Reaction During And After Reading: AHHHHHHH OMG?? Please The Way My Head Broke For Yoongi!! But I Get

Reaction during and after reading: AHHHHHHH OMG?? Please the way my head broke for Yoongi!! But I get it, we understand, and we gots to respect boundaries but omg I want to cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. He’s such so soft and gentle and we appreciate his vulnerability 😭😭!! Also Yerin?? Ideas?? 👀 what ideas babe spill the TEA! Also also omg what was Namjoon gonna say, who likes? Ahh so much excitement and little tidbits going in this story it had me kicking my legs and waving my hands . The play by play was HOT okay?? ALSO JIMIN 😮‍💨😍🥵 such a mischievous little shit, please that was so freaking hot. Another amazing chapter and excited for more and the potential bonus chapter!!

Accuracy Purposes | Unorthodox 26

Rating/genre: M (18+); smut 💖, fluff, light angst; Idol!AU Pairings: Jimin x Reader(f), Yoongi x Reader(f), referenced Tahyung x Jimin (in the series: OT7 x Reader(f), Taehyung x Jimin, and more) Summary: Your mind's a bit all over the place but Yoongi grants you a tiny nugget of clarity. Jimin helps you to process it, in his own way. Warnings: Explicit smut, protected vaginal penetration, fingering, grinding, teasing, use of 'baby', 'good girl', dom!Jimin, a little bit of comfort, slight patronization, praise, implied squirting, reader gets called 'woman' playfully, Yerin's back!, manhandling/ restraining Word Count: 9.3k Posted: May 15, 2023

A/N: I have decided to continue the story in present tense bc I’m finding it easier to write this way! I do apologize if the change bothers anyone – it bothers me to be honest – but I think this will help me not get blocked while writing :) thank you for your kind understanding haha

Series Masterlist - chapters with smut are marked with a 💖

You wake up slowly with Namjoon, totally enveloped by him. It’s an amusing struggle to twist in his embrace so that you can lay on your back, rub the sleep from your eyes, remember where you are – you slept that fucking good. Dead to the world. 

But with remembering where you are comes remembering everything else. And unfortunately, you care about Yoongi’s feelings. You care about them a lot. Not that he has feelings. But you're sick of him being unhappy with you, if that’s what you can call it. You need to talk. You can’t keep kissing and not talking. 

Namjoon breathes in deeply, squirming a little until his lips are pressed against your shoulder. One kiss. Two kisses.

“Mm. Is this ok?” he asks against your skin, tired voice coated in a surprising amount of uncertainty.

It makes you huff a little laugh. “Of course.”

“Ok, sorry,” he says, now all cuteness, wrapping you up so you’re even more intertwined in his warm comforting weight. “I promise I’ll stop asking.”

“You don’t ever have to stop asking,” you answer simply. “I don’t mind.”

He pauses then chuckles a little at himself. “I’ve never had someone, like, directing me and reassuring me like this before. It’s… kind of nice.”

A smile stretches across your mouth. “Nice to not be in charge all the time?”

“Hey, I didn’t say you were in charge,” he changes his tune, pausing the way he’s still pressing his lips against you to look up at your face. “I told you last night…”

“You told me last night…” you echo, amused, tilting your head to look down at him; he looks so adorable cuddled up against you. 

“You don’t believe me?”

“Nah,” you say through a laugh. “You’re just so nice to me–”

“Gah, stooop. I’m not too nice to–...” 

Him stopping himself, looking off with a shake of his head, only intrigues you more. Whatever he was going to say, you are 100% certain you want him to do it to you. Literally no doubt in your mind. 

When he looks at you again, you're smirking knowingly. “To…?” you ask and it’s obviously to tease, the way your eyebrows push up a little. 

He breaks into another chuckle, painfully cute because he’s getting shy. 

“You’re less talkative than you were last night, “ you note softly, shifting onto your side to face in, keeping the blanket pulled up over your shoulders. 

“Yeah, I get a little… carried away sometimes,” he admits, scrunching his features up in a bit of a wince. 

“Mm,” you hum in approval before you can stop yourself. 

He smiles wide before leaning forward the couple inches to press his plush lips against yours. Then he mumbles, “Do you like that?” and you almost shiver. Because, yes, you certainly do like that. 

You hum once more, nodding your head slightly, but you’re grasping onto him again, sucking a little on the lip that you find between yours. 

When your phone buzzes, you ignore it until it’s going off a second and third time and you realize that it’s actually a call coming in. 

“Do you want to get that?” he whispers just as you pull away.

“Yeah, I suppose I should.” You sigh for effect, rolling towards the nightstand on your side, finding that it’s Yerin’s name lighting up your screen. “Hellooo?”

“Hi babe.”

“Hi,” you say warmly, unable to help your smile. 

“Did you just wake up?” she asks.

“Maybe...” you say coyly, rolling back over to eye Namjoon who’s still lying there, gorgeous chest now exposed. 

She chuckles. “Cryptic. I love it.”

Her teasing has you smiling wider. 

“Are you free today… by any chance?”

“For you? Of course.”

“Oo, cheesy. Even better.”

Namjoon sends you a questioning look as you laugh. 

“You love it. … What are we doin’?”

“A little birdie told me you dance.”

“Oh no,” you say reflexively, immediately skeptical. “I mean…”

“We’re taking a class–”

“Yerin…” you whine, already stressed at the idea of dancing with other people, especially when the instruction would be in a language you don’t know. 

“It’ll be so fun! Then we can get food after. Don’t say no. Please don’t say no,” she continues. 

You roll your eyes with your sigh. Obviously, you aren’t going to say no. It’ll be refreshing being out and about with her. 

Upon hanging up, you notice you have unread messages as well – from a certain Christopher Bang. But it isn’t until you and Joon have both pulled yourselves from the bed and separated to get ready for the day that you actually read them.

You’ve messaged a few times back and forth over the last couple days, mostly just to get him caught up on the fact that you are in the country for an undetermined amount of time and that, no, you haven’t really explored the city much yet. 

BC: I could help? 😛 BC: Could take you to a favourite restaurant if you wanted YN: Can you do that though? YN: I mean I’m down, just don’t want you getting yourself into trouble!

He replies by the time you’re dressed and ready, heading into the kitchen for something to munch on before Yerin arrives. 

BC: Don’t you worry about me haha BC: It's a really small place anyway BC: There’s like two tables lol BC: You’ll see what I mean

You like the idea of dinner with Chris – beyond being super nice, he’s really attractive. And obviously, the concern about someone being a couple years younger than you no longer plagues you in the slightest. 

But there is a little twinge inside you at the thought of Jungkook. He’s clearly trying so hard. Will actually spending time with someone else help or hinder him in navigating his feelings about it all?

He’s in the kitchen already, gifting you the perfect opportunity to talk to him before you reply – as much as the idea of bringing it up to him again makes you a tiny bit nervous. 

When JK looks up at you and smiles brightly, you feel eased immediately, coming up behind him to lean your weight on his shoulders, your hands sliding down to enjoy the feel of him through his shirt.

“Good morning.” One hand comes up, sliding along the side of your neck gently to welcome you against him, guiding you even, to nuzzle your face to the side of his.

“Mmm, morning,” you hum back, slipping down into the chair next to him but hovering close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. You let your hand rest on his thigh. “Can I ask you something?”

He just turns his head to you, smiling around the bite he was chewing. 

“If I… hangout with Bang Chan… is that going to be uncomfortable for you at this point?”

Finishing his bite, he processes for a short moment before lightly shaking his head. “I don’t think so.” His eyes are on the table – perhaps he’s still trying to decide how he feels, or how honest to be – so you give him another moment. “What are you gonna do?”

“Just going to get some food together, I think,” you explain simply. “Not today though. I’m hanging out with Yerin today.”

“Oh, nice,” he says, taking a bite, head bobbing in another nod.

You smile over at him, squeezing his thigh, the smile growing a bit more when he meets your eyes again, looking genuinely happy. “You’re cute. Come here,” you whisper, reaching for his chin to pull his mouth to yours. 

He surprises you a little, leaning into the kiss more than you’d expected, kissing you a little harder than you had planned, but you aren’t complaining, even if he does take like his cereal. “I almost hauled you out of that hot tub,” he admits, smirking down at his bowl as he gathers his final bite on his spoon

“You almost killed me,” you tease back, only slight accusation in your voice. 

His smile’s even cheekier now. “I think you can handle it.”

“You bet your ass I can.” You stand, giving his shoulder one more squeeze before you head to the fridge to do what you actually came in there to do. 

-

Yerin takes you to the dance class by subway, showing you how to do everything along the way. You haven’t thought much about going out and about all on your own but now that you have done it once, it honestly feels like a breeze. 

The dance class on the other hand… not a breeze. You’re winded after ten minutes, mind on overload from the teacher speaking in Korean half the time, making it difficult to follow. And as much as Yerin helps you, the class is obviously for dancers more advanced than you. You do ok, but that’s really it – just ok. 

The two main things you come out of it knowing: you seriously need to take more classes, and Yerin looks fucking hot when she dances. Not a surprising fact but a surprisingly distracting one for sure.

There’s ten minutes before the next class starts so you stretch a little longer while she chats with Soyeon, a friend she has at the studio. You’re going to be so sore, it’s not even funny, already able to feel the tightness in your shoulders. 

The room clears out and she plops back down next to you, mirroring your stretch. At least you’re quite flexible. It’s one thing you can almost match her in.

“So, maybe we pick up some food and you can come back to mine? I’m assuming you probably want to shower,” she offers, pressing her forehead to her knee. 

“Yeah,” you say through a breathy chuckle, feeling the way your top sticks to your back right as she says the words. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here. Or else you’d never leave that man cave.” Turning to you, she smirks, catching the way you shake your head in exaggerated shame.

You switch legs, feeling the satisfying stretch through your hamstring. “They’re not totally disgusting at least. I’m actually pretty impressed.”

“I’m sure you are.”

You toss an arm out to smack at her shoulder. “Stop saying everything like that.”

“Like what?”

You stare her down; she knows. “Like it’s an innuendo.”

“Oh, come on, this is the most interesting thing going on in my life…” she starts, making you laugh. “I thought secretly dating an idol was plenty exciting… how wrong was I?”

“I might be going on a date with someone else,” you say quieter, not even looking at her because you already know how she’s going to react.

“What?” flies from her mouth. "What are you talking about?” The words are so fast it almost doesn’t sound like English. It makes you laugh. Then she’s nudging you with her foot. “Y/N.”

Your laugh gets deeper in your belly when you turn and see her distraught face. “I don’t actually know if it’s a date yet,” you clarify, sitting up and reaching for your sweater to pull on over top. 

“Who are you talking about?” she asks, determined to get the tea. Not that you plan to keep it from her but it’s just so funny to hear the way her voice lilts into a startled pitch. 

“You know Stray Kids?”

“Of course I know Stray Kids,” she answers quickly before the words dawn on her further. “Stop. Stop, right now. Which one? Aren’t they young?”

“Come on, we should go,” you tell her, standing up as you eye the new students that have started to file in. 

She follows, gathering her things quickly and ushering you out. “Why do you do this to me…? Y/N….”

You just giggle, leaning into her as you walk side by side out of the studio. “We’re in public so I do have to be a little careful, don’t I?”

She pauses, catching your arm to stop you too before the both of you head in the direction of the subway station. “Whisper it in my ear.”

You do as asked and then she’s nearly shrieking again, looking at you with her eyebrows a mile high. Through more laughter, you assure her: “I’ll tell you more once we get there.”

-

Yerin pops the lid off her take-out container but she’s already looking, earning an eyebrow raise from you. 

“Can I help you?”

“We’re no longer in public.”

You roll your eyes, cracking apart your chopsticks. “I don’t even know if it’s a date to be honest,” you share with a slight shake of your head. And you don’t. You can assume all you want but nothing Chris has said to you has made you sure he’s interested in you in that way. 

“But he asked you to go out with him?”

“Dinner, yeah.”

“You’re texting?”

You nod. 

“How did he get your number?”

“... He asked for it. On New Years.”

Yerin smirks, a little smug – she already knew that – as she picks up her first bite. 

“Ok, yes. It suggests… interest. But I just don’t want to go into it thinking it’s a date if it’s not. That will be a lot more… awkward. Internally.”

She laughs, nodding in agreement. “What if it is?”

You shrug in response but your little smile gives you away.

“You’re crazy, woman.”

It takes you a second to figure out what to say, shaking your head, because you know it’s silly. In comparison to how most people do things, you do sound kind of crazy. “I know, I know. I sound a little nuts.” You reach for your drink but stop before it gets to your mouth. “But he’s… he’s cute,” you say simply. “And I’m not taken. Could be fun.”

“Mhm…” she starts, finishing chewing before she looks over to you and continues. “Are you going to explain to him? The… whole thing?” she asks, waving her chopsticks around in a little circle. 

“If it goes that direction then, yeah, of course. The only thing making this work with all the guys is us talking about it. So, if Chris hears the situation, wants to bow out then that’s cool. I would understand. Obviously.”

“Right,” she says with a nod, thinking about it more seriously now. “They’re really not jealous?”

“Not really. In fact…” you pause, playing over the events of the night before lightning fast in your mind. 

You must be smiling because Yerin is staring at you.

“In fact, they…” How do you say this? “I think it may end up being more fun than any of us realized.”

She frowns dramatically, blinking at you, but it also looks like she’s about to laugh once more. “What in the world does that mean?”

“Ok… I’m gonna tell you but it’s only because you’re the only person I get to tell all this to.”

“How are there still things I don’t know yet?” she practically shouts, grabbing at your forearm. 

A laugh vibrates out of you, especially knowing what you’re about to say. “It might end up being a thing where… multiple are comfortable…” you start to explain, trailing off suggestively, still unsure the right way to phrase what seemed to be happening last night. 

Did you now know for sure that you would enjoy having sex with multiple of them at once? Yes. But was that something you had discussed? Not yet. So, the future was still pretty blurry.

“Shut up,” she says, shaking your arm slightly. “Shut up.”

You just keep laughing, sure that she’s caught on enough.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, really. Yet. But the three younger ones…" You click your teeth. "They’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“You’re gonna sleep with them together?” she asks, too amused for her own good. She’s stopped eating entirely, just staring at you with a big goofy grin. 

“I–I don’t know,” you say, getting bashful finally, smiling down at your food. 

“That sounds… hot. Don’t tell Jin I said that,” she adds quickly before breaking into laughter, seeming surprised at her own words. 

Your turn a smirk on her to joke: “Jin’s not really into sharing?”

“Oh,” she muses, bobbing her head a little. “We’ve literally never talked about it. But I would assume not. Then again, if I asked him to bring in another girl to join us, would he really say no?” she jokes, chuckling to herself as she turns back forward, reaching for her drink. 

“Mm, true. … You guys are too cute though. The way he looks at you…”

She smiles to herself, obviously picturing it. “Yeah, he’s kind of the best.”

You smile too. It genuinely makes you happy that Jin has someone so wonderful. And Yerin too. 

“Damn, now you’re giving me ideas,” she mumbles, hiding her face a little with her hand.

“Am I?” That was not really what you’d expected her to say. “Is it… good? Between you and him? 

“Oh, yeah,” she responds right away, a sure nod coming with it. “It’s so good. He’s, like… What’s too much information?”

“Babe, I just told you I might have a foursome.”

She squawks out a laugh. “True! Ok, fair. Well, then, he…” She’s waving her chopsticks around again, searching for the words she wants. “He’s, like, huge.”

You try to stifle your laughter. Somehow that was still not what you had been expecting her to say. “Is he? Not that I’m doubting but…”

“Nah, it’s…pffhhh,” she blows air out through her lips in a dramatic sigh. As if words could not do him justice. 

“Ok...” you say, trying not to smirk too widely. It is her boyfriend you’re talking about. “Good to know.”

She’s laughing again, a bit flustered. “There, you can add that to your spreadsheet.”

“My spreadsheet…” you repeat, equally amused at the thought. “Nah, the spreadsheet is reserved for the dicks I actually see. For accuracy purposes,” you joke. 

“Right, right, of course.”

-

The friend time is incredibly rejuvenating, even more so than you realized it would be. After all, you have spent almost all waking moments with at least one of the guys since you arrived five days ago. It’s good to have a break. It’s good to clear your head a little.

You take the subway back on your own, a little awkward, a little nervous, not totally sure the whole time that you’re going the right way. But you manage, with the help of your phone, lost in your thoughts the whole way. 

Thoughts of the future primarily – which you are still preoccupied with way more than you’d like to be. Part of you is so at peace with going with the flow, really doing whatever you want, and part of you is completely obsessed with figuring out the next move. You can tell it's the part of you that is used to living for other people.

When you think about home and your family, you can’t stop wondering what they think of all this. Are they judging you? Are they disappointed in you for – what? Running away from your problems, so to speak?

But when you think harder about what you would be “running away” from, what is there really? The job you don’t care to go back to? The apartment you’re subletting while you’re gone? The couple best friends you have that live hours away anyways?

Being here is not only more fun, more exhilarating, but you also have bonded with the guys so much. Is it totally crazy for you to consider staying, at least for now? 

You exit the station, wandering back the way you walked with Yerin many hours before. When you get to the property, you have to go through the security, not realizing what a huge thing it would be since you haven’t entered without them before. 

Once you’re finally in, you input the code for the entrance to the dorms and slip inside quietly. You’re weirdly excited to see whoever’s there, after spending much of the day away from all of them.

It’s around dinner time and you can already smell food as you walk towards the kitchen, a bunch of takeout laying strewn across the island. Once you're through the arch, you look to your right, finding Jin, Yoongi, Jimin and Hobi all in the living area, sprawled across the furniture, nearly empty dishes on the coffee table in the middle.

“There she is,” Jin greets, without moving a muscle. “How was your day? Was my girlfriend nice to you?”

“She’s pretty much the love of my life,” you say out of the corner of your mouth before wincing at him. “Hate to break it to you…”

“Are those her clothes?” Jin asks, scandalized, and the other three snicker. 

You tug at the borrowed t-shirt, looking down at it as you wander around the couch, then shrug cutely. “Oops.”

“야…” he scoffs, making you giggle as you plop down on the floor in between his and Yoongi’s feet. 

“Why are you down there?” the latter asks. “You can sit up here, you know.”

“I know.” You fight the urge to look up at him, tempted to read his face. “I just kind of want to stretch a bit more so…” Saying that, you lean forward, butterflying your legs until you feel the stretch in your lower back, a little telling sound coming out of you.

“Sore already?” Hobi asks. 

“Hey, I haven’t danced since that day with you on the island.”

“Oh, yeah, that was fun,” he chirps back. “Can I teach you again?”

“Of course, silly. I think I need the help anyways,” you say through a groan before lifting back up, about to switch to a different stretch.

But before you can, two hands are on your shoulders, thumb pressing into the tightness of your traps. You sigh audibly before you can even question who it is but it doesn't take long for you to piece together that it is undoubtedly Yoongi, working your upper back, kneading over knots outwards from your spine. 

The thought makes you want to shiver, mostly because it’s unexpected. Frankly, you’d thought he was going to avoid you, even be cold with you all over again, after passing you in the hallway last night. It’s relieving – and refreshing – for him to not be acting as such. 

You try to stop the goosebumps, the little chill that runs over you each time he hits a good spot, making you want to groan. It kind of makes everything else fade away and without realizing it, you’re pushing back into his hands for more pressure.

“Here,” he says quietly, then he’s adjusting to be right behind you, directing you so he can reach more easily.

“Mmh, thank you,” is all you can think to say, the words coming out soft and dreamy, more of a mumble than anything. 

Now that he’s closer, his legs pressed on either side of you, he digs in a bit more, not being shy with the way he rolls over the knots along your shoulder blades, pulling audible breaths from you.

Your neck is loose, eyes closed, just letting the motions move through you because it feels so fucking good. Actual moans threaten, getting caught by your lips. But the fact that you’re more hesitant to make noise in front of other members for something non-sexual than for something sexual is… interesting. 

It almost feels like he’s trying to pull a sound from you, noticing when you twitch a little at a certain spot and then focusing there some more. And then you finally do, letting out a quiet little ‘mmm’ when another chill shakes your shoulders. 

“That ok?” he asks softly, and it’s only then that you realize the other guys are talking while he’s focused entirely on you. Similarly, you’re paying attention only to Yoongi’s touch, your mind immediately going all the other places you would want his hands to be. 

“Mhm, so good,” you breathe in response, trying not to make it sound sexual. But it’s insane the effect he has on you. He’s only touching your back so why does it feel like he’s everywhere?

He breathes out just a little, a tiny huff of amusement, and it makes you want to curse him out. If he can read your mind, you’re screwed. But then again, you would’ve been screwed from day one. “Move your hair,” he says, tracing his hands up your neck to lift it, sending another chill through you. 

It’s not fair but you listen to him, quickly tying up your hair so he can continue unobstructed. 

He’s got the back of your neck in his dominant hand now, thumb on one side, fingertips pressing on the other in little circles, slowly working down onto the tightness of the junction of your shoulders. 

Then you’re groaning, a lazy “fuuuck” that makes the other guys laugh. You can’t even be bothered enough to say anything in defense, the slight embarrassment nothing compared to the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“Should we leave you two alone or…?” Jin jokes through a laugh, Hobi and Jimin giggling with him. 

“I don’t think she minds,” Jimin mutters, obviously through a smirk, and you promise yourself that one of these days, you are going to smack him. Just not now. You don’t want to move right now. 

“Shut your mouth,” you say meekly instead, feeling your neck and face grow hot. 

Yoongi can probably feel it too. But he doesn’t stop, shifting forward a bit more on the couch so that you’re more between his legs and he can guide you forward, slide his hands down your back and massage lower. 

He’s not meaning anything by it; you know it’s just a massage. But you can’t help the thoughts. You want to kiss him again, on the lips, and then a few more places. Why is he the one person you feel like you can’t just talk to?

Even though them leaving was a joke, the other three trickle out, taking their dishes with them. It makes it easier to let out another sound, a low hum of satisfaction.

“Should I keep going?” he asks casually. 

“You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You let out a breath, not quite a laugh, because he’s working out another knot and it hurts just the right amount. “Your hands are going to get tired.”

Now he’s laughing a little. And it’s hot, even just his scoff of a laugh. 

“Thank you for this…” you whisper, letting your head rest over onto his thigh. 

He just continues, seemingly unbothered but you can’t see his face so who is to know?

“We… should talk,” you say after another minute – a minute of telling yourself over and over that it’s a good idea. 

“Talk about what?” he replies, his motions unwavering. 

Your eyes flutter open, his head lifting back up. This is why you feel like you can’t just talk to him. Everything feels encoded somehow. How could he think there was anything to talk about other than the kiss last night followed by him cursing in regret and retreating?

He slips his hands back up, landing them gently on the tops of your shoulders with a light final squeeze.  When you turn, he’s looking down at you. He’s going to make you say it. Either that, or he’s an idiot – and you already know that one’s not true.

“Last night?” you suggest, turning around to face him fully. 

He blinks away, looking down at where his hands now rest on his knees. He sucks a bit of air through his teeth, head tilting awkwardly, before answering:  “That probably shouldn’t happen again.”

It’s not what you expected to hear. And the way he says it so simply kind of just makes it worse. Your heart begins to hammer a little when you softly ask: “Why?”

“Ah, I’m... not cut out for this.” He’s still not looking at you. 

“‘Cause of the others,” you say, just to make sure.

He nods, pressing his lips together, seemingly force of nervous habit.

The thing is you can’t even be mad. At the mixed signals, sure. But not at the fact that he’s obviously not comfortable with getting involved in the arrangement that’s going on. 

You hum a little note of understanding, trying not to let disappointment seep into it. But it’s probably clear anyway. You’ve never been good at hiding stuff like that. Still, you try to force a little smile, looking right at his eyes to see if he’ll meet you.

He actually does, and then his hand is lifting, going to your jaw, caressing it gently as his gaze flicks over your face. He’s still so serious, maybe a little unsure, even as he leans forward a little, and your chin tips up unconsciously.

He’s kissing you before you can comprehend what’s happening, a still press of his lips against yours until you both take in a delayed breath and start to kiss for real, as if someone finally pressed ‘play’ on the paused TV. 

Your hand comes up, cupping his neck, thumb brushing over his throat then to the underline of his jaw. At the same time, you push up onto your knees as smoothly as you can, wanting to be closer, more level, because he’s still kissing you – fuck – opening his mouth a little more to let you in, to suck your lip before his tongue slides over yours. 

He pulls, fingers tangled in your hair, holding the back of your head to keep you, while your free hand slides up his thigh to his hip. You’re not sure what you’re trying to accomplish, where you want him to go, but you grip anyway, attempting to tug him to you. 

You moan a little just as you pull away. It’s primarily to breathe but also to think because you’ve realized it’s an impossible task when you’re kissing him. When you look at him from just a couple inches away, his eyes are still closed, perfect lips still dropped open a smidge. You want to kiss them again, bite them, suck them. You want to take a picture of how he looks just like this.

But now you know. And now you have a conscience, so you pull back further, letting your hands slip down his body until there’s no body left. 

You’re quiet as you sit back down onto your feet, watching your own hands flatten onto the tops of your thighs. 

He lets out a long breath, keeping his gaze down as he too pulls back, a little pain twisting in your stomach when there’s no longer a part of him touching you. 

“You see why I end up confused?” you whisper gently.

“I’m sorry,” he says right away, coming up to press thumb and forehead to his temples. 

The look of regret from last night was unpleasant but the look of disappointment in himself now is so much worse. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” you say as comfortingly as you can manage considering how your body is still coursing with adrenaline. “I heard you. … I know where you’re at… and…” You shrug a little. “We’re good. …We’re good, ok?”

He nods, mouth in a flat line, following when you go to get up and transforming seamlessly back into himself. It would be comforting if it didn’t just make it glaringly obvious how good he is at hiding what’s going on in his mind. 

It’s once your back inside your room, alone, sinking in to your bed, that it hits you that that was it. There’s your answer. He doesn’t want to get caught up in all of this, sharing you with the others. 

So…

Nothing can happen with Yoongi. 

-

You’re still lying in the dark, distraction by way of your phone in your hand hovering over your face, when you hear a knock on your door. 

For a moment, you assume it’s Yoongi and that stupid excitement returns as much as you really wish it wouldn’t. But when you tell them to come in, it’s Jimin who enters, immediately chuckling at your strange position. 

“Why are you in the dark?” he asks cutely, shutting the door behind him and crawling up beside you. “Can I?” he asks and you give him the go ahead before he turns on the lamp atop your nightstand. 

You lock your phone, tossing it semi-dramatically to the other side of the bed.

He frowns a little, heading tilting as he looks down at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and you mean it because it feels silly to be sad at all. Because you’re sad about what? Not getting to be intimate with one person? Totally ridiculous. 

“What?” he says, smiling that pretty smile. He drops down to an elbow to lay alongside you, watching closely, concern growing, as you try to decide what to say.

“Nah, I’m ok,” you say softly.

“Noona…” he says as if teasing you for brushing it off. It makes you smile more genuinely.

“I… Do you actually want to know?”

“Of course,” he says, scooting closer to you and slipping an arm under your neck to wrap you up in pre-emptive comfort. But it’s still so cute, the way he does it, that it has you giggling. 

You cuddle into him, rolling onto your side to bring your leg over his. “Um… you know how Yoongi and I kissed on New Years? We kissed again too. But he… he doesn’t want to get involved in all this,” you explain, trying to sound nonchalant about it. 

“Ah,” he breathes out then pauses, just holding you against him. 

“It’s fine, like I totally get it. But… yeah, I just feel bad. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Ever.”

“Mm, ok,” he says, voice low and soothing. “Did he say he’s uncomfortable?”

“Not, like, in those words. But, I don’t know. He literally said we shouldn’t and then kissed me like 10 seconds later, so…” You sigh, trying not to think too much about how good it felt. 

He lets out a little breath of amusement. “That’s confusing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” you agree through a similar little chuckle. “Anyway…” 

He brings his other arm around you, rubbing your side with his thumb. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” You nod against him. “I just gotta… not think about him that way.”

“Mhm.” He waits a moment before adding: “You can think about me that way.”

You laugh into his neck, rolling farther onto him. “You know I do.”

“Mm, good.”

“Even if you’re a pain in my ass sometimes.”

“Pft…” He pokes at your side, making you jump as you laugh. 

“It’s true. I don’t know why you like to torture and embarrass me so much–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hot tub last night.”

“Oh, yeah, that must’ve been horrible for you,” he says flatly, dropping his hands to the mattress only for you to grab at them again to wrap them back around you. 

“Sometimes you talk and I just want to smack you, you know that?”

“You can smack me,” he says, surprising you a little – enough for you to lift your head and grin down at him. “What? You like that idea?”

“I… I don’t know,” you say a little shyly before leaning in to kiss him. It really is hard to look at his face for longer than ten seconds without kissing those gorgeous lips. It’s soft, sensual, as usual with Jimin and, honestly – it wipes your mind clean. 

He smiles into it, pulling back a tiny bit. “So cute.”

You shake your head a little, pressing in again. The idea of smacking Jimin suddenly sounds even better, if only for the fact that he sounds like he would enjoy it. The thought makes you giddy in a new way. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks quietly as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“Of course.”

“I went to Taehyungie’s room when we got out of the hot tub.”

You lift up once more to watch as a smile spreads across his lips; he must be satisfied with your reaction, your eyebrows pushed up in surprise at the revelation. “Oh,” you say, immediately breaking into a cheeky smile. Is it finally your turn to tease him?

He looks giddy himself, the way his cheeks are bunched up a bit, eyes full of mischief. 

“And?” you say when he doesn’t elaborate.

“And it was fun.”

“That’s all I get?” you ask, nearly offended, lifting further off him to lean on your palm instead, one hand resting on his chest, so you can see him better. 

“What? You want a play-by-play?” he teases, licking over his bottom lip, smug smile not disappearing for a second.

“I mean, I’m not opposed. But you gotta give me something. What happened?”

“I guess I could show you,” he replies, voice dropping a little. 

You’re not totally sure what that means. But you absolutely want to find out. “Show me,” you say with a sure nod, almost goading. 

He springs up, taking you with him off the bed and walking you backwards until your back’s against the door. Biting his lip through a smirk, he sizes you up, trailing one hand up to your neck while the other stays by your hip.

“Are you you? Or am I you?” you ask in an embarrassingly breathy tone, punctuating it with a gulp as you try to contain yourself. 

“I’m me,” he whispers as he leans closer, pushing his body against yours so that a leg is propped between yours, pelvises meeting.

“Mm, so you initiated.”

It makes him laugh, that you’re still so focused on the events of the prior night when his lips are skimming over your jaw. “I mean… He told me to come to his room, shut the door behind us. I just… got closer, so… you tell me.”

You picture it as he says it, an excited little curl of your stomach coming with the mental image. “I’m guessing he didn’t push you away?” you play, letting your hands slide up his torso to brace on his chest.

He shakes his head, pulling away from your ear to smirk at you once more. “Are you going to?” he teases, playing up his surprise as his head tilts down momentarily to gesture to your hand placement. 

Your fingers grip his shirt in response. 

“Good,” is all he says before he’s leaning in, kissing you so that your head presses back against the door, lips parting gently to welcome him in. 

You moan into his mouth – this is too hot, your hips already pressing forward against his thigh. Not only because the thought of them together is sitting on the surface of your mind but also, Jimin is still new to you in so many ways. Even just the way he kisses you, so sensually, making you drunk on him, is different than any of the others. He just has this innate thing about him. 

He pulls back and hums, the sound already telling you that he’s about to tease you once again. “Need something?” he asks, obviously referring to the wiggle of your hips.

You lick your lips and reply, “You’re supposed to be giving me a play-by-play,” but it has less sass than you intended because he’s started to move too, long rolls of his covered bulge against you. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” His head ducks into your neck once more to press a kiss to you. “But for accuracy, we should probably get this off you.” With that he’s lifting the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. He quickly does the same with his own then it’s warm tummy to warm tummy as you pull him back to you.

“What else should we do?” you ask, before cheekily adding: “For accuracy.”

“In a few seconds…” he begins, leaning his head in to ghost his lips over your neck. “You’re going to move me to the bed and get on top of me.”

You take in a breath, shaky a little on the exhale, at the thought of Tae doing that to him, but also the way he presses a hot kiss to the side of your neck, sucking lightly until the sensation has you humming out a moan. 

He pulls back, admires his work, runs his thumb over it. “Yeah, I think it was about there,” he says through an unholy smile. 

You look at him in wonder but quickly you’re biting your lip, getting impatient to find out what happens next, like you’re reading a really good book. 

Pressing lightly against his chest, you walk him until he’s against the bed, and then with a final push, he falls back, getting comfortable on his elbows. You almost laugh as you climb on top of him – it’s strange, him knowing what you’re going to when you don’t even know yourself.

“Here?” you ask, settling yourself over his groin then bringing your hands to his pretty chest. 

“Perfect,” he says as he pulls you down to meet his lips.

As you kiss, every second getting hotter, heavier, you can’t stop yourself from grinding down on him, feeling the hardness rubbing against your core through too many layers. It feels so good already but all you can think about is feeling him for real. 

When you go to reach down, he stops you, taking hold of your wrist, but continues to kiss you, tickling over your tongue, teasing you in whatever way he can. 

You pull your lips away to look down at him questioningly – for a moment, you’re almost nervous you’ve done something wrong for him to be holding your hand away from him so firmly. 

But then he rolls the both of you over, pinning one arm above your head and quickly bringing the other up to join, making your body tighten as the use of his strength. 

“This is creative liberty,” he notes, switching both of your wrists to one hand so the other can trace your jaw, then down, letting it linger around your neck suggestively for a moment before continuing. 

“Oo, just for me? Does Tae not enjoy being manhandled as much?” you ask playfully, watching the way his confidence and shyness meld together on his features. 

“I suppose… that’s one area that you know more about him than I do.” He draws near, pressing his lips softly to your collarbone, moving inward, then to your other side. 

You sigh, attempting to lift your hips a little for some much needed pressure. “You played it safe.”

He sounds his affirmation against your skin.

“But not with me.”

“It’s a bit less stressful,” he admits just as his hand reaches your waistband, fingers finding the drawstring and pulling to unravel it. 

“Aw, I don’t make you nervous?” you tease, but the way his touches are affecting you, the way your voice comes out all thin, makes you sound like you’re the nervous one.

He chuckles and lifts up to give you a cute little smile. “I didn’t say that.” With one hand, he shuffles down your bottoms, moving so you can finish kicking them off, then he’s back kneeling between your bent legs, leaning forward to kiss you.

You whimper when you realize he’s still not touching you, arms tugging a little at his hold to see if he’ll let you free. Jimin’s so pretty and you’ve wanted to touch him for so long and now he’s not even letting you. “Need you to touch me,” you whisper against his lips, the words a muffled mess but you’re sure he gets the idea.

He’s giggling, so cute but still so sexy as he pulls away and presses his forehead to your shoulder, lips finding the dip of your collarbone instead. “You’re more impatient than him.”

You scoff but he’s finally moving down your body, hand teasing over your hip, down your thigh before coming back up to brush over your core, making you jerk a little at the contact. You moan as his fingers dip between your folds, spreading your wetness over your clit, but then he’s moaning too.

“Mm, you’re so wet, baby.” He meets your eyes. “You like the thought of it, hm? Me touching him?”

Your fists close, a shock of pleasure running through you. “You… you touched him?”

His mouth twitches up. “What am I doing right now?”

Your mind is apparently no longer working well enough for you to realize this was still the play-by-play, and now you’re picturing his hand wrapped around Tae’s cock, slowly sliding over it like how he’s languidly caressing you right now. Your tummy tightens, cunt clenching, hips pushing up into his hand. 

Fuck, you wish you could’ve seen Tae's face, watching the pleasure take him over. And Jimin's while doing so for the first time.

“You like it so much, oh my god," he groans, eyes trailing from your face, down your body, to where his hand is working effortlessly over you.

“It sounds so hot,” you breathe with a nod, your eyes falling shut at the way he’s rubbing back and forth over your swollen clit, quicker but still too gently.

“What if I told you I made him come like that?”

You whimper out your approval, hips jerking up, begging for more. “Fuck, that sounds so good–” Another frustrated huff comes out of you.

“Mhm. He looked so pretty,” he tells you before leaning down and clasping his mouth around your nipple, wet suction making you pull harder at his hold on your wrists.

A second later, he sinks two fingers into you, releasing his mouth to groan with you. “씨발… you feel fucking perfect. I forgot how tight you are.”

When he doesn’t move them right away, you try to take matters into your own hands, waving your hips up to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he just lets his hand follow, casually moving back to sucking and nibbling at your breasts. “Jimiiin…” you complain, practically a sob, because you’re so wet and so turned on and he’s absolutely holding back. You already know what his fingers can do and you’re desperate for it again. 

He bites lightly, a touch of addicting pain jolting through you. 

“Ahh– please–”

Then his thumb presses to your clit, drawing circles that have you tightening around his fingers. He has the audacity to chuckle as he lets go of your wrists, instead switching to covering your mouth as he starts to fuck his fingers into you, bending them just so with each drag against your walls. 

You’re a mess of suppressed moans as your head pushes back into the mattress. He goes faster, jerking you towards release so quickly that it’s almost alarming, eyes rolling back into your head. All you can do is grip onto the sheets and hold still as he takes over your body – making it seem far too easy. 

“Gonna come?” he asks sweetly, almost patronizing. Such a cocky little shit. But it works anyway, your cunt squeezing him as he drives into you harder. When he envelopes your nipple and sucks once more, you’re done for, gasping against his palm before coming hard, the sounds of your gushing wetness ringing out into the room. 

His hand placement over your mouth is probably a good thing because you can’t stop moaning as the waves of your climax rush over you. You don’t usually come like that – not so easily anyway – so it’s extra overwhelming, each press of his fingers against your g-spot sending extra vibrations through your body. 

He slows, still caressing inside of you, and presses kisses all over your chest, lifting his hand off your mouth to hear you let out a low drawn out curse. Then his lips trail up, exploring more of your neck until he’s kissing you deeply once more. 

Your legs close around his hand, your muscles twitching each time he crooks his fingers inside of you. “Baby,” you’re still gasping, trying to kiss him but also trying to get air. “Fuck.”

He cups your sex with his soaked palm, fingers finally sliding out and even that makes you moan, feeling the slight press against your clit.

You relax against the mattress. Even though you’re wrecked from your orgasm, he’s just so addicting that all you want is more. “Are you finally going to fuck me now?” you breathe as he pulls back an inch, your hands sliding up him and into his soft hair. “Or is that not part of the script?”

“It’s not,” he tells you simply, pecking your lips. You start to let out a whine, your face scrunching up in disapproval but then he’s adding: “But...”

You probably look pathetically needy, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you peer up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Fuck. Yeah, I’m fucking you,” he gives in quickly with a wide smile, lifting onto his knees before backing off of the bed. “Does Kook have…?”

“Yeah, here,” you say, leaning towards the nightstand that you moved the condoms to. “There’s some in here.”

He retrieves one quickly, shucking off his bottoms then kneeling on the bed once again as he slides it on. 

“How do you want me?”

With a smirk, he shuffles closer, one hand finding your bent knee. “You’re so obedient today.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes. How good is his self-control? If you’re a brat, will he just change his mind and be difficult? 

The look he sends you is challenging, a little tilt of his head, as he watches the wheels turn in your mind. 

“You’re the boss, right?” you say, a little challenging yourself – like you’re being a bit sarcastic. But not too much. 

He just shuffles closer, still smiling, as he pushes both your knees back until your thighs are pressed against your torso. He leans forward, his body compressing yours onto yourself just as his cock slides against you, the underside slipping deliciously through your folds, pulling another needy plea from you.

Mouth to your ear, he says: “Don’t be a brat. Just take me like a good girl.”

“I– ahh…” Your words catch as he pushes inside, hands gripping to his shoulders at the stretch in comparison to a measly two fingers.

“So fucking tight, oh my god,” he chokes out, a stark contrast to his firm words just seconds before. But he pushes in hard once he’s sheathed inside you, making sure you take every bit of him. 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper under your breath, the air knocked from you once more. 

“Good fucking girl.” He gives you a few more hard, shallow thrusts, reaching so deep that it's almost too much. 

“Fuck–” you start to whine but you’re cut off by his lips, a hard kiss paired with a full thrust of his hips. The angle is so good, giving attention to that perfect spot inside of you once again. 

He lifts up and you watch the pleasure colour his face, his hair falling in his eyes as he starts to fucking you a little faster. “Fuck, I really... should’ve fucked you sooner,” he says, smirking again and you can’t believe he’s still joking like that, your mind too preoccupied by the slide of his thick cock inside of you. 

But he’s not wrong. “You could’ve,” you taunt, wrapping your arms around your own legs to hold them in place for him to use you. 

“Save the best for last,” he says through a breathless chuckle, lifting up further so he can get a good grip on the bend of your hips, using the hold for leverage to pump into you harder. 

“Oh, fuck!”

“Right? Who feels the best, Y/N?”

Your eyes are clenched tight, little hums being knocked from you with each thrust as you slip a hand down to play with your clit. You must’ve heard him wrong because there’s no way he just asked you that. 

“Huh, baby?”

“What?” you whisper, blinking your eyes open to find him admiring your fucked out expression; his mouth is dropped open but the edges are still curled up in a smirk that matches the look in his eyes. It makes your tummy tighten. 

Is that really what he’s asking?

He chuckles in response, rolling into you harder until you’re crying out, covering your mouth with your own hand a second too late. He’s relentless now, pounding into you, that perfect feeling inside of you winding tighter and tighter. 

“Oh my god, you feel so good,” you sob from behind your hand, not confident enough to actually remove it because you swear you're about to come again. 

He groans too, pretty sounds between the laboured breaths of his exertion. He’s so gorgeous – dewy and glowing, muscles popping, in the warm light of your bedside lamp. “Baby, fuck–”

“I’m gonna come,” you warn him, rubbing your clit a little faster.

“Ah, god– Come… Wanna feel you come,” he rasps, hips slapping hard against your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–” 

Everything contracts and you come together, unfiltered sounds from both of you mingling in the air. He keeps fucking you, even when it’s clear that he’s not holding out on you, breathy whines interjected between curses. 

Meanwhile, you’re stuck in place, taking it just like he asked, feeling the way your sensitive cunt just keeps trying to suck him in with each pulse of your high. “Mm, fuck…” is all you can get out between shallow breaths, even once your body is able to relax a bit as he slows and eventually stops with a final low groan.

He’s still deep inside you, palms pressing into the mattress by your shoulders, head hanging forward, and you let your legs go, parting them so you can pull him closer, get him onto his elbows above you. 

For the first time, you feel like you have free rein of his body, pressing a kiss to his neck as you let your nails drag lightly up his sides. You can feel him tense under your touch before he relaxes down, giving into the feeling with another soft moan in your ear. 

You both take a deep breath, letting it out together, and you find yourself smiling. 

“Oh, fuck…” he sighs, turning towards you and finding a spot to press his lips. 

“Took us long enough,” you breathe, letting your head fall to the side. 

He takes a minute before he’s slowly lifting up, sitting back on his feet. “You didn’t answer my question, you know…”

You’ve only just gotten your heart to slow, but at that, it picks up once more. “You can’t be serious,” you brush him off, turning your gaze away dismissively, but you’re still smiling. 

He laughs, a mischievous one because he knows he’s being the worst. But he’s shifting back, pulling out of you gently to stand and dispose of the condom. “There’s no way you don’t have a ranking in your head.”

“Jimin…” you admonish, a little scandalized. You should be past scandalization at this point but the idea of ranking them is just utterly insane on top of being hilarious. 

He laughs again, reaching down to pick up his boxers and pull them on. 

“Is it a jealousy thing?” you ask as you sit up on the edge of the bed, intrigued, though you’re quite certain it’s not that. It doesn’t feel like that anyway. 

“No…” he replies, coming to stand between your legs. “I was trying to see if I could get you into trouble.”

Ugh. You roll your eyes, shoving him away playfully, making him cackle once more. “So mean to me,” you say, letting a hint of a pout come through.

He comes back over, hands up ready to catch yours, stopping you from pushing him again. “Where we sleepin’?” he asks, voice lower, softer now. 

You smile, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, though you still press against them playfully as if holding him up. “You can stay here with me but I’ll have to let Jungkookie know. I’m not sure if he’s staying here tonight.”

“Or you can come to my bed.” He steps back, tugging for you to stand with him. 

“Hobi won’t mind?” you ask casually, letting go so you can start to find your own clothes. 

“I doubt it. But we can ask him.”

A/N: a reminder that Hobi and Jimin share a room in the dorms in the story so that’s why they are talking about him at the end lol. anywayyyyyyyyy 😏😏 so that’s that chapter haha. i hope you enjoyed, please tell me your thoughts… there might be a bonus chapter soon that will be optional to read (bc it’ll focus on Bang Chan) so just make sure you read the author's notes on everything because i'll explain everything as we go :) thank you thank you thank you ❤️

Tag List: @jinsquishes @cookiechristie @yoongiigolden @jinkajous, @effielumiere  @bucketofhiros @fontainexpert @sp00kysluut @bangtan-emo @nabiolive @asyamonet22 @notbotheredtho @angelsuni @juju-227592 @the-boy-meets-evil @welcometomyworld13 @ah2002 @aris-ink @here4btsfics @bananamochidaisy @pb89nv​ @mushroom-main​ @hoseokhasmyheartxx​​ @mariegalea​ @bookingsunshine @catchmybreath94 @zandra-42

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Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Holy shit that was a chapter!! Really love the way we finally got to hear reader’s background and understand why she feels the way she does. Truly sad to be shouldering so much grief and thinking it’s all her fault, bby everyone needs love omg 😭😭. Ah Yoongi, what will we do with Mr Hot and Cold. I’m kinda nervous if he did hear them. They’re obv not a thing and she don’t owe him shit but this back and forth tbh thing hearing them after what happened between them got me sweating and nervous!! But also AHHHH SKDJFJOSAK WE FONALLY GOT A NAMJOON FOCUS CHAPTER!!!! Thank you 🥹💗💗

Grey Area | Unorthodox 25

Rating/genre: M (18+); smut 💖, fluff, light angst; Idol!AU Pairings: Namjoon x Reader(f) (in the series: OT7 x Reader(f), Taehyung x Jimin, and more) Summary: Is Namjoon in or out? Warnings: Explicit smut, protected vaginal penetration, fingering, grinding, a bit of teasing, use of 'baby', 'baby girl', 'good girl', Joon has a really big dick, a bit of begging/neediness, ENM boundary discussions, vague discussion of past relationships and guilt, explicit consent, manhandling, cowgirl, reader wears some of Joon's clothes and they are big on her, size kink? sort of? Word Count: 6.1k Posted: April 24, 2023

A/N: Sorry about the wait on this, lovely readers. The writer's block seems to have eased significantly - yay! This chapter isn't super long but ummm I like it. I hope my Namjoon girlies are ready lol

Series Masterlist - chapters with smut are marked with a 💖 if that’s all you’re looking for!

As much as you knew it would be fine, something held you back from mentioning the kiss once you got back in the hot tub. You could tell yourself that it was just that you didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the conversation but– was that really all it was? Or was it just dizzyingly exciting having Yoongi’s touch on you? So much so that you wanted to keep it your giddy little secret for a bit longer. 

Plus, they already knew about New Years so it didn’t truly feel like hiding anything. No, it was more akin to how you didn’t make an announcement anytime one of the others kissed you. There was no need to do so for Yoongi.

Still, it took a good few minutes to stop thinking about it and actually focus on the other five as they continued chatting away through another round of drinks. 

Hobi got out first to head to bed. Then Jimin and Tae were calling it a night not too long after. Jungkook trailed after them. There was a pull with each of them but it almost made it too much to process, too many options for who to go with, especially after such an… interesting night. 

But when Namjoon didn’t move, instead letting his head rest back against the side of the tub as he looked over at you, you realized you wanted to stay out a little longer. Maybe it was an invitation in itself – you didn’t want to be presumptuous – but his eyes were smiling, looking at you in the low lighting, pulling you straight in as the door sealed shut behind Jungkook. 

“You’ve gotta be a raisin by now,” he said softly, finding one of your hands under the water and pulling it above just enough to be able to see his thumb run over the wrinkles on the pads of your fingers.

“I think I’m cooked all the way through, yeah,” you played back softly, making him chuckle. It felt so quiet out there now with just the two of you, all the ruckus having left with the three youngest. You scooted a little closer, sliding on the smooth seat until your knee was gently pressed against his thigh then resting your head similarly to his, nice and relaxed. 

He kept holding your hand, letting them fall together back into the warmth as he smirked. “Do you want to get out?”

“Mm, not quite yet,” you replied, purposely trying to be a little coy. It was hard with Joon. He was so unbelievably sexy but the line of what was too far was still clouded with him. Sure, you could flirt but you had to hold yourself back from insinuating anything too overtly. In the name of not rushing things.  

You let your leg float up and over his, finding a bit more physical contact. That wasn’t too far at least – a fact that was confirmed when his other hand came to rest firmly on it, pulling it tighter to him so it lay higher up on his lap. Immediately, that helped quell any hesitancy. 

He watched you for a moment as you watched him. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you said with a little nod. “What were you up to?”

“Had some plans with friends.”

“That’s very vague,” you told him through a smirk. 

He chuckled before squeezing your hand. “It’s nothing exciting. We literally got food and talked about a bunch of random stuff.”

“I’m just bugging,” you teased further, endeared by his earnest answer. 

“I know, I know,” he replied with a little eye roll but his smile was still a little bashful. “What did you do?”

“Oh, nothing much,” you said casually, trying not to think about what had gone on with any of the maknae line hard enough for it to show on your face. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, and it surprised you that it came off a little challenging, his brows jumping up slightly. All you could do was smile a little wider in return because trying to elaborate on your day would just sound worse. “You’re incredible,” he added dryly with a little chuckle and shake of his head.

“Why?”

“It’s almost infuriating how likeable you are.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you pushed back dismissively. 

“It’s not the same.”

“It is. You’re practically perfect so I don’t know what you’re going on about,” you continued, looking past him a bit so that you wouldn’t have to watch his face at the steep compliment. 

He scoffed cutely and you could see in your periphery that he too was now looking off, eyes probably catching onto whatever stars he could see behind you. 

When his thumb started to rub over your thigh, it drew your attention back to him.

“I don’t want to get confused.”

The words made you blink at him. Not that he was overly serious about it but you could sense the slight change in his tone, the way he was looking at you a little differently now when his eyes met yours. “I don’t want that either,” you agreed.

“Like, I really want to kiss you…” he began lightly, eyes darting away again for the few words as if too shy to say them right to you. “But, uh…” He settled back on you, hand gripping your thigh gently. “I think the separation of what this is and what a relationship is is kind of unclear to me.”

Mm. Very understandable.

“Like, we’re in this grey area,” he continued, his hand lifting to move in the water with his words. “Between friends and something else. Which is fine. But I… I think I need it to be outlined better. For me and… maybe for all of us.”

You nodded as he finished. “Yeah… No, you’re right. It is a grey area. So, defining it’s definitely a good idea…” For a brief moment, you paused, looking at nothing in particular as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I guess… for me, the distinction isn’t so much about behaviour. Because, it’s not really all that different when it comes to, like, physical affection and stuff.

“But it’s more so about feelings and intention and commitment. Like, in an actual relationship, there’s going to be romantic feelings involved. And with that comes expectations, even if that doesn’t become obvious right away… Because when you fall in love with someone and they fall in love with you, you do begin to expect to continue to receive that love, right? And most people begin to expect a certain amount of time and energy devoted to them. … Most people would also expect a certain level of commitment and plans for the future that involve a partnership, and a marriage and kids, etc...” You let go of his hand to be able to gesture, creating a sphere with your hands. “And that all falls under a romantic relationship to me. Like, a romantic love.”

He nodded a little, clearly listening closely though he didn’t make a move to speak. 

“That’s the stuff that I don’t feel like I can give or that I don’t think I want. But all the other stuff… the affection, the intimacy, the care, the sex… I’m very comfortable sharing that with people. It’s just a different kind of care or a different kind of love than one can expect from being in love with someone.” You watched him for a moment before adding: “Because obviously I do care about you guys at this point. Like, a lot,” you admitted with a smile. 

He let a little smile pass over his lips too as he processed, taking in everything. “So, it’s about expectation,” he said finally, not quite a statement but not quite a question. 

“Hmm… I guess so, yeah.” Damn, he really simplified that so easily. “I think people can enjoy a closeness, whether that be emotional or mental or physical or whatever, without needing to be in love, and expecting to become someone’s everything.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nodding once more as his hands started to trace absentmindedly by your knee. “The true friends-with-benefits.”

You let out a little chuckle, surprised at his little joke. “Yeah. Exactly, though. Like that’s really honestly how I see it. As a real friendship but with all the fun parts of a romantic relationship added in.”

“You don’t find the other stuff fun?”

It took you a second to find the right way to answer that one, Namjoon’s eyes watching you closely. “It’s not that really. It’s just… not sustainable for me,” you explained slowly, trying to pick the right words. 

“Why?” he asked, it coming out so gently even as it made your stomach tense a little. 

“I mean, like I told you guys a while ago: I’ve hurt people before and I hate it. It’s the worst feeling in the whole world. And if I let feelings into the mix then people end up geting hurt.” 

“You don’t want people to have expectations of you, so then you can’t let them down,” he articulated too well.

With a tiny sigh, you shot him a sad little smile and he mirrored it, studying your eyes closely. It was so obvious how right he was.

“I mean, I get it. I hate hurting people, hate disappointing people. But also, it doesn’t mean everything is your fault if something doesn’t work out.”

“It does if I’m always the one breaking someone else’s heart.” 

His brows pushed together slightly. 

“I… I don’t know. But, that’s why it just seems like the right call to keep things in a grey area. If I don’t fall in love then I can’t fall out of love, right?” you asked rhetorically, rounded eyes looking right into his. But part of you kind of hoped he’d have an answer to all of this, some solution to why the feelings always went away. 

Because all you could come up with is that everything is fleeting. Everything comes to an end. Nothing is forever.  

The in-love feeling would always go away. That’s what you were afraid of. Because that’s what had happened every time. And it always seemed to hit you before the other person, leaving you to try and carefully maneuver a break-up that you’d never imagined happening in the first place. 

You couldn’t do it again. 

“Damn,” he said simply, softly, resting his head back against the tub. “That just doesn’t sound like a way to live.”

It felt nice, how non-judgemental he seemed. Not that you’d expected him to be in the first place. But still, he’d been too on the nose when he’d jokingly called you a ‘heartbreaker’ on one of those first nights. You didn’t feel like a heartbreaker. You hated it. You would literally rather never be in love again than have to tell someone else you didn’t feel the same way for them anymore. 

“That’s just how it has to be, I think,” you said with a little shrug but you couldn’t hide the tinge of emptiness in your voice.

“Do you think you can be satisfied with that?” he asked, his expression as warm as it was curious. His hand, now back on your thigh, pulled you a little closer in the water.

“Yeah, I think I can,” you replied. You’d thought about it a lot. “Because I still get to have these close connections, you know? I still find so much enjoyment and comfort in being involved with people in this capacity. Even if I never imagined to do it quite like this,” you said, breathing out a little laugh. 

“You didn’t plan to get involved with a whole group of friends?” he played. “Celebrities especially,” he added, letting out his only little chuckle. 

“Not really something I could have foreseen,” you joked, letting your free hand trace along his forearm. Talking to Namjoon was so comforting that you just ended up feeling even more at ease whenever the two of you talked. This kind of stuff had so not been on your mind tonight but he was always so quick and understanding and calming that you didn’t even mind that this was the direction the conversation had taken. 

“Are you feeling good about it still?” he asked, leaning in a little closer as if to see your face a bit better. 

It was a little distracting though, having him, all sweet and handsome, right in front of you. You nodded to his question. “Are you?” you asked after another moment of trying not to kiss him. 

“I think so,” he said more quickly and confidently than you were expecting. 

“Does that mean I can kiss you now?” you whispered.

His cheeks rounded, showing off his dimples, and then he was leaning in the rest of the way, catching your mouth with his. It started off so slow, innocent even, just lips caressing while hands gripped a bit more firmly.

But before you knew it, he was pulling you so easily through the water onto his lap, a leg on either side until your pelvis was right over his and his arms were wrapping around you to keep you in place. 

You were turned on practically instantly, like a spark being lit inside of you. This whole day had just been too much for you to still not have received any relief. And now Namjoon was the one facing the consequences, your thighs squeezing on his hips, while your arms looped around his neck to do the same. 

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind, matching the way you were melting into the kiss, tongues pressing forward to languidly brush together. Your body wiggled, hips swirling just a little, desperate for something to rub against. It hit you right away, a strike of embarrassment at how pathetic you felt. And then you were pulling back, soft apologies falling out as you stilled your movements. 

He looked at you surprised, not loosening his hold even when you did. “What? What?” he whispered, gaze bouncing from your one eye to the other. 

“Sorry, I’m just–... I’m really…” You took in a breath trying to find a way to give him an explanation without embarrassing yourself further. Just saying you were fucking horny felt so… crass.

His head tilted when you looked away, trying to follow. It took you chuckling a little for him to let out a breathy one of his own. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah…” You looked into his eyes once more, tongue licking over your lips without even realizing. Another bashful smile. “I’m a little… keyed up.”

“Keyed up…?” he repeated. You couldn’t tell whether the quirk of his eyebrow was more genuine or teasing. But when his arms slid further, connecting behind you, pulling you down onto him more solidly and making you almost moan, you had a better idea. 

“Uh-huh,” you hummed with a little nod, trying desperately not to squirm against the bulge pressed between your legs. 

“Keyed up from what?” Yeah, he was definitely teasing you now, head tilting the other way cutely.

Your eyes fell shut, lips pressing into a flat smile. “Joon…” you whined, dropping your head forward onto his shoulder.

His hands wandered up your back, firm and comforting. “Mm? You don’t want to tell me?”

“I’m sure you can use that big brain of yours and imagine.”

That made him laugh, enough to feel it vibrate against you. He turned his head towards you, prompting you to lift up. “Come here,” he whispered before pressing your mouths together again. “Mm, can I help?” he asked between kisses, each one getting a little more heated, bodies unable to stay still once more. 

“I can’t take anymore teasing,” you complained, feeling him smile against you. 

“I’m not trying to tease.”

You moaned a little into his mouth, hips sliding forward to grind down on him. “Really?” God, you sounded so gone already, almost innocently so, praying he wasn’t going to slow things down once again. This was what hours of – what was effectively – foreplay did to you apparently. 

“You’re sober, right?” he asked, pulling back just enough.

“Yeah, only one drink,” you got out in a rushed breath before you were kissing again, his hands running over your body, squeezing wherever they could. “Joon, I’m serious,” you complained when you broke apart, the grip you had on his shoulders sliding down over his chest, appreciating the rounds of his muscles disappearing into the water as you went further down. “I need to feel you. Please. Before I go insane.”

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, blinking and looking off to the side as if trying to clear his mind enough to think. “That needy, huh?” It was so gentle, stunned a little as he looked back at you and the way you were rocking into him, bumping your core against his cock, now starting to strain in his swimsuit. 

“Yes, really. I feel like I’ve been wet for hours.” Your finger found his waistband, tugging at it lightly, testing, as you practically pouted at him.

“What did they do to you?” he breathed through a good-natured chuckle. 

“I can show you,” you replied, the idea sparking in your mind and instantly becoming the only thing you could think about. You reached to find one of the hands that had settled on your ass, pulling it around you until you could press it flat over your core, his fingers curving instantly to cup you over the underwear you had on. You were positive he’d be able to feel the slippery wetness seeping through the cotton fabric. 

“He was touching me. Under the water,” you said, a little meek, but your desperation was still running the show.

“Who?” he asked, surprising you and making you flush a little hotter than you already were. 

Your mouth opened and it took another second for you to mumble out Jungkook’s name as you watched Namjoon, his eyes somehow so soft, but also curious and dark with lust. It didn’t need to be said that it was in front of the others.

He moved his hand slightly, just so the tips of two fingers could prod gently at your entrance. You got to watch, biting your lip, on the verge of a moan as he felt your pussy clench, his eyes falling shut in response. Then he moved a bit more, sliding them forward to trace lightly over your clit. 

You shivered. “Joon.”

“Like this? Was he touching you here?”

Fuck, you thought he was going to drop the mention of JK as quickly as possible. But apparently not. “Not… not quite,” you whispered, reaching to slide your panties to the side so his fingers were brushing right against your hard clit, the movement made too easy by all your arousal. “L-like this…Ah, shit.” Your free hand gripped his shoulder tightly once more – for leverage. 

“So wet…” He was whispering now too, his other hand sliding up to rest on your neck before carefully guiding you back to his lips. He kissed you like he worked his fingers, slow but with steadily growing purpose until you were tilting your hips forward and back a bit frantically, essentially humping his hand. “Fuck, baby girl.”

“Shit, don’t say that,” you gasped, the words dropping from your mouth before you could think about them. 

“What, why?” he asked, pulling back enough to look into your eyes.

“I don’t know. It’ll make me come or something.”

His smile was one of relief and a stunned desire. “You don’t know?” he said, a second later, once he’d seemed to collect himself. Did his voice get even deeper? What the fuck. 

“I don’t know, it’s fucking hot when you say it.”

“Oh my god…” he groaned, letting his head fall back to rest against the side of the tub. “You’re going to make me go crazy.”

“You could…” you began, breathless and conjuring your courage to talk dirty a little more than you were used to. “You could go crazy with your dick inside me.”

“That– that sounds good,” he stuttered out, impossibly deep. “Can’t out here though.”

“Your room? Now? Please?” you said, quickly becoming demanding, in the most pathetic kind of way, as soon as it hit you that of course, you couldn’t out here. 

“Uh-huh,” he groaned, removing his hand and quickly standing up with you, keeping a hand on you the whole time the two of you climbed out and grabbed his towel. 

“Where’s your towel?”

Oh.

Yoongi’s room.

“Ugh, I left it inside, I guess.”

“Here.” He wrapped you up so quickly you couldn’t even protest, then ushered you through the door into the upstairs hallway. “Don’t slip,” he added in a whisper when you took a few steps ahead of him while he locked up. 

You couldn’t help the little giggle, twisting your head to smirk at him and his cuteness as you tip-toed wet splotches along the hardwood. Whoops. 

His room was close, no run-ins between anyone else and his boner thankfully. Inside, you shivered melodramatically as you tried to run the towel over your body as quickly as possible, missing about a hundred water droplets. Then the towel was tossed at Joon to do the same as you paused, looking between him and his cozy bed. 

“I… I don’t want to get your bed wet.”

He laughed, like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen then threw the towel to the floor. “Let’s fix that then,” he teased as he came closer, hot lips catching yours as his fingers aptly maneuvered the clasp of your bra, letting it fall loose on your chest. Without even taking a second, his thumbs were tucked into the edges of your soaked underwear, wiggling them down until they could fall to your feet. 

Meanwhile, you worked on his bottoms, trying to deal with the fact that he was so hard. And so big. And just, completely making your head spin. 

Naked and shivering, you climbed onto the bed together, him switching on a bedside light to replace the overhead. 

You flipped onto your ass, meeting his eyes as you grabbed his arm a little roughly to pull him to you. “You tease me for one more minute and I swear to god…” You were obviously playing… But also, had you been edged twenty times during the day or was your blinded mind just exaggerating?

“I’m not meaning to tease you, really,” he said genuinely, climbing under the covers on top of you to attempt to create some warmth. “I just… want to feel you.” With that, his hand slid up your thigh again, slipping over your folds and bringing out that breathy ‘ah’ of pleasure once more. 

“Mm, ok,” you sighed, drawn to his mouth again. You let your hands cup his jaw before sliding back into his hair, tongue licking into his mouth, caressing his. You couldn’t stop twitching, each time his fingers rubbed over your clit. So fucking sensitive. “I’m not kidding, I’m gonna cry if I don’t come soon,” you whimpered against his lips, only half joking. 

“Then come,” he said so sumptuously just as he let two thick fingers plunge smoothly inside you. It caught you off guard, a loud gasp turning to a sob as your walls tightened hard around him. He was certainly not going to tease you. Not with the way he sunk in again a second later, all the way to the knuckle, making sure you felt all of him. 

“Fuck, oh my god–” you cried, gripping his hair tighter than you meant to. Your hips waved up instinctively, meeting the drives of his hand until you were putty, “ah, ah, ahhhhh’-ing into his mouth, practically shaking in his embrace from the force of your high.

You would’ve been a little embarrassed maybe, sobbing this much with someone you were having sex with for the first time. But Joon felt so safe – it was never even a thought in your mind, not when your body was now warm on every inch from the way his fingers were curving up inside of you, even still, even as you came down and you found yourself struggling to take in full breaths. 

“God, you are fucking gorgeous,” he rasped, propped up on one elbow over you as he continued to work his fingers, slower now, just watching the way the sensations melted across your face. “Wow,” he added, quieter, a little breathless himself. 

“Yeah…wow,” you told him with a little nod, your eyes finally fluttering open. When you looked into each other's eyes, you both couldn’t help but smile, almost on the brink of a little laugh. 

Instead, he tucked his face by your neck, pushing it into the pillow as he groaned. “Baby,” he said, the words totally muffled. 

“What?” you asked, hands running down his back, feeling how his skin was so smooth and hot now too. 

He turned his head just enough to be heard better. “Can I still fuck you?” Those words, in his gorgeous voice, mixed with a needy tone? It just made you want to come again immediately. 

“Please. Fuck, yes,” you replied after the shortest moment of processing. Your arms wrapped around him, about to pull him where you wanted him. But together, you realized, him crawling over you to the nightstand just as you loosened your grip. 

Protection acquired, he came back to you only to find you pressing on his shoulders, giving you the space to sit up. 

“Can you…?” you asked, gesturing to the headboard with a tilt of your head. 

He smirked at you just a bit, eyes narrowing, before swiftly doing so, pulling you into his lap until you were seated exactly as you wanted, just the same as the first night you’d spent in his room – but now with much less clothing between you.

With a tiny press of your hips forward, you were able to rub against his length, spreading your juices up and down the underside. 

A steady hold on your waist, a deep breath, he watched, pressing his lips together, clearly trying to stop the way his eyes wanted to roll into the back of his head. When he looked down, you followed his gaze, moaning with him at the sight of his thick cock slipping so slowly between your lips. 

Then you reached down to wrap your fingers around him, feeling how big he was in your hand. Was he the biggest out of the five? The thought made you want to laugh, stupidly entertained, but you held it back entirely, biting your lip instead through your little smile. 

“You’re teasing me now,” he said softly, not even a hint of the whining and pouting you had been doing. 

You smiled wider, trying your best to think clearly with the drag of your clit along him. “Baby girl gets what she wants, right?”

An air of an indignant laugh then his brows were pushing up a little, the look on his face suddenly a little cocky. “I hope you don’t think that’s how this is going to go.”

Those words, you had not been expecting; they sent an icy thrill through you. “No?” you asked sweetly, lifting your hips up until his tip was nudging at your entrance.

Another deep breath from him as he looked at you with amused eyes. “For tonight, sure. But, typically – no,” he explained further, the final ‘no’ coming out firm with a little shake of his head. 

You licked your lips. God, the idea of him putting you in your place was just making you wetter, your body sinking down on him just a bit until you started to feel the stretch, and a little breathy moan came out. Damn, he really was thick.

“Fuck…” he sighed, hands absentmindedly pushing down on your hips a little while you tried not to let him conduct you. Not yet. 

You squeezed around the tip, groaning together as you fell forward a little, catching yourself on his shoulders. “You like it better when I’m good?” you whispered teasingly, so quiet with how his cock expanding your walls was choking you up. 

He let out a guttural sound, almost out of frustration, but you could feel him pulsing inside you, now halfway in. He seemed to be fighting himself, wanting to slide you down all the way but also not letting himself be forceful with you. “Y/N-ah,” he grumbled.

It was almost cute, the way his eyebrows were pushing together, eyes falling closed until he was blinking them open to stare at you, refusing to plead. 

“Want me to be good for you?” you asked once more, sliding in a bit farther, your breath hitching at how deep he was already. 

“Baby, if you’re good for me, you can have whatever you want,” he rushed out, hands gripping harder at your hips, head pushing back into the headboard. Good answer.

You sunk down the last inch, ass fully flush against his pelvis, his cock reaching into your tummy. “Fuuuck, Joon…” you moaned, immediately beginning to swirl your hips a little. “Can feel you all the way up here,” you gasped out, pressing into your abdomen to show him. 

He just cursed again, sounding like he was being tortured. “Baby girl, you gotta move.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in compliance, the pet name making it easy to give in, before starting to lift, feeling the wet drag against your walls. 

“Fuck, good girl,” he rasped before pulling you into a deep kiss, one hand locked on the back on your neck while the other began to guide your hips in a slow bounce. 

There weren’t many thoughts in your head but the one you could discern was simple: you could certainly be good for Namjoon. Sure, you still naturally wanted to be a bit difficult but something about those praising words floating into your ears made you melt. You just wanted more and more. 

“You’re big – god–” you told him into his mouth, the words tapering off into a whimper as you tightened around him each time you lifted, like your body was trying to keep him inside. 

“I wanna– here,” he said, holding you still a moment while he shifted himself down the bed so he could lay against the pillow. The new position allowed him to fuck up into you, pulling sharp gasps and groans from you as you tried to stabilize yourself above him, a hand tangling in his hair, face lodged in the pillow.

His pace was steady, wiping your mind each time you tried to form a thought. You had tried to move to meet his thrusts but quickly gave up on that idea when he fucked you faster, ragged breaths and low praises hummed into your ear. 

“Holy shit–” you cried, a bit of drool no doubt coming out onto the linens. 

“Feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He slowed his movements a little bit, waving his hips instead as he caught his breath. “Want to come like this? Or are you going to ride me?”

He stilled and let go of his hold on you so you could sit up, lodging him deeper inside of you.

You ground your hips forward and back, only a few times before starting to fuck him, a hand on the front of each of his burly shoulders. 

Now able to take you in, he let his hands wander up, caressing your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples lightly then harder, pinching them a little as he squeezed each mound. “So fucking pretty, baby girl. Taking me so well.”

You nodded, pussy clenching down on him as you tried to fuck him harder. 

“God, you’re so sexy, fucking me like this. Does it feel good, baby?”

With a shaky sigh, you switched to grinding on him again, giving your achy thighs a little break. “It’s so good–” Sitting up more, you let a hand rest behind you on his thigh while the other came between your legs, rubbing your wetness into your clit, perfectly displayed for him to watch. “Fuck, I’m gonna come again,” you confessed, head falling back.

“Come, baby," he breathed. "Let me feel you come around my cock.”

“Oh, fuck–” You wanted him to keep talking. He was talking more than you could’ve expected and it was killing you. “Joon–”

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed, scratching his nails lightly down your sides, over your hips, down your thighs. 

“Want you to come too.”

“Can I flip you over?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, not even opening your eyes or making a move to get off him. 

Suddenly, you were being whipped around, legs in the air as he pinned you down onto the mattress and started pounding into you. Right away, you were crying out, curses falling from you as his thick cock hit deep and hard. It took barely ten more thrusts before you were coming, legs closing around him as you moaned an embarrassing amount of unintelligible whimpers into his neck.

You were twitching underneath him, another jolt of pleasure flying through you with each drive of his hips as he sought out his own high. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby– shit,” he groaned, louder and more pained into your hair until he too was hitting the edge, his body freezing with him flush against you, hot and tensed as he spilled into the condom. 

Finally, you sucked in a breath and let it out in a soft and shaky ‘ahhh’ as you hugged him tight to you. He had fucked you… thoroughly, to the say the least. And after the day you’d had, it was exactly what you had needed. 

After a slow minute, he pushed himself up onto his hands with a little groan of effort, sitting back on his feet so that he could bring an arm up and wipe at the dampness that dotted his hairline. 

You just smiled up at him, still breathing heavy, letting your gaze dance down over his pretty pecs, the brown of his nipples to his stomach, faint abs popping out from under tan skin. Unable to help yourself, you reached up, tracing a finger down the centre of his torso then pressing your hand flat as you felt back up, all the way until he had to bend forward once again to let you continue, which, of course, he did. 

He dropped down a little more at your tug on his shoulder, craning his neck to kiss you when you lifted your chin slightly. It was soft this time, your tongue tracing along his bottom lip then meeting his, swiping over it slowly, sensuously. You really did love kissing him – even more so now with him inside you. 

Leaving your lips, he placed a kiss on your neck, then one lower at the start of your collarbone, before finishing with a warm wet kiss to one nipple, sucking it lightly and making you squeeze around him at the pinprick of stimulation. “You’re so tight,” he groaned out, lips still pressing to your chest. 

“Maybe you’re just huge,” you toyed, giving him a cheeky little smile when he peered up at you. 

“Ok, I’ll take it,” he acquiesced with a grin, then he was sitting up again, looking down at where you were still joined. “I almost don’t even want to move,” he said cutely, with a little shrug. 

You giggled, tilting your head at him as you propped yourself up onto your elbows. 

“But I gotta take care of this,” he continued, holding at the base of the condom as he started to pull out. 

“I’m gonna go pee.” Slipping off the bed, you realized that you didn’t have any clothes, nor were you interested in the slightest in putting your wet undergarments back on. “Hey, can I steal some clothes?” you asked, staring at the damp uninviting towel on the floor as he finished.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, so assuringly, quickly pulling out some cozy sweats for you and a t-shirt, which you promptly pulled on, chuckling with Namjoon when he saw the fit of them on you.

The closest bathroom was right beside Yoongi’s room and you were surprised to see a light on from underneath the door. Then again, Yoongi’s sleeping habits were weird, all the guys’ sleeping habits were weird, really. 

But like clockwork, his door opened just as you were coming out, flicking the light off behind you, leaving the two of you standing just a couple feet apart with you somewhat drowning in Namjoon’s clothes. He had his laptop in his hand, cords hanging, big headphones around his neck. He looked at you and tried to smile. The trying to smile part was obvious. Unfortunately. 

Then he walked off towards the stairs. 

Fuck… 

Had he heard you?

A/N: ok.... hehehe. welp, there's that. i haven't written much smut for Joon yet so this was fun! i hope you enjoyed :) as always, please do let me know if you did. it's incredibly motivating and makes me want to write this series so much when i hear people's thoughts! <3 and thank you! THANK YOU thank you!

Tag List: @jinsquishes @cookiechristie @yoongiigolden @jinkajous, @effielumiere  @bucketofhiros @fontainexpert @sp00kysluut @bangtan-emo @nabiolive @asyamonet22 @notbotheredtho @angelsuni @juju-227592 @the-boy-meets-evil @welcometomyworld13 @ah2002 @aris-ink @here4btsfics @bananamochidaisy @pb89nv​ @mushroom-main​ @hoseokhasmyheartxx​​ @mariegalea​ @bookingsunshine @catchmybreath94 @zandra-42

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Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

🥹✨ new new alert

what the fire gave us (teaser) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

↳ pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | dystopian | supernatural | friends to lovers | angst | smut | fluff

↳ teaser wc/date: 916 | may 2023

↳ teaser warnings: hobi and jk get in a physical fight but it's playful

↳ notes: i'll post the fic this weekend! it's part of the spring offering collab, so pls check out the other works~ this is very different than what i've written so far. i hope you all enjoy it! let me know if you like it, and i look forward to sharing the whole thing with you soon 💜

↳ masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see that Hoseok occasionally blows a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks. 

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.” 

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter, until the darkness turns into a solid mass. 

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin. 

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger boy. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about on his head. 

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile. 

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body, you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook is quickly looking away again. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning. 

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away from you. 

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.” 

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook. 

“I hurt all over, Joonie.” 

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.” 

“Sparring.” 

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-” 

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. There’s a lot of howling and teasing laughter that rings through the open air. 

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you all know comes from Hoseok and lands rather roughly on his back that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again. 

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes, water does little when there’s no soap. 

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases. Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice, although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze. 

“You did not.” 

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle. 

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.” 

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.” 

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.” 

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods. 

“Boy Scouts,” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong. 

“Impossible?” 

 Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a serious look only reveals itself when he’s assuming his position as the leader of your misfit group. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.   

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away. 

“I…” 

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small. 

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.” 

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. Many things died during the war, both tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was. 

Perhaps that is best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

Ohmygawwwwwwd the HEARTACHE!!!! This was such a lovely first chapter and it has me hooked. Please the way I was screaming for her when he attempted to gaslight her for HIS cheating!! Tuh, glad she called him out on his bs and didn’t let deter into a self doubting. With a coworker too?? I totally feel those weird mixed emotions where you’re “supposed” to cry, scream, etc but just feel so empty and I hope our dear reader knows that I’m itself is also an emotion in itself and she can take all the process time she needs 😭 Thank you Sohee for being an amazing friend!! Can’t wait to hear more about the Love Doctor!! ✨

isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable. 

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned. 

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied. 

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read. 

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology. 

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents. 

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door. 

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed. 

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction. 

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing. 

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften. 

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing. 

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity. 

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom. 

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 07.05.2023]

OH.MY.GOD. Your mind, hello?? Yes this is scapegoat I needed!! Please we love extraterrestrial Bangtan stories. Oh poor jungkookie 🥹 shout out to Hobi, his kindness really be otherworldly. Wait so so, can Zephi make themselves invisible?? Is that what he did to make Yoon calm down 😮. Ayeee also 👀 is that a side pairing I senses 👀 VMon/TaeJoon ?? 👀

Hehe but no fr this was such an exciting intro chapter, Yoon’s spidey senses really had him knowing something was off before he even knew it. Really looking forward to the unfolding of this story 🫡

cosmic collision (1) | myg + jjk

A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn't expect is the alien that comes with it.

↳ pairing: weedman!yoongi x alien!jungkook

↳ genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | strangers to lovers | slow burn | crack | fluff | smut

↳ wc/date: 6.8k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | yoongi blacks out from being too high, but i promise nothing bad happens to him | jungkook is so precious you might not survive | yoongi is TRYING HIS BEST

↳ notes: welcome to this silly lil world of galactic mysteries 👽 i hope you enjoy the journey. pls keep your arms, hands, legs, feet, and head inside the spacecraft at all times

↳ main masterlist // series masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? know yourself - drake

✨ want to be added to the series taglist? send me an ask or reply to this post ✨

“What’s this one called again?” As Namjoon speaks, a thick cloud of white smoke rushes out of his mouth. 

Hoseok is quick with a response, answering before Yoongi has a chance. “DJ Short Flo,” he reads the piece of masking tape stuck to the top of the glass jar on their coffee table. The name is scribbled in blue Sharpie. 

Namjoon repeats the name to himself in a low and scratchy tone. He clears his throat a few times more than is really necessary. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi’s not sure the names of marijuana strains really need to mean anything, but he’s not part of the conversation. He’s too busy counting a rather fat wad of cash as he stands in the entryway of his apartment. 

Suddenly, the chill vibes playlist Namjoon so artfully crafted for the group’s weekly Friday night smoke sesh pauses. He flashes a glare at Taehyung spread out on Yoongi’s bean bag as he passes the blunt off to Hoseok, who is now making grabby hands next to him on the couch. 

“This is that nasty flow!” Taehyung belts the Drake lyrics prematurely, using his phone to switch from Namjoon’s playlist to the song that has seemingly popped into his head at the mention of Flo. 

Hoseok’s eyes widen as he lifts the blunt to his lips. He takes a drag from it while his head leans over the back of the couch. “Hey, wasn’t that Yoongi’s rapper name in college? Or was it DJ Short Glow?” 

“Top boy in this shit, I’m so international!” 

Yoongi slams his foot into his dirty red Vans. He has to bend over slightly to hook his finger in the back of the shoe to pull it out from underneath his heel. Life would be much easier if he just untied his shoes and put them on correctly. 

“It was Gloss.” 

“Reps up is in here, got P Reign and Chubby and TJ and Winnie and whoa!” Taehyung’s voice cracks as he chokes out the lyrics, and smoke simultaneously puffs out of his nose and mouth. 

“DJ Short Gloss?” Hoseok asks. 

“Yeah, and you know how that should go!” 

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Yoongi throws his middle finger up at whoever may be looking. “I’m not even short.” With his shoes on, Yoongi shrugs into a light windbreaker and stuffs the money into one of the pockets. He has to wiggle the pocket’s zipper a few times before it fully zips closed. “I’ma be back in probably two hours, okay?” 

Hoseok and Taehyung are now belting an Ariana Grande song, so only Namjoon acknowledges Yoongi’s announcement. He throws his friend a thumbs up as smoke unfurls around the blunt squeezed between his lips. 

“Have fun, bro. Tell Jin he better respond to my message on Discord. We got games to play.” 

Yoongi gives the front door a sharp kick before he yanks it open. He reminds himself to figure out how to fix it from getting stuck constantly. The paint on the bottom corner is starting to crack from the number of toes that have jammed into it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I got you, Joon.” 

Seokjin is notoriously difficult to get ahold of. Yoongi can’t text him, which is understandable, even if using other apps like Discord to communicate is annoying. It always goes back to not wanting his real phone number associated with their conversations. Yoongi never feels like pointing out that a Discord account - like literally everything else - can be traced back to Seokjin’s phone. It’s a losing battle, and Yoongi isn’t the type to argue. 

So he shoots WWHandsome#7451 a quick “omw” and drives the thirty minutes to Seokjin’s brother’s house. Or was it his cousin? Best friend? Yoongi can’t remember. All he knows is the guy is cute, and that is enough to make Yoongi not want to go to his house. 

It’s a small house tucked away in the culs-de-sac of a modest but nice-looking suburb. Yoongi always feels dirty as he parks on the curb in his 2001 Honda Accord. The car has wires sticking out where the spoiler was once connected in the back (accidentally ripped off by Taehyung, who closed the trunk too hard). The metal below his front left headlight is dented and stitched together with black zip ties after Yoongi idiotically let Namjoon drive and his friend hit a mailbox.  

The feeling of being out of place typically intensifies as Yoongi trudges up the walkway to the front door. He feels frumpy in his dad hat with a frayed bill, eccentrically-patterned pink button-up shirt over a white graphic tee, and forest-green joggers. He never cared about fashion; throwing on whatever’s clean is enough for him. But when Seokjin’s friend (Yoongi is now remembering they are just friends) flings the door open and lets his eyes roam over Yoongi’s frame, he wishes he’d at least ironed his shirt. 

“Hello,” the man purs. He brushes blue-grey hair away from eyes that are sharp and heavy as he looks up at Yoongi through his bangs. Yoongi tries not to pay attention. “Jinnie’s in the basement.” 

The basement is really just one giant gaming room with a spot off to the side dedicated to Seokjin’s rather impressive inventory of marijuana. He’s exceptionally organized, which Yoongi appreciates, with each glass jar and drawer stuffed with green buds neatly labeled. It makes the exchange quick and easy. Yoongi would prefer not to linger. 

It’s not that Seokjin has ever done anything wrong. In all honesty, Yoongi can’t quite put a name to the feeling he gets in the elder’s presence. He just knows something about Seokjin makes him uneasy. 

“Yoongi-ya, good to see you, my friend.” Seokjin’s hand clamps over Yoongi’s shoulder and his fingers dig into his clavicle. 

“Good seeing you, too,” Yoongi mumbles. He shrugs off his backpack and holds it against his chest like a shield. However, it doesn’t protect him for long because Seokjin almost immediately pries it from Yoongi’s grasp. He watches as the older man tosses the empty bag onto the coffee table in front of a large TV, making the glass rattle. 

“Sit.” 

Yoongi plops onto the couch. Halo Infinite is paused on the TV. He knows nothing about video games, but he’s sure Namjoon would squeal over Seokjin’s setup. Yoongi makes a note to never tell him about it. 

“Want your usual, right?” Seokjin asks though he’s obviously not in any rush to get Yoongi his supply when he settles beside him on the couch. He tilts his black bucket hat back, pulling the brim away from his eyes to expose dark eyebrows. 

Seokjin wears clothes similar to Yoongi’s usual attire: comfortable graphic tees and joggers. He always manages to look better, though. Sleek and expensive, with logos of brands Yoongi doesn’t even know stitched into the fabric, all monochrome rather than the patterned clothing that makes Yoongi look like a rainbow threw up on him. 

“Mhm,” Yoongi hums. “Chem Valley Kush, XJ-13, and DJ Short Flo sold really well.” 

Seokjin’s eyes crinkle as he grins. In the dim lighting of the room, Yoongi swears his teeth look sharp. “XJ-13 put your ass in gear, didn’t it?” 

This Yoongi has to smile at. “The most productive I’ve been in my life,” he laughs. “That tangerine aroma, too? Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Seokjin reaches for the clear glass bong atop the coffee table. He brings it to his lips, pausing momentarily to say, “It’s the Jack Herer in it.” 

Yoongi watches the smoke furl through the intricately curled tubing. He’s always been more of a bowl kind of guy, but he doesn’t say no when Seokjin passes him the bong and a lime green lighter.

“I’ve got enough of all three, but try out this one.” Seokjin watches expectantly as Yoongi inhales and doesn’t continue talking until he blows a thick cloud toward the ceiling. “It’s called Cosmic Collision. Totally brand new strain, an experimental hybrid. Nobody’s got this on the street except me.” 

“Cosmic Collision?” Yoongi runs his tongue across his teeth, then the inside of his cheeks, like he’s gathering the taste in his mouth. It’s fruity and went down so smooth it almost felt more like vaping or hookah than weed. “Tastes like cereal.” 

“Good, right? Shit’ll take you somewhere otherworldly.”

Describing the strain as experimental and otherworldly is relatively accurate, Yoongi muses as he takes a few more hits from the bong. Each pull is smooth and surprisingly kind to his throat as he breathes it down. Weed like this is hard to come by on the streets. Most are harsh, perhaps from being doused in pesticides or growing in shoddy environments. Seokjin has never let Yoongi down, though. Everything he provides is always high quality, to the extent that Yoongi wonders if the man grows it himself or if he’s got the hookup with someone professional. 

Before long, Yoongi sinks into the couch and forgets his promise of returning home after two hours. His phone buzzes in his pocket with text messages he can’t seem to find the desire to check. He doesn’t hear the notifications, only feels the vibration against his thigh. The sensation warms him to the point that the way his body tingles is a little embarrassing. 

Something else buzzes in his ear, something he can hear as a muffled squeak that pulses against his eardrums. It’s rather annoying. Yoongi’s face twists into a slight grimace that quickly melts away when he feels something poke his cheek. 

“Yoongi-ya!” 

His head is almost too heavy to turn, but he manages. Seokjin’s image is blurry initially. It takes a few blinks for Yoongi to adjust, and only then does he realize his eyes have been closed for a good while. 

“Hm?” Like his head, his tongue feels heavy to lift. His mouth tastes like Froot Loops. A small smile stretches his lips against his teeth. God, he’s so fucking high. 

“Jimin and I need to leave; I’m sorry,” Seokjin gives him a sheepish look. 

Yoongi blinks a few more times and wills his arms to lift up. He stretches his back with a groan. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t realize how long it’s been.” 

His phone tells him it’s been nearly four hours since he arrived. His brain struggles to comprehend this new information, just like it struggles to accept that he has somehow migrated upstairs and is now sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of him. When the fuck had he moved? 

Seokjin gives him a knowing smile. “Drink more water when you get home. And drive safely!” 

Nodding his head, Yoongi slings his backpack over his shoulder and follows Seokjin to the front door. The bag is heavy with what Yoongi assumes is weed - the whole reason why he came to the house in the first place. But he has no recollection of Seokjin giving it to him. 

“That’s some strong shit,” Yoongi mumbles mostly to himself as he says his final goodbyes. 

There’s the knowing smile again, though Yoongi doesn’t know what Seokjin knows that he doesn’t know. “Like I said, otherworldly. Have a good night, my friend. I’ll see you around.” 

As he returns to his car, Yoongi decides that Seokjin most definitely gives him the creeps. A twinge of guilt accompanies the thought because Yoongi knows Seokjin hasn’t actually done anything to deserve such judgment, but he can’t help it. Knowing that he completely blacked out for hours with the guy sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. Smoking has never affected him like that before. 

The car ride home is frigid and quiet. Yoongi leans forward against the steering wheel, grasping it with both hands and straining his eyes to see into the dark. Driving while high is a skill Yoongi has perfected over many years of smoking, but tonight he finds himself struggling to stay focused. His eyes keep flicking up to check the rearview mirror. He knows this means he’s so high that paranoia starts kicking in. He usually cuts himself off before that point, but tonight got away from him. Checking for cops in the rearview mirror is one of those paranoid habits of his. At least the sense of self-preservation isn’t too ridiculous. Driving while under the influence of marijuana is illegal, after all. 

To his horror, the next time he looks into the mirror, the empty street isn’t what greets him. Instead, Yoongi stares into two large, bright eyes. 

There’s a motherfucking person in his backseat. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Yoongi stomps on the brakes. The abruptness violently lurches the guy forward, making him smack his face into the back of the passenger’s seat. 

The guy groans loudly and cups his hand over his nose. “Owww.” When he meets Yoongi’s eyes through the rearview mirror again, they’re shiny and wet. “You hurt me.” 

“Who the fuck are you?!” 

It doesn’t matter that he’s stopped in the middle of the street. Yoongi puts the car into park and twists in his seat to see the person behind him better. Any feeling of intoxication has swiftly left his body. He doesn’t think he has sobered up so quickly in his entire life. 

The guy appears to be a few years younger than Yoongi. His shaggy black hair falls into his eyes, though most of his face is obscured by the large hood of his mossy-green sweatshirt. Looking down, Yoongi sees that he’s in a pair of black basketball shorts that are inappropriate for the cool autumn weather. Tattoos of strange symbols litter his hands and creep up his arms, from what Yoongi can tell. The thought that his teeth look sharp like Seokjin’s do flashes in Yoongi’s mind, but he’s too freaked out to linger on that. Imagined sharp teeth are nothing compared to how the younger man’s eyes glow with a turquoise ring around his black irises. 

Despite the fear those eyes strike in Yoongi’s body, he can’t help but admire how beautiful the man is. Something about him feels… otherworldly, Seokjin’s voice sounds in Yoongi’s head. 

“My name is-” 

Whatever the man says is lost to Yoongi. His supposed name is nothing Yoongi has ever heard before, sounding more like strange clicks and whistles instead of a real language. 

Apparently sensing Yoongi’s confusion by his mouth hanging open, the man gives him a nervous smile. “You may call me Jungkook if that is easier for you to pronounce,” he whispers hardly loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “When I am in this realm, that is the name I go by. Elder Seokjin gave it to me.” 

Realm? Elder? 

Yoongi shakes his head while his palms press into his eyes. Maybe if he slowly counts backward from ten and focuses on his breathing, the marijuana-induced hallucination will disappear. 

Silently, he mouths the numbers until he finishes his ten seconds of attempted meditation. To his chagrin, he opens his eyes to see the strange man sitting on the edge of the backseat with his hands clasped between his thighs. He watches Yoongi in earnest. 

“I can tell that you are upset.” He speaks slowly as if he thinks Yoongi may not be able to understand him. “There was nothing else that I could do, sir. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin closed the portal when they left after they assumed I had returned home without them. But I was in the garden! I do not like the smell of marijuana. It hurts my head so badly. I needed to get fresh air until you left.”

The man waits rather impatiently for Yoongi to respond. He fidgets in his seat, though he keeps his eyes locked with Yoongi’s. His gaze is so intense that Yoongi has to look away. 

It’s too much. 

Before any more bullshit can spew from the guy’s mouth, Yoongi flings the door open, snatching the keys before slamming the door shut behind him. His hand shakes as he presses the button to lock the doors, leaving him standing outside and the younger man inside. 

He looks up at Yoongi through the back window with confusion. Yoongi could swear that the turquoise rings around his eyes dim. 

Turning his back to the car so he doesn’t have to look at the man anymore, Yoongi finally takes out his phone. It takes Namjoon three calls to pick up, but Yoongi can’t be mad; he’s just grateful his friend picked up at all. 

“Yoong. It’s three-thirty in the morning. Hobi said you never came home.”

There was a reason why he called Namjoon instead of his roommate. Hoseok is such a heavy sleeper, Yoongi knows it would have been pointless to try. 

“I need you to come get me. I don’t really know where I am, but there’s a guy in my car.” 

Silence on the other end of the line makes Yoongi grow antsy. He lets out a loud huff, then another to indicate the sense of urgency he needs his friend to share with him. 

“What?” 

“I’m not kidding, man. There’s some random fucking dude in the backseat of my car.” 

Yoongi takes a peek over his shoulder. The guy has crawled halfway into the front seats and is pushing the buttons on Yoongi’s radio. Probably fucking up all his saved stations. Yoongi lets out a hiss. 

“Bro, you’re tweaking.” 

“Fuck you, I’m serious.” 

“Tweeeeeaking,” Namjoon drawls. There’s a giggle in the background, the soft deepness of the sound unmistakable. 

“Give Taehyung the phone.” 

For a few seconds, Yoongi only hears more giggling and some rustling. He tries to respect his friends’ privacy and not ask why they are still together so late at night. 

Eventually, Taehyung murmurs a greeting. “Hey, boss man.” 

“Come pick me up right now. This dude is refusing to get out of my car.” 

“What if he hotwires it, and when you go back in the morning, it’s gone?” Taehyung raises a valid concern, but Yoongi isn’t in the right mind to think with common sense. 

“Then it’s fucking gone! It’s a piece of shit car anyway!” 

Taehyung gasps. “Don’t talk about Mary Jane like that!” 

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe he is tweaking. The universe must agree since he turns around to see an empty car. 

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s voice is small and distant. 

Yoongi holds his phone a few inches away from his ear and stares at his car in disbelief. He slowly approaches it, peering into the windows to inspect the backseat. There’s nothing. 

“Uhh… nevermind. I’ll be fine. Make sure Joon drinks some water, okay?” He hangs up before Taehyung has the chance to question him further. 

With trembling hands, Yoongi unlocks the car and slides behind the wheel. Another quick look around confirms that he’s again the only person in the car. How was it possible for the other guy to get out? Yoongi knows that he locked the doors when he got out. But perhaps he unlocked them from the inside, and the alarm didn’t go off? Yoongi can’t think straight, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. His car is empty. 

It remains empty for the rest of the drive. Yoongi is on edge the entire time, but he has calmed down considerably by the time he parks on the street near his apartment.

However, Yoongi doesn’t feel true security until he’s in bed, after showering away the smell of weed and the tingling feeling of his skin. The marijuana is put away, although he hides Cosmic Collision in his closet. He doesn’t know why, but something tells him to keep the odd strain to himself for now. 

With how droopy the weed made him and the stress of the ride home, Yoongi quickly falls asleep to his Pink Noise playlist and tries not to dream of turquoise-ringed eyes. 

Yoongi loves autumn Saturday mornings. He loves snuggling into his blankets while the sun gently kisses his skin. He loves tilting his head to see red and gold leaves glowing in the sunlight outside his window. He loves knowing there’s nothing that needs to be done, that he has a day to slowly move through the kitchen in his pajamas with a cup of coffee and a blunt with nowhere he needs to be. He loves gentle days. 

Today, he does not have the pleasure of enjoying a gentle day. 

Rather than the sun waking him, it’s his roommate. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s shoulders a bit too tightly as he shakes the older man awake. 

“Yoongi,” he whisper-yells. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me you had someone over. He’s really fucking hot, I get it, but you have to tell me! I just walked out of my bedroom naked, which I should be able to do since it’s my apartment, and I knew you wouldn’t be up yet, and surprise! Some gorgeous man is sitting on the couch, eating my chocolate chip cookies, by the way, staring at my dick! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” 

With squinted eyes and a scrunched nose, Yoongi stares up at Hoseok. To be perfectly honest, all he heard was hot, naked, cookies, dick. Which… Is not what one expects to talk about before their eyes have even adjusted to the daylight. 

“Wha-what, Hoba, what?” Yoongi forces himself into a sitting position. 

Hoseok flaps his arms at his side and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Your hookup is still here. And he saw me naked. And he’s eating my food. That is what I’m trying to tell you.” 

“My hookup?” 

“Yes, fuck. He’s really sexy in an adorable kind of way. I was shocked. Not really your usual type, but an improvement, honestly,” Hoseok rambles.  

Ignoring the subtle dig at his taste in men, Yoongi tries to focus on the meaning behind his roommate’s words. He is no stranger to casual sex but seldom brings people over out of respect for Hoseok. It’s a situation precisely like this that he tries to avoid. 

“But I came home straight from Jin’s… Didn’t I?” Yoongi wracks his brain, desperately searching for some kind of missing link. “I swear on my life, Hoba. I swear on my life I went to Seokjin’s and came straight home. You can ask Joon and Tae. I called them after I left because-” 

Hoseok leaps back as Yoongi rips the blankets off of his body. “Fuck!” He flies out of his bedroom, feet barely touching the ground. 

He’s breathing hard when he bursts into the living room. 

The man from the night before - Jungkook - is cuddled up on the couch. He’s wearing the same outfit, though his hood is lowered now. Yoongi can see just how disarmingly beautiful the man is without the fabric obstructing his view. His face is round with flawless skin that practically glows in the daylight. His bangs are sticking out in all directions, hair mused in what Yoongi assumes is bedhead. Yoongi can’t help but find him kind of adorable, especially when his cheeks are puffy from stuffing so many chocolate chip cookies in his mouth. 

Except he shouldn’t be fucking real! Or in his apartment!

As Yoongi steps closer, he notices the turquoise rings around Jungkook’s irises. Fear that Yoongi can only describe as primal tickles the base of his spine. It’s impossible to stamp down, no matter how many deep breaths he takes. 

“You.” He points an accusatory finger. “You.” 

Not his most intelligent moment, but his brain doesn’t know how to function anymore. A cookie-covered smile makes Yoongi falter, but he does his best to maintain a stern expression. 

“Good morning, Yoongi! Your apartment is kind of dirty, but it feels cozy. I like it.” Jungkook places the now empty container of cookies on the coffee table. The action draws Yoongi’s attention to the stack of other empty food containers, beer bottles, weed residue, and game controllers littering the table’s surface. Maybe he is dirty. 

Nah, fuck that. This is not what’s important right now. 

Yoongi shakes his head, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Why are you here? How did you get here?” 

Hoseok makes an odd sound that Yoongi desperately tries to ignore. But then he feels the press of a warm hand against the nape of his neck, and he can’t brush him off from how tightly Hoseok is digging into his skin. 

“Yoongi…” He sounds like he’s about to scold him. 

Before he can start, Jungkook hops up from the couch. Both strangely-tattooed hands lift upward, about chest-high, and he twists them to hold his palms out. 

“It is my fault, Mr. Hoseok.” 

“Just Hobi.” 

Jungkook nods. “I did not explain the situation well. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin told me never to speak to humans about this, but I don’t know what else to do. No one else from our team is here, and they must wait until the next cosmic collision for the portal to reopen.” 

His voice trembles as he speaks, and Yoongi worries the guy is about to start crying. He tugs at the many hoops adorning his earlobe and rocks on the balls of his feet, much like children do to comfort themselves. 

Maybe he’s a dick, but Yoongi would prefer not to deal with a stranger crying in the middle of his living room. 

“Cosmic collision? Like the weed?” He understands all the individual words Jungkook uses, but none of them in how he has strung them together. 

The man bites his lip. His teeth wiggle as they dig into the pink flesh. At night they had appeared sharp, but in the daylight, they are blunt and almost too big for his face. 

“Not the weed,” he says without further explanation. 

Hoseok’s grip on Yoongi’s neck tightens until he turns to look at him. Human? He mouths not so subtly. 

Yoongi shakes his head. Nothing about any of this makes sense. With a sigh, he runs his hands down his face and grimaces at how oily his skin feels. 

“Look,” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows in Jungkook’s direction. “I’m gonna take a shower. And then I’m gonna drink a cup of coffee. By that point, I expect you to have called Jin or Jimin, fuck, I don’t care who, to take you home. Okay?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, likely to protest, but Yoongi tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nope. I said what I said.” 

“Yoongi-ya,” Hoseok protests on behalf of the bewildered man. He follows Yoongi back into his bedroom, awkwardly wringing his hands as he watches him look for clean clothes to wear. “He seems genuine…” 

“Genuine?” Yoongi scoffs. 

Hoseok shoots him a glare. “Yes.” 

“Did you not hear him, Hoba? Humans? Cosmic collisions? Portals? Last night he said he goes by ‘Jungkook’ when he’s in this realm and made some weird ass clicking sounds like The Predator, like that was supposed to be his fucking name.” 

“Okay… that is a bit strange… But I think you’re being harsh. Clearly, the guy is confused, and if he’s a friend of Jin, I think you should be nicer to him.” 

“Jin gives me the creeps, too.” 

“Yoongi!” Hoseok untangles his fingers to wave them around. “Just, just take your shower. I will get all of us coffee, and we will sort this out.” 

They do not sort this out. 

While Yoongi showered, Hoseok probed Jungkook a bit further. It was all more or less the same, though. Utter nonsense. 

He discovered that Jungkook didn’t know what coffee was, didn’t seem to understand why Hoseok had initially been upset that he’d seen him naked because “nudity is the natural state of all humans,” and seemed shocked that Hoseok could “alter” his features - pointing at the deep orange he had recently dyed his hair. As if to explain his thought process about the hair observation, Hoseok watched with thinly-veiled horror as Jungkook’s hair turned a deep purple right before his eyes. 

Needless to say, as Yoongi inches his way into the kitchen after a shower that should have been refreshing but only left him feeling cold, he does not expect to see Hoseok leaning across the kitchen table to stare unblinking at their odd guest. Their odd guest whose previously-dark hair is an icy blue. 

“Umm?” 

Hoseok lifts his eyes to Yoongi. They’re bright and full of wonder, so shiny Yoongi worries he might be on the verge of tears. Out of sadness or something else, he’s not sure. 

“He’s magic.” 

Jungkook giggles at Hoseok’s declaration. However, one look at Yoongi’s narrowed eyes makes him clap his hand over his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” 

“He can change his hair color. And his eyes! See, look. Show him, Jungkookie.” 

Jungkookie? In the time it took Yoongi to shower, they’d gotten on nickname-level? 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Yoongi forgets about his previous threat to kick Jungkook out. Instead, he sits at the table, lets the mug warm his hands, and tries to tell himself that the wave of heat burning down his body is from the coffee and not the intensity of Jungkook’s stare. 

A stare that glows brighter the longer Yoongi looks at him until he watches the turquoise rings turn a deep pink. When Yoongi finally pulls his gaze from his eyes, he sees that Jungkook’s hair compliments his new eyes. 

“What in the actual fuck?” 

“I can change other parts of my body, too!” Jungkook beams. He shakes his head, and his hair returns to its original black. His eyes’ turquoise rings replace the pink. “It takes a lot of energy to change big things, like my facial structure. Hair and eyes are the easiest. I made myself taller when I first got to Earth, though. I like being tall.” 

Yoongi slumps in his seat. If Hoseok wasn’t here witnessing this, he would assume that the weed Seokjin gave him was fucking with him harder than he could have imagined. But Hoseok is entirely sober and untainted by Cosmic Collision. 

That means only one thing. 

This shit is real. Whatever the fuck this is.

“Where were you before you came to Earth?” Hoseok is too willing to go along with this. But, on the other hand, Yoongi feels like everyone is playing a game he doesn’t know the rules to. 

Jungkook’s nervous lip-biting returns, but he seems to push through his feelings. “Our planet is called Zephipra.” He shoots a quick look at Yoongi. “It is further into the universe than you humans have visited. Your scientists do not know about us.” 

“So you’re an alien?” It comes out like a challenge without Yoongi meaning for it to. He feels a tiny bit bad when Jungkook deflates, closing in on himself as he draws his shoulders inward. 

“We don’t like that term.” 

Hoseok reaches an arm across the table. He flips his palm upward as though offering it to Jungkook to hold. 

“What is a better term for you?” he asks softly, and Yoongi envies his roommate’s ability to be unconditionally kind. 

It takes a few minutes of silence before Jungkook hesitantly squeezes Hoseok’s hand. 

“I suppose extraterrestrial, but my people are called Zephi. That is also the language we speak.”

The gulp of coffee Yoongi takes is scalding. He should have waited for it to cool, knows this means his tastebuds and throat are burnt to shit and nothing will taste good for days. But he needs something to do as Jungkook rambles on about the history of aliens like this is all real.  

Hoseok hums along, asking a few follow-up questions when something Jungkook says confuses him. Yoongi finds it all confusing, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“So,” Hoseok claps his hands together and startles Yoongi out of his thoughts. “You said you’re stuck here until some kind of space phenomenon happens?” 

Jungkook nods. 

“And there’s absolutely no other way to get home?” 

Another nod.

“Hmm…” 

Yoongi accidentally catches Jungkook’s eyes once again. He knows his cheeks burn, but he doesn’t understand why. The heat only dissipates once Jungkook averts his gaze. 

“How long does it take, usually?” 

Jungkook draws the coffee Hoseok fixed for him closer. He peers down at the dark liquid and gives the light steam radiating off the surface a few sniffs. Yoongi doesn’t want to find how he scrunches his nose adorable, but he can’t stop the thoughts once they start. 

“Hmm, usually a few weeks.” He looks at Yoongi again, and Yoongi really wishes he’d stop doing that. “Sometimes a month or two, right?” 

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up into his bangs. “How would I know?” 

“Well, how often do you purchase marijuana from Elder Seokjin?” When Yoongi doesn’t respond, Jungkook sighs. It’s the first time he looks genuinely upset. “I have never been here alone.” 

By the time what Jungkook has said clicks in Yoongi’s head, he and Hoseok have migrated back to the living room. Yoongi scrambles after them as he pulls up Discord on his phone. No new messages from WWHandsome#7451. 

Scrolling through their history, he finds that there is a pattern to how often Yoongi buys from him. Once he sorts through stoner memes and news articles about the legalization of marijuana at the federal level, he can see that each conversation about picking up a new order occurs around every four to five weeks. Yoongi rarely initiates the conversation; he doesn’t have to. Seokjin will let him know he has a new supply, and Yoongi suddenly realizes that, yeah, he’s almost out. He mentally joked with himself about how astute Seokjin is, that he must have some sort of supernatural sense to know when Yoongi is running low. 

Now Yoongi wonders if there’s more to it than that.  

“Are you not supposed to be here on your own?” Hoseok drapes a blanket around Jungkook’s shoulders and tucks him into the corner of the couch where the cushions are the comfiest. With Jungkook taken care of, he flops onto the couch beside him, leaving Yoongi room on the opposite end. 

Although Yoongi considers himself to be a pretty reliable guy, Hoseok’s ability to take control of an emotionally-charged situation is Yoongi’s saving grace. Unfortunately, he’s not the best when it comes to emotional shit.  

Jungkook tugs at his earrings once again. His other hand curls into a fist he repeatedly hits on the top of his thigh. It’s not hard or aggressive, but it’s distracting. 

“No. I am an… intern? I believe that is the correct term. Only researchers are allowed on Earth alone. Interns must stay with their research mentor. Mine is Elder Seokjin.”

Hoseok lets out an understanding hum. He peeks at Yoongi out of the corner of his eye, but Yoongi doesn’t think he gives Hoseok much to go off of. Yoongi still has no idea what to think about all this; his brain won’t let him. 

The three men are silent for what feels like forever. The air is full of tension, although Yoongi wonders if he’s the only one who notices it. Jungkook simply looks worried, his fist still thumping against his thigh and his fingers playing with his earrings. Hosoek is almost completely relaxed. Yoongi knows his roommate well enough to tell from how his shoulders sag, and that he’s reaching for the pre-rolls and lighter resting on the coffee table. 

“Is this the 93 Boyz?” 

Yoongi shakes his head, amazed that his friend can casually light up a joint as if this is just a normal day. “Chem Valley Kush.” 

“Nice,” Hoseok speaks out of the corner of his mouth before inhaling as he brings the lighter to the tip of the joint. 

Jungkook makes a small noise, perhaps a cough, when Hoseok exhales. His cute little nose wrinkles up, and Yoongi remembers that he doesn’t like the smell of weed. 

“Want some, kiddo?” Hoseok hands the joint to Jungkook, who hesitantly pinches it between his fingers like a snake ready to lunge at him. 

With furrowed eyebrows, he brings the joint to his lips and sucks in the smoke. Yoongi averts his eyes when Jungkook looks up at him through his lashes, cheeks pink and hollowed. There’s something about the guy that makes Yoongi’s skin crawl. 

Despite his dislike of the smell of weed, Jungkook takes a few hits of the joint like a champ, only coughing once, and even then, the sound was dainty and soft. 

Yoongi accepts the joint from Hoseok when Jungkook passes it over. He tries not to think about how Jungkook’s lips had just wrapped around the end of the joint, the same place Yoongi is about to put his lips. He keeps the hit quick and deep, passing it on to Hoseok before he’s barely inhaled fresh air to push the smoke further into his lungs. 

Only after Hoseok starts the second round of the rotation does he say, “Well, you’ll just have to stay here until the collision or whatever happens.” 

Yoongi’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach while a blinding smile blooms across Jungkook’s face. “Whoa, wait a second. Why can’t he go back to their house?” 

“We can’t leave him alone!” Hoseok chastizes him as though this is the most obvious solution to their dilemma. 

“Hoba, where is he going to sleep?” 

“Your room.” 

Yoongi scoffs. If it’s Hoseok’s bright idea, it should be him giving up his bedroom. “Then where am I sleeping?” 

“The couch.” Hoseok shrugs and passes the joint to a still-hesitant Jungkook. “Or with him, if you’re gonna be a little bitch about the couch. Do you care, Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook inhales too deeply and sputters a rough “No, of course not” in between coughs that sound painful. 

There’s no way in fuck Yoongi’s going to sleep in the same bed as an alien. “Do ali- I mean, Zephi, even need to sleep?” 

Smoke rushes out of Jungkook’s nostrils. The rigid set of his jaw makes him look older and more angular. The masculine aggression of it makes Yoongi’s stomach twist - which he ignores. 

“Yes,” Jungkook hisses. “We are not freaks.”

“No one said you were, kiddo.” Hoseok lightly flicks Jungkook under the chin before shoving the joint in Yoongi’s face with a grimace. “You, behave.” 

With that, Hoseok rises from the couch. He places his hands on his hips and looks between the two men. Yoongi hates when he gets like this, calculating. Usually, whatever that over-imaginative brain cooks up is never good for Yoongi. 

“Is there anything at your house you need while you stay with us?” Hoseok asks with his head tilted to the side as he examines Jungkook. 

The alien - Zelphi - chews on his bottom lip. His cheeks are still pink, as are his eyes. Except this time, it’s from being high rather than being some supernatural oddity. 

“They took all my things when they returned home,” Jungkook admits after a long pause. He stares at his hands in his lap, lacing and unlacing his fingers to the point that Yoongi wants to grab his wrists and force them to his sides. “I don’t require much, though. I do not want to be a bother.” 

At that, he steals a shy glance at Yoongi. Yoongi feels heat spread over his cheeks, so he opts to look at Hoseok instead. Which is a mistake because his roommate is glowering at him. 

“Jungkookie, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is, I promise you are not a bother,” he speaks to Jungkook but keeps his eyes on Yoongi. 

“I’mnotadick,” Yoongi grumbles. He folds his arms against his chest and stares at his reflection in the TV. It’s not a clear reflection, but it’s enough to tell that his hair is, rather unfortunately, sticking straight up on his head. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes. I tend to wear them baggy, so they should fit you fine. I have to go to work soon - I’m a hairstylist. Fucked up, working on the weekends, right? Ahh, but anyway, you can stay with Yoongi.” 

Jungkook merely nods with bright, round eyes gazing up at Hoseok as though the man is divulging his most remarkable secrets. 

“And if he’s mean to you, you can, I don’t know, shoot him with lasers out of your eyes or whatever scary things you’re capable of.”

“Oh, I would never do that,” Jungkook quickly disagrees, turning those beautiful eyes to Yoongi. 

“You can do that?” 

“Yes, but I promise I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

Yoongi throws his head back against the couch and groans. His body starts to slip down the cushions, but he does nothing to stop himself from falling onto the floor. 

“You cannot leave me with him, Hoba.” 

“Oh, hush.” Hoseok swats the back of Yoongi’s head as he makes his way to his bedroom to get ready. “You’ll be besties in no time.” 

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He makes my heart go 💥💗

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