Yunrecs - Tumblr Posts

an unknown library.

⊹ liveyun reads of 2023 so far !! joon and seokjin version.

man 😮💨 i really should've made this earlier to avoid the pile-up. there are so MANY golden fics from many underrated authors here which deserve so much more. i’ve been reading for over three years and sadly, the fics compiled here would be the ones which i managed to find in the brink of time ㅠㅠ

there unfortunately have been MANY blogs who've either deactivated, or are inactive since a long time. it personally saddens me a lot, whether they're still into bangtan, whether they're still writing, whether they're all okay.. and more, but above all, i really hope that they're doing well. this is optional, obviously, but leaving a feedback to content really boosts up spirits a lot <3 whether it's an inactive blog or an active one, if it's possible, try communicating or atleast reblogging. it helps a lot :)

most of these fics are rated M, and abiding by the author's wishes, you have to be 18+ in order to read them. however, i’m not responsible for the content you consume online, hence, reader's discretion is adviced.

[ ★ ] : favorites | [ f ] : fluff [ a ] : angst | [ s ] : smut

[ ♪ ] : series

—ꗃ kim namjoon

⊹ bloom by @hobidreams ( a, f, s , 20.7k ) ★★★

⊹ cien anos by @icedmatchatae ( a , 15.1k ) ★★★

⊹ how to not train your dragon by @almostkoo ( f, 2.1k )

⊹ brightside by @lavienjin ( a, f, 8k+ )

⊹ you set my heart on fire by @hayjeon ( a, f , s , 21k ) ★

⊹ out of the woods by @angelicyoongie ( a, f, s , 26.7k) ★

⊹ forever rain by @ddaenggtan ( a, f, s , 18.8k )

⊹ moonstruck by @jeonbunnie ( f, s , a , 4.1k)

⊹ the bodyguard by @rmnamjoons ( f, s, a, 62.9k )

⊹ mr and mrs kim by @jjkeverlast ( s , action, 4.6k )

—ꗃ kim seokjin

⊹ the obsidian pearl by @angelicyoongie ( a, s , 16k ) ★★★★

⊹ 9 months to fall in love by @floralseokjin ( f, s, a, 100k+) ★♪

⊹ the light of the dead stars by @ahundredtimesover ( f, s , a, 150k ) ★♪

⊹ take you down by @lookingforluna ( f, s , 3.5k )

⊹ sunday by @here2bbtstrash ( s , 5k )

⊹ counterfeit culture by @ggukcangetit ( comedy, f, s , 29k )

⊹ to kill a king by @foxymoxynoona ( a, f , s, 70k + ) ♪

⊹ met him last night by @dollfaceksj ( s , 10k)

baby, you can drive my car |(mechanic!yoongi)

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader 

→ genre: mechanic!au, spoiltbrat!y/n (++ inexperienced y/n as hiGHLy requested hehe), 6 greasy bois, a taste of richboy!jin, a vintage mercedes benz named beeper, usual dose of crackheadiness, touch of angst, sprinkle of fluff, and bts (big time smut) ((i love recycling this joke don’t come for me)) (((thigh-riding)))

→ trigger warning: there is a brief mention of blood so tread lightly if you feel queaSy about that! 

→ wordcount: 24.6k magic in the air 

→ summary: welcome to min mechanics - what can i do for you today, doll?

→ note: ooh BOY this took me a while! i’m sorry it took me so long to publish this but i hope this bad boy (i’m talking about the fic itself anD mechanic!yoongi) makes up for it! mechanic!yoongi has been in the works for a while… thank you to every single one of you who contributed each of your own lil ideas and helped to create the chArming tattoo-sleeve man we all fuLLY fell in love with. seriously y’all i could not have done this without you!! i ain’t gon lie i was going to post this on the day of the comeback but i think i needed a day to just.,.,, SCREAM and listen to the album.,.,,.  (and also i was still editing it yikes) ((and also what do u guys think of the new albUM hELLO)) so here it is twO days after the comeback!!!!!!! i hope i gave you sufficient time to recover from the new album but if not oH well what can ya do!!! also i’m really friCkin nervous for some reason but nonetheless enjoy the ride! ( 灬♥ 3 ♥灬)

pst if u wanna talk to y/n or yoongi u know what to do ;-)

(gif isn’t mine!)

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

you know what

you could totally get used to this being an adult thing

you finally get to live in your own place

you finally get to eat whatever the heck you wanna eat

and most importantly

you finally get a car

yes, you’ll admit, you’re a little behind with the whole car thing

most of your friends already got their licenses befoRe becoming adults but so what if you were a little slow!!! you were just living life as a teenager!!!! there was no rush

let’s not beat around the bush here

you are: a spoilt brat

like unbelievably so

when you were younger all you’d have to do is point at something and your parents would immediately be like ….aight

Keep reading

the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

Congratulations on reaching 2k followers 👏😄🙌 💕🌷

For the request I request needy 3 months pregnant oc waking up jimin to fuck her because of her hormones after they made love to her before sleep

tysm love!! 🫶🏻

midnight sex

Your hormones make you extra horny during your pregnancy and Jimin is there to help you.

pairing: bf!jimin x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, pregnancy au, smut

warnings: filthy and nasty af, pregnancy sex, unprotected sex, lots and lots of cum <3, 800 words.

a.n.: my breeding kink is screaming rn. thank you for requesting jimin like i literally needed it lmfao

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game! 🤍 (requests are closed!!)

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

"Minnie," you whisper, tapping Jimin's shoulder to try to wake him up.

Currently, your whole body is burning and the erotic dream you just had didn't help at all. You know your panties are soaking wet and the uncomfortable feeling is really hard to ignore.

Your hormones are acting wild during your pregnancy and even though you and Jimin are normally sexually active, this is hitting new records. You can't even recall the number of times you've asked him to fuck you this week. Heck, you've had sex just before going to sleep tonight.

"Please, Minnie," you whine desperately.

"Mmmh."

You sadly sigh, thinking that you might cry. That's a bit dramatic, but it's your hormones' fault. You really need Jimin right now.

You hit his shoulder again and it finally seems to work. He groans, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He opens his eyelids after, blinking a couple of times before seeing anything else than pitch black.

His eyes get used to the darkness and he turns his head in your direction. "What? What's wrong?" He asks, his voice a bit raspy.

You pull on his t-shirt, wanting him as close as possible to you. "Please, Jimin," you beg again, just needing the ache between your legs to end.

"Tell me what's wrong," he demands, still a bit sleepy.

You decide actions are more worth than words and lay his hand over your wet panties. Even though he's still in a daze, he realizes what you need.

"Aw, baby, do you need my help with that?" He coos, rubbing your pussy with his palm. He gets on top of you, his arm folded beside your head to support his weight.

"Yes, I do," you quietly moan, passing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, sloppy kiss.

He hums in approval, hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs. You're only wearing a t-shirt so he slides them off easily, discarding them away somewhere in your room.

He lowers his sweatpants enough to free his cock, slowly pumping himself to get fully hard. He looks into your eyes while doing so, knowing it drives you wild.

"Beg for it," he says, his tongue peeking out to wet his plump lips. "Beg for my cock, baby," Jimin orders and you can see so much lust in his eyes, it makes you feel so desired.

Honestly, you beg for him to fuck you even when he doesn't ask you to. You have no shame in doing that and it's definitely not something like this that will hurt your pride — especially when you really need his cock for your own sanity.

"Please, Jimin, fuck me," you whine. "I really need you, need your cock inside of me," you insist, just proving to him how much you actually mean it.

Jimin groans at your words, loving hearing them coming out of your mouth. He carefully inserts the tip of his erection into your wet pussy, making you softly gasp, having missed this feeling so much.

Jimin is really girthy, so when he pushes his cock deeper in you, it stretches you out so well it has you almost crying tears of joy — you're not dramatic, it's the hormones.

"Ah, shit, that's it, baby," he praises, holding your hips into place. The veins in his arms pop out and you run your palms over them, feeling just how strong he is. "Pussy's so good."

You moan out while he grunts, setting a regular pace that quickly turns erratic. His balls slap against your skin, the sound resonating in your bedroom, getting coated in your wetness that drips down your ass.

You lock your legs behind his back, being pounded onto the mattress by him, exactly what you needed to get your hormones to calm down.

You pass your hands under his t-shirt as well, feeling his abs and his muscles tensing under your fingers. You simply love everything single thing about Jimin and it's hard to keep your mind straight while he fucks you stupid.

He repeatedly hits your sweet spot, bringing you close to your high. He comes close to his orgasm too, grunting as his balls tighten.

"I'm close. Please, don't stop, Minnie," you plead, eyes watery and chest heaving rapidly.

"Me too, baby, me too," Jimin breathes out, his face just hovering over yours.

You both cum at the same time, your legs shaking like leaves and his hips steadying against yours. He shoots his cum into you, and there's a lot. If you weren't already pregnant, you'd thought he's trying to literally get you knocked up.

When he pulls out, his cum dribbles out of your pussy in amount, hole quivering from your previous orgasm. "Fuck, baby, you're so full," Jimin comments, amazed by how much cum comes out of your cunt.

You only hum tiredly, the ache between your legs finally gone.

But you know it'll come back very soon. You're lucky you have such a caring boyfriend.

.

.

.

beneath the water | park jimin

→ pairing: park jimin x reader

→ genre: mermaid!au/fantasy!au, an extra large order of fluff, comedy!!, jungkook being a brat as per usual, a touch of angst, and of course a sprinkling of nsfw

→ wordcount: 20.5k words holy moly 

→ note: this was originally one of my bullet-point fics but then it spiralled out of control and turned into this monster of a fic!!! i can still post the bullet-point version of this fic if y’all would like that but it’s just a lamer version of this big boy this is also my first time writing a proper fic like this so please take it easy on me as my heart is…,,, weak and extremely fragile,,,, please remember that this is a fantasy fic so if there are some parts where you’re like hM how Would that even woRk just suspend ur disbelief please don’t come for me aNYWAYS i hope you enjoy!! also how cute is jimin in the gif i attached above

→ you can listen to this audio of serendipity except it sounds like you’re underwater while you read i thought it was pretty fitting

→ special thank u to @taebumshi without you this fic would have been named look at all those mermanz 

His legs were sparkling.

You looked up from his face slowly and towards his legs, your head tilting in confusion when you were met with the sight of… well, it certainly wasn’t a pair of legs.

What the fuck?

Keep reading

Tempting || 1

Y/N is an angel. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She runs into a demon but, luckily for her, that demon doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, he just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

Or, “For someone who is meant to be so pure, you sure are dirty, angel.”

pairing: demon!taehyung x angel!OC

genre: fantasy, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of suicide/death, lots of dirty talk and smut lol

A/N: this is less biblical and more supernatural, even though I might reference some “biblical” terms lol sorry this is too unholy anyways it’s fine. oh and this is a dream I had!

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (final)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

CHAPTER ONE (REWRITTEN)

Perhaps you were one of the lucky ones.

Sat back against the edge of a worn-in mattress, eyes fluttering close in exhaustion, you knew little of how lucky you may or might not have been. Because while your body lay cold somewhere deep in the soil of the Earth, your soul had transcended. Out of the thousands of souls cluttered the cosmos, yours was chosen. You were given a second chance to walk the Earth, not as a human but as a being of light – an Angel.

You didn’t remember much of how your angelic form came to me, only that you awoke knelt before a council who answered every question that came tumbling out of your disoriented state. A second chance. A role as a third-sphere angel. An angelic hierarchy you were expected to aspire to climb. It was all laid out from the moment you had taken your second first breath.

So you did your best to stay afloat in the current you were thrown into, preaching the divine word and helping out the mortal world in any way you could.

Your head fell forward, jerking you back awake roughly. Yawning, you glanced over your shoulder tentatively.

Keep reading

hi!! i was wondering if u could do a request with bf!namjoon where he teaches jungkook how to eat p*ssy!! with size kink and overstim!! i love ur yandere post and ur definitely the best i’ve seen on tumblr <333

yes we can! 😌 thank you for enjoying & reading our stories!

lessons

when jungkook asks namjoon for advice on oral sex, he wasn't expecting his hyung to physically show him - you being on the receiving end of it. @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom

word count: 3.134

warning: smut, oral (m/f receiving), fingering, dominant jk, submissive reader, slight dubcon, blindfold, noise cancelling headphones, squirting, dirty talk, degradation, threesome, facial, three-way kiss

“Y-You sure Noona won’t be upset?” Jungkook says,doe-like  eyes glancing your way. His cheeks flush at the sight of you - naked and spread wide for his eyes to see. You lay against the headboard, blindfold binding your eyes while noise-canceling headphones lay upon your ears. 

“Are you scared, Kookie?” Namjoon hums a response to his younger friend. “She’s already waiting for you.”

Jungkook swallows, growing hot. It feels wrong to have his eyes upon your naked figure now - you were his hyung’s girlfriend, after all. He and you had been together for years now and had grown close to you through said years. 

“You’re ruining the surprise.” Namjoon sighs with a shake of his head. “Y/N finds you attractive like you do her. Maybe…she doesn’t know you’re here now…” Namjoon trails off, but he notices the bewildered look in Jungkook’s face. “...but she will know once we continue.”

“N-Noona finds me attractive?” Jungkook’s voice is low, as if trying to remain quiet as if you didn’t wear noise canceling headphones.

Namjoon nods his head. “She told me. I wouldn’t say we’re in an open relationship yet. You’d be the first.” Namjoon admits and now Jungkook feels weight removed from his shoulders. “But we’re open enough for us to talk about how we feel sexually for others.”

“What…did she say about me?”

Namjoon smiles, dimples poking through his cheeks. 

“That you’re cute like a bunny.”

Jungkook's eyes widened and now he feels embarrassed.

Namjoon cackles. 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t turn her on, Kookie. You have the tattoos and the piercings that make any girl want to ride you.”

You included. It was a random statement upon seeing Jungkook after months. He had remained in the gym and bulked up slightly. His tattoo’s became a sleeve and the lip piercing appeared to be the cherry on top for you to admit to him that you wanted Jungkook.

Namjoon wasn’t phased by this. You loved him and he loved you - he also loved his dongsaeng enough to know that Jungkook wouldn’t go against him and try to pursue you. Jungkook would have shut down completely if you would have approached him instead of Namjoon - getting him here now was a hassle.

“You’re the one that came to me asking for advice on eating pussy.” Namjoon injects. He decides to come closer to your body, a hand trailing on your sides. You shiver, biting your lip. “Now’s your chance.”

Jungkook licks his lips as he watches Namjoon hover above your shivering body. He turns towards Jungkook and nods. “Come. Stop standing so far away like a virgin.”

Jungkook flushes, but he does as he’s told. 

“Get on the bed and show me.”

“T-That’s-”

“Stop making it awkward.” Namjoon interrupts. “She wants you. You want her. I want you to have her like she wants you to have her.” Namjoon nods his head once more. “Get on the bed and touch her. Lick her. Bite her. I’ll be right here to tell you exactly what she likes.”

Jungkook notices that he’s trembling as he gets on top of the bed. The sight of you excites him, his cock twitches in his sweats. But this still feels wrong in a way - you were not a single woman. Not only that, but his friend was watching his girlfriend be used by him.

But, you found him attractive. That was new to Jungkook.

“W-What can’t I do?” Jungkook questions. He’s not on the bed, but is far from touching you.

“What do you want to do?”

“Kiss her?”

Namjoon nods his head. His eyes watch intently as Jungkook grabs your cheeks in both hands and plants a kiss upon your lips. A kiss you melt into immediately and wrap both arms around Jungkook.

Jungkook moans into your mouth.

Namjoon licks his lips.

“It’s okay to touch her, Kookie.”

Jungkook nods into the kiss. It all still feels different to him. Being here with you, touching you all while Namjoon watched closely.

Jungkook touches your thighs first, softly touching your smooth skin until he works his way up to your hips. His fingernails dig into the skin of your hips and you whimper into his lips.

“You’re so stiff.” Namjoon chuckles low, eyes dark. “Just do what you usually do. Pretend I’m not here.”

It was easier said than done. He had been confined in Namjoon a few weeks ago that he wasn’t sure if he understood going down on a woman correctly - the women he’s been with moaned but it wasn’t the moans he was hoping for. He wanted to be able to have their legs shaking with such pleasure that it caused him to cum.

Jungkook was only looking for tips from his hyung - not the actual experience.

But Jungkook would make the most of it.

“Y/N is a complete whore.” Namjoon tells Jungkook. “She loves to be dominated and handled roughly. Do what you wish with that information. I’ll let you take control for now.”

Jungkook’s hands cup your breast, cupping them between his palms. He’s rough as he rubs them, enjoying the way your nippled are erect beneath them. Your moans entice him to continue.

Jungkook was going to have to pretend his hyung wasn’t watching him pleasure his girlfriend. He was going to have to pretend that you weren’t you - but some one night stand that he didn’t ultimately care about after the deed was done. It made going through with this easier.

Namjoon’s silent as he continues to watch Jungkook. His mouth removes themselves from your panting lips to dive down to send wet kisses upon your breasts. His tongue pokes out to wrap around your nipple, his thumb and index finger twirling the other one.

Jungkook now feels comfortable enough to touch you freely, hands roaming the entirety of your body as his lips continue to suck aggressively onto your breast. His right hand dips behind you to cup your ass, squeezing it harshly. He brings you closer to him, wet clit rubbing against his clothed length. 

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s biting onto your nipple until you cry out, pussy clenching onto nothing. His eyes are fluttering close at the friction you’re causing, you now fully grinding against him.

“I think she’s getting desperate.” Namjoon murmurs, not wishing to ruin the moment for a fucked out Jungkook. “She’s soaking your sweats.”

Jungkook groans, popping your nipple from his mouth. A string of saliva connecting his lips to yours as he does so.

“Can I taste her?”

Namjoon wants to laugh at Jungkook. He was still asking for permission even when he already had it.

“Yes.” Namjoon agrees. “Let me show you first.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time in spreading your legs apart wider. He awaits for Namjoon to join him between them, eyes watching intently as Namjoon places his tongue flat onto your clit and swipes a long, deep stripe onto it. You moan loudly, breathing hitching as he does so.

Namjoon is aggressive, Jungkook notes, lapping his tongue on your clit just the way he knew you liked it.

“Now you try.”

Jungkook isn’t hesitant any longer. He dives between your legs without a problem and replicates Namjoon’s actions. He grunts into your pussy, finding it rather enjoyable than any other time. 

Namjoon hums, knitting his brows. Jungkook appeared to be doing a good job - tongue flicking your clit that has you a crying, moaning mess. He begins to question if Jungkook ever had a problem with oral sex or was it just his dongsaeng being insecure and thinking far too much into it.

Jungkook is so entranced in sucking onto your clit - head bobbing side to side - that he doesn’t notice Namjoon removing the noise-canceling headphones. He then removes the blindfold, having your eyes fluttering open to see your boyfriend besides you.

And Jungkook between your legs. 

You cum on the spot, thighs quivering.

“N-Noo-”

Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon’s palm that shoves him back onto your clit. Your hips jut forward to grind against his tongue.

“Jungkook doesn’t believe you find him attractive.” Namjoon tells you. He removes his hand from Jungkook's head to come closer to you. “Isn’t that crazy? After all those times you told me how you wanted to ride him?”

Jungkook’s tongue quickens upon your clit, eyes wide. You thought about him in such a way? Jungkook only thought Namjoon was lying to encourage him to engage with you sexually. 

Jungkook's eyes caught you nodding,your own eyes snapped shut.

Namjoon turns his head to smile at Jungkook, an “I told you so”  laced in his expression.

You feel the bed shift, your body being pushed forward. Namjoon is behind you now, pressing your back against his torso. His hands grip your breast, tightly rubbing them in his palms as Jungkook continues his assault upon your clit. Your hips buckle once more, grinding against his tongue, but Jungkook decides against it. Namjoon’s words replayed in his head - “Y/N is a complete whore. She loves to be dominated and handled roughly.” His left hand shoves your hips back onto the bed, fingernails digging into it, while his right brings three fingers inside of you.

Namjoon hums in satisfaction, feeling his cock twitch inside his pants. He would admit that the sight of Jungkook pleasuring you was a turn on. Back when you and he would speak of having someone - male or female - enter the bedroom with the two of you, he thought how he would react if he heard you moan a way for another man that he never heard for himself. But now witnessing it, he realized that it didn’t make him feel any sort of jealousy - but maybe it was because it was Jungkook and this is someone he did care for and not a random person.

Jungkook's eyes finally look forward to catch Namjoon’s. His hyung appeared to be watching intently, and when their eyes met he offered Jungkook an encouraging grin. ‘Keep going’ is what it tells Jungkook, and he does. He pumps inside your walls with such force that you’re crying out even louder, legs quivering to with overstimulation - but even then he doesn’t stop. He’s restraining you now by your thigh to get you from closing in on him.

“I think she’s gonna cum again.” Namjoon says to Jungkook, noticing the tears forming in your eyes. He chuckles, fingers twisting your nipples. 

Jungkook lifts himself from your pussy, your juices coating the entire bottom half of his face. Licking his lips, he continues pumping his fingers inside of you, completely marveling just how wet you were and all for him.

“She already came once.” Jungkook responds, and you were sure you’d cum just by hearing the sultriness of Jungkook’s voice. 

Your eyes manage to open to catch Jungkook once more between your legs, eyes watching you intently while he thrusts in and out of you. This was a different man - Jungkook was always someone you thought of as cute and sweet - a sweet soul in a man's body. But now - he was just that; a man hell bent on making you cum.

“It’s okay, Noona, you can let loose.” Jungkook chuckles low - voice still as sultry and deep as before. He surveys the bed sheets beneath you, coated in your juices that it makes him licks his lips hastily. 

The room is silent besides the wet thrusts coming from Jungkook's fingers and your cries. Your hips are jutting forward, head leaning back towards Namjoon and you feel it.

Namjoon squeezes you closer onto his chest just as Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you, eyes widening at the way your juices flow out seconds after in. He kisses the top of your head, chest rumbling with laughter.

“I think you were lying about not knowing how to pleasure a woman.” Namjoon teases, and before Jungkook could protest (he was already shaking his head with wide, frightened eyes), Namjoon speaks again. “Do you want to fuck her?”

Jungkook’s mind stops working and once more, he appears nervous. “I-I…” Jungkook looks down at you. You laid upon Namjoon with only squinting eyes. The lower half of your body twitches with pleasure and overstimulation. “Noona-”

“I’m okay.” you murmur a response. Your pussy clenches at nothing, embarrassingly excited for more. 

“Is this not weird, hyung?” Jungkook flushes as he asks. 

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” Namjoon shrugs. “You already made her cum twice. Why not do it again?” Namjoon places his chin on your head. “You could cum, too.”

Before Jungkook could speak, you did. “You made me so wet, Kookie. I’m sure you can slide right in.”

Jungkook swallows, cock twitching. “I-I didn’t come prepared. I have no condom-”

“We’re all clean.” Namjoon shrugs. “You can always pull out.”

“You can cum on me.” you suggested.

Jungkook’s mind stops working once more at your and Namjoons words. He inhales deeply. 

“You look ready to faint. You don’t have to.” Namjoon doesn’t want to push Jungkook into doing this. He understands that he is more reserved and possibly downright confused on what’s happening - but he wants him to know that he is willing, so are you.

Jungkook watches as you turn, now back arching before him. Your hole is clenching, wetness trailing ever so slowly down your thighs. He sees you from his position kiss down Namjoon’s neck, to his clothed chest until you go lower.

Jungkook gulps, unsure what the hell he was going to do - but you decided that even if Jungkook wasn’t going to fuck you, that you were going to get fucked regardless.

Namjoon’s cock springs out and soon, it’s in your mouth. Jungkook notices how Namjoon groans, hand placing behind your head to support you. Your head is bobbing up and down, slurping so loudly that it causes another jolt in Jungkook’s pants.

Fuck it.

Jungkook was only a man, so was Namjoon. They were all adults here and if Namjoon and you were willing to do this as a couple, then he shouldn’t be afraid of partaking. 

There’s a shift on the bed that Namjoon notices, but he doesn’t open his eyes just yet to know that it’s Jungkook.

Jungkook’s hand grip your hip, right hand holding his cock to enter you. He shudders at the feeling - so warm and wet, sliding right into you. You gasp, legs opening wider to get even more of him. But only when Jungkook enters you fully, do you unintentionally move away from him.

“Don’t run away, Noona.” Jungkook murmurs, snatching your waist to bring you back to him. 

Jungkook groans once more, feeling inside of you. Every time you clenched around him, he felt it and it sent shock waves over him. He ponders how Namjoon manages to be inside of you raw all the time - he only ever had protected sex.

Swallowing thickly, Jungkook begins thrusting, his mind screaming to not cum too fast and embarrass himself any more than he possibly had already. 

“Why do you look so scared?” Namjoon laughs, but it’s caught with a low moan of your tongue twirling around the tip of his cock.

Jungkook flushes, trying to focus on the way your pussy engulfs him entirely than at his hyung. “Never done this before.” he murmurs. “She’s so wet.” Jungkook hips pick up the pace and your mouth drops Namjoon’s cock, saliva pooling from your lips.

Namjoon wants to coo at the cuteness, but refrains, not wanting to have his dongsaeng become closed off once more. He watches instead as Jungkook thrusts in and out of you, your ass slapping against his abdomen at an alarming pace.

You stuck your tongue out and tapped Namjoon’s cock. You were finding it hard to stay upright, and sucking him off yourself wasn’t an option when Jungkook pounded into you so heavenly.

“Ah, such a whore.” Namjoon murmurs. He lifts to his knees, cock entering your mouth. “She wants to be fuck her mouth while you fuck her pussy.”

Fingernails clench your hips harder as Namjoon begins thrusting inside of your mouth. The scene was utterly filthy - but Jungkook is excited. He never knew partaking in something like this would be such a pleasurable rush; he never wanted it to end.

“She’s gonna cum again.”

Namjoon knits his brows and turns his eyes down to you and coos. Your eyes are watery and there's saliva pooling down from your chin. “Are you going to cum already?” 

You release a choked gag that tells him yes. 

“Then you’ll need to cum first.” Namjoon says and thrusts deeper inside your throat. “So Kookie and I can cum on your face.”

Jungkook grunts, eyes completely blown out. He thrusts you down first towards Namjoon so he could enter you deeper, his fists pressed firmly into the mattress. Skin slapping echoes against the walls and anyone hearing them would know just how in the moment they all were.

You cum hard, twitching beneath Jungkook as he continues his pace. He’s whispering in your ear, filthy things that have you sobbing for a release.

Jungkook releases himself from inside of you, right hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Namjoon pushes you away and flips you in time for Jungkook to release on your face, him following suit. You open your mouth to catch whatever you could, satisfied when you feel not one, but both cocks against your lips.

Jungkook falls back in a panting huff, eyes locked on the ceiling.

Namjoon lays beside you, hand resting on your chest. “You’ve done good.” he says to you and all you could do is giggle in response. 

“Jungkook are - where are you going?”

Jungkook freezes, halfway pushing his pants up. 

“H-Home.”

Namjoon raises a brow. “You aren’t tired?” 

“A little.”

“Then why not stay here for a bit?” you offer, lifting up to sit. “You don’t do after sex cuddling?”

Jungkook flushes and shakes his head. He never had a reason to.

“You’re so cute. Come here.” you pat the spot beside you with a smile. 

Jungkook’s eyes flickers to Namjoon for confirmation.

“Only if you want.” Namjoon assures, but he also gives a grin.

Jungkook does as he’s told, awkwardly laying down. You’re sandwiched between both men and content. 

“How about a kiss?” you offer.

“I-” you don’t offer Jungkook a chance before your right arm wraps around his neck and brings him closer while your right does the same. Both men are caught off guard with two pairs of lips touching them, but neither of them react. 

“There. Let’s go to sleep.” you say, snuggling closer to Namjoon while keeping Jungkook close. 

Jungkook flushes red while Namjoon does the same, but neither of the two felt any regret towards the event that just transpired.

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent.  in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.  the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.  

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics &lt;3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered. 

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs. 

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it. 

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour. 

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him. 

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve. 

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it. 

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet. 

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now. 

It's how it usually goes. 

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much. 

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong. 

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet. 

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage. 

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him. 

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan. 

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details. 

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down. 

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish. 

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all. 

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later. 

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless. 

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this. 

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously. 

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun. 

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight. 

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear. 

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate. 

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties. 

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks. 

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy. 

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation. 

"Do you want me to?" 

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it. 

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him. 

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score. 

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation. 

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer. 

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival. 

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other. 

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

kitty’s home.

⊹ liveyun reads, 2023 (: !! yoongi ver.

— ⊹ joon and seokjin’s library

hello and welcome back to my library, only that once again i’ve failed to organise all the yoongi fics i’ve read so far 😭👍🏽

as always, if possible, your feedbacks to the authors are always appreciated and welcome. but once again, only if it's possible!

most of these fics are rated M, and abiding by the author's wishes, you have to be 18+ in order to read them. however, i’m not responsible for the content you consume online, hence, reader's discretion is adviced.

[ ♪ ] : series | [ ★ ] : favorites | [ a ] : angst | [ f ] : fluff

[ s ] : smut | [ c ] : comedy

⊹ moonlit throne by @hobidreams ( 68k, ♪, s, a, f ) ★ 👑

ALL TIME FAVORITE YOONGI FIC.

⊹ heaven's winter by @jksangelic (18.6k, a ,s, f) ★ ☁️🏔️

⊹ matilda by @babystrcandy ( 70k+, ♪, a, s, f ) ★ 🌼

⊹ desolate by @angelicyoongie ( 52k+ ♪ , s, a, f) ★ 🐱

⊹ the mark of yun-ki by @ladyartemesia ( 8.6k, a,s,f) ★ 👑

⊹ the early shift by @hobidreams ( 21.4k, ♪ , s, a, f ) ★ ☕

⊹ monachopsis by @personasintro ( 50k+, ♪, s, a, f ) ★ 🤰

⊹ love lockdown by @personasintro ( 63k+, ♪, s, a) ★ 🧟

⊹ technologically in love by @jungshookz ( 24k, a, s, f ) ★🤖

⊹ hellish by @jungshookz ( 22.1k+, s, a,f, c ) ★ 😈

⊹ purr-haps i like you by @taleasnewastime ( 11k, f ) ★🥺

⊹ belong by @ahundredtimesover ( 99.4k+ ,♪, f, s, a ) ★ 🏀

⊹ first and last always by @floralseokjin ( s, a, f ) ❄️

⊹ swing life away by @aphrodijin ( s, a, f ) 🤰

⊹ vexed by @taleasnewastime ( 34.5k, s, a, f ) 🎬

⊹ nephoria by @taegicity ( 14k+, ♪,s, a ) ★ 🦇

⊹ first love, last love by @kithtaehyung ( 35k+, a, s, f) 🎹

⊹ auburn skies by @persphonesorchid ( 12k, a, s, f, c ) ★🤫

⊹ no signal by @latenightdecaf (13k+ , a, f ) 🎤

⊹ so close by @namfinessed (13k+, a, f) ★💔.. ❤️🩹

⊹ divorce by @xjamlessparkx (30k+, ♪, a, f ) 💔..❤️🩹

⊹ give it to me by @ki-yomii ( 1.6k, s ) 💥

⊹ perks of being a househusband by @sunnebeam (3k+,♪,f) ★

⊹ strike a cord by @snackhobi ( 18.5k, s) 🎹

⊹ desecrate by @hamsterclaw (2.1k, s) 😈👼

p.s : if there's any fic which is a series and is on hold/haven't been updated since a long time, don't be an ass and pester the author about it. be patient and wait! we all have our own reasons and most importantly, a life.

also.. if u wanna check out my works pls do here lol

( self promo 😀? 👎🏽)

Private Lesson | myg

Your little sister finds it odd how you've been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn't heard you actually play even once...

🎹 Pairing: pianoteacher/pianist!yoongi x reader

🎹 Word Count: 5.5k

🎹 Rating: 18+

🎹 Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers, piano teacher/pianist au, smut, fluff, minor drama/angst

🎹 Warnings: Y/N is lying to her younger sister, explicit language, we love secretly hooking up with our sister's hot piano teacher 🤩, making out, biting/marking, Yoongi has some dom tendencies, groping, there's an actual piano lesson and it's wholesome until it's not™️, Yoongi plays his sabotage card 😈, explicit sexual content, lots of teasing/taunting, rubbing, fingering, multiple orgasms, cum eating/feeding, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, scratching, brief handjob, unprotected sex (pls be safe), sex on top of Yoongi's first love (the piano 👀), it's fluffy and wholesome at the end, Y/N lets Yoongi keep her underwear, really the only drama/angst is because they're hooking up in secret oof

A/N: Funny how I forget this man owns me until I see him again and then it's painfully clear 🥹 This was inspired by and spiraled into this™️ after the YTC concert this weekend. It felt really good to be inspired and motivated to write something again, so I really hope you enjoy this if you decide to check it out 🥰 Thank you as always for your patience and kindness and support I purple you always 💜

Masterlist

“Okay, Faith, I’m heading out.” you called out as you made your way towards the front door, “Should be back in an hour or so.”

Your fifteen-year-old sister, seated at the kitchen table, looked up from her phone, “You know, I really just don’t understand why you don’t just sign up for one of his classes. I know he offers them specifically for adults. It’d probably be way cheaper than whatever you’re paying for all these private lessons.”

You laughed at her remark, trying your best not to let your nerves show.

“I told you, I don’t feel comfortable playing in front of other people. Too much pressure, and too many pairs of eyes on you. Having one person there makes me nervous enough.”

Your little sister stared back at you, seeming to search your face for some answer to whatever she was looking for.

“Yeah, but, Y/N, you won’t even play in front of me. And I’m your sister. You’d think after six weeks worth of lessons, you’d at least be able to do that. Wouldn’t it be cool for us to be able to play something together sometime?”

You felt a twinge of guilt pierce you at her words and the look on her face. You nervously chewed on your bottom lip as you wracked your brain for a response that would satisfy her.

“Tell you what, Faith. I’ll ask Yoo-I mean Mr. Min to teach me one of the pieces you guys are working on in class, and we’ll try to play together soon. Sound good?” you proposed, hoping it would suffice for now.

Faith’s expression shifted, and you were grateful to see that she didn’t look nearly as upset.

“Yeah, okay, sounds good. Have a good lesson.” she said with a small smile before turning back to her phone.

You waited to let out your sigh of relief until you were on the other side of the door. Well that had been fucking close.

Your anxiety only grew more heightened as you pulled up to the familiar condo. No longer feelings of guilt, but of excitement and anticipation. You felt yourself walk a little too fast up to the door, finger immediately reaching out to push the doorbell. You held your breath as you always did when the door was being swung open. And then there he was.

It was truly unfair how hot he looked today and every time you saw him. He had a plain white tee tucked into a pair of high waisted black pants, a single silver chain hanging from his neck. His long, dark, gorgeous locks cascaded down either side of his handsome face. Every single part of you was buzzing.

“And here I was starting to think that maybe you were going to stand me up for our lesson.” he greeted you, eyes giving you a very obvious once over.

Heat washed over you.

“You know I would never.” you voiced, a hint of playfulness in your tone, “I need the practice, and you and I both know it.”

An amused smirk took over his features, “You know I’m always more than happy to oblige a student in need. Please, come in, and we can get started.”

You sauntered past him and into the condo, feeling his gaze on you all the while. No sooner had he closed the door behind you, than you were being pushed up against it, Yoongi hastily crashing his lips against your own. You matched his urgency as your mouths moved together, and your hands slid up into his midnight strands.

He was always more worked up, more rough, anytime you were late. Anytime you had kept him waiting. Today was no exception as he practically swallowed you, his fingers surely making imprints across the skin of your hips from how hard he was pushing you against the door.

His teeth nipped harshly at your lips as his tongue tangled messily with yours. That wild look you had come to know all too well over the past six weeks was present in his dark eyes when he suddenly pulled back from you.

“Well, shit.” you rasped, laughing slightly, “I missed you too.”

Yoongi’s response was to begin hungrily kissing down your neck, and you sighed out as you held him against you.

“You were all I could think about all fucking day.” he murmured as his lips seared against your skin.

“Mmm, you might’ve crossed my mind a time or two.” you teased back, and Yoongi growled against your neck before sinking his teeth into you.

You cried out, your head falling back against the door. He pushed one of his legs between yours and pressed his thigh against you, making you let out a whimper as his tongue simultaneously soothed the spot on your neck. His leg pressed harder and you gasped sharply, “You really wanna be a brat today? After you were already late? Think carefully about your decision, darling.”

It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to be honest. And you knew you would struggle to come up with a reason to explain to Faith why you couldn’t walk the next day…

“No…no. I’ll be good, Yoongi.”

He kissed you just behind your ear, hot breath hitting your skin, “Smart girl. Looks like I’ve been teaching you something these last several weeks after all.”

He immediately went back to sucking color into your neck as his fingers slipped beneath your sun dress and began trailing up the inside of your thigh. His other hand roughly pulled down the strap of your dress to expose your shoulder and some of your chest. Your mind was starting to go fuzzy. The way it always did when you were with Yoongi. But the mention of his teaching reminded you of your promise to Faith.

“Yoongi.” you tried, but it came out as a moan from the way his teeth scraped against your collarbone.

His free hand groped at your breast over your clothes while his fingers started to dip between your thighs. It wouldn’t be long before you would be lost in your pleasure. Lost in him.

“Yoongi, wait.”

You’d actually managed to find your voice this time, and Yoongi was immediately pulling back to look at you as his hand retreated out from underneath your dress.

“Darling, what is it?” he queried, concern briefly flashing across his handsome features.

“It’s just…it’s my sister.”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide, “Wait, does Faith know about us?”

“No, no.” you reassured him quickly, “At least I don’t think she does. But, she is starting to wonder why after six weeks of lessons that she hasn’t heard me play. Like, at all.”

You watched as Yoongi processed this information, and marveled at how cute his thinking face was. You desperately wanted to be kissing him again, but it would have to wait for now.

“So, what you’re saying is, that you think our weekly “piano lessons” should actually be used for piano lessons?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I mean, we can definitely still have sex. But I do think I should at least start becoming more familiar with the piano if we wanna keep this under wraps like we have been.” you explained further, looping your arms around Yoongi’s neck as you talked.

His hands came to rest on your hips once again, “You know, darling, I think I have the perfect solution.”

This time you lifted your eyebrows at him. You knew he was fucking with you, but you still decided to ask anyway.

“Oh, and what solution is that?”

Yoongi gripped you harder, making your dress bunch up slightly in his hold.

“I could fuck you on my piano. That would definitely help you become more familiar with it.” he mused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You rubbed your thighs together before you could stop yourself, and Yoongi, of course, noticed immediately. You quickly tried to defuse the rapidly mounting tension.

“Yoon, I’m serious about this. It’s really important to my sister, and at least this way what I’m telling her won’t be a complete lie. Just teach me some of the basics so I have something to show from all these “lessons”. Pleeeeeeease Yoonie.” you pleaded sweetly, and the piano teacher revealed his gums when he smiled at you.

“Alright, alright. You’re right, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. And if anyone’s gonna teach you, it should be me.” he relented before taking both of your hands and leading you over to one of the many pianos he had in his luxurious condo.

This particular one was displayed right by his wall of glass windows. Sunlight filtered through the panes and fell on the inviting instrument. Yoongi gestured for you to take a seat on the bench, and you let out a slightly nervous giggle before sitting down. You only missed his warmth for a second before he was right next to you, hip bumping against yours.

His fingers hovered over the keys with such a natural grace, and all you could do was stare at him in awe for a moment. He belonged here. That was clear as day. He positioned his foot on the pedal below, closed his eyes, and began to play. The notes were soft and delicate, as was his touch against the keys.

He looked so beautiful like this, and you felt your breath catch in your chest. It was as if he and the instrument were one and the same, sharing the same soul. He was lost in it, and the music was lost in him. Out of everything you and Yoongi had done since the two of you had started hooking up, this, this, felt the most intimate.

You were overcome with the sudden realization that you were starting to fall in love with him, and nothing had ever scared you more in your entire life. Yoongi’s eyes suddenly fluttered open, and you weren’t prepared for the calm intensity in them when he turned to you. Without taking his hands off the keys, he leaned over and gently brought his lips to yours.

You felt yourself flush furiously because this was a different kind of kiss. Not the kind that had heat surging through you and craving more, more, more. The kind that made your heart stutter in your chest and sent every part of you fluttering. A kiss that made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to fall for you too.

The two of you broke apart, but the closeness remained.

“I don’t know if I ever told you,” Yoongi began softly, warm breath hitting your lips, “but the piano was actually my first love.”

He grew shy suddenly, cheeks heating at the admission as his hands froze over the keys. He had really shown you something so precious. Something that was at the very core of who he was. All you could think about was how honored and lucky you felt that he had chosen to share it with you.

You smiled warmly at him, “Well, then, I’m honored to meet her. Thank you for sharing this with me. You really play so beautifully.”

He blushed deeper, and his gums poked out when he grinned bashfully back at you. The moment felt as delicate as the notes he’d just been pulling from the piano. You found yourself wanting to stay in it for as long as possible. But then Yoongi suddenly cleared his throat and brushed his hands nervously over his pants.

“Okay, your turn now.”

“You really expect me to follow that up?” you questioned back, the nerves beginning to settle over you once more.

Yoongi chuckled, the sound dancing in his eyes, “Of course not. I’m just gonna show you some basic scales.”

You playfully bumped his shoulder with your own.

“Show off.” you remarked teasingly.

“Don’t act like I didn’t just woo the fuck out of you with my piano skills.” he quipped back, flashing you a cocky smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, betraying you.

“Okay, fine. Consider me wooed. I guess you can court me now or whatever. After our lesson of course.” you reminded him, and Yoongi swept his hand over the top of the keyboard as if to say “All yours”.

As promised, Yoongi taught you some of the basic scales. It was honestly so hard to concentrate though because there was something so sexy about when he went into teacher mode. Especially once he covered your hands with his own to guide them over the keys. Your brain just went completely blank anytime his hands were on you.

“You know, you could always just join one of my classes. If you wanted to.” he voiced as he helped maneuver your hands.

“Yeaaaaah, something tells me I wouldn’t be able to learn very much. I’d be too distracted by the hot teacher.” you replied cheekily.

Yoongi’s grip on your hands tightened briefly, and you smirked to yourself. But then he switched to teasingly trailing his fingers over your hands and up your arms and back down again, sending shivers through you with his phantom touch.

“I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate either.” he started, his mouth right next to your ear, “There’d only be one thing I’d want to have my hands on…and it wouldn’t be the piano.”

He pulled your ear between his teeth, and you squirmed next to him on the bench. His lips traveled along the length of your jaw, warm and hungry. You sighed out as you leaned into his touch, “Well I feel properly educated for the day. You were a great teacher.”

He hummed, and his mouth vibrated over your throat.

“Mmm, I want you to play the C major scale I showed you before we finish up our lesson for today.”

You pouted even though he couldn’t see it.

“Yoonieeee.” you whined, his teeth grazing your skin in response.

“Play the scale, and then we can start our real lesson.”

You hesitantly raised your fingers over the keys, trying to remember what he had literally just taught you. You pressed down on the first few keys, feeling a tiny victory at the familiar sound. You felt a little more confident going forward now. Until Yoongi sabotaged you by sliding one of his hands over your shoulder and down the front of your dress. He squeezed your breast, and you cried out as your finger struck the wrong key.

“Yoongi.” you scolded him, but he paid you no mind as he continued to knead your soft flesh and bruise your skin with his harsh mouth.

His thumb flicked over your nipple, and you jerked on the bench.

“Start again.” he said simply.

Fuck. This was going to be impossible.

Your hands were shaking this time as you positioned them back over the keys. You willed all your concentration and focus to be on playing the right keys in the scale, and not on Yoongi’s other hand, which was now starting to slip under your dress. You held your breath, making it about halfway through before your hands slammed down on the piano from the feeling of his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

“How in the fuck do you expect me to do this?” you demanded in frustration, your body beginning to tremble slightly.

His long digits glided through your folds, teasing you, and your hands curled into fists against your knees.

“Focus. Start again. Play the scale.” he pressed, the words searing against the skin of your shoulder.

Maybe if you just got through the scale as fast as possible. You discovered, however, that when your speed increased, so did the speed of Yoongi’s fingers as they rubbed over your aching core. Your head had nearly slammed down into the keys. You whimpered and started again, slower this time. Yoongi immediately slowed down with you. It took all of your strength and willpower to block him out, but soon you had reached the second to last note in the scale. You prepared to play the final note, but suddenly shot up from the bench when one of Yoongi’s fingers pushed inside of you, “Yoongi, fuck!”

He used his free hand to push you back down and hold you in place before inserting a second digit, making you writhe on the bench.

“Again. You almost had it that time.” he taunted you, and you could see his wicked smirk out of the corner of your eye.

He opted for just watching you this time as you started the scale again, but his hand didn’t cease its movements between your legs. His fingers plunged inside of you, crooking and twisting in a way that was nothing short of sinful. You had reached the last few notes again, you were so close. Yoongi’s thumb brushed over your neglected clit, and you yanked your hands down to your lap to keep from playing a wrong key as you nearly let out a sob.

“Oh, darling, you’re so close. Finish it.”

Your hands were shaking so violently now, but you still somehow managed to play the last few keys without any more errors. All the built up tension and pressure had you releasing all over Yoongi’s fingers as soon as your hands left the keys, and he hissed next to you.

Your body was still trembling in his hold, and you panted heavily as you struggled to regain your senses. Yoongi reached out with his clean hand to pull the cover back over the keys before withdrawing his other one from between your thighs. His coated fingers were slipping past your lips a moment later and pressing down on your tongue. You were still feeling hazy, but you sucked them clean without needing to be asked, Yoongi humming in approval.

He stood up from the bench a moment later, and reached down to lift you up and perch you on top of the piano, your head still spinning. His hands slid up your thighs, fingers digging in slightly. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee before slowly moving higher, the feeling of his wicked tongue making you grip onto the sides of the piano.

His fingers twisted into your waistband before pulling your panties down your legs and setting them on the bench next to him. Yoongi pushed your dress up to your hips to expose your dripping cunt, and his eyes blew out at the sight. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and you could see the desire, the hunger, pulsing through him. You clenched around nothing.

“Lay back for me, darling.” he instructed calmly.

Your heartbeat was deafening as your back met the wood underneath you. You let out a yelp when Yoongi wrapped his arms around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the piano.

“Fuck. You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to taste you again.” he rasped out, and your fingers scratched against the wood.

He dove right in and started cleaning up your release, your back arching off of the piano as you gasped sharply. Yoongi ate you out messily, his grunts permeating the air while his face was buried in your cunt. The things he could do with his mouth, his tongue, had to be some kind of artform. A skill he had finely tuned much like his talent for the piano.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his long, fluffy hair as his tongue fucked into you. His nose kept bumping against your clit, making your nails scrape over his scalp.

“Oh my god, Yoongi.”

One of his hands snaked its way up your writhing body to roughly grab at your breast. Your body twisted on the wood when you felt his mouth suddenly envelop your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck. Fuck! Yoongi!” you cried out as he vigorously sucked at your clit, tongue flicking over the bud in quick strokes.

He always made you come undone with his mouth faster than anyone ever had, and today was no exception as you felt your high speeding towards you. His fingers dug into your skin harshly as he continued to eat your cunt like he was starving for you. You pulled hard against his dark strands, and Yoongi growled before grazing your clit with his teeth. Your desperate, breathy moans filled the air as you practically convulsed on top of the piano.

“Close…Yoon…” you panted out.

“Come for me, darling.” Yoongi coaxed, voice husky and dark, “Wanna feel you on my tongue.”

He nipped at your bud again, and you sobbed his name as you fell to pieces. Yoongi kept devouring your cunt until you were shivering in overstimulation and whimpering feebly. You felt him finally surface, and it took all your strength to even lift up your head to look at him.

His breathing was ragged, hair wild, chestnut irises nearly black, and his lips glistened with your release. You moaned softly as you watched his tongue swipe across his mouth to finish cleaning you off of his face. He looked absolutely wasted off of you.

“Always so fucking delicious. Could stay buried in your sweet little cunt all day.” he remarked, and you were caught off guard by how fucked out he sounded.

“I think I would die if you did.” you offered back weakly, making Yoongi laugh, his gums peeking out adorably.

“Alright, darling, watch out. I’m coming up there.” he said, and in your post orgasm haze you really thought he was joking.

But within a few swift movements, he had hoisted himself up and was hovering over your shocked figure.

“Wait, are you… You’re, you’re actually gonna fuck me on your piano?” you asked incredulously as you blinked up at him.

Yoongi shifted so you could feel just how hard he was as he brushed against you, “Wanna know a secret? It’s actually always been a fantasy of mine.”

You let out a small gasp as his admission washed over you.

“You mean, you’ve never done this? With anyone? Like ever?” you questioned further, genuinely feeling dumbfounded.

“Never.” Yoongi answered, flashing you a shy smile, “What do you say, darling? You wanna be my first?”

Your heart constricted in your chest at his choice of words. The fact that he wanted to share this first with you. That you would be the one to fulfill this fantasy for him. Warmth spread over your entire body.

“Yoongi Min, I would be honored to take your piano virginity.” you tried to say as seriously as you could manage, but as soon as Yoongi started chuckling, so did you.

“Please, taking you on my piano is my honor.” he voiced thoughtfully before leaning down to kiss you.

You immediately came to life beneath him, your hands finding their familiar home in his hair. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he devoured your mouth. Growing impatient, you made a grab for his pants. Yoongi smirked into the kiss as his hands joined yours to help free him from the confines of his clothes. He sat up momentarily to slip his white tee over his head and sweep his messy locks back from his face, top half bare except for the silver chain laying against his skin.

You shamelessly ogled his broad chest and defined muscles, your eyes trailing down his body to his achingly hard cock that bounced back up against his stomach.

“God,” you whispered as you reached for him, “you are so fucking hot.”

Yoongi flushed at the compliment, letting out a hiss when your eager hand wrapped around him a moment later.

“Like it’s seriously unfair.” you whined as you began giving him a few teasing pumps, and Yoongi groaned beautifully in response.

“What’s unfair is how unbelievably sexy you look right now. Fucked out on top of my piano, just waiting to be stuffed full of cock. Begging to be aren’t you, darling?”

God, he was so fucking hot when he was cocky. You needed him so bad, there was no point in delaying things any further. You released your hold on him and stretched your arms out above your head, inviting him with your eyes, “Do your worst, piano man.”

“Oh, I am going to wreck you.” he growled out before descending on you, and you let out a squeal as his body pressed down on you.

He intertwined his hands with your own, keeping them pinned above your head as his tip prodded at your entrance. He gave them a tight squeeze as he began pushing further past your walls, both of you moaning out at the sensation of feeling him inside you again. You arched into him at the stretch, and Yoongi placed a kiss on your shoulder.

“Always so tight, darling, fucking hell. You take my cock so well. Love fucking you open like this, feels so good.”

You preened at his praise, your head shooting up suddenly to connect your lips. Yoongi groaned into your mouth, finally bottoming out inside of you. Your legs came up to wrap around his waist as you kissed him furiously. Yoongi squeezed against your intertwined hands while he slowly drew back out before slamming all the back in with a harsh thrust that knocked all the air from your lungs. He quickly created a rhythm, driving his cock between your walls in swift, but powerful movements, your body sliding further up the piano with each stroke.

“Fuck…Yoongi.” you moaned brokenly as you lost the energy to keep kissing him.

He breathed hot air into your mouth as he continued fucking the life out of you. You held each other’s hands so tight it hurt, but it also served as an anchor to this moment and to each other. Yoongi grunted, hips snapping roughly with every thrust. Your head was starting to go fuzzy again, and you knew you wouldn’t last super long after he’d already pulled two orgasms from you today.

Yoongi released your hands suddenly, his fingers immediately snaking into your hair, tangling and pulling at the strands. Your hands latched onto his broad shoulders, and dug into his skin as he reached the deepest part of you again and again. Yoongi let out a snarl, “Fuck. You gonna scratch me up again today? Love when you leave your mark on me. A reminder of just how good I fuck you. Isn’t that right, darling?”

But you were beyond words, only able to respond with moans and whimpers as you clenched around him.

“Your perfect little cunt is squeezing me so tight, shit. You gonna come for me again, darling?”

Tears blurred your vision. Everything felt too good. Yoongi felt too good. His cock dragged inside of you at an agonizing pace, making you feel every inch of him. You bit down hard on Yoongi’s shoulder as your nails raked down his back, pulling a string of moans from him in response.

You felt one of his hands leave your hair and trail down the length of your body. His fingers strummed across your aching clit, and you let out a scream as everything inside of you snapped. Yoongi swore loudly as you came all over his cock, and he began fucking you with renewed vigor. You just held onto him for dear life, body shuddering, as he chased his own high.

He fisted your hair tightly in his free hand, groaning and panting as he continued rutting into you. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, like he was holding onto you for dear life too. His thrusts began to stutter, and he leaned down to clumsily kiss you.

“Ah,” he moaned against your lips, “ah fuck.”

He twitched inside of you, and then he was coating your walls with his own release. Yoongi practically collapsed on top of you, his hair tickling your face as the two of you fought to catch your breath.

“Well…your fantasy…was it everything…you’d dreamed of?” you managed to ask, threading one of your hands through his fluffy locks.

You felt Yoongi smile against you, and your heart skipped in your chest.

“More…it was more. Reality topped fantasy…hands down. You topped fantasy.”

Your face warmed at his words, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi.

“I mean, technically…I actually bottomed fantasy.” you quipped back, and he nipped your neck in response, making you giggle wildly.

“Brat. I was trying to be sincere with you. I really like you, Y/N. And I hope we don’t always have to be a secret. I know you’re worried about everything with Faith, and I get it. But, at the risk of putting myself out there and sounding like an idiot, I want the day to come when I can be your boyfriend, and not just your little sister’s piano teacher that you fuck once a week. I want something real with you, and I want things to be okay between me, you, and Faith. Now would be a good time to tell me to shut up and stop wishing for a fantasy. That this is just sex, and that’s it. Just please, say something.”

You felt frozen beneath him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. One wrong word could shatter all of this. Or the right words, the true words, could be the start of something real and beautiful like Yoongi had said. He was laying so close to your heart, and the way it was rapidly pounding would probably end up giving you away anyway. He had taken the leap for you, and to you, Yoongi was more than worth the jump.

“Yoongi I, I’m falling for you. And it terrifies the hell out of me, but it also makes me feel excited, and hopeful. Being with you these last several weeks…it’s the best I’ve felt in a really long time. There definitely would have to be a conversation with Faith first, but I really want this, us, to be something real too. It’s not just sex for me anymore, and I don’t think it has been for awhile. I get butterflies when I think about seeing you. Not just fucking you. But seeing you and getting to be with you, even if it’s only for little bits at a time. Any time I can get is worth it to me, cause you’re worth it to me.”

You waited anxiously for his response, which came in the form of him covering your lips with his own, his hands coming up to cradle your face. It felt like the kiss at the piano earlier, only more sure, more confident. It was like you could feel everything that he felt for you, and you kissed him back, hoping that he could feel the same.

The two of you laid there for some time, just lazily tangled up in each other and in the fragile moment. Yoongi groaned loudly when you finally spoke up and mentioned that you should probably be heading back before Faith started to worry. He had the cutest pout on his face as he climbed down from the piano before holding out his hand to help guide you back to the floor.

“I can’t wait until you can finally just stay, and I can fall asleep next to you.” he voiced softly as he straightened his pants and retrieved his white tee from the floor.

“Me too.” you agreed, pushing up on your toes to kiss his cheek, and Yoongi immediately blushed.

“Hey, do you think I could hold onto this?” you added, gesturing at the shirt in his hands.

He gave you a gummy smile, “That’s not really keeping things a secret now is it, darling?”

“I’ll be careful with it. It’d just be nice to have a little piece of you with me.” you told him sweetly.

“Alright, it’s yours.” he said, tossing the shirt to you, “Can I keep these then? As something to remember you by.”

He bent down to pick up your panties from the floor and raised a mischievous eyebrow at you.

“Yoongi!” you exclaimed in shock, your cheeks burning.

“I’m kidding! Well, kind of.”

He flashed you a cheeky little smirk, and you shook your head at him, laughing.

“Well, if I just so happen to leave here without them, then I guess that really can’t be helped now can it?”

Yoongi hummed before stuffing the garment into his pocket.

“Yeah, guess not.” he agreed nonchalantly.

You felt your face heat once more, and you briefly turned your gaze to the piano, Yoongi’s eyes following yours.

“Shit!” he cursed suddenly, and worry immediately overtook you.

“What’s wrong?”

“It just occurred to me that I’ll never be able to play at this piano again without getting hard.”

You busted out laughing because you definitely had not been expecting that answer.

“Well, then, I guess you’ll just have to fuck me on every piano you own so that this one doesn’t feel singled out.” you quipped back as you gave him a knowing look.

Yoongi’s eyes were darkening immediately, “I think you better text your sister and let her know today’s lesson is running a little late.”

You grinned wickedly back at him, rising to the challenge.

“Whatever you say, piano man.”

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

–

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

Keep reading

be my daddy — myg [m]

⤷ summary. ❝ Min Yoongi is one thousand shades of forbidden to you, and yet, you can’t help but lust over him. Your dad’s friend. ❞ | 18+

pairing. dilf!ceo!yoongi x rich girl!reader 

genre. forbidden romance au, age gap au, smut, fluff, implied angst, pwp.

word count. 3.1k

» please don’t flag this post. if u don’t like it, just scroll. don’t be petty and flag creator’s posts, if u do that, ur not fücking cool 👎

warnings. big age gap (11 years), oc is a fucking tease, she vapes once, oc is said to have thick thighs, oc’s father is so oblivious lol, YOONGI HAS TATTOOS 😶‍🌫️ !! yoongi and oc’s father are friends, yoongi gives dilf energy but he doesn’t have a kid :3, daddy k*nk (sorry not sorry), mirror s*x, bathroom s*x, brief oral (f. recieving) big dïck yoongi, standing sëx, unprotected s*x (don’t be stupid like them ok this is fiction), dirty talk, yoongi has a dirty mouth y’all, dëgration k*nk, püssy fingering, choking, belly bulge, disgusting pet names, self-voyeurism, creampie, mentions of creampie, they have to be quiet but they kind of fail lol, there is a smidge of angst, like it’s super tiny u won’t even feel it, love dovey at the end, implied angst for the future of this couple, FLUFF (it’s weird for me to add this tag haha).

a/n. oh my god what have i done 😀 this is pure pwp. i am not okay i actually need my dilf yoongi right now !!!!! also this drabble just SCREAMS lana del rey, and the banner too. like oh my gooooood. i also thought of cola while writing this hehe. this was for my song requests and i hope u like this, love u so much !! <3 this is also just a lil something to get u guys fed before the monster that is after hours part one drops on friday !! hehe i’m very excited, love u all ♡

please reblog and / or leave feedback if u can, it helps a lot a lot !! ♡ love u. this is barely edited.

links. main masterlist ; taglist

The golden rays of July's sun hit your skin as you trace your fingers on your book. You shift your focus not to the captivating words of the page before you, but to the man who sits on the white sofa of your living room behind the glass. 

You bite your red lips, your lust-filled eyes hidden behind your heart-shaped glasses as you shamelessly stare at the man, gazing at each of his handsome features in secrecy.

You should be ashamed of yourself, lusting over your father’s associate and friend, but your so-called shame is long gone as you think about his veiny, tattooed, ring-filled hands splitting you open until you squirt.

Min Yoongi is his name.

You’ve known him for some time now. 

He is the CEO of Min Tech and he and your father decided to create a partnership between their companies a few years ago, but no one would have thought both men would have turned friends.

Your father by no means is an easy man to please, and by internet rumours, Mr Min is a man as cold as ice, whose sharp words are enough to cut your ego like a knife if you step

one foot out of line.

And what took you by more surprise is that he is much younger than your father, ten years, and your father was a man who liked to mingle with people his own age, claiming that the younger generation was too dumb for him to be associated with him. 

Except you, of course, and now, Yoongi.

Both don’t trust easily and yet, become such friends that he hangs out at your mansion almost every weekend for wine and business talk that is too boring for you to eavesdrop.

Min Yoongi is a thousand shades of forbidden to you. He is a friend of your father's, and not to mention, a CEO thirteen years older than you.

And yet, you can’t help but bite your lip every time you see the thirty-four-year-old clench move his tattooed hand, veins popping out, sending shivers toward your spine all the way to your clit.

You gaze at his figure, your eyes in a trance by the way he moves with an effortless confidence that draws the attention of every room he enters. Yoongi laughs at something your father says, flashing the gummy smile you’ve come to admire, and he sips a bit of the glass of whiskey in his hand. 

Suddenly, his intoxicating eyes catch yours. It’s a faint moment, but enough to form a smirk on your cherry lips as he licks his while shifting his burning eyes to your father, absentmindedly nodding at something he says.

The forbidden nature of your attraction to each other is the very essence of its intoxication. 

You adjust the red glasses on your face with your finger and close your book harshly before slowly getting up from your chair, making sure to do it with your eyes gues to Yoongi, who stares at you while licking his pouty lips, not even paying any attention to whatever your father is telling him.

You giggle and stretch your arms, the skimpy bikini revealing almost all of your breasts, doing the job you wanted when you chose this specific pair a few hours ago when your father told you Yoongi would be passing by for some work meeting at your house.

You pass your red nails through your luscious hair and accidentally let your book fall to the ground. You turn your body so your ass can face Yoongi, and you slowly reach for your book, making sure to tilt your body so your bikini can reveal as much as it can of your ass.

You smirk as you get up, and it only gets wider as you watch Yoongi uncomfortably crossing his legs and trying his best not to let his gaze fall down on you while he says something to your parents.

You grab your cherry vape and take a small puff of it before putting it deep inside your bag where your father could never see—even at twenty-three years of age, your father can’t see you smoke anything or else he’ll have your fucking head.

You grab your bag and walk toward the living room, and once you slide the glass door, you are met with the deep laughter of your father while Yoongi faintly chuckles while shifting on his seat.

“Oh, hey, princess! Say hi to Yoongi.” Your father smiles, and your mother sips on her wine, squinting her eyes at you and you tremble before smiling tightly.

“Hi Yoongi.” You send him a small wave while giving a smile that you hope hides the fire that spreads throughout your body.

“Hey, ____.” Yoongi passes his index hand on his sinner's lips while he scans your body, and your oblivious father chuckles while pressing a small kiss to your hand.

“Actually, Jisun, I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, princess, why don’t you be a sweetheart and take Yoongi here to the bathroom, hm? I don’t think he knows where he is, do you?”

“No, not really. I haven’t gotten used to your new house, yet. You went quite big with this one.” Yoongi chuckles, and your father laughs snobbishly.

“Um, okay, come with me, Yoongi.” You innocently giggle, and your father takes a sip of your whiskey while Yoongi follows you to the bathroom.

Your mother rolls her eyes and deeply sighs. 

“What’s wrong with you lately, Bora?”

“Nothing, Jisun. Nothing.” She takes a large sip of her wine, and your father hums in suspicion before taking a call on his phone.

You can feel Yoongi’s heavy presence behind you as you both walk toward the guest bathroom. You open the door with a trembling hand, and once you get in, rough hands push you to the counter and throw your glasses to the ground

You wince at the slight pain while a river flows through your skinny bikini and down to your thick thighs, and you bite your lip as you watch the older man lock the door with desperation written on his fingers.

Yoongi is quick to imprison your body with his hips, his big bulge hitting your thighs while he grabs your hair, sharp pain coursing through your scalp.

“Filthy little slut,” His deep chuckle is overridden with lust, while his eyes incinerate arson deep within your veins, an ardent pleasure spreading through your body. 

You bat your lashes, faking innocence in your eyes as he whispers in your ear, “Trying to seduce me with that fuckin’ ass while I’m talking to your parents. Does your dad know his princess is a fucking whore behind the curtains, hm?”

“I don’t know what you mea–hmph.” You choke when his tattooed fingers suddenly enter your mouth, reaching the back of your throat with ease.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch.” Yoongi growls, the rasp in his voice getting deeper as he stares at you with passion mixed with monstrous lust. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you? Filled that filthy pussy with my cum yesterday and you already want more, hm?”

You eagerly nod your head, your mind wandering to the night before when he filled you like his cum dump, his white seed spilling through your thick thighs, leaving you oh-so-pleased and in pure bliss.

You suck his fingers, saliva dancing on your lips and dripping on your chin and cheeks, and Yoongi laughs at just how pathetic you look. Pathetic just for him.

“What do you want me to do to you, doll?” He finally takes his fingers out of your mouth which is now stained with your red gloss, and you cough twice before biting your lips. “C’mon, tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

You hold your breath before whispering, “Want your cock. Want you to fi-fill me up again.”

“Want me to put my cum deep inside you, hm?”

You nod your head, “Uh-huh.”

“Hmm, dunno if you deserve it.”

You scoff, “Of course I deserve it. And I know you want to be buried deep inside me. You want it as much as I do.”

Yoongi pokes the inside of his cheek, “Hate it that you’re fuckin’ right.” 

The older man forcefully grabs your cheeks with one of his veiny hands, enough to well your eyes with tears of pleasure. “Spread those legs for me, brat.”

Yoongi helps to place you on top of the counter, and he immediately spreads your legs and unwraps the bow of your bikini, and before you know it, you stand naked, vulnerable before his devilish eyes.

Yoongi falls to his knees, his hot breaths on your pussy sending shivers throughout every inch of your spine. He stares at how copious amounts of slick easily drip out of your aching pussy, and he almost moans loudly at the thought that it is all just for him.

Yoongi suddenly licks one single, slow stripe of your slit, and you tremble, unwanted moans slipping out of your slutty mouth.

“You gotta stay quiet for me, yeah? Can’t have your parents knowing what’s going on, hm?” 

You widen your eyes at the thought and whimper once he places kitten licks on your pussy, licking all your wetness out and moaning deeply at your sweet taste.

“I’m way too horny to eat you out today, baby. Gonna slip inside you, k?”

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” You lazily giggle and grope one of your breasts you know he is obsessed with, “Want you to fill me up, Daddy.”

Yoongi groans while standing up, “Fucking hell. You know you have me weak when you call me that.”

The sound of Yoongi taking his metal belt off echoes through the large bathroom, and you lick your lips in anticipation, desire burning through your skin as you watch his big cock spring free from his white boxers, slapping on his thighs.

Yoongi smirks and slowly strokes his hard-rock length, “You want daddy’s cock, slut?”

“Mhm.” You nod eagerly, drool forming on your lips as you stare at his veiny dick that twitches just for you.

“Say it.” Yoongi growls and you silently whine.

“Want your cock, daddy. Want you to stretch me out. Fill me up.”

Yoongi faintly moans, his eyes closing in bliss while his cock twitches his hand, “Shit, baby girl, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Yoongi closes your thighs, and you furrow your eyebrows, your heart preparing for disappointment, “Stand up and turn around. Want you to look at yourself while I fuck you.”

You sigh in relief, and do as he says. Once you turn around, you gasp at the image of your naked self with Yoongi’s broad, tattoed body behind you. 

What a view.

The older man’s veiny fingers trail the skin of your stomach, and you tremble under his tender touch before he slips two fingers inside your cunt, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Daddy’s pussy.” You moan out while he spreads your legs, and your face turns hot as you stare at how his rough fingers split your red cunt apart.

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.” You moan, and Yoongi hums in satisfaction.

Yoongi’s free hand wraps around your neck and puts little pressure, but enough to make your head dizzy as you stare at the hot reflection in the mirror.

He bites your earlobe before whispering inside your ear, his burning hot breath making your body tremble, “Gonna slip inside now, yeah?”

You nod your head, and you moan once he slips inside your wet folds. You whimper, lewd sounds echoing through the white bathroom, and Yoongi’s hand goes to your tummy, rubbing it in soothing motions as you get used to the slight pain.

Even after so many times, you still can’t get used to just how big he is.

“Yoongi.” You moan, throwing your head back to his shoulder. 

Yoongi squeezes the air out of your throat for one second, which causes you to bring your head back as you gasp for air, “That’s not my name right now, whore.”

“Sorry d-daddy.” You whimper, and Yoongi chuckles at your humiliation, more slick dripping down your pussy and coating his eager cock.

Yoongi’s hips roughly buck upwards once, his balls slapping onto your ass while your body bucks forwards, but his hand wrapped around your stomach prevents your head from hitting the sink.

Your eyes widen in fear, but before you can say anything, Yoongi places the sweetest butterfly kisses onto your neck, “Don’t worry. I got you, hm? I promise.”

You nod your head, “Okay, y-yeah. Okay.”

“Gonna move now, baby. What’s your safe word?”

You smile lazily while Yoongi slowly moves his hips in a round motion, trying to get the slightest of friction while he waits for you to get used to him, “Snowflake.”

“Good girl.” 

Yoongi pulls his cock out so just the tip is inside you, before roughly thrusting inside once again, sparing no mercy to your red pussy. You moan at the incinerating sensation, his balls slapping on your ass, wet slapping sounds filling the room with your sin.

“Ugh, so fuckin’ big,” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he continues to thrust into you at an animalistic pace, your tits jumping at the same rhythm of his thrusts, and Yoongi grunts inside your ear at the filthy reflection.

His hand rests on your neck, and you feel dizzy at the light, sudden squeeze of your throat. Yoongi’s other tattooed hand that rests on your tummy traces the big bulge that forms each time he thrusts up inside you, the tip of his cock deliciously kissing your cervix.

Your consciousness slips away with the intense pleasure, your heart racing at the rough thrusts, and Yoongi smirks at your fucked out state, “Look at just how good you take me, little slut. You were made for my cock, hm?”

You eagerly nod your head, “Yes! Ye—”

Yoongi’s hand slaps your mouth, shutting you up, and your eyes widen while his mouth goes to your ear, “Quiet.”

Your pussy squeezes around him, your climax close, and Yoongi groans into your ear while his thrusts get even faster, sloppier. The rhythm of lust as euphoria consumes you both.

“I’m fuckin’ close. Gonna come inside this slutty pussy baby. Gonna fill you to the brim and make you walk around the house with my cum dripping from your thighs. Gonna mark you so everyone knows you’re fucking Min Yoongi’s property.”

You moan at the thought of being his, and he chuckles darkly, his ring-filled hands tracing the skin of your stomach and going down to expertly roll his index finger on your puffy clit. “You like that? Like the thought of being mine, hm?”

You moan into his hand, and he finally lets you breathe once he takes the hand from your mouth, “Yes, wanna be yours. Wanna—ugh!”

Yoongi opens your legs, and his hand grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at the lewd reflection of your pussy taking his cock and how your slick gets pushed roughly back inside you by his fat length. “Look at how that pretty pussy takes my cock. And don’t take your eyes off of it until I cum inside, got it.”

“Uh, uh—daddy, fuck!” His tongue pokes his cheek as he continues to thrust inside you, and before you know it, your body trembles as your climax consumes, you, yet, you follow his command and never take your eyes off the mirror.

“Fuck, baby, I’m cum–cumming for you.” Your orgasm triggers his and with stuttering hips and sloppy thrusts, Yoongi’s cock twitches one last time before his seed slips inside you, painting your walls white as he fills you up.

You both watch in a trance as copious amounts of his white, sticky release drips out of your pussy and into your thighs as he slowly pulls out, and Yoongi wastes no time before slipping two of his veiny fingers inside you, all the while panting desperately on your shoulder.

He slowly pushes his cum inside you while licking your neck within his pants, and you throw your head back, gasping for any oxygen for your restricted lungs.

Yoongi maps out your shoulder with his kisses before he traces his tongue all the way to your ear. He bites your earlobe before whispering, “I love you.”

You gasp, and turn around to meet his glimmering eyes, “Wh-what?”

“I love you, my princess. I have for a while now.” Yoongi smiles shyly, his hand cupping your cheek while his thumb gently caresses your skin, “Be mine. Please?”

“What about my—my dad? He can’t know, I—”

“Do you love me?”

“But—”

“Forget about your fucking dad for a second, dammit.” Yoongi groans, before cupping your other cheek with his other hand, forcing your eyes to meet his desperate ones that call for your soul, “Do you love me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes before opening again, “I do. Fuck, I love you, Yoongi. I have for so fucking long.”

Yoongi smiles brightly, secret relief overcoming through his nerves, “Then be mine, baby. We’ll deal with your dad together. Then we’ll get a house together while you go through law school. How does that sound, hm?”

You smile, tears of joy welling in your eyes, “That sounds perfect.”

You lean in, your lips dancing with each other in the most gentle kiss, your heart that once bled in desperation for his, now heals as it wraps around his soul the way fate intended to. 

You both disconnect your lips with a gasp once you hear a loud knocking on the bathroom door, reality crashing on you as you hear your father’s deep voice, “Yoongi, are you taking a shit or what? I need you back, I can’t fucking stand my wife right now.”

Yoongi takes in a deep breath before shouting back, “Just got caught up with some things, I’ll be there in five!”

“Alright.” Your father groans, and once his steps are too far to hear, both you and Yoongi let out a breath of relief.

“I love you.” He whispers into your ear, “We’ll be okay, hm?”

Your soul glitters and you smile, “I love you, too.”

© 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐. all rights reserved; do not copy, translate or post it in another platform at any circumstances.

Still Blue | One-Shot (Taehyung)

Rating/Genre: M18+, exes to ???; angst, smut 💖, a bit of fluff, sort of hurt/comfort Pairings: Rocker!Taehyung x Reader(f) Warnings: Explicit smut, a slightly toxic relationship, issues have not been worked on as they should’ve, they are very recent exes so it’s still kind of mid-break-up, unresolved but happy(?) ending, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, pet name ‘baby’, 'good girl', ~lovemaking~, awkwardness, Tae is like kind of stubborn and kind of a mess, dirty talk, begging, a lot o'feelings!!, praise, implied squirting Word Count: 3.0k (hehehe) Summary: Taehyung hurts. But Taehyung can make the world move.

A/N: This is for the Into the Blue event hosted by @daechwitatamic, @jeonqkooks and @wintaerbaer so it's inspired by the teaser for the Blue MV! Make sure to check out the other fics as they're posted :)

Behind the door, he stands in full get-up, black smudged around his eyes, studded leather jacket pulled across his shoulders, sandy blonde hair a shaggy mess. He still looks gorgeous, even if it’s not your Taehyung. His gaze lifts quickly at the familiar creak of the hinge. 

“Hi,” you breathe, pulse already pounding.

“Hey." It's low and serious, kind of awkward, as he takes a mini-step forward. “My stuff?”

Your eyes widen slightly, stomach immediately wringing. Wow, no need to waste time with pleasantries clearly. “O-k…” you respond stiffly. There’s a fleeting thought that just maybe this past week was more painful for you than for him, if he can greet you so coldly. 

He comes inside when you step back, leaving the door open for him. Then he runs a hand through his hair as he looks around, terribly impatient. “Where is it?”

“Damn. Didn’t realize you were in such a rush,” you mumble as you turn.

“Got a gig tonight.”

“‘Course you do,” you say just as you disappear through the doorway into the bedroom.

“Yeah, that’s kind of how it works,” he calls out, clearly having heard you. 

Ignoring his gaze, you walk back out with the big box of stuff – more than you’d thought it would be before you’d compiled all the things he’d forgotten on the day Jungkook helped him move out. 

You don’t reply, refusing to take the bait.

He receives the open box, rests it on the entrance table that not long ago was home to two sets of keys, and starts to pick through it. “What’s this?”

You look over from where you’re standing with your arms crossed, filled with tension because the strength of Taehyung’s gravitational pull comes back so fast and hard every time. You step closer. “What?”

“This?” he says more softly, holding up the faded blue t-shirt that was shared between the two of you so many times that you can’t even remember who it originally belonged to. Though, now that you think of it… “It’s yours.”

“Oh, yeah… I guess you wore it so often, my brain forgot,” you say awkwardly. It feels like his shirt. As much as this apartment feels like his apartment. As much as your hands feel like his hands, and your body feels like his body. 

He looks at you unhappily. Stares actually, even once you break the eye contact and take an audible breath, feeling too exposed. Taehyung’s never been one to care much about social cues.

“I mean, you– you can have it,” you say finally, trying to make the moment end. He was rushing you but now all you want is for him to go so you can cry in peace, with or without the blue shirt that will probably never cease to smell like him anyway. 

“Don’t…. do that,” he says, struggling to get the words out.

“Do what?”

“Say it like this is really… it.” There’s a wobble in his voice though he’s trying to keep his eyes hard, his jaw set. You can see it all so clearly. 

You breathe, determined to keep your composure. But Taehyung is your weakness. “This is it, Tae. You moved out.”

“Because you wanted me to.”

You shake your head slightly, looking down, biting at your lip. “I don’t want to talk about this again. We just go in circles.”

A moment passes. 

“I don’t want it,” he says stubbornly, not meeting your eyes either as he thrusts his hand out with the shirt clutched in it.

You look his hand back up to his face, then your arm slowly lifts. “Um, ok, I’ll… keep it,” you say quietly, not sure how to navigate this without upsetting him – and yourself – more. 

But when you take hold of the shirt, he doesn’t release it, just stares solemnly down at your hands as he lets out a breath. 

It hurts. 

Trying to figure out how to be merciful, you step closer and whisper: “You can keep it. It’s ok.”

“That’s not what I want,” he whispers back, and you can see the wetness in his eyes. “I don’t want any of this.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” you say helplessly, coming even closer to him because you really can’t help it, the shirt still caught between where both of your arms hang loosely between the two of you. “I told you I can’t do it. You’re gone, and then when you are here, I feel like I barely see you anyway.”

“It won’t be like that all the time,” he urges, something he keeps repeating, despite you both knowing it can’t be true. 

You close your eyes, sighing. “You guys are only getting bigger...–”

“Exactly. So I’ll have more power to make decisions. I can choose to be home with you.”

“But you won’t,” you breathe. He never wants to admit that he has trouble choosing you, but it’s become too loud for you to ignore.

He pulls slightly on the t-shirt, bringing you an inch closer, your free hand naturally finding his elbow. Then he peers heartbreakingly down at you. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” you say softly. You don’t say it back even though he knows it’s true. 

He tilts his head forward as his eyes fall closed, his forehead meeting yours. 

There’s no choice but to stay still. In the moment with him. Chest tightening as you try to take a good breath. You really don’t want him to be in pain. God, it hurts.

“I love you,” he repeats more quietly, and your eyes fall closed too. 

It’s not enough. You can’t say it though. He’s too fragile to hear it, even if he already knows it inside. 

He tilts his head slightly, face coming closer to yours so the pull of his lips is strong. Addicting, like always. 

“I don’t want to sleep alone anymore,” you whisper. A last ditch attempt.

“I’m right here.”

You ignore his words, and try your best to ignore the way his hands are slipping around your waist and squeezing, the old shirt becoming trapped between your bodies. “All I do is wonder whether you’re thinking about me. And if you’re happy. If you’re safe.”

“I think about you all the time,” he says in that seductive way, shifting his head a bit more so that his lips just brush against yours. “On stage, on the road, at night on the bus when I can’t sleep.” Lifting a hand to your jaw, he kisses you then, making you suck in a tight breath. “When I’m in the shower, I think about you. About touching you. Having you right here.” Another squeeze. Another kiss.

You sigh shakily into his mouth. It’s so familiar. Mainly in the sense that it knocks you down every time. 

He kisses you deeper, pulling your whole body against him, and despite your hands jumping to his chest, soft leather under your fingers, you don’t push him away. Not even a little. He steps forward and you go with him, disoriented, until your ass is hitting the back of the couch. No where else to go, he changes direction, pulling you instead to follow after him as he backs towards the bedroom, all without even separating your lips. 

You know with everything in you that this is not solving anything, can only make things worse, in fact. You’d been strong for a whole week, not texting him, not calling him, not showing up at the guys' apartment in the middle of the night, all torn up and missing him. You thought about it, yes – but you didn't. 

“Tae,” you breathe when you break your lips apart in front of the bed, but that’s the closest you can come to trying to stop him.  

He shucks his jacket off then crawls on with you, inching forward overtop of you as you inch back. “I miss you,” he says as he lowers his mouth back to your lips then veers off to the side, kissing your jaw then your neck with a languid hunger. 

“This isn’t…” you try but your arms are around him, holding him loosely as he paints kisses down your throat, breathing heavily, so focused. “This can’t fix the problem,” you whisper, eyes squeezed shut, brows contorted above them. 

He lifts up, enough to look you so earnestly in the eye, and says: “We’ll figure it out.”

You breathe out, half-sigh half-moan, as a hand runs over your body and his lips find your pulse point. His words would bring you more peace if you believed them. He believes them; that you are sure of. But Taehyung seems to always naively believe that things will work out, regardless of his actions.

“I promise.” He pulls your shirt off and you let him. Then his shirt. Then your pants. And his. Each punctuated by more hot delicious kisses that make your body scream. 

“Tae,” you whisper again, more pathetically, because you’re really trying even though it seems like you're not. 

He slips his hand down between your legs, rubs gentle circles over the thin material, letting you feel how much your body has already said yes. It feels electric, even over your panties, and you gasp, tangling your hands in his long hair and arching into him.

“Baby... can we please just pretend for a moment that nothing else exists?” he asks softly, breath hitting your skin, kissing you more before you can even reply.

That’s what it always feels like. That’s what you always think. It’s like two different worlds. Making love to Taehyung, and then everything else. 

And he’s calling you baby, and he tastes so good and comforting, and his fingertips are pulling aside the cotton to get to the slippery mess that you can’t help. 

“Just wanna feel you,” he breathes into your neck before inhaling deeply, sliding his fingers through your folds at the same time.

“Fuck,” you squeak as your body tenses, hips canting to direct him to your hole that suddenly feels so empty. 

“Hear your pretty sounds. Mmm–” he adds, dragging more of your wetness to your clit to swirl around it, starting to watch your face intently as your expression turns to pure whimpering desperation, begging eyes locked on his as your lips part. 

He watches for a few moments then leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth as he swirls a little faster, blissing you out with the sharp stimulation. Your eyes squeeze shut again, a long drawn out moan falling from you as you feel that knot pulling in your tummy. 

“Fuck, Tae,” you whine in way of warning but he just continues, licking his lips, watching you intently as the pleasure surges through you.

“Gonna come like this already?” he rasps into your ear but he’s not surprised in the slightest. He’s extremely well-practiced in making you come, however he likes, whenever he likes, however many times he likes. 

Nothing else exists when his hands are on you. The room already feels like it’s spinning, his body the only thing grounding you to the bed. You can’t even remember why he’s here. 

“Gonna come,” you breathe out in a relinquishing sigh, sinking fully into the feeling of him, his hand working expertly between your legs, and his perfect mouth which is now kissing down your chest, sucking teasingly on your nipple.

He hums his satisfied response, not changing a single thing about what he’s doing until you’re jerking and crying out with the onslaught of your climax, body arching off the bed, hips running away from his hand, fingers digging into the sheets. 

“God, fuck, Tae–” you choke, twisting, closing your legs because you’re too fucking sensitive for him to keeping rubbing the way he is, but then he slips his fingers lower, sinking them into your dripping wetness, making you curse all over again. 

“Wanna make you feel so good, baby,” he whispers, shifting so he’s lying on his side right up against you, hooking a leg over yours to keep it open. He tangles his other hand in your hair, pulling it a little, bouncing your attention to the slight pain before it gets dragged back down to the spot inside of you that he’s pressing against over and over. “Make you come so hard you can’t even think.”

Pathetically, you’re already halfway there, whimpering at his words and grinding your hips down against his fingers. “Please, please, please,” you whisper quietly, unsure what you’re asking for because he’s already exactly where you want him. 

“So good to me. So fucking good to me so I’m gonna be good to you too, ok?” he assures, pressing more kisses to your chest, your neck, your lips, whatever he can reach without having to take away from the perfect rhythm he’s found inside you. 

You moan, walls clenching tighter around him, your wetness no doubt squishing out around his fingers onto his knuckles. 

“Good girl. Just focus on me,” he continues, his voice so smooth and low and raspy, like he’s been working it too hard lately. He bites gently at your ear lobe, thrusting his fingers a little faster, then groaning in your ear, performatively because he knows what it does to you when it sounds like he’s being pleasured just from touching you. “Fuck, baby,” he moans in whisper.

Your breathing is getting heavier, your hips moving faster. God, you want to come again so bad, but it’s wavering out of reach. You want more, something bigger or faster or harder, or just something. 

He whimpers in your ear. “Squeezing me so tight, baby. God, I can’t wait to fuck the shit out of you.”

You gasp, tilting your head back into the pillow, feeling him adjust his arm slightly so he can fuck into you that much harder. 

“Come again for me and I will, ok? … I’ll fill you up so good. Stretch out this tight little pussy.” He kisses hot against your skin then whimpers again, groaning when it gets exactly the desired reaction, you writhing and letting out a sob, walls pulsing around him. “Baby, I want to fuck you so bad. Please, please, come for me. Please. Come like a good girl for me,” he begs, practically tauntingly with how it’s dripping with his exaggerated neediness. 

It works as it always does, the breath that you suck in getting caught inside you as your orgasm blinds you. Your body tenses, lifts, silence in the room save for the gushing sound between your legs until it’s run its course enough for you to let out a shaky throaty moan as everything releases.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he praises hard, still fucking his fingers into you but slowly, placing less pressure on your front wall. “Ok, baby?”

You nod, taking heavy breaths, strikes of pleasure still shooting through you intermittently, especially when he brushes his thumb over your clit in a lazy circle. “Fuck… fuck…” you’re still whispering, even once your high has fully subsided because he still just feels so good, playing you like an instrument that he mastered long ago. 

He kisses you, directing your head sideways with his hold on your hair while his other hand continues to dance between your legs, then he’s shifting, pressing up over top of you to slip his boxers down. 

You don’t even have to think to open your legs wider, raise your arms to embrace him, palms slipping over the soft skin of his back as he hovers over you. He teases at your entrance, brushing over your swollen clit, then it’s only a few seconds before he’s pressing into the wetness with a chesty groan, stretching you wide.

As soon as he’s slotted inside you, he leans down, wrapping around you, meeting your body as much as he can, his hips doing all the work of a slowly steady roll into you that has him hitting so right. “Feel so fucking perfect,” he mumbles before pressing a sensuous kiss to your lips, keeping it in sync with the delicious wave of his body against yours. 

This is truly the reason you shouldn’t be letting this happen. He’s capable of sinking you so deep into him, like you’re drowning but you don’t even want to come up for air. Every single bit of him sparks something in you.

He fucks you with his whole body, and in return, you accept him with all of yours, your back arching, hips moving in tandem with the way his cock pushes in and out, dragging against your walls, and pulling in just the way that has you digging your nails into his back.  

Gradually, he moves faster, breathing a little heavier with the way he’s started to pound down into your cunt. Still, it somehow feels romantic – because it’s him and you love him, and your body loves him, and there’s not much Taehyung can do without it feeling romantic.

Even though neither of you say it now, you can feel his “I love you” with each thrust, hear it with each ragged breath he lets out, each groan pulled from his throat. 

When you come, you come together, holding each other tight, moans and curses filling the air. You’re still shaking, he’s still pulsing inside of you, barely over your highs, when he cradles your head in his hands and says, “I need you.” He kisses you slow and deep. “Baby, I need you to stay. I don’t know how to fix it but I promise I will.”

You try to breathe, blinking up at him. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he says again with a sure nod and the sweetest eyes before pulling you into another kiss. “I don’t want anyone else. You’re it.”

You know you’re not thinking clearly. But this time, you believe him too.

A/N: i don't think i'm capable of writing Tae without making him a moody lil -----. i'm too influenced by is xNFP type and his general poutiness lol but i also love him so muuuuuchhhh. obviously i leaned angsty bc of the tension in the teaser! i hope you enjoyed :D

Tag List: @theharrowing @here4kpopfics @the-boy-meets-evil @aris-ink @notbotheredtho @bangchansbae

-

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it ❤️ Thank you!

Masterlist

with love

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: sad angst, a tinge of fluff

word count: 5.4k 

warning! : mentions of death

a/n: i didn’t bother proof reading but excuse the mistakes in the story

summary: You were only 15 when you were diagnosed with cancer and met your best friend. He promised to stay by your side. You were 15 when you started gaining feelings. You were 15 when you started writing letters. You accepted the fact that you were going to die. You were only 18 when you were ready to leave.

Two things occurred when you turned 15.

One. You heard the most frightening and life changing words in your life.

“Y/N, you have been diagnosed with cancer.”

Keep reading

baby bear’s honey.

⊹ liveyun reads, 2023 (: !! taehyung ver.

—⊹ joon and seokjin’s library

—⊹ yoongi’s library

hello hello :3 welcome back to my library, but as usual a failed attempt to organise them all :( i remember reading SO many golden fics, but these are only some i could manage to find <\3 and the most heartbreaking news is that one of my all time favorites have been deleted by the author.. ;-:

as always, if possible, your feedbacks to the authors are always appreciated and welcome.

most of these fics are rated M, and abiding by the author's wishes, you have to be 18+ in order to read them. however, i’m not responsible for the content you consume online, hence, reader's discretion is adviced.

[ ♪ ] : series | [ ★ ] : favorites | [ a ] : angst | [ f ] : fluff [ s ] : smut | [ d ] : dark/horror

⊹ nox by @hobidreams ( 10.5k, a, s, f ) ★🧛🏻

⊹ of lace and lust by @hobidreams ( 11.2k+, a,s,f ) ★ 🪞

⊹ things we don't say by @wintaerbaer (♪20k+,a,s,f)★❤️🩹

⊹ with love by @rosaetae (5.4k, a) ★ 💔💔

⊹ tempting by @kinktae ( 20k+, a, s ,d, f ,♪) ★ 😈👼

⊹ the art of tenderness by @sahmfanficbts (9.3k+,a, s, f)★🍡

⊹ tolerate it by @archivedkookie ( 9.3k+, a, s, f, ♪,) ★ 💔

⊹ a human touch by @snackhobi ( 39k+, a, s, f ♪ ) ★ 🤖

⊹ after midnight by @watashijeon (7.9k, s, a, ♪) ★ 💔🚬

⊹ maybe i do by @chateautae ( 120k+ , a, s , f , ♪) ★ ❤️🩹

⊹ salt + shadow by @floralseokjin ( 10k +, s ) 😈

⊹ don't scream by @hobimyhope (10k+, s, d ) ☠️

⊹ all i want for christmas is you by @ladyartemesia (17k,s,a,c)

⊹ only you by @blue-jade ( 10k+, a, s ) 💔

⊹ still blue by @beahae ( 3k, f, s, a) 💔..❤️🩹

⊹ the sketch and the smaller eye by @blueberryarchive (8k+ a,s,f)

⊹ tanzanite treasures by @kth1 ( 11.8k, a, s, f) 🧜🏻

⊹ black ravens by @kth1 ( 21k+, s, f, d ,♪) 🧛🏻

⊹ the key to my drawer by @jjungkookislife ( 10k+ a,s,f) 🗝️

⊹ fall from grace by @sunnebeam (3k+, a, s, f)👑

⊹ a year's interlude by @aseaofyoongi (10.9k+, a,s,f) 👑★

⊹ ghoul by @kthyg ( 4k+, s, d ) ☠️

⊹ between the lines by @btsgotjams27 ( 1.3k, f ) 👨🏻‍🎓👩‍🎓

again, a simple reminder. if there's a series which is put on hold or isn't completed yet, don't be an ass and pester them about updates. we all are trying our best, okay?

here's my own masterlist if you wanna read my stories ( self promo? 😍👎🏽)

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just…" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It’s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,” you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

So What? | MYG | Chapter 1

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

A/N: First chapter, I hope you enjoy!!

WC: 2K

< Prev . Series Masterlist . Next >

Carrying your body home after a full day shift at the café is always the hardest part of your work. The worst thing is that it was raining today.

"Man, it seriously can't get any worse than this already." 

You were walking to your apartment from the nearest bus stop when you heard skitting across the road and paused. It was forty-five minutes to midnight and living next to a park made the lights in the area dim. That totally did not help the rising panic within. 

“Hello?” You called out. “Nobody? Okay.” 

You continued uphill as you constantly looked around, body and mind on high alert. As you walked closer and closer to your apartment building, the hissing got louder. You stopped dead in your tracks, rain harshly hitting the umbrella as you frantically tried to locate the noise. The flight and fight response in you is more towards the latter. Your eyes connected with two moonlit ones, staring back at you as if they knew where your soul was. 

“Hi, kitty.” It hissed. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?" You tried coaxing it up with you. "It's raining hard, it’s better if you go under the building.” 

You stood under the rain, getting soaked as you tried to coax it from under the car. You wouldn't have believed that you were redoing this on a brain-damaging day, still seem to have patience for a cat. It hissed and moved back when your hand went closer to it. You squatted there for a good fifteen minutes when you groaned and got up from your spot, pants and bag completely wet from the rain. You reached out your hand as a last offer, “Come on sweet pea, please?” 

You used your best baby voice. The cat refuses to move from the spot it has pressed itself against. 

"Fine. Maybe you don't want to leave me standing here." You have another look. "But when I leave, go under there," Pointing at the shelter of the apartment building. "It's dryer and warmer there. Night, kitty." 

You went into the apartment building and took the lift up to the twenty-seventh floor. You brought out your keys as they clanged loudly against the metal gates. One foot in, you looked around your apartment, climbed the countertop, and took a plastic bowl off the shelf. 

He's either going to be there or not going to be there.

You decided to take the plunge and filled the bowl with warm water - not too warm but not too cold. A flash of light shines through your house before the loud boom of thunder vibrates the walls. You hurried back down to the parking lot, afraid that the cat would be scared of the noise. 

That's stupid. It's stray, it's used to it. But… It doesn't mean it isn't scared. 

You carefully went back down to where the vehicle the cat was at but all you found was an empty space. Alarmed, you stood there, calling out for the black cat as if it could understand that it was being called. Only when you registered that the water in the bowl started to get cold did you leave to go back into your warm home with a heavy heart, hoping that the kitty at least found a dry spot before the rain got heavier in the night. 

Yoongi never had the plan to be caught by any humans the day he left that horrid place. He survived on the streets, stealing food from vendors, and eating late-night snacks, but overall, he was fine as a cat. He survived as a cat and he has vowed that he would live like one for the rest of his life. 

Until you came along. 

He smelled you from a mile away. He was at the bin stealing off the last bits of leftover chicken that the hawker centre vendors had thrown away when he smelt you. He never stayed in one place for too long or the animal control would take him. But Yoongi stayed there for three days now. Three whole days and nights, scenting you, seeing you. But he never intended to be found out. 

The rain started to pour when he was chewing off the last bits of his dinner. He scurried away to the nearest vehicle, crawling under to shield himself from the rain. People don’t normally like animals under the apartment buildings and it would be a too obvious place for him to be at. 

“Hello?” He heard you call out. He scented your fear and kept still, not wanting to be caught. But as you neared the vehicle that he was under, he started to hiss loudly, animal instincts taking over to be alarmed and fight and all costs. You stood still again, now eyes turning to where he was and making contact with yours. 

He stilled. 

“Hi, kitty.” You called out to him, hands reaching nearer under the vehicle to try and pet him. He hissed out loudly and pressed himself even more against the tyres of the car. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?" You smelled heavenly to him, like tangerine and chocolate. He didn’t want you to leave but he didn’t want to be caught. 

You tried your very best but he knew he wasn’t going to budge, not while you’re here at least. 

“Maybe you don't want to leave with me standing here." Yes - "But when I leave, go under there," No - "It's dryer and warmer there. Night, kitty." Good night. 

No way in hell is he going to go under the apartment blocks especially when he will be too exposed. You never once looked back as you walked into your building. 

Maybe I should really go somewhere else to sleep tonight. 

The rain started to get heavier, soaking almost half his body under the car. Yoongi walked out, rain splattering on his fur, spreading the blood down to his shin. He winced. Maybe fighting for the food just now wasn’t a good idea. Just as he started to limp away, lightning struck and thunder boomed, making him flinch and run to the trash bins located outside the apartment blocks. He slithered his way in there. 

Hmm, dry enough for now. 

He fell asleep just as he heard, “Kitty? Kitty! Kitty, where are you?”

You wake up to the sound of the alarm blaring through the house and turn over to grab the phone, turning it off so that it doesn’t sound again. Just as you were about to fall back asleep, your neighbours downstairs started shouting, waking you up. 

You groaned. “What the hell. Fine, fine, I’m up.”

You vigorously tried to rub the sleep off of your face and headed to the washroom. You walked out of the washroom with a toothbrush stuck in your mouth as you took the kettle to boil some water.  Rummaging through the cupboard for something to eat was the hard part. Being out at work means that the drawers in your house are almost empty. You sighed as you found some crackers in the refrigerator. You took a bowl and filled it with crackers and bread cookies. 

As toothpaste started leaking out of your mouth, you hurriedly ran to the washroom to continue washing up. The coffee was simply made and placed beside the bowl of crackers and phones. You readied the vacuum and pail of water needed to clean the house. 

You had a strict line-up when it came to Saturday cleaning. All drawers, shelves, and countertops are to be cleaned first. Followed by the carpets being vacuumed. Then, the floors will be vacuumed and moped - twice per room to make sure there is not a speck of dust. After that everything is washed and kept back to their original positions and the basins and toilets are next. 

Usually by then, you are too exhausted to be bothered to clean it in any way, just making sure that everything is scrubbed - from top to bottom. Okay, yeah, maybe you do have a slight cleanliness problem. But you absolutely dislike it when the house gets too dusty as it makes you sneeze a lot. Though, cleaning itself is a workout but thankfully, you often finish just before lunch. 

You crashed down onto the sofa after cleaning. “Ugh, today is exhausting.” You flung an arm over your forehead. You got up to get your phone from the dining table and adjusted your spectacles properly over the bridge of your nose. Deciding to be lazy today, you ordered in McDonald’s. As you deemed yourself well-rested enough, you got up with a huff and headed to take a shower. 

Just as you were about to blow dry your hair, the doorbell rang and you hurriedly made your way over with keys in hand. Your stomach was finally grumbling for some food to grind in its system and you were pretty sure that by now, it was already eating itself. Just as you reached the small water fountain placed in the living room, a few steps away from your room, you realised that there was a ball of black-something. 

That ball of black-something was indeed a cat and it looked as if it was a deer - or well, cat - caught in the headlights. Its pupils enlarged as one of its paws was paused midway in the air as if it just stopped from taking another step. The doorbell rang again, efficiently snapping the both of you out of your stupors. 

“Coming!” You shouted as the cat scurried under your sofa. You thanked the delivery man for the food and quickly shut the door. 

“Kitty? Is that you?” You placed the food on the top of the shoe rack, crouching down, head on the floor, trying to communicate with the cat that just - somehow, maybe flew? - into your house. 

No response. As the both of you stared at each other in absolute silence, you somehow knew that it was indeed the cat you saw last night. You weren’t sure of the cat’s coat colour as it was dark in the night, but under the afternoon light, it seemed to be matted and had blood streaks on it. You could clearly see it from where you crouched down but did not move closer to it, learning from last night that it doesn’t like close contact. 

Your stomach grumbles loudly. You sighed, getting up from your odd position on the floor and went to the kitchen. You were halfway through your own lunch when you decided to feed him. You got up from your chair, opened a can of soft food and poured it into an aluminium bowl as well as filling the top with a spoonful of kibbles. Then you mixed warm water in another and placed both bowls at the left edge of the sofa, hoping that the cat under there would be tempted to come out to eat with your back faced away from him. The noises from the bowls approved of the action. 

Yoongi was hungry - starving. He couldn’t be bothered by what type of food you gave him, as long as you gave him food. He munched on the shredded chicken which was surprisingly nice with the extra crunch of the fish kibbles. He was hesitant at first, wondering if he should leave from under the sofa but the food was too tempting to waste. 

The first bite down could have him crying. He didn’t have such high-quality food, human or cat food, for a really long time. The last time he had that was with one of his nicer owners. They were like family - he gets good stuff if he is a good kitty - until everything went to hell. He never intended to be caught but since he was already here, why not eat and then go? 

Yes, yes that sounded like a good plan. A very good plan. 

Except that plan never went as said. 

Your Grace | myg

[Min Yoongi as a Duke]

— Unseathe your sword, warrior. You are home. in which, once upon a time, there lived a duke of the north and his wife

word count: 1,216 pairing: min yoongi x reader content/s: fluff, romance, angst, mentions of trauma from war, hurt/comfort, implied smut 👀 ambigous place names bc i can’t think much rn lol, possible nobility hierarchy inaccuracies (dont come at me, come after the manhwas i read lol), min yoongi as a husband in aNY AU IS A WIN, Historical Fantasy AU, Marriage of Convenience AU

[masterlist] | more [reactions & headcannons] &  [moodboards]

A/N: excuse me, i need something fluffy to get me through life rn 😭💖 also when people started calling these pics of yoongi as a duke, my brain went “haha, duke of the north male lead type of shii” and i just rolled with it lmAO AHWHAHHA i also thought to make some drabbles out of this AU! Let me know if y’all would like that?? Enjoy!

Also, send me ur headcannons for a duke min yoongi bc i’D LOVE to hear em 🤩💘✨

min yoongi, who is a young duke that took the title after his late father abdicates to travel the known world lol

min yoongi, who governs the coldest region of the kingdom (absolutely hates the climate, but loves his people)

min yoongi, who is a prodigy of the sword and one of the best swordmasters in the kingdom

min yoongi, who is renowned as a war hero that greatly contributed to winning the war against an enemy kingdom

Keep reading

things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

VIOLET INTERLUDE | MYG | Part 1

❝Take it from someone who has seen drivers come and go. You'll never know your last ride.❞

❝Who says I'm here for the last ride?❞

TWO SHOT SERIES

Summary: Cars. They're all you wanted to be surrounded by. Working your way up - you worked to get to an advisory chief engineer for sports cars by the age of 23. You were determined to one day ride in those same cars you fixed. You had no intention of distractions by the drivers on the race course.

Pairing: Formula 1 Racer!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: workplace violence (yn gets hit), swearing, smartass!reader, slight anxiety attack, mutual pining, flirting, car accident.

Word Count: 7k

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tuesday

The distant sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the brightened luxury shed. Your body lied underneath a 5 ton beast - built in with the intensity you'd only ever see on that race course. You felt the grease and sweat stick to your skin as you fixed a problem underneath the exhaust valve. Your eyes peered upwards from your laying position - to the engine oil as it dropped into the bucked you'd placed underneath - these cars… were so powerful - but required so much TLC.

You coughed as you smelt the gas from the exhaust - this particular car had issues, always backfiring - so here you were, underneath the beast - trying to dismantle the valves and replacing them with new ones. You couldn't imagine how expensive these car pieces were for the new Porsche GT3 - but this one had a run-in with unexpected problems.

Such a shame. It was a beauty to be wrecked with. But you knew how to look after cars, after all, it was all you were good at.

"Ahem -" You felt someone lightly kick your leg - forcing you to stop what you were doing and roll out underneath the car. Your eyes adjusted for a moment, squinting to the LEDs in the expensive car garage. Your face scrunched up, slowly softened as you relaxed, "Oh, Gerimiah, what are you doing here?" His eyes raked your own, following them as you sat up from your position.

Gerimiah was one of the Formula drivers. Not the greatest, personality-wise, but that didn't matter for whoever he was representing - he was a damn good race car driver. The 28-year-old huffed in annoyance, before crossing his arms. "When is the Porsche going to be ready?" He asks, looking at the multi-sponsored stickers placed around the car, before returning his eyes to your own. "I'll need it for the race in 3 days. It still needs to be test driven."

You grinned at him. His eyebrows raised at your facial expression. "No worries, Geri," You lifted yourself off the seat you had been on all afternoon - trying to fix his Porsche that he kept ruining, with his reckless race driving. "Be ready for ya when I finish it." You looked at the watch on your wrist, tapping it slightly for it to turn on. "Gotta be another six hours on this one. The timing chain is off too - maybe bring it in as soon as you experience these issues, rather than waiting for you to backfire mid race."

This man had no intuitive, no experience with how long it can take to fix cars. And lastly, no respect for the car. No respect for a car, and the car will retaliate. You couldn't blame them - they were their own beings - especially cars like this.

Gerimiah scowled in response to your own - kicking across your car tools. He stepped closer to you, leaning in - God, his breath stank like shit. "Listen here, yn," He mumbled, his lips curled upwards as he spoke. "I don't appreciate the disrespect - if it wasn't for racers like me, you'd have no job." He placed his hand to your shoulder, your head turned to his hand, before looking back at him with a nonchalant expression.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head, before flicking his hand off yourself. "Who are you to tell me if I haven't got a job? A little engine told me.. One more mistake for you.. and you're scrapped from next season." You turned around, leaning down to put your scattered tools away.

"Who told you that?" His voice rasped out. You could practically feel his nerves. It was amusing - what a highly egotistical man, for his calibre. You turned around, a small smirk etched your features, "I'm a car engineer, I hear everything here.." You placed the last tool in your toolbox before looking back at him. "I even heard a new racer might be joining your ranks - better be careful.." You wiped the grease off your hands, before leaning on the Porsche. "He might take this baby off your hands." You traced the bumper of the car momentarily before looking back at him.

Take it from a woman like you to… tease - no, taunt… that's a better word for whatever you were doing. Sometimes what you said was wrong, sometimes what you said was right, but men like Gerimiah… yeah they couldn't take it. As you blinked, you notably found yourself pushed against the bumper - a sharp pain etched and pierced your cheek.

You moved your hand up to your cheek, be it shock, your mouth gaped at the audacity of the man in front of you. His eyes pierced your face - as his own lip quivered in nerves. You stayed silent for a moment - realising he had just hit you. It seemed as if he himself hadn't realised what he had done.

"D-Don't talk shit yn.." His face flushed up, clear from his own anxiety - and from that he paused, his breath rigid. "Don't talk about shit you don't know." With that, and no time for you to respond, he fled the garage - you, shocked at what happened. You stood beside the car, musing in thoughts, as you looked down at your dented tool box.

You instantly picked up a spanner, throwing it at the nearest wall. "God, that fucker.. I could just -" You rambled to yourself, as you clenched your still greasy hands. You paused next to the car, contemplating.

Don't fix the timing chain - let him lose. He won't continue to be a race car driver. Tamper it.

What type of spastic hits a woman?

Put unleaded instead of the-

"Yn! Are you there?"

Your eyes manoeuvred around the garage - your thoughts interrupted by another voice. This time, you're thankful it wasn't Gerimiah returning… Oh he's such a shit cunt.

Two hands gripped your shoulders as they turned you around. Jimin. Thank God… You sighed as you met his own eyes.

You smiled sheepishly. You were thankful to see his pretty face.

Jimin was another Formula 1 Racer, albeit, a consequently far better one at that. His fans adored him. You'd consider yourself one - if he wasn't your friend already. But who says you couldn't be fans of your own friends.

Jimin cooked his head to the side, almost observingly. His eyebrows narrowed in on your face before he reached for your cheek. "What the fuck happened to your face?" His question left you unguarded - you forgot about the pain until his cooler hand reached for it.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he pressed you for information. "It's alright, Mini - I'm alright.. Just the spanner dropped on my face." You spoke nonchalantly, feeling your own cheek - well aware there was potentially a prominent bruise already developing on your cheek.

Jimin listened to your response before scoffing to himself. He rested a hand on the Porsche - as he ran his other through his blonde hair. "The spanner is next to the wall - meaning you threw it." He glared at you, before moving to pick it up. He reached for the tool, picking it up - before walking back to you.

He placed the tool in your tool box, before he sucked in a breath. "There's also an identifiable hand print on your face - and I watched Gerimiah rush out of here with a guilty look on his face."

You chewed on your bottom lip, out of habit, you licked your lips before humming, "It's fine.. like I said - I'll be alright. You know I'll get him back." You tried winking at him, however your eye flinched and you winced at the sting that only now had actually began spreading across your left cheek.

Jimin grumbled something to himself, his mind in deep thought before he grabbed your hand, pulling you to the first-aid box. You assumed he was grabbing a cold pack out - probably to help with that throbbing feeling you now felt on your face.

You sat down on one of the couches in the employee lounge. The garage was an extension of a circuit - linked into the business rooms - showrooms. The whole place itself was built for the race cars. Each sector had a different car - different team, so forth. The garage was sent through any car, for every problem. The only problem - some racers thought they owned the place.

"I'm just going to report him to the federation board. He does that with everyone," Jimin opened the first aid box, scrummaging around before finding the cold pack. "He's an asshole. Not just to people, but in the races - the amount of times he's tried to run me off the circuit… Yeah, he's not fun to be around." Jimin mumbled to you, his hand squeezed the cold pack - activating it's properties, before he crouched down to the height of where you were sitting.

Jimin carefully examined your cheek, tracing the main bruise lightly - before placing the cold pack on your face. He motioned for you to take it from his hands - as you did, he spoke once more."You're just as important as us racers. Without you, we have no cars to drive. What's a racer without their mechanics, their car engineers?"

You smiled at his words. Jimin was always good with his words - he knew exactly what to say and how to say it. You, on the other hand, were more temperamental - you spoke without thought. That often got you into these types of situations. Not that Gerimiah didn't deserve a good retaliation - you were sure you'd eventually get your revenge. It would be self-defence after all.

You just weren't as kind-hearted as Park Jimin. No one was.

Thursday

A loud sound rang through your early morning coffee time. You slugged your way to your phone as the pot in your kitchen heated up, picking up your phone you looked absently at the bright screen momentarily.

Wane Hill (Boss)

Your eyes widened as you woke up slightly, noticing the call from your boss. You tapped the green button emulating on your phone, accepting the call. You wondered for a second why he was calling. One thought was the incident that happened on Tuesday. Was it really possible that Jimin had actually told him about what happened?

"Hi boss, how're you doing?" You spoke slowly, bringing the phone up to your ear. You watched your pot click finish as you poured the hot water from it in a mug with your other hand.

"Yn. Good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?" His voice rang in your ear as you prepared your morning coffee. You didn't need to be in the garage until a little later today. You were thankful for the multitude of mechanics that were scattered around - besides, it wasn't really your job to fix cars - you simply did them for fun. Your job was a little more important than just a mechanic. So was your pay grade.

"Uh. Good, sir." You chewed your bottom lip in suspense. You really couldn't be bothered hearing the bad news, especially first thing in the morning. You absentmindedly opened a kitchen draw, picking up a small teaspoon.

"Good news? We got a new racer. Min Yoongi. He's one of the best upcoming and new racers in the industry. He will be driving for Porsche - so he's driving the 911 Porsche GT3 you fixed the other day, today. Bad news? Gerimiah is gone…" Your boss stopped speaking for a moment, as you took in the news. By then you had already finished stirring your coffee - had time to actually sip it.

You hummed to yourself. Thankfully you didn't tweak the car, and fixed it properly…

"Huh. Really? What's the reasoning?" You coughed slightly from your hot coffee. You had a feeling the reasoning wasn't his driving, but something a little more closer to your incident on Tuesday.

"I think you know, Yn. I heard about the incident from one of our other industry drivers. That type of behaviour isn't okay in this industry.. So he was let go. Yn. Let me know next time these things happen. I know you're stubborn - but talk to me, next time." You hummed in response, as you drank down your morning coffee. You internally grinned at hearing this. Thankfully you didn't have to resort to your own karma - karma did its own work.

"Got it, sir. Anything else?" You, by now, finished your coffee - putting the cup absent-mindedly in your sink - filling it with water before leaving it there for you to do later. You had to start getting ready for work.

"Yeah. One more thing. Get your ass in here and meet the new driver. Show him the car, introduce him to the crew." With that, your boss hung up and you placed your phone back on the counter. This was going to be a big day.

You closed your car door firmly as you clenched your car keys. You turned for a moment as you pressed the lock on your keys, making sure your car did so. As it did, you heard it's small, short-lived 'beep' to let you know it did.

You made your way to the car park elevator, pressing the '^' button on the side. As you waited patiently for the elevator, you tucked your car keys in your bag and grabbed your water bottle. By the time you had done so, the elevator reached your level.

You hopped inside the flashy elevator, pressing the floor you needed to be on. You weren't in the garage so much today. Mainly with board members, racers and sponsors. That made you slightly nervous - having to introduce new racers was always something you despised. You had watched at least several dozen times, the same thing goes.

You introduce a racer to the board members, the sponsors - the racer fails to comply with rules later on, or isn't as good as they hoped. They kick the bucket, then let them go. Simple as that.

Your eyes fixed themselves on the doors opening, as you walked out the elevator. You needed to figure out where the racer you were introducing was. Not in the mood for this part of the job.

"Yn. Over here." You were just about to head to reception when you're called over. You turned your head, halting your movements. You spotted Wane, your boss, standing next to someone who had their back turned to you, speaking to someone beside them.

You walked over to your boss, not before sneaking a sip on your water as you closed the lid. You chucked the water bottle back in your bag, as you met a good distance from your boss. You shook his hand, professionally. "Sir. How are you this morning?"

Your tone radiated professionalism. You weren't here to make mistakes, or get distracted. You were here to win the game - to be chief executive engineer. Counted, that role was more than further away from now. You were only 23, after all.

Your eyes met his own wrinkled ones, observing them as he began speaking. "Yn. I'd like to formally introduce you to our new race car driver." You turned your head, facing the suited up driver. You couldn't see his face as he had been speaking to a board member behind him.

Wane tapped him on the shoulder, and you watched intently as he stopped speaking to the person, nodding before bowing slightly. The new driver turned back around, now facing you.

You almost held your breath as his face tilted to your direction. His wavy hair looked to be almost floating the way it volumised on him. His features were no different - if you could, you'd say he looked feline-like. To say the least, he was beautiful.

His lip curled slightly as he looked your way. It seemed as if he were doing almost the same thing as you had been to him. The way you noticed his own eyes - the way they creased slightly at you. "Yn." You left the driver's intense gaze, as you turned your head to face your boss'. "This is the new driver I was telling you about this morning." Wane spoke as he gestured to the man in front of you. Huh… New driver. "Yn. This is Min Yoongi." Your eyes met Yoongi's, once more, as he extended his hand.

"Yoongi. This is our finest car engineer, Yn. Have a problem with your car, speak to her first - before you go to just any mechanic." Wanes' voice vaguely faded out as you raised your own hand, shaking Yoongi's. His hand slightly gripped yours, tighter than you, as you bowed your head in respect.

Your eyes lifted off your hand, as you let go of his own. Back up to his eyes, you observed his face. Lip curled, ever so slightly - furrowed in brows, almost as if he was concentrating on something. You had a guess who that might’ve been. He tilted his head down slightly, "Finest car engineer?" Yoongi's eyes creased slightly, however, you couldn't help but smile sheepishly back.

You lip sucked into your mouth, chewing on it; your habit picked up again. He continued to gaze at you as he spoke. "I'll be sure to go to Yn here for all my car problems - should they arise. I'm sure she'll be able to help out with anything, right?" Yoongi's eyes left yours, as he looked back at your boss.

You watched quietly as your boss nodded vigorously. "Absolutely! There's nothing that Yn can't do." God. Now you're embarrassed. He's making you out to be a big shot. Your eyes danced between the two, as you stood there. What do you even say? Thank you?

"Uh. Thanks, Boss." You coughed out, awkwardly standing there for a moment as you clutched one hand on your bag. You looked behind the two, now noticing the other board member going into the meeting room.

"Shall we go in now?" You turned the attention elsewhere as you gestured a hand behind Yoongi. You had a feeling this meeting was going to be long.

Six hours. Six fucking hours, did that meeting take.

You bowed to the last executive board members as you bid them all farewell. You sighed, after beginning to pick up all the excess paperwork you'd been given. New contracts, intellectual properties, signatures, NDAs. The boring but important information. You shoved the thick stapled papers into your bag as you closed up the board meeting room.

You dangled your keys in your hand for a moment, as you glanced at the keychain on them. You zoned off into them for a moment. That feeling you get when you're aware of your surroundings, but you're just blankly staring at something. Daydreaming.

"Can't be that good of a keychain, can it?" A voice interjected your thoughts, causing you to stop what you were doing. You shook your head, remembering where you were - however, noticing your new Porsche team driver, relaxing, sitting on one of the executive leather seats; his phone swung around clockwise between his index finger and thumb.

You scoffed lowly, your eyes trailing from his fingers, back up to his face. He had a tired expression plastered on his face - you could definitely see he was restless from the six hour-long meeting you both had just endured. Yoongi grasped his phone firmly before shoving it in his suit pocket.

His eyes met your own now, as he lazily ran his fingers through his hair. You stared for a few moments before checking the time on your watch: 8:47pm. You looked back up from your watch as you felt your throat constricting from nerves, "What are you still doing here? Don't you have a race tomorrow? Go home." You pestered him as he rubbed his arm.

A small, but definitely mighty - lazy smirk formed on the edges of his mouth, filling you with a unique feeling. "Aren't you supposed to show me my car? Test drive it with me.?" He questioned, lifting himself off the seat. As he did, you could almost hear the surroundings sound of the leather returning back to its original form.

"I'm tired. Let's do it tomorrow morning." You began as you pushed your keys in your pocket - alongside your hand. You moved your body from the board meeting door, now almost itching to leave.

You couldn't help yourself. This man was quite almost the most stunning man you'd ever seen in your life. But you promised yourself no distractions. Certainly not from any Formula 1 race car drivers.

A hand gripped your forearm almost too quickly - as you attempted to leave, manoeuvring around Yoongi. "Hey. Wait." He murmured, loosening his hand from your arm. You barely noticed your flinch from his fast reflexes, but he surely did. Your body unconsciously must've thought he may have gone in to hit you.

Pfffttt. You internally scoffed. As if he would. Your eyes found his own. Goddamnit. Thanks Gerimiah.

"Fine. But make this quick. I haven't got all night." You rushed. Shrugging the remaining touch of Yoongi off your arm. You puffed out a breath as you walked away from Yoongi - almost exhaling loudly.

"So you're telling me the last driver, Jeremy -"

"No I said Gerimia -" You corrected, shaking your head to Yoongi as you finally sat in the passenger seat of the Porsche. You looked away for a second buckling yourself in.

"I don't care what his name is. You're telling me that guy slapped you because you had to fix the timing chain in this car. Something that obviously takes time - and he couldn't bring it to you earlier?" His eyes flickered between your eyes, a disgusted look etched upon his face.

You almost found it cute. No.

You ignored the subconscious thoughts itching your brain as you spoke with him. You opened the glove box hastily - tearing your eyes from his own, as you picked up the spare key for the car. "Yeah…" You trailed off. "So take it from someone who has seen dozens of drivers come and go," you said nonchalantly as you placed the key in his hands. "You never know when you'll have your last ride."

His face spoke more than you thought he even realised. He gripped the key, before placing it in the ignition. You almost found, by observation, that he often never spoke directly to your face - be it a sense of eye contact he disliked, or perhaps a sense of anxiety. Even just meeting him today, you could already tell he was like this. You'd say he was an open book.. but open books tend to flicker their pages from time to time. They never stayed in one spot.

He turned the car on - a loud roar echoed throughout the garage as he did. You hadn't test driven it yet - so you hoped the timing chain actually worked this time.

"Be careful with her, she's still a work in progress." You murmured, your hands caressed the console- the light smell of leather fuelling your senses. "This one has a tendency to backfire."

You turned your head from the console, as you heard Yoongi chuckle. "Treat a car well, and it'll treat you well in return." He coaxed, almost entranced by the car itself. His fingers wrapped themselves around the wheel. "Don't worry, Yn, I'm a great driver."

His eyes met yours momentarily before moving one of his hands to the gear shifts, reversing the car back. You felt the small buzz of the engine as you reversed out the garage - moving towards the small test driving circuit.

"Remember, take it easy -" You rambled as your arms crossed. "I'm not in those suits you drivers are in - I don't think I'll be able to handle going too fast." These cars were beasts, like you always had said. The horsepower, most people would underestimate. You hoped Yoongi would not underestimate this car.

You watched as Yoongi rolled his tongue in his mouth before quickly taking a glance at you. You raised your eyebrow as he smirked. You found him to be almost taunting you slightly - as he revved the acceleration - shifting into sixth gear.

You gasped slightly at the pressure - your back going further into your seat. "Yoongi.." You warned - feeling your head spin slightly from the corners. He, however, began to chuckle - before slowing himself down, even just a fraction - it still made a huge difference.

"Relax, Yn. I'm just playing," he hushed you, as one of his hands steered the car - the other blatantly resting on the gear shift. "I'm aware you don't have protective gear on.. so don't worry your little mind - I won't hurt you."

Him shushing you had made you want to respond - your mouth gaped slightly, wanting to say something. You decided against it. Seeing no use to speak of other miscellaneous things, if not about work.

Your mind drifted off, as you continued to observe the car. As Yoongi drove, there was not once a feeling of misfiring pistons, or engine backfiring. In fact, you would have to agree, Yoongi was, in fact, a great driver.

After approximately an hour of test driving the car, you both ended back up at the garage. As Yoongi turned the car off - you spoke up softly. "I've got to say. I'm a little impressed." You watched Yoongi as a smirk formed on his face. "No - no." You reprimanded, holding your hand up before continuing, "I'm impressed the car didn't backfire. Mainly impressed on myself.. don't get your hopes up."

Yoongi chuckled at your response as you slightly shrunk back into your seat. Of course his laugh had to be attractive. No. No.

His eyes gleamed a sense of playfulness as he raised a singular eyebrow back at you."Oh. The car? The car impressed you.? You impressed yourself?" He tilted his head, a fraction of his hair dropped into his face frame - as he leaned a little closer. "Hmm. Are you sure about that?" He hummed, his tongue grazed the front section of his lips.

You gulped. Get out. Abort. Where's that confidence? Yn. Head in mindless thoughts you scrunched your face up as a response to his comments. The two of you locked eyes for several seconds. That was when you began to become fidgety, you had never been like this with anyone. Ever.

"Alright. I'm tired - I'm outta here." You spluttered out, swiftly taking the keys from Yoongi's open hand - shoving them in the glove box. You broke eye contact as you opened the car door, only for your hand to be caught by a certain person's hand. "Slow down, little racer.." He dimly began, his voice lowering a small octave. You looked anywhere but into his eyes. "Look at me, little racer."

You couldn't help but look into those eyes, once more. His features softened from the gazed expression he had just moments ago. "I was only teasing. I'm sorry if you didn't like that." Yoongi murmured, his hand absently still holding your own. You felt something stir in your own body as he apologised.

Unaware his thumb had been slightly caressing the outside of your hand. You felt something fluttering settle within your body - and it almost made you dizzy. Your body - half out of the car, half in - sat absent of any emotion. You never really liked showing much. Especially at work. You didn't need to. You worked with cars, people? Not so much.

You blinked slowly before you lightly shook your head at him. "No. It's fine." You muttered lowly, eyes connected with him. "I'm just tired. Boss had me up at the crack of dawn to make sure you had everything for the meeting this afternoon. He's not joking when he says I do everything. I really do."

Yoongi chewed his lip, before moving his hand from yours, to his throat - scratching it slightly. "No. I get that. No stress.." He moved his body in the seat for a second, squirming - you almost thought he was nervous - only to exhale a short-lived laugh. "You'll be up at the crack of dawn again for me tomorrow. Won't you?" Yoongi smirked, causing you to huff in annoyance.

You shook your head at him, as you took the rest of your body out of the car. You closed the door, watching as Yoongi swiftly took himself out of the car, his head popped over the roof - "Wane gave me your number, I'll be in contact."

You feigned a look of disgust - as you turned away from him, walking towards the set of elevators near the garage. You shouted slightly as you pushed the elevators button. "No thanks. Prefer if you don't."

D - 1 Race Day

The echo of cars, as they zoomed past the pits, always excited you. You could never think of anything else that pushed adrenaline so rast through you. The crowd cheering, engines roaring. You could almost imagine yourself in the seats of one. You wanted to race at least once in your life. Even if it were at the lower levels. You didn't care any less.

Your laminated AAA lanyard swished back and forth on your chest as you walked closer to the Porsche sector pits. You were a little nervous, but adamant about Yoongi racing in the race today. You had never seen him race, not once, and you were unsure how he even became a race car driver. You didn't even know about him until he got here.

A drift of wind blew your hair in all directions as you glanced up at the sky. The grey-ish clouds cut short the light that the sun emitted into the atmosphere. You furrowed your eyebrows as you began noticing the wind pick up. It felt like the weather today wouldn't be too nice. You even picked up an extra jacket, just in case you got cold.

You figured it'd be safer than sorry. The weather was usually unpredictable. Especially where this race was.

"Yn, over here!" Your boss yelled out from several metres away. You turned your body - spotting him with a headset on. You both wore Porsche race team suits - the kind the pits usually had. You jogged over to where he stood, not before noticing Yoongi had already left for the race.

You vaguely watched as he bowed slightly to someone before popping himself inside the car. His helmet was already on his head as his car began to steer to the starting line. You turned your head back to your boss - as you were handed a headset. You mumbled a quiet 'thank you' as you placed it on your head.

"Nervous about our new drivers' first race?" You spoke nonchalantly to your Wane. His eyebrow raised a proportion, as his lips pierced in thought. "I took him for a test drive last night - after the meeting. He wasn't too bad - you know. He's pretty good."

Wane smiled almost in accomplishment. You knew what you said had probably given him more confidence in Yoongi. Although, you hadn't actually seen him in a race. This was his first one. That slightly gave you some nerves as you were unsure of his skills on the course.

"That's fantastic to hear! I'm looking forward to seeing his race." Wane pressed the comms button on the control panel, activating the link to Yoongi and anyone connected on headsets. You included.

"Yoongi. How are you feeling? Fit inside the car alright?" You overheard Wane speaking to Yoongi through the headset. Your body shook slightly due to the chilled air around you, as you pushed some of your hair from your face. God, you hated this weather.

"Perfect, sir. I'm all good to go." His raspy voice echoed into your headset as a fragment of static cut his voice off slightly. "Is Yn here today?" Your face turned to Wane's as you scrunched up your face slightly.

Why was he asking for you?

You pressed on your microphone, pulling it down to your lips. "I'm here, Yoongi. Do well today, and I'll personally buy you a drink. Champagne is only for winners." Wane tilted your head as you spoke - smiling slightly at your answer to your new team driver.

You heard a slight chuckle bounce in your ears, making your body shiver in response; that or the temperature had just dropped around you. You took your jacket from the chair it lay on, pulling it around you. Instantly you felt much warmer than before. "I'll hold you to that, little racer." You almost forgot you could hear him for a second - as you rugged yourself closer to the jacket. You hummed slightly in response, before lifting your mic back up - switching yours to mute.

You watched the monitors in front of you as the race began to start. You anxiously nibbled on your bottom lip, watching as each race car sped up from the starting line. You noticed Yoongi's car alongside Jimin's McLaren - you really hoped he wasn't a dirty player.

But to your own unconsidered anxieties - he wasn't a dirty player. In fact, you watched as he cleanly overtook Jimin's position in 3rd place. You could only imagine the look on Jimin's face at the moment. He might even have competition now.

You hadn't realised last night, but you did now. Yoongi was more than a great driver, in fact, he was great. But that didn't mean anything until he won this race. You watched aimlessly as the racers did several laps, over the duration of a few hours.

Yoongi held his third place position for a solid third of the race. It was when the final lap had come up - was when things changed. You noticed his tires looked overused - this made you anxious about his race.

"Yoongi. Can you hear me?" You spoke, after pulling down your comms to him. You really hoped the tires could withstand the last lap, but they looked to be in poor condition. If he couldn’t pit stop - there was a chance these tires would give way and ruin his chance at securing a spot on the podium.

"Yoongi get to the pit and change those tires - you're not gonna make it." You repeated in his ear. You heard Yoongi speaking from the other side of the comms - as you heard a slight roar from his engine.

"Can't do that, it's the last lap - I need to make this worth it."

"Yoongi, you won't make it. Those tires are done for." You pushed, locking eyes with his car, on the monitors in front of you. You watched intensely as they all neared the finish line. Your heart raced as they came up to the final kilometres, and you stressed slightly as Yoongi hadn't responded to your last comment.

You gripped your clipboard and jacket as Yoongi pushed his car - the last four-hundred metres approaching. His car slowly began smoking, and that's when you stressed he'll flatline and lose his place in the race.

Three-Hundred.. His car smoked worse.

Two-Hundred.. You gripped the clipboard tighter. His car slowed slightly.

One-Hundred.. You inhaled sharply, leaning closer to the monitor. "Yoongi.." You murmured, nibbling your lower lip in suspense. You noticed a fragment of flames which caused your heart to stop - you thought you might collapse at the anxiety of this finale.

You watched intensely as Yoongi's car zoomed past the end of the finish line in third place, meaning he would stand that podium.. Meaning you owed him a drink. You exhaled as he began slowing his car down. However, luck wasn’t bestowed upon the third place driver too much as you noticed his car engine stutter - coughing a black smog of gas.

"Oh my God. Yoongi your -" Your mic cut out as the car halted swiftly - you guessed he pulled the break - however you watched at the front of the car erupted in flames. You gasped - shaking as you watched emergency vehicles rush to the scene, safety cars, etc. It was all happening too soon.

You forgot your headset, as you ripped it from your head. You turned from your position near the pits - running towards the race course. You dropped your clipboard on the pit's floor, ignoring the yells from the pit for you to come back.

After a few minutes, you made it to where the safety crew, medics and rest of the fire-fighters were. There were people crowding - mainly the ones getting the fire out. You gasped as you watched Yoongi hopping out of the vehicle - a stuttering swing as he ripped his helmet off his head.

His face, drenched in sweat - he wobbled as he coughed from the smoke. You gasped as you saw his outfit, stained in black from the car's heat, the flames, where he had almost been burnt. Had it not been for his protective gear - God knows what would have happened.

You rushed over to him - alongside the medics, who brought medical gear. "Yoongi!" You quavered slightly, as his eyes met your own. You rushed to his aid, grabbing hold of him. "You idiot! Look what happened, look what almost happened to you."

Yoongi's infamous lazy smirk etched along his slightly dirty face as your hand took his arm - pulling it over your shoulder. "But it didn't.. and I won a spot on the podium.." He whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to fold down your back. Not the time, place or moment to be having this feeling.

You inched your head away from him when you felt his nose brushed your cheek. You began walking forwards, away from the ruined Porsche - towards the medic bay. He needed to be treated - for smoke inhalation, anything, he needed to be checked up.

"Yoongi, this is serious. You could have gotten seriously injured." You yelped, as his hand gripped your hand. You turned to face him as you wobbled the both of you closer to the med bay. "What then?"

Yoongi coughed as he exhaled a breathy laugh. "You worried about me, little racer?" He leaned closer, causing you to flinch slightly from the proximity. His dark brown eyes glazed into your own - kicking a feeling into your stomach. "Don't worry. You still owe me a drink."

You huffed, as he continued to tease your reaction. Yoongi inhaled sharply as you released him, lying on the medical stretcher - immediately surrounded by paramedics. You exhaled in relief as you propped yourself on a seat next to him. You thanked the medic who kindly offered you water - perhaps it was the deep breathing that made them think you were parched. In reality, you were freaking out slightly.

You warned him. He didn't listen. Now look at him. What an idiot. You watched as he pushed himself up slightly from the stretcher - eyeing his movements. "Better not take back anything you said about buying me a drink - it's the only thing I'm looking forward to."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. "What makes you think you deserve it now?" You then unscrewed the bottle cap on your water - taking a few sips from it before putting its lid back on.

The medics continued to check his medical stat's, blood pressure and oxygen levels as he spoke to you. You wished for a moment for him to go to sleep. He was so… agitating. "Ooh, going back on promises - doesn't that leave you with a bad reputation, little racer." He cooed from the inside of his oxygen mask, shaking his index finger from side to side - almost tauntingly.

You tutted, running your hands through your hair; you shook it, before pulling your hair up with a hair tie. You couldn't understand him. "I think all that smoke inhalation is getting to you. Now shut up before I injure you." You stood up, as you felt your phone ring from your back pocket.

You looked at Yoongi once more before leaving him for the medics to deal with.

His first race and he's already trying to dismantle his car. You wondered just how much stubbornness and determination he had - it seemed as if whatever he wanted he got. You hoped he wouldn't continue to behave that reckless on the race circuit in his upcoming races; it would do him no good if he hurt himself.

Like you said to him before. You've seen drivers come and go - you never know your last ride.