine,” you sniffled, grabbing your coat and stomping to the door and yoongi followed, he tried not to but his feet walked ahead of his mind.

at the door, you angrily shoved your feet into your sneakers and pushed your hair out of your face, as if to prove that you weren’t crying, that you weren’t affected and anyone else would believe you.

but yoongi knows you.

and he knows your red nose and cheeks can only mean one thing.

before you close his door, you say, “you’re a horrible person, yoongi.”

he thinks he knows what you feel when you close his door now.

hatred.

-

you swore to yourself that that would be the last time you turn up at his place, but you had genuinely forgotten something there and needed it this time, so you swallowed your pride and rang his doorbell.

you don’t greet him when he opens the door and yoongi feels like he could fall to his knees when you shove a bag with his favorite ice cream, matcha, and coffee (he’s a caffeine guy, he runs on it), into his hands and yoongi knows he’s forgiven.

“i forgot my trousers here,” you mumble afterward and head straight into his closet to dig through for the work trousers that you cannot live without.

yoongi doesn’t dare to utter a word, he looks through his closet beside you and apologizes when his skin touches yours in any little way.

you can’t believe there was a time when you would touch him as if his body was yours too and he would touch you the same. but his apologies just dug the truth deeper into your skin, which was that you didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you.

so, you nod, you bear your cheeks heating up and thighs going weak, and just look through his neatly organized piles of clothes too.

he used to organize your stuff too, he used to section them, fold them, and keep them neatly by his clothes.

that’s how you find your trousers, crisp folds, and fresh-smelling, right beside his work clothes.

and your heart squeezes as you pull it out.

the folds loosen, the trousers limp in your hands, and that small change in its structure, makes you think of yoongi and everything that fell apart with him.

when you leave that day, you pause at the door and whisper, “you’re not horrible, yoongi, but maybe i am, maybe i ruined everything, but please don’t hate me.”

before he can catch you and wipe your tears and tell you that you were right last time, he was the horrible one, he was the one who texted late, who came home late, who missed birthdays, but you were already running away and he was left with a lit cigarette burning his throat.

-

“i swear, it was here,” yoongi shifts the things around your closet, head buried deep in shelves and racks of clothes and shoes, you stand at the doorway with your arms crossed against your chest, trying not to roll your eyes.

“and you have a million other headphones, so i don’t understand why you would need to find this one,” you step into the room and lazily move things around to try and find it too, yoongi scoffs from a few feet away, “it was special to me,” he says and turns his back to you again.

“why?”

“my grandfather gave it to me,” yoongi huffs, and his hands stay busy.

but.

“your grandfather died when you were five,” there was no way his grandpa gave it to him and you know you’ve caught him.

he could’ve at least tried harder with his lies.

it was strange, seeing him here, standing in your bedroom, surrounded by things that no longer belonged to both of you.

you don’t think you’ll ever get over that feeling of loss.

the moisturizer you would’ve shared with him.

the cheap wig that he would wear to make you laugh.

the razor that you would hide to annoy him.

they only belonged to you now.

though you don’t bring up his grandfather to drive him away, you only say it because it was hard for you to understand why he was here, looking for headphones that he could buy tens of pairs of.

he pauses, you wait for him to say something else, or lie about a friend who didn’t exist who gave it to him, lie about his dad giving it to him.

but yoongi doesn’t say anything.

he keeps looking.

you refused to keep anything that touched you in the last three years.

well, except for some things.

“yoongi,” you call out, pointing towards the unopened box in your closet and he turns his head that way, quickly walking over to it and flipping it upside down.

the photo album that carried your first anniversary.

the promise ring that he gave you on your second anniversary.

the matching couple t-shirt which he cringed at but wore whenever he could.

the.

the.

the.

so many the’s and so many first’s and second’s of things that you kept, though ‘kept’ was the wrong word, you treasured these things, you loved them.

and all of them fell on the floor with noise that shook your ears and chest, not because of the volume but because it was like you were pouring your heart in front of him.

but you loved them in the past, you liked to think that you did and you were in the present now, watching yoongi eye the things you gathered without his knowledge.

and all of it was only yours now.

“when did you keep this here?” he asks, and you immediately know he’s asking about the simple diamond ring that everyone thought was your engagement ring.

but it was just a promise ring.

and you removed it when, “that day you didn’t come for my birthday,” you mumbled, picking up the things and putting them back where they belonged.

buried inside a box.

shoved into a closet.

but before, you pull out his headphones from the box and hang it over your head for him to take.

when he takes it, his fingers touch the smallest part of your palm and your eyes gather tears as if rivers were breaking a dam in them.

yoongi stands without saying a word for a long time but then he walks to the door, “you’re not going to close your door?”

you’re not coming to see me off?

you get up unwillingly and walk to the door without sneaking another glance at him and drop the ring into his palm, “bye, yoongi.”

his hands tighten around the band of platinum.

both of you look at the dangly, worn-out wires of his headphones that hang from his other hand.

you had given them to him for your first anniversary.

not his dead grandpa or dad or friend.

it was you.

and both of you refused to acknowledge that fact.

and when yoongi finally leaves, he leaves behind a space in the air that waits for him to come back and take his place again, in your life, in your home, in your space.

but he doesn’t turn back.

and you close the door, letting the space remain.

-

a few days went by again.

neither of you showed up at each other’s doors anymore.

neither of you had anything left to collect.

neither of you had anything that belonged to the other.

and it was strange, the quiet, the loneliness that crept on your back and it always hit at the most unexpected of times.

when you poured your cereal in the morning, you realized you were holding the box that you had bought while grocery shopping with yoongi, it was your favorite time of the month, the one time you could really feel that he was your person.

but the box was empty by the end of your breakfast and you kept it back in the cabinet.

when you arranged your clothes, you saw your messy folding and fell back on the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

how yoongi did this every day, you had no clue.

but as you lay in pieces of cotton, linens, satins, sequins, and many more materials that hugged and pinched you, you couldn’t help but think that surely, yoongi wouldn’t leave you like this, there has to be something of his that you still own.

there has to be something.

so, you got up and with renewed desperate energy, you started searching.

you pulled upon every desk, every closet door, every nook and cranny, you searched with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“there has to be something, there has to be,” you whispered to yourself, your voice choking as things fall over from the tall walls, they fall on your feet, and your toes, and a sharp pain hits you every single time, but you push through.

because.

there has to be something.

you can’t end it like this.

you and yoongi cannot end like this.

anyone else can.

but not you, not him and you.

and the closets you look through stay ajar, the desks you’ve emptied stay tipped over, and everything you own is on the floor.

but there is none of yoongi in any of it.

so, you sink.

you sink to your knees, sobbing and flipping over items as you reach them.

because goddamit, there has to be something.

when the bell first rings, you don’t register it, you are way too intent on the clutter in front of you.

but then it rings.

and rings.

and rings, again and again.

relentless.

and you push yourself up, hoping it’s no one you know because you don’t think you can explain the tears on your face.

but when you open the door, your mouth goes dry and you know you don’t have to explain anything.

because across from you, is a red-eyed yoongi and he’s carrying a box.

“can i come in?” is all he asks, his voice barely a whisper and you’re already opening the door and pulling him in.

but once he’s in your home, in your space again, the familiar soft and sharp scent of him, the sight of him, it was too much. you couldn’t breathe. your eyes never leave him, every breath he took, every shift of his fingers, every fall of his chest, all of it was dancing in your eyes and for the love of god, you couldn’t look away.

he sets the box down and stands there with his hands opening and closing around nothing, and you want to grab them, you want to spread them across your cheeks and feel his warmth, which was sometimes cold too but you didn’t mind, you never minded with yoongi.

but instead, you curl your hands behind your back and stop yourself because it still wasn’t right.

“i don’t have anything of yours,” you start, voice already breaking, “anymore,” you finish with hands tightening so hard around each other that you could feel the bruises blooming on their surface.

“i know,” he takes a sharp inhale of breath and looks away from you and you want to beg him to look at you.

for a second, it’s just you reliving every second you weren’t with him and it’s him looking at your apartment that was void of anything personal, anything that called it a home.

“i want all of it back,” he sniffs, looking at you finally, you want to take it back, you aren’t sure how you survived three years of his eyes only on you and you squeeze your door handle, “all of what?” you whisper, and he sniffs again, “your stuff, all of it, your stupid scarf, your straightener, everything, i want all of it back, in my place, in our place, where it belongs.” he says it so quietly, so earnestly and each word has you pulling your skin tighter.

“your plushie is in this, i never threw it away but i’m taking it back, my t-shirts and headphones are in this, i’m leaving them here,” he bends over the box and starts picking things apart, and each thing he pulls out, fills you with relief.

but.

“but that isn’t right, yoongi,” you try to defend, “we aren’t together anymore,” you hate the words as they surface out of you and yoongi shakes his head.

“but is this right?” he lifts his hands from the box, his jaw trembling again and you instinctively smooth your hand over it and yoongi pushes his face into your hands.

“is it right, both of us miserable?” he whispers and the world bottoms out from underneath you, suddenly gravity is nothing and you’re both floating towards each other.

“but i hurt you,” you grip his headphones and this time, his tears fall the same as yours do, “i hurt you too.” he places a hand on your knees and that cold warmth, that bare touch leaves you open.

“but i’m done, i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” yoongi begs, he shakes his head as he says it as if he can’t believe there was a time that he had hurt you but you’re the same, you can’t believe that you hurt him once.

“before you came here, i was looking for something, anything that was yours so i could come back,” you sniffed loudly, your voice falling and lifting and yoongi listens with eyes that have always looked at you, “but i didn’t find anything, yoongi and it killed me.” your voice fully gives up as you bury your face into your hands and immediately, you feel his arms pulling you into his chest and his hands running down your hair.

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i’m back see,” he tips your face towards him and his smile is so soft, so real that it makes you smile too, “i’m not going anywhere.” he assures you with a kiss on the top of your head and your watery eyes dry out.

“me too, i don’t want this anymore, i want us, i want two of everything, i want you and i want everything,” you utter back to him, the weight of the words floating between you too.

“and you have it, you have everything again.” he kisses you again and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling like you’ve lost centuries of holding him.

“we were stupid for thinking that we could stay apart,” you laugh hesitantly into his chest, the idea of the two of you trying to be separate was ridiculous to you and yoongi laughs with you, which makes you melt into his body, because it was ridiculous, you were two parts of a whole, two houses in a home, two mugs in a kitchen, two keys in your purse, two toothbrushes in one bathroom and two of everything else that you could think of.

and that was how it should’ve been, that was how it was always meant to be.

somewhere in the night, yoongi crawls up your sheets and your plushie is between the two of you and you make fun of him for acting as if he threw it away, he rolls his eyes and shushes you with a kiss.

“by the way, that straightener is yours, not mine,” you whisper and he is aghast, “i fucking knew it,” he yells and sits up, and immediately starts to complain “you know how stupid i’ve been looking with hair that looks just like holly’s!”

and you remind him, playfully this time, that what was yours was his, and what was his was yours and he falls on the bed, grumbling under his breath and complaining until the sun comes up.

and it feels right, everything that belonged to you and him back in their place, back in their homes and yoongi, back in your life, your home, and your space.

just as it should be, just as it was meant to be.

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who writes you a song as a marriage proposal. as intelligent as Namjoon could be, when he was nervous it was difficult for him to express himself verbally and he knew perfectly well that in that request he would run over every word and choke on them; that's why Namjoon decided to open his soul in the most natural way for him: the song was small, brief, just a verse and a chorus, but every word was beautiful, peppered with the love he felt, ringing with a melody of hope from an eternal future by your side. “i’m not very good with words, i hope the song is enough for you.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who hires a painter to portray your special day. yes, photographs were beautiful, faster, saving every moment and action they could; but, for Namjoon, there was magic on a canvas, in how each brushstroke was like a fragment of your dreams and hopes, the vivid colors complementing each other and appearing as an omen for your married life. “i think a portrait of us is more intimate. i think it’s with oil paints that you can clearly see our love and happiness.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who writes your initials in the corners of his music sheets. Namjoon felt like it was nonsense, a small, insignificant and quite embarrassing detail, but, in a way, he couldn't stop himself from doing it; like a lucky charm, your initials decorated the various pages with a touch of magic, as if the letters designated for you blessed Namjoon's mind and all his work. “i know it doesn't make much sense, but i feel like it really helps me. at least it always gives me strength when i see your initials in my art.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who gives you a bouquet of flowers every monday, even when he's on tour. Namjoon wanted to make sure you had a good week, he wanted to motivate you to get through five more days of intense work and complex people; so, he came up with a simple solution that, in addition to filling your living room with sweet smells of passion and longing, also brought with it bright colors that painted the gray days that could lie ahead. “i hope you have a good day today. don't forget that the world only makes sense because you are in it. i love you.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who goes on sunset walks with you. if when you were dating the two of you shared the sunrise on a bicycle, now in your marriage your attention has turned to the sunset, as if a natural representation of your love — at sunrise your love was still blooming, but now, already together with promises and vows of eternity, your love was based on a sea of reds and oranges that forever warmed your hearts. “i feel so complete with you. i still can't believe we're actually married. you just make my life better.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who takes you on surprise dates. it wasn't because you were married that Namjoon was going to stop dating you; without telling you, or simply spontaneously, Namjoon would take you to dinners or aquarium, ceramics classes or evening picnics, the possibilities seemed endless and Namjoon swore to you that he would explore each one of them with you. “just because we’re married doesn’t mean the romance is over. i hope you know that i will take you on dates even if we are eighty and use canes.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who swore an eternity of love for you. in any adversity, Namjoon promised you that your love would not weaken; in any opportunity, Namjoon promised you that your love would only grow; in any future, Namjoon promised you that your love would never end, for you were chosen by the stars, blessed by the gods — there was nothing that could ruin your love. “the dust of the universe are crumbs of our love that could not fit into our hearts in this life.”

the way i want this to be real… but knowing me i will glare them with all the fire hell possesses. bc wtf you staring at? move!!!!

but honestly. I’m glad it’s from his POV. and it’s just him being crushing so hard on her it’s rendered him thoughtless and pathetic. he’s just there like

Fortnight - JJK

Pairing: Jungkook X Fem Reader

Theme: Fluff, angst if you squint really hard

Wordcount: 1k+

Summary: "I touched you for only a fortnight."

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption. and literally nothing else.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: This is pathetically self-indulged! Replace Jungkook with me and put @phenomenalgirl9 on Jimin's place and boom! it's my own damn story!

Masterlist | Patreon

“Now, if you don’t talk to her, how will you know what her reaction will be?” Jimin whines nudging Jungkook with his elbow. 

“I don’t know hyung. What if- what if she thinks I’m a creep? That I stalk her or something? That I am trying to throw myself at her?” Jungkook lays his head on the headrest of the semi-comfortable couch-seat of their regular bar. 

The fluorescent light above his head makes him feel more drunk than he actually is. 

Even though he is here, sitting beside one of his best friends, enjoying a Saturday - his mind is actually miles and miles away, with you. 

You - someone, he doesn’t even know the name of. 

You take the same subway as him, well, only sometimes. 

His 10 to 6 job as a drone engineer pushes him into a tight schedule where he chooses to catch a specific subway to come back home at a very particular time and spend the rest of the day away from work and the annoying sound of drones.

He doesn’t recall the first day he saw you, nor if you had a special effect on him, what he knows is that you were one of the faces he got to see everyday. 

But before he even realized it himself - your face was what he looked for in the mass of eyes, noses and lips. 

Again he can’t pinpoint that one day when he suddenly started looking for you. But now he realizes that you don’t travel by the same damn subway everyday, unlike him. And that upsets him a lot.

So he doesn’t see you for most of the week, sometimes even goes a fortnight without having a sight. And when he does.. His heart beats start raising so much that he fears the organ would jump out of his chest and fall into your hands. 

He is obnoxious in a way. He knows he is a people-magnet and he can pull anyone towards himself. He knows that he makes tons of head turns on a single day. But.. his charms fall short when it comes to you. 

You are so beautiful! God! 

Your delicate features, dark hair swept up in a messy bun, your expressive eyes… he loves it all. He loves it all so much that whenever he sees you, he can’t look away. And he is sure you can feel him ogling at you too. 

There are times when he had several eye-contacts with you, which means you were staring at him too. 

That’s the only positive news in this entire ordeal.  

Jimin shakes Jungkook’s body vehemently, “are you even listening to me?” 

“No.” Jungkook says briefly as he sits up and sips on his drink. He diverts the conversation in another way so that he could stop feeling like a shit because there is no way you are single. He is a fool, he is pathetic with that little crush on you, a woman he doesn’t even know the name of.

“You sure don’t want a ride?” Jimin asks again, slurring a bit. 

“Yep. There must be a ton of traffic at this hour. I will take the subway.” he reasons, checking the subway schedule on his phone. 

Jimin wiggles his eyebrow, opening the taxi door. 

“What?” Jungkook narrows his own set of brows as he waves of the elder’s suspicion, “hyung! Come’on it’s Saturday. And I want to take the subway so that I can sober up a bit. There is absolutely no other reason.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Get home safely. Bye.” Jimin settles inside the taxi but his grin doesn’t die. 

Jungkook laughs at his antics. 

Oh how he wishes he could see you. But he knows about this setting more than anyone else and the subway station he needs to access today is two stops away from the one you usually get in. Besides, it’s already past your usual time. 

He starts walking towards the station popping on his earpods in order to avoid the nagging voice of his brain or maybe heart.

The next subway comes in three minutes. 

Jungkook taps the tip of his vans on the glazed floor of the subway station. The alcohol buzzing in his brain makes the waiting period a lot easier than normal days. 

He whips his head up and turns it to cut through the haze a bit. 

And his eyes stop at one particular face. 

It’s you. 

It’s really you. 

There is no fucking way you are here! 

Is he dreaming? Is it the alcohol or is it really you? 

Before he knows what he is doing, he starts walking towards you and stands right behind your body. 

You are in much more casual clothes than normal days, so you are probably coming back from a day out with your friends or boyfriend or girlfriend even. 

And as usual - you look beautiful. 

He stands right behind you, just staring at the back of your head and thanking his lucky stars for listening to his quiet prayers. 

The train arrives. He walks through the door shadowing you and stands just like he was in the station. 

There are no seats left so he doesn’t even entertain the thoughts of sitting and nursing his pounding head and heart. 

He just stands staring at the curve of your neck, biting on his lower lip while contemplating if he should talk to you or not. 

He was so busy staring at your hair that he didn’t even notice you looking back at him through the glass of the subway window. 

When he finally looks up, his eyes meet yours and he sees a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. 

“You look good today.” he voices, gathering all the courage he has inside his body, mind and soul. 

Your smile widens, “so do you.” 

“This is Jungkook, by the way.” his heart is about to explode when you turn your head to meet his eyes directly. 

“Hi, jungkook. I’m Y/N.” you reply, spots of red appearing on your cheeks. 

Jungkook doesn’t know where things will lead - but he knows, right now, he is happy for sure.

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos

wow. he was saving his heart for the right one!

we love a self-aware pretty boy who fucks well. yin-yang and all that stuff… he was letting all of his feels marinate for a while before taking the chance!

i was also very much done for the moment he did the palm to palm thing, it’s- yeah I’m a sucker for that and i will love it whenever it’s mentioned anywhere. especially here, bc he has gigantic hands and wow- that’s an image worth saving for rainy days.

he was so excited to date her tho. the puppy-like behaviour was annoying as endearing bc it would get on my nerves a little but his face makes it all worth it.

a really great (love?) story, m | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader

summary: Hot summer. South of France. On vacation with your younger brother's friends. Uh. Well, might as well make the most of it, despite Kim Taehyung making his weird comments every now and then. That damn French waiter put ideas in his head.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; Taehyung is obv trying to rizz up reader and reader is having none of it (but secretly likes it, keke); smut (fem reader, fingering, m-receiving oral); romantic and hella fluff; non-idol!AU; friends-to-lovers

I bought Tae's photobook and this is the result, what can I say, he's really pretty

--

“We’d make a really great love story.”

You grimaced and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

He frowned. His tan skin sparkled in the sun while you stayed curled up under the shade of a white beach umbrella, extra bundled in a wide straw hat and a flowy white linen cover up over a black and red sporty bikini. Even in this heat, you kept a bright yellow beach towel over your legs, not taking any chances with the blaring fireball in the sky.

Kim Taehyung asked you a question.

“Would you date me?”

You answered honestly.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“You're too good-looking and that'll only bring trouble.”

His crochet shirt was gone, leaving him in hip-hugging dark teal baggy shorts with white stripes down the sides. His dark brown hair was damp from the ocean, tangled over his forehead. When he smiled at your reply, he showed all his teeth in a boxy grin. Your indifferent expression didn’t change. You held onto your book. You continued to show your displeasure as he ran off, long legs and rippling back muscles, knowing full well you would soon be bothered again. Sigh. You turned the next page of your book, listening to the sounds of a rambunctious volleyball game, and wondered again why you had accepted your younger brother’s request.

Damn kid fractured his ankle right before his vacation. Non-refundable plane ticket to Europe. South of France, to be exact. Hot as fuck this time of year. He didn’t want to go because it would be a pain for his friends and he wouldn’t be able to have fun, he said. That and you knew he would rather your parents dote on him all day in prime air conditioning rather than sweat it out with fear-of-missing-out. You told him you had plenty of male friends that would be interested, but your brother insisted you needed to get that stick out of your ass and have a vacation.

So, here you were.

On vacation with your younger brother’s friends. On a beach, reading a book, and, oh, look, here comes Kim Taehyung with a bowl of frozen grapes, yelling your name.

Being annoyed.

The other guys were polite. They always asked if you wanted to join in any of the activities. Some days you stayed back at the rented beach property and puttered around, reading, resting, staring at the view. To be fair, you did try some of activities, such as spending all day on the golf course being really terrible at golf. When your head turned away, some of the boys would move your ball closer to the hole so you could maintain some dignity. Nice kids. You even accompanied them to a night beach club – and saw some things that you will never speak of, yikes – and danced with a couple European guys. At some places, you translated for them when you could. Thankfully, a lot of people in the touristy areas spoke some English. Studying English literature at university hadn’t been useless after all. Although, watching a bunch of Korean guys try to hand-gesture their way in conversations was pretty damn funny. In short, so far it was a surprisingly fun and nice vacation.

Until you went with Taehyung to a fancy café wanted to visit, you being his just-in-case English translator, and the waiter mistook you two as a couple.

That was awkward.

“Oh, no, sorry. Just friends.”

It was probably Taehyung feeding you his chocolate croissant. At first, you were going to refuse, but the pastries had been pretty expensive, and you had wanted to try a bite so he had held it out and let you chomp. Then things got weird once he lifted his hand with a laugh and wiped away from chocolate from the edge of your lip, licking it off his thumb.

You did get a free lemon macaron for being a cute couple once you immediately clarified that you weren’t.

The waiter had winked. Taehyung had just smiled because he didn’t understand.

Awesome.

Once you explained, the relentless teasing began. Well, maybe teasing was the wrong word. Taehyung would just say weird shit with a grin and those sparkly brown eyes of his. Because the other guys were not interested in cute pastries or pretty photo ops spots as seen on TikTok, Taehyung finally had a chance to see these places, using you as an excuse to drag you around at dawn or dusk when the main activities weren’t happening. You had probably taken about five hundred photos of Taehyung by now.

He was very photogenic, at least.

“I think you would look good in these,” he would say during one of the many shopping trips, holding up a pair of chocolate brown, slim sunglasses.

“I’m not as a dress-up doll,” you would grumble as you removed your current cat-eye-shaped dark lenses so he could delicately place the new ones on your nose and survey his handiwork. He would tilt your head this way and that and nod to himself solidly.

“I’m going to buy them, so you have to wear them.”

Thus, you now ticked your new sunglasses down and raised your eyebrow at him as he handed you the bowl of frozen grapes. You weren’t sure what he was playing at, but then he ran off to the guys playing volleyball and act like he hadn’t done anything strange. Hah. You would catch him looking back at you while you were sucking on said grapes and roll your eyes. Was that a smirk or a residual smile from the game?

“A hot summer romance sounds fun, right?”

“Go off, then,” you replied dryly, turning the page of your book.

It was nighttime now. The guys were getting ready to go bar-hopping. You heard some hushed whispers of coming back to jump into the sea at night while drunk. Idiots. You would possibly have to play lifeguard if they followed through on being idiots. Sigh. You elected to stay behind this time, to keep the lights on and all that. You had a few packs of ramyeon in your suitcase for such drunken nights. Nothing like spicy Buldak to finish off a spicy night.

Taehyung poked your shoulder. You knew it was him because of his low whisper and his inability to stop giggling at saying ridiculous shit. You waved a hand.

“Come with us.”

“I don’t need to see you boys twerking on table again. No thanks.”

You heard him suck on his teeth, disappointed. “Join in then.”

“That is a little too weird to be doing around my lil bro’s friends, even for me.”

You glanced at him. Despite his dark, strong features, Taehyung still held that boyish charm. Or maybe it was because you couldn’t see past him being your younger brother’s friend, so he always seemed like a kid to you. He was very popular among the locals. Every time you all stepped out, people would be flocking to speak to him even though Taehyung didn’t know any French (or English, for that matter). Didn’t seem to bother anyone though.

It must be his unquestionably handsome, expressive face.

Hm.

You looked up from your book about science, sex, and murder, to encounter Kim Taehyung’s pouty expression. He was wearing a linen white and sky-blue two-piece set. Short sleeve button up and shorts, complete with floppy brown sandals. He perked up at your acknowledgement. In contrast to his summer heartthrob vibe, you wore a low-waisted long black maxi skirt, a tight black tank, and a draping dark brown lace cardigan. The cardigan color matched his eyes and the slim sunglasses perched on your head that you soon wouldn’t need anymore. The sun was slipping down to bed.

One of the guys called out to you. “Noona, do you want anything while we’re out?”

“We can pick up a man for ya!” Another chimed in loudly with a snort.

Taehyung’s expression darkened.

“Just make sure to do a head count,” you shot back. “Everyone better stay safe or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Ooookay!”

You caught Taehyung’s look. Didn’t say anything about it. He sighed and headed off to the kitchen with purpose as the other men began to pile out of the room. You figured he was pre-gaming or getting some water. You went back to the pages, only to start as you saw a glass and a chilled bottle of white wine slide in front of you.

Dark eyes looked down at you.

You gazed at him over the top of your book.

Reached up and untangled the sunglasses Kim Taehyung had gifted you. You placed them on the counter, next to the wine glass. He turned and left. The guys crowded by the door, gathering their things and laughing. One of them came back and handed you their gold watch – “I don’t want to break it by accident” “You mean, you don’t want to accidentally give it away because you get too happy when drunk?” – giggling with a silly grin and thanking you quickly before running out the door.

Before the door closed, you noticed Taehyung shooting you an enigmatic expression.

You ticked your head and looked back without much expression.

The wine was pretty good, but you didn’t have more than two glasses.

You remembered to put the watch on the appropriate nightstand before heading out to the back porch and reading as the sun went down. It was nice to read by the sunset waves in relative calm. You must have fallen asleep somehow, breathing in the sea and sounds of summer, only to be woken up by a gentle hand on your shoulder, calling your name from far away.

Hazy and deep.

“Hm?”

You shook your head and sat up, seeing Kim Taehyung looking back at you.

“Oh? What are you doing back so soon?” you yawned behind your hand, tucking your bookmark between the pages. “Or is it later than I thought?”

He shook his head of dark waves. He smelled a little like alcohol, but not too bad. “They’re still out. I told them my tummy didn’t feel too good.”

“Ah.” You chuckled. “Too much cheese this afternoon?”

There was a lantern on the back porch, along with a few lounge chairs and low lights that snapped away any pesky bugs. An orange glow dipped over you both. Taehyung had this look in his eyes that you had seen before, although not from him specifically. You were pretty sure every guy on this vacation had considered the same thing, although you had given them none of them a reason to fuck around and find out.

He gave you his puppy-like smile.

You gave him your usual cat-like expression that didn’t mean anything at all.

“You should go lie down,” you recommended.

“You’re my total opposite, I think,” Taehyung responded, which had nothing to do with anything. You didn’t respond to that, but you didn’t tell him he was wrong either. “I wonder what you’re like with your friends.”

You thought about the last time you were in a karaoke session with your few female friends. It had ended with one friend ragdolled on a stretcher and another girl dead asleep in your bathroom until noon of the next day. Stretcher girl was fine after some fluids and a nice, cute, hot male nurse making sure she was okay.

You had hooked up with him as a thanks. For yourself. And him, sorta.

“Girls are different than boys,” and you left it at that.

He raised his hand, spreading his fingers out.

You stared at it.

Taehyung reached over with his other hand and took yours, lifting it up and placing your palm to his.

You blinked slowly.

He was warm, as was the night air. Your hand was smaller, of course, but he wouldn’t be able to engulf it that easily. His palm was rough and worn from summer. From sun, from spiking a volleyball, from swimming in the salty sea. Yours was still soft from turning pages and sipping wine.

“I always thought you would want a very pretty, elegant girl who enjoys pink, parties, and flowers,” you commented, not yet removing your hand.

You did not go around perusing thoughts of your younger brother’s friends’ love lives, because that would be fucking weird. But it was a thought. Especially when you witnessed them get into or fall out of relationships. High school had been… yup. You had covered for lil bro and the boys a few too many times; you were a much better liar. With your parents usually gone for work, you were usually the one in charge, which meant you often played babysitter to way too many idiots. For some reason, over the years, they liked to ask for your opinion of their prospective girlfriends. You suspected it was because this course of action was safer than immediately introducing them to their mothers who were much scarier when it came to their sons. After all the question was always, what would my mom think of this person? You had tried to distance yourself as they all became older, but, alas.

Somehow you always got dragged back in to looking after them.

“There has to be a flower you like,” Taehyung insisted. “There are so many flowers in the world.”

You thought about it for a moment. “I like snowdrops.”

His face brightened. “Ah, yeah, that suits you. I see it.”

Your hands were still touching, palm-to-palm.

You tilted your head.

Taehyung didn’t move his hand away.

“I always thought you were a very pretty, elegant girl who enjoys black, quiet time, and snowdrops,” he said slowly, dreamily, his words turned into honey by his smooth, low voice.

You pointed out the obvious. “I only just told you I like snowdrops.” You scoffed lightheartedly. “And I enjoy quiet time because you all are so damn noisy.”

The sparkle in Taehyung’s eyes dulled a bit.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

You recalled him saying he told the others his stomach hurt. He must have picked up a thing or two from you over the years.

“About candlelit dinners? About going on night walks, buying convenience store snacks, and eating it at the kids’ playground when no one is around?” Taehyung asked one question after another. “About standing in the rain? Sharing an umbrella? Holding hands? About that leather jacket I have, borrowing it when you’re a bit cold, standing beside each other, waiting for the midnight train?”

He interlocked his fingers with yours.

You didn’t react much, other than saying, “You do look like the male lead in a romance drama, Kim Taehyung.”

The obvious was being avoided.

After a long moment, Taehyung let go of your hand, stood up, and went to his room.

You tried to put it out of your mind.

The night was warm enough that you napped a little more. Woke up a few hours later to make ramyeon and hydrate the group, earning many drunken handshakes of enthusiastic thanks. You stayed up a bit with them, learning of the night’s exploits despite the incoherent mess of their speech, and then sent them off to bed, one by one. Cleaned up, stared at the moon for a long time, and then headed to your room. Unlike the others, you weren’t sharing a room. It was small and cozy, as expected. You placed your book by your nightstand and sat in the dark.

You weren’t quite sleepy yet, but you got ready for bed anyway.

A few years ago, you and Taehyung had a… moment.

A very fleeting moment.

It had happened at bar. You had been turning the corner in the hallway to the bathrooms, and a hand grabbed your arm, yanking hard. Your body twisted, instantly on alert, but one look at the other person, and the shock had stopped you from pulling away, thereby allowing a drunken Kim Taehyung kiss you.

The contact had been in less than a second.

He had smelled like warm leather and musky embers.

Taehyung had immediately pulled away, sputtering your name, surprised that you both found yourselves at the same bar, the inopportune fate causing this fateful accident.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else – how… when…?”

You had shaken your head quickly, turning, your passing whisper by his ear.

“Forget about it.”

You entered the bathroom as a girl rounded the corner and fell into Taehyung’s arms.

At that time, you had chalked it up to weird timing. A random encounter. You had been hooking up with a different guy in Daegu. Taehyung was from there, so it wasn’t totally improbable that you could cross paths. Bold move by him. Wasn’t unheard of, though. Guys could be like that. Girls liked that stuff. When you left the bathroom, the couple was gone, which was a relief. You had gone about your night and it ended as expected. That guy had a great ass. It had ended on good terms, but ended all the same.

You wondered what made him bring it up again.

After all, he was the type of man he was, always surrounded by people vying for his attention.

He knew the type of woman you were.

Well, you had started getting a reputation among Daegu men.

After a moment of reminiscing, you stood up to pull back the curtain at your window. Your room was on the lower floor, next to the back porch, and, like a dream, there he was, Kim Taehyung against the rail, leaning over it to look towards the ocean.

You blinked slowly.

He wasn’t exactly looking inside the house, but he must have noticed your movement, because his head turned, and now you were entangled in eye contact broken by a thin pane of glass.

The shadows danced across his face. The lantern light was off but the lower lights along the ground path were still on. For safety, likely. He was only wearing a pair of white, tie-front linen pants. You wondered if Taehyung had been waiting for you or if he was simply admiring the summer night. Hard to tell. A soft breeze ruffled through his dark hair. You stood in your room, one hand on the floral curtain, the other on the button placket of your black silk pajamas. Short sleeved and shorts, breezy and slinky, perfect for the summer weather.

Moonlight shimmered off his bare chest.

After a moment, Taehyung backed away from the rail. You watched him step down the porch and walk over to stand under your window.

He tapped the glass.

You opened it.

Those dark eyes stared at you, blocking the light with his frame.

The window opened inward, a vintage latch at the center to split the two panes. You leaned out a bit, bending slightly, and now you and him were at eye level, surrounded by the salted scent of the sea instead of the dark hallway of a bar next to the bathrooms.

“You stomach didn’t actually hurt, did it?” you asked.

Taehyung smiled, but didn’t reply.

Instead, he too leaned forward a bit, inhaling softly. You had a tendency to spray your perfume in your hair. It lasted longer that way. He could probably smell it off your hair right now.

“I thought I would be fine,” he said, looking into your eyes.

You didn’t say anything.

“I thought I could forget about it,” he breathed in that deep honey voice of his.

Your eyes shifted past his, then back.

You placed your elbows on the windowsill and leaned out. You inside. Him outside. Taehyung seemed like he was searching for something in your expression. You didn’t give him anything. You wondered what he would do. The alcohol must have worn off by now. You weren’t feeling the glasses of excellent white wine anymore, at least. You remembered how the French women at the night beach club had held his arms and leaned against him, complimenting his smile and cooing over his perfect skin and beautiful dark hair. He hadn’t stopped them.

But, also, Taehyung was closing the distance right now, his warm cologne entering your private space.

“Why couldn’t you forget?” you asked, his lips centimeters from yours, viewing him through lashes.

His head was already tilted. His eyes flickered up, having lowered by instinct.

“Couldn’t help but think that you would make a wonderful female lead in a romance novel.”

You smiled, noting the detail between your words and his.

His lips pressed against yours.

You held it for a moment. Soft, deep, breathing in the scent of each other. You drew apart, hearing him suck in a breath hastily. Half-smiled, amused by his nervousness. He raised his head. You shared a questioning look. The night ocean sang, soft waves lapping at the shore.

You tilted your head towards the inside of your room.

Taehyung hesitated for a second, but only for a second.

Less than a minute later, he slipped into your room. Opened and closed the door as quietly as the old wood would allow. You paused, wondering if he had a whole script memorized, being the romantic and all, but Taehyung lifted his eyes and it seemed like he forgot everything. It seemed you had to be the one to make a move. You still stood by the open window, in your black silk pajamas. Night bathed in moonlight.

Well, you did have a reputation among Daegu men. One more couldn’t hurt.

You lifted your hand, palm towards Taehyung.

He closed the distance, almost soundless, and lifted his hand too. Palm to palm. You looked down at your touching hands, then back up at him. He was quite tall, but he wasn’t imposing his presence over you.

“You think we would make a really great love story?”

The moon caught a hint of his blush.

“You don’t think so?” he replied, unsure in the wake of you teasing back for once.

You were honest with him.

“I really don’t know.”

You angled your hand slightly so your fingers and his no longer overlapped.

“You have to be sure that you’re okay with that.”

You let your eyes linger on his chest on purpose before raising your head to make eye contact. The memory of his lips lingered. It was just like how you remembered it, even from that rushed, barely a second, frozen-in-time moment.

His kiss, however brief, had a lasting, forever type of feeling.

“You asked me if I had ever thought about it.”

His eyes widened a little bit as you mentioned the previous conversation. Like a movie, the instances played back in your head. The accidental kiss. The awkward silences when you both found yourselves alone in the smallest of moments before brushing past each other. You noticed Taehyung dating on and off, yet not committing to anyone. The times when he would notice you with other guys and quickly look away, as if he witnessed something dirty or wrong. His behavior wasn’t intrusive. He didn’t push you towards anyone, but he didn’t pull you away either.

“Not really,” you admitted. “Mostly because I didn’t think you would want the challenge.”

Taehyung stared into your eyes, slipping his fingers in between yours, holding your hand tightly.

“I think I needed to grow up a little.”

You raised your eyebrows. Looked him up and down. “Seems like you grew a lot.”

He laughed, then toned it down despite the house currently snores abode. You knew what he meant and he knew the double meaning you implied. You lifted your other hand. His chuckling died down, watching. He tensed as the pads of your fingers made contact with his forearm, walking up his muscle.

“You had a plan, hm?”

Your whisper melted into the moonlight.

“I was…” His breath stilled when you stopped. You glanced up, your fingertips poised at the bend of his elbow. “I was… going to ask you what kind of lover you are.”

You ticked your head, not yet moving your hand. “What about you?”

Taehyung’s dark eyes were barely visible under his hair fallen over his forehead.

“Yours.”

You paused.

His shoulder lifted in the lightest of shrugs.

“I heard you’re really good. Sometimes rough.”

Word got around then.

“I’m really good. Sometimes soft. So, we will balance out,” he said with a smile.

You removed your hand from his skin.

Your whisper so low it was nearly a growl.

“Is that what you think?”

The fingers of your raised hand spread. Curved. Danced over his neck. Taehyung started slightly at the contact of your middle finger sliding over his throat, your eyes locked with his, and you traced up, into the pocket of his jaw, closing your fingers around the back of his head and pulling his face down to yours.

And you kissed him.

Slow. Soft and intense at the same time, drawing in your breath. For a moment, Taehyung was suspended in surprise before leaning in, gasping against your lips, tangled in your tongue before he knew it. His own hand came up to cup your cheek, more to stabilize himself than for the passion, but then it all meshed together, kiss after kiss. One hand tangled in his hair and the other resting in the dip of his warm chest. He had one hand on your face and the other skimming along your elbow.

Surrounded by salt air and shadows.

You broke the kiss, pulling back with a sigh.

You half-expected him to retreat. Taehyung was one to flirt and not back it up. You were one to not flirt; instead, the first to move. He must have known that. For once, you played the role of the gentlemen this time, waiting for his choice. Toying with a half-smile on your lips, the erratic rise and fall of his built chest under your fingertips. Racing heart. Lingering taste. His dark eyes surveyed you under the messiness of his beach-loved hair.

In silence, you stared into his eyes, daring him to sin.

There must have been something in the French night air.

Taehyung tilted his head, feathering air-light kisses over your jaw. Your neck. You tilted your head back, to the side, letting out a sensual exhale at the tingling of your pulse. Your fingers touched the button placket of your pajamas, leisurely unbuttoning one by one. You felt his fingers ghost over one shoulder, pushing it down, exposing skin to air.

He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest.

You leaned your head back against his collarbone, silk draping down your arms.

Felt him whisper your name into your ear, low and tainted with lust.

His hands covered your chest, fingers spread, large palms hovering, statuesque in pose. Demure for half a second. Moonlight streaming over your torso. You arched your back, and Taehyung sucked in a breath, feeling your naked breasts fill his hands. His lips brushed against your neck, shuddering, and you rubbed your hard nipples into his rough palms, grazing your ass over his crotch.

“Fuck…”

You turned your head, viewing him from your periphery, melting into his touch without a word.

Your hands migrated to his sides, sliding down, adorning his hips with your curved fingers.

Taehyung moaned softly, his eyes closing. Hands all over your chest, igniting desire. Hungry but deliberate, no sense in rushing, moving to the sound of the sea. His erection pressed into the dip of your ass, linen and silk separating the skin to skin but not enough to hide the hardness to softness. Exhale. His arms crossed over your chest, soft lips on the base of your neck, and you felt him ghost his fingers down, down, past your bellybutton, dancing over the waistband of your shorts.

With one swift movement, you turned your wrist and covered the back of his hand with yours, dragging him in between the layers.

He gasped as he felt your slick wetness coat his fingertips.

Your other hand slid into his pants, grabbing his ass, pinning Taehyung to you while you pressed his fingers into the outer lips, rocking your hips into it, grinding on his growing arousal, grinning when you heard him swear under his breath again.

He shoved a finger into you.

You both moaned at the same time, the sound drowned by the crashing tide outside.

You pressed another in, and he got the hint. Middle and ring finger, his palm pressed to your throbbing clit, and you rode his hand before he moved, blossoming the pleasure all on your own. His moan rumbled in his chest, biting his lip to avoid any obvious noise. The wet sucking sound was conspicuous enough, and you tightened your core, your pussy clenching around his fingers, prompting Taehyung to lean his chin onto your shoulder, his dark hair brushing against your cheekbone, one hand teasing your nipples, the other between your legs, delicious sparks flying through your body knowing he was actively watching.

“The sounds you make… are insane…”

You weren’t aware until he said it. Soft, breathless gasps drifted out of your own lips, inaudible to anyone except for the inescapable closeness of Taehyung pinning you to his tense body. You could feel the shake creep down to your legs, your silk shorts slipping down your thighs, the fullness of each thrust making your lightheaded. And then, you felt Taehyung slightly curve his fingers.

You sucked in a breath, your eyes shutting, seeing stars, pleasure and want increasing tenfold.

“A-Ah, yes… Taehyung…”

His name polluted by sensuality. Foreign but not unwelcome. A sudden arousing surge of lovely wrongness – after all, you should not be fucking one of your younger brother’s closest friends – but you could tell it had an effect on him too. He squeezed your nipple, making you hiss, and then you felt his tongue flat against the side of your neck, sliding up, his breath hot, his impossibly deep voice husky, his command pleading.

“Cum for me.”

You raised yourself to tiptoes, the curve of your ass against his twitching bulge, and sank your nails into his hip as you came, spilling onto his palm in vibrating shivers, delicately moaning to the ceiling. The intense high rushed up your center, through your limbs, all over your nerves, and you let it take over, shuddering, growing limp in Taehyung’s flexed arms.

As expected, he did not drop you.

You stayed in the heady fog of orgasm, slowly waking as if in a lucid dream. Turned your head and found his lips, or perhaps his lips found yours. It was hard to tell. You drew his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it, sensing a growing desperation in the shallowness of his breath.

You pried your fingernails from his hip, rueful. “I got carried away. My bad.”

A hint of a mischievous smirk on Taehyung’s lips. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

You questioned him with half-moon eyes.

“Someone might see.”

The smirk morphed into more of a roguish smile. There he was. “I can say I got scratched up while roughhousing. They’re not gonna think twice about it,” he teased.

“Tch. Tricky, tricky, aren’t you, Kim Taehyung?”

You twisted like a dancer, breaking from his embrace. He let you go, somewhat reluctantly. His right hand was still glistening, covered in your orgasm. He glanced at it, mesmerized, before realizing you were kicking away your shorts and panties, tossing your unbuttoned top onto the bed. His eyes widened when your hand came into contact with his chest. You slid down. In one swift movement, you lowered to a squat, right in front of the massive tent in his pants.

Taehyung had but a second to intake a breath.

You grazed your palm down his stomach, his bellybutton, to the tie of his pants. Tugged on it, unlacing it, and then you hooked your thumbs onto the sides of the waistband and pushed them down.

Part of you was mildly shocked Taehyung was going commando.

The other part of you thought that was pretty on brand for him.

You weren’t too surprised by what you saw. He was well-kept, clean, and not fully hard yet. The latter was mostly a guess from experience. It wasn’t polite to stereotype Daegu men, but, well. If the shoe fit and all that. You raised your eyes, amused at his stunned expression, and then leaned forward to lick along the thickening length.

“Oh, shit…”

He must have expected you to simply put his cock in your mouth or wrap your hand around it. Instead, you pressed your lips to the hot, velvety skin, decorating him with kisses before flickering out your tongue and wrapping it over the head, rubbing your lips against the underside. Back and forth, curling your tongue around the swelling tip, licking off the leaking pre-cum.

He tasted strong. More enjoyable than most.

You looked up as you worked his shaft. Taehyung gasped and his cock twitched as if to affirm his attraction.

“F-Fuck, what…?”

“You should taste my cum while I suck you off,” you murmured against his balls, licking them all over as you spoke.

He wasn’t used to the multiple sensations. You could tell by his heavy pants and the tension rippling all over his torso. How unfortunate, but you would make up for that right now.

“O-Okay… fuck…”

You watched Taehyung slide his fingers into his open lips and his eyes rolled back, groaning deeply as your essence hit his tongue. In one fluid flick of your head, you swallowed his cock, relaxing as your lips pressed to the base, feeling his girth stretch out your throat. You lowered your tongue, bringing him deeper, and perhaps it was a good idea to have Taehyung lick his fingers off. His shocked whine was stifled by his own hand. You paid it no mind, slowly pulling back and diving forward, his scent filling your nose every time you inhaled, catching glimpses of him sliding his fingers in out of his mouth with each ascent.

Somehow Taehyung made the depraved act look almost dreamy.

Your fingertips balanced on the floorboards, lowering your knees to better support yourself. Not using your hands out of pride. You even leaned your head back, both to gain more air and to take him deeper with less resistance. You saw Taehyung pull his fingers out of his mouth, strings of saliva beading on his lower lip, balancing his fingers by his shivering exhales as he watched you, entranced.

You let the pleasure reflect in your eyes.

“How… wow… fuck, your tits and thighs look so good at this angle…”

The strain was prickling through your limbs. You were far too engrossed in your task to care, feeling your pussy dampen from the intoxicating adrenaline, closing your eyes to focus on the pace. Steady, intense, listening to the deepening sound of his groan, his cock throbbing in your throat, signaling he was close, and then his voice ceased, suspended, lost in the warm, encompassing reverie.

His hips tensed, snapping forward, and Taehyung gasped your name.

His hot orgasm gushed onto the back of your tongue, filling your mouth with the viscous, heady flavor, making you as lightheaded as he sounded. Through his jerking length you could feel the flinches ravage his body, and all of a sudden his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you down to the brink of danger.

You swallowed, trying to grasp for a sliver of oxygen.

Taehyung almost doubled over, his erotic cry muffled by his other hand slapping over his mouth, and he half-pulled out of your closed lips, only to slide back in again, slowly, groaning above your head. He was trying to keep quiet and contain his sound within the walls of this room. Everyone else in the house was probably too drunk to string a sentence together, let alone figure out sex was happening under the same roof, but it was best not to take any chances.

His expansive girth was trembling, softening as his sensitivity increased. None of that stopped him from continuing to thrust in post-orgasmic bliss, lengthening his pleasure. You swirled your tongue around him and Taehyung trembled, whispering sweet nothings like smoke, his words melding with the melodic sound of ocean waves.

After a few more thrusts, his grip lessened, backing off.

You drew back, licking your lips, throwing your head back, breathing in a long, greedy gulp of fresh salty air. There was something ethereal about the whole scene. If it wasn’t for the ache in your knees, you might have been deceived into thinking it never happened. His memorable taste was still on your tongue. You swallowed again, and then felt a hand on your elbow.

Wordlessly, you opened your eyes and let Taehyung lift you to your feet.

He stared at you, his hair over his eyes, breathing hard. His chest glistened in the moonlight. The rest of him was shadowed by your naked body.

“I…”

You waited.

“I… I should have asked if you…” He trailed off, grasping your arm tightly.

You half-smiled. “You thought I wouldn’t want to?”

There seemed to be a pink flush on his cheeks. His ears were certainly turning red. “I first wanted to ask you… No, Invite you on a proper date. Not on this vacation but… sometime soon?”

You couldn’t help but tease him. “Why so nervous when we’re naked in front of each other?”

Taehyung spared a glance down and then blushed deeper, clearing his throat. “I don’t know. I’m not usually nervous.” His dark eyes drifted back to your face. “I always thought you were beautiful. But too good for me.”

That almost made you laugh. “Too good? You know my reputation, Taehyung, and ‘good’ does not describe it.”

He shook his head.

Tugged on your arm, pulling you towards him.

“Yin and yang.”

He brought his forehead down, touching yours.

“You need both to have a really great love story.”

You breathed in his rich, warm scent, and leaned in to kiss him again. The sea, the salt air, the heat between you and him, burning, and the next day you were sitting under the beach umbrella again, laying on a teak lounger, book in hand, chocolate brown sunglasses perched on the end of your nose, secretly observing sun-kissed Kim Taehyung diving into the foamy waves as he snuck glances back at you, admiring your watchful form.

You smiled in shade as Taehyung dazzled in the sun.

--

masterpost

this is a personal attack bc why would you dial up my yearning like this?

‘if they take me away from you they will regret giving me the power to love’

shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!!!

SOULMATE!YOONGI who said he was the owner of his heart and destiny. Yoongi was never a believer in destiny, the idea of a person being born destined to love seemed completely absurd to him, without any sense — he believed that people were born to live, not to love; as such, Yoongi never looked for his soulmate, saying always and every time that he would love whoever he chose, when he chose — he believed it was his own choice. “no one is born to love. we are all born to exist and love is not as important as they make us believe.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who fought against his feelings for you. Yoongi was the master of his own destiny, of his heart, he couldn't just let ancient stars and capricious gods take over his life — no; Yoongi would love who he wanted, when he wanted and he knew it wouldn't be you, someone he recently met and who impacted him in such a way that made him question his beliefs. “i can’t be with someone who makes me question everything i believe; it doesn’t make sense to be with someone who makes me change my beliefs.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who fell in love with you without wanting to. but the stars were guides, the gods were writers and the universe already knew that Yoongi would love you forever — even though he didn't want to; it was just your look, your smile, your essence that captivated Yoongi, taking him to lands unknown to him, making Yoongi walk the path of love without him even giving you the permission to send him on that journey of loving you. “i don’t know where i’m going or when i’ll get there, but something in me tells me that i will always have you by my side on this journey and that’s enough for me.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who didn't believe in soulmates until he met you. maybe the stars are right; maybe the gods are right; maybe the whole universe is right when it says that we were born to love, because as soon as Yoongi met you, and no matter how much he denied it, Yoongi knew that it was his destiny to dedicate his entire life to making you happy, to making you feel important, to loving you. “i always looked for a purpose in my life, not believing that i was only destined to create art; and now with you here, now that i met you, i realized that my purpose in life was to devote myself to you.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who believed that you met by destiny. numerical and truthful probabilities were astronomical in all the fields that involved you and Yoongi — but, by coincidence, they existed; billions of people existed at the same time as you and, against all odds, you found each other; billions of people loved at the same time as you, but you and Yoongi only loved each other — what other explanation was there for such probability other than destiny? “meeting someone like you is a unique experience, only reserved for those who are destined for you — and i swear to you that the universe itself put me in your path so i could love you.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who could only imagine a future if you were there. because he could already read the stars, he could already hear the gods, he could already feel the universe uniting you with him; you were Yoongi's soulmate and his life could only make sense with you by his side — especially because Yoongi always said that his life had only started the day he met you. “if my life began the day i met you, then it only makes sense to only be able to see a future for myself if you are by my side so i can love you forever.”

SOULMATE!YOONGI who swore to move mountains and rivers to be with you. Yoongi knew that destiny took as much as it gave and he knew that too much luck was a sign of distrust, and all he thought about was the universe trying to take you away from him; but no matter how, no matter when, if your presence in Yoongi's life disappeared, he himself would face the various gods so he could have you in his arms one last time. “even if i need to burn the world to the ground to get the attention of the gods. not even if i need to destroy all human life to call upon the gods. if they take me away from you, they will regret giving me the power to love.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who saw you in everything that was romantic. it felt like the gods were trying to prepare Namjoon to love you; in every romantic movie, in every romantic book, in everything that came in the form of hearts and devotion, Namjoon saw you, he saw a life for himself where only happiness and hope awaited him; in everything that was romantic, the gods painted you, preparing Namjoon for a future as bright as the stars in the universe. “i think i learned to love you on television. i think i discovered what love was in books. and i feel that when i meet you, everything i learned will be worth it.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who felt your soul on greyer days. like delicate hands holding his essence, your soul responded to Namjoon on more complicated days, letting your cosmic particles calm Namjoon's turbulent heart; without seeing you, without knowing you, Namjoon already felt loved by you, because the way his soul calmed with the tender touch of your essence was too intimate to be unknown. “you are the intense flame that burns inside me that warms my heart and makes my soul more comfortable and safer.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who saw the answers to all his problems the day he met you. you were a breath of fresh air, a sun on grey days, a breeze on hotter days, you were everything that was missing in Namjoon's life and it only took one look, one exchange of words for him to realize that it was you who moved his world. “you are like a book written by the gods. your entire essence and soul are the answers to all my problems. you and your love is all i need.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who loved you day after day. Namjoon's love grew like a flower, starting from a single speck of cosmic dust and expanding into intense forests of heavenly love; one day at a time, one promise at a time, one confession at a time — Namjoon took his time to love you, because he knew perfectly well that by tasting your love, your life would be eternal. “there’s no need to be in a rush to love you when we have the rest of our lives waiting for us.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who only believed in love because of you. the movies didn’t do justice to the intense fire that burned and consumed Namjoon from the moment he met you; the books didn't do justice to the ethereal happiness that bathed and cleansed Namjoon every time he was with you; no portrait of romance did justice to the true love and passion that guided and shaped Namjoon's life since the day he swore eternal love to you. “it’s incredible how your essence is enough to welcome me and make me feel loved.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who swore he had already read your love story in the stars. Namjoon had been watching the stars since he was born and he swore to you that in their ancestral glow, in their celestial constellations, your love story was drawn; perhaps already coming from past lives, and that's why they were so marked in the dark sky, your love story repeated itself night after night, reminding you and Namjoon that it was your destiny to be together. “i feel like eternities have passed since the first time i loved you. and i know that there will be even more eternities for me to love you.”

SOULMATE!NAMJOON who would love you beyond this life. there was no way to separate you, not when the gods themselves brought you together, not when the stars themselves told your story, not when your soul and Namjoon's soul were born from the same celestial dust; in this life and the next, you and Namjoon were destined to love each other, and Namjoon never tired of reminding you. “this life is too short for us to be able to express all our love for each other. but don’t worry, there will be more lives for us to love each other.”