#A yoongi a day keeps the capitalism away

[nebulaofbangtan]

#Bts #agust d #Yoongi #A yoongi a day keeps the capitalism away #Yoongles

[venusjeon]

dragon bond

you're forced to marry your older brother in the tradition of your house, but it's the younger one who owns your heart.

♔ PAIRING: prince!hoseok x princess!reader

♔ GENRE: house of the dragon au, angst, fluff, smut

♔ WORD COUNT: 5.2k

♔ WARNINGS: incest!! yup, they're targaryen bro&sis. JEALOUSY, underage making out+groping+grinding (hs 15/oc 17), swearing, drinking, bloodplay, "cheating", +18 oral, loss of virginity (guys i think i have a kink)

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: you don't really need to have watched house of the dragon or game of thrones to understand this (there are no spoilers btw) but just know it's its own medieval fantasy world. also, sorry it took longer than usual, school and the tedious smut bit at the end are to blame:(

120 AC

Today of all days, he was doing it again.

Your brother Yoongi was only five and ten years of age, yet he didn’t shy away from flirting with every lady or maid that crossed his path. It mattered not to him that your parents had betrothed you to one another, nor that most girls only indulged him because he was heir to the throne.

To you, his future queen, it did matter.

Crossing the great hall full of nobles who’d travelled to the capital from all over the Seven Kingdoms to celebrate your thirteenth name day, you reached Yoongi and dismissed the lady whose cheek he was caressing. Although she curled her upper lip at your curt tone, she wasted no time in running off, glad you’d intervened. Your brother wasn’t, especially when you grabbed his hand and dragged him to an empty balcony.

The views were beautiful, of the whole city and beyond, but each time you stood there you couldn’t help but wonder how many brothels in that labyrinth of alleyways Yoongi had frequented. In various occasions already, you’d heard him slip out of his chambers in the dead of night, seen him leave the Red Keep from your window… He always wore a cloak that covered his hair so no one on the streets would recognise him, but you reckoned the whores of King’s Landing knew well enough whom he was.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat after shaking you off assertively, with scant regard for whether he’d hurt you. He had a little, but you were too used to being treated so by him to complain. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“My betrothed. Have you forgotten that I’m to be your queen, stand beside you when you sit on the Iron Throne? I think you must have, else you wouldn’t woo other girls so openly.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I can do whatever I want, and it’s no business of yours.”

“Of course it is! You’re humiliating me before the court! How can I expect to be respected as a queen if my husband won’t respect me as his wife?”

“You’ll not be a queen, you fool,” Yoongi laughed, the sound pricking your heart as though it were a dagger. “You’ll be my consort, there to just breed me heirs. Nothing more. But this is not about respect, is it? It’s about jealousy.”

There it was, the twisting of the dagger. You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t know w-what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi sighed. “Listen well, you’re a freak and I don’t like you, the only reason I’m marrying you is because father’s forcing me to. It’s getting annoying, your following me around, so stop it! Go play with your dolls, or sew, or whatever plain little girls do, but don’t make me suffer your presence any more than I have to.”

He left you there, frozen in your spot as his hurtful words sunk in. And that was it.

Unbeknownst to you, Hoseok was hiding in the shadows, had eavesdropped the whole thing. Two years younger, he was your other brother, and after witnessing Yoongi leave you in tears for demanding a crumb of mercy, he wished he was the only one.

✩ ✩ ✩

You were spending the night of your name day heartbroken, crying in your bed curled up in a ball.

It was true, what Yoongi claimed. You held a torch for him.

How could you not? He was older, dashing, handsome. You watched in awe as he trained in the courtyard, or flew around on his mighty dragon; blushed whenever his eyes landed on you—even if it was momentarily—or he mentioned you by name, or held your hand in public events.

Now, you weren’t stupid. It was clear he didn’t return your feelings... You had just hoped someday he might.

Were you from any other family, it’d be a blasphemous scandal, but intermarriage to keep the lineage pure was the norm for yours. Targaryens were said to be closer to the gods than to men, after all, so different rules applied.

Perhaps people thought that because you were dragonlords, could ride the magical creatures that helped your ancestors Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys conquer the Seven Kingdoms some hundred and twenty years ago. Perhaps they did because you looked like deities, with your silver hair and purple irises, and still spoke the language of old Valyria. Or perhaps it was because the future was shown to some members of your house through dreams.

It didn’t matter why. It wasn’t true, anyway. No goddess could be as pathetic as you, rejected by her own intended on her birthday.

Then amid your woe, someone knocked on the door of your chambers. Wiping your wet cheeks, you sat up. Who would bother you so late, past midnight? Part of you wished it was Yoongi bringing a sincere apology, but when you gave permission to enter, it was your other brother who came in with a lit candle in hand.

“Hoseok?”

He approached the bed shyly, almost embarrassed. You guessed why when he asked, “Can I sleep here with you tonight?”

Nodding, you made some space for him. “Had another nightmare?” It was your mother’s bed he usually climbed to, yours only when she had been called to your father’s. You didn’t mind it at all. Tonight, in fact, you were glad he’d cuddle up to you like a pup.

Hoseok placed the candle on your bedside table and lay beside you under the sheets, shaking his head. “I didn’t want you to be sad on your own. I heard what Yoongi said to you earlier…”

“Oh…” You were the embarrassed one now. “It’s fine. He’s always like that, so I know not to take it to heart. I’m not sad... but thank you for caring. You are sweet, brother.”

Setting aside the clear lie for a moment, Hoseok held in a sigh. Brother. Why did you never call Yoongi that?

“He doesn’t deserve it, you know?” he muttered, making you frown. “Your heart.”

Were your damned feelings common knowledge? It was supposed to be an ideal situation to fancy one’s betrothed, but if people learned it was one-sided, your humiliation would be twice.

“H-He doesn’t have it.”

“Stop lying, yes he does!” Hoseok was upset, but you couldn’t fathom why. What was it to him if you chose to keep your infatuation secret? Despite the mutual affection, you weren’t that close. He took a deep breath to regain composure, then said quietly with his purple eyes cast down, “It should be me that you were marrying.”

A chuckle escaped you. “What?”

“Yoongi is a cunt and a bully. He treats you like– Well, he mistreats you! Yet you still follow him around, hoping in vain that he’ll turn into a charming prince like those from the poems you read. I know I’m not one either…” he found the courage to look up and hold your hand under the sheets, and your smile disappeared, “but I would never be mean to you, Y/N. I’d be honoured to take you to wife.”

Afraid of rejection, Hoseok had promised himself to never reveal he was smitten by you. How could he meddle in the betrothal of his siblings? He’d learned to endure the nightmares in which you faced a lonely and miserable married life, but after seeing Yoongi make you cry, he couldn’t let you forgive him again, pretend nothing had happened.

You, in all honesty, were shocked. There hadn’t been a moment when you’d thought of Hoseok as anything other than a little boy. Although… that was exactly what Yoongi thought of you.

Had you been in love with the wrong brother all along?

It wasn’t something one could choose, sure, but Hoseok’s confession had felt like a slap back into reality. The Yoongi you loved and were loved by was fictional, the Hoseok who’d always been kind to you of flesh and blood—the same blood as you.

“I think that, like Aegon the Conqueror…” you took his hand in yours, “I’ll keep company with one sibling out of duty and with the other out of desire.”

An exhale of relief quickly turned into a blushing smile on Hoseok’s face, and you smiled too, pleased at the turn of events.

Your name day was ending on the loveliest note.

By the time you were seven and ten, you still hadn’t married Yoongi. And thank the gods for that.

Alliances were achieved through the means of marriage, and your father feared tying two of his children with a knot might mean two missed opportunities, so the wedding was indefinitely delayed. What worried you was that if your hand was given to some distant lord, you’d be forced to leave King’s Landing and in doing so, Hoseok.

As the years passed and you grew up, so did the love you bore each other.

He was the only person who made you lose track of time, so at ease did you feel when you were with him—which he made certain was constantly.

And when you weren’t together with smiles plastered on your faces, he was learning how to play songs on his harp to later recite to you, or training to win every joust and dedicate you his victory with a wreath of flowers; and you weaving him garments with threads of gold so everyone would envy his riches, or writing to travellers so they’d come to court and tell him about the world he so longed to explore on dragonback.

Hoseok had been knighted recently, and that being added to his fine looks made every girl at court drool for him. He payed attention to none. His heart was yours alone. The knighting had meant nothing for Yoongi, however, who mocked him for not yet having bonded with a dragon.

Whatever interest you’d once harboured for your older brother had sailed away, never to return. Now, you didn’t hesitate to send him to the seven hells whenever he hurled words of abuse at Hoseok. You’d then assure the latter that his worth wasn’t measured in whether or not he was a rider, and that he would get a dragon one day. In the mean time, he sat behind you on the saddle with his arms wrapped around your waist when you flew your own above the clouds.

But all that was during the day. At night, Hoseok had made a habit of slipping into your chambers.

Fortunately, he’d not suffered from nightmares in years, which led him to believe they weren’t premonitory dreams. So even if you were married to another, Hoseok could and would make you happy.

You’d spend hours talking, laughing, caressing each other, kissing... It was hard to hold back when all you wanted was for him to consume you like fire, but contrary to popular belief, Targaryens weren’t immune to the flames, so if you burned, you wouldn’t rise again. That is, if you fell pregnant and the affair was discovered, society would brand you as a whore for the rest of your life and beyond. Without doubt, history books would record such shameful conduct.

Besides, Yoongi wouldn’t take kindly to it. Not at all out of jealousy, but because the only aspect in which he cared about you was procreational. If he couldn’t be sure your children were his, he’d get rid of you once he became king. Of Hoseok too, knowing him. Fear of that demise was enough to scare you into stopping right before matters ever escalated.

That night, however, neither seemed able to stop.

Lying on your bed, Hoseok was devouring your lips with a hunger foreign to him. His kisses were usually chaste and slow, now wet and urgent, as if he was going to die the next day and wanted to make the best out of what time he had left.

His tongue didn’t tire of exploring yours, sliding across it, tasting it, producing the lewdest sound. The only instants he put it out of your mouth was to lick his lips and in turn coat yours with his saliva, eager to keep going, keep taking your breath away.

When your arms curled around his neck, Hoseok got the hint that you wanted his body against yours and readily obliged, drawing close enough to feel your chest rise and fall as you panted, and your heart race. His hand travelled from your cheek down to your neck, and he had to restrain the urge to choke you. How pretty you’d look with his hand around your throat… But no, he moved lower and cupped your breast. Hells, why were you still wearing clothes? He wanted to lick your nipples until they hardened. His cock was certainly already so.

To his delight, you moaned against his lips when his grip tightened, so he kept groping your breast, though careful not to near the edge of pain—the only of which you felt was in your core, uncomfortable enough to make you squirm.

Hoseok noticed, sneaked his knee between your thighs so his own would come to contact with your aching spot, and he began grinding, the friction making you pull away from the kiss to gasp. Only then did you realise how wet you were, juices likely dampening not only your nightgown, but your brother’s also.

“Hoseok…”

Shaky breath warm against your skin, he whispered in your ear, “I know, darling one. It feels good, hm? I’ll give you just what you need…” He next kissed your neck, sucked on it as he had your tongue. The feeling was so lovely that you minded not he would mark you. You minded not a single thing in the world, actually. “Gods, Y/N… I want to kiss you between your legs too...”

It took a few seconds, but the spell did break.

You pulled Hoseok away. “How do you know that is a thing that is done?”

This was the same boy who, some weeks past, was convinced running his fingers through a girl’s locks brought her pleasure, so there was a hint of sudden fear in the purple of his eyes. That he’d been caught.  “I was told by Lord Taehyung. He is married, as you know.”

At once, you got up, hugged yourself. Hoseok sank his elbows on the bed, and with his gaze followed you pace around nervously. “Nobody knows you better than I. Do you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“I’m not!”

Anyone would call you a fool, tell you that you should’ve seen it coming, that possessing a man’s heart was no assurance he wouldn’t stray from fidelity. But Hoseok had proved to be different… Was it your fault, then, because you’d failed to satisfy his needs?

“Who is she?”

Hoseok dropped his head on the pillow with a deep sigh, then laboriously sat up. “It was in a brothel.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, tears in your eyes. “You went to a brothel…”

“It’s not what you think.” Hoseok moved to the edge of the bed, but you took a step back, so he knew to remain sat. “Yoongi dragged me there. He said it was time I became a man. I wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let me, made me at least watch... I touched nobody and nobody touched me, I swear, Y/N. The only good thing I take from it is that I learned some ways in which to please you.”

You stared at him in silence for a while. He was telling the truth, but then, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want Yoongi to upset you again.” He looked down, voice sinking into a whisper as he confessed, “And it is a hard claim to defend… I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”

“My love, I believe you.” Having exhaled the air from your lungs that anguish had been withholding, you sat beside Hoseok and held him in an embrace comforting for both. “Yoongi will pay for this. I promise you, someday he will.”

Your brother buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you caressed his silver hair. “I love you more than I hate him. If he’s to pay, let it be by another’s hand. Don’t let him come between us.”

“He won't. Ever”

Your father made up his mind when you reached the age of twenty.

In front of half the realm’s nobility at the great hall, you and Yoongi were dressed in traditional Valyrian robes, performing the rites of marriage.

Harder than he should’ve, the bastard sliced your lower lip with a sharp piece of dragonglass, then dug his thumb in the small wound and smeared its blood on your forehead, tracing the shape of a rune. You did the same to him. Next, each cut into your respective palms and joined them over a goblet while a priest explained that the mixing of blood signified becoming one with the other. You had to suppress a gag when made to take a sip, for it was plausible Yoongi’s blood was all kinds of diseased.

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife.”

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband.”

In the crowd, Hoseok turned his head away. He had not wanted to attend the ceremony—in fairness, neither had you or Yoongi—but your parents forced him. They were about the only people who could make him do anything anymore.

Ever since he’d bonded with the world’s oldest and fiercest dragon, nobody dared fuck with him, not even his older brother. That was why, when he caught some lords watching him turn away from the kiss, they immediately looked down in fear. Unfortunately, the rumours about the affair you were having with him being whispered at court weren’t so easily scared away, and you’d had to spend less time together in public so as not to spur them on.

Above the clouds, though, there were no witnesses.

That’s where Hoseok’s mind was during the feast, up in the sky.

You looked so beautiful in that white dress, with your soft, silver hair tied in a long braid that fell down your back, but he couldn’t stand seeing you sat at the end of the table next to Yoongi, who’d caused you both so much pain; kept bouncing his leg, playing with his food, giving curt answers to anyone who spoke to him… because the worst was yet to come.

Once the sun disappeared below the horizon, you’d be escorted to Yoongi’s chambers and deflowered.

He would get to be inside you.

Would he hurt you? Or would he… satisfy you? It was horrible, but Hoseok genuinely didn’t know which was worse. What kept him from deciding was the lively song that the musicians started playing, and everyone rushing to dance.

Your mother gave Yoongi a look at which he rolled his eyes. Dance with your bride, it commanded. Grudgingly, he held out a hand to you, who turned to your father with a pleading expression only to receive the same look. Dance with your groom. So with a sigh, you took Yoongi’s hand and followed him to the centre of the hall.

And Hoseok had to watch you dance with him just as your dragons had danced together in the air.

That was it for him. He quickly excused himself to your parents on the account of a headache and stormed off, pushing through the people who’d flocked to act as an audience to those dancing. He was about to go up the small steps leading to the entrance when someone grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Please, don’t go. I need you close.”

How you’d slipped out of the dance floor unnoticed, Hoseok didn’t know, but still, he freed himself from your grasp carefully so as not to hurt you, and whispered, “I can’t see you with him.”

“He means less than nothing to me, my love. And I to him.”

Hoseok knew that. Yet when he glanced down at the cut on your lip, he was reminded of the fact that you’d become of one flesh with another in such an intimate ceremony. It made his blood boil.

“I can’t take it, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

He walked away and left you there, having to face the rest of the day without him. Could you blame him, though? You’d react the same way, would’ve left ages ago... It was the gods whom you damned for making Yoongi the older brother.

✩ ✩ ✩

Past midnight, Hoseok couldn’t sleep.

It must’ve been what, a quarter since the bedding had begun? He wondered if you were still at it, plaguing flashes crossing his mind of your bare body under Yoongi’s. Were you moaning? Gripping the sheets? Begging for him to go harder? Disgusting. He couldn’t shake them away, every time he tossed and turned a new one surfacing among his thoughts. He was going to resort to pulling his hair to make them stop when his chambers’ door opened.

Hoseok sat up without delay, reaching for the blade under his pillow, but from the shadows it was you who emerged.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

There was some light, at least, that of the moon entering through the window, and it made something you carried shine. Hoseok got up from the bed and walked over, once he was close discerning the piece of dragonglass from the wedding in your hand.

“I’m right where I belong,” you declared. “With you.”

“It’s your wedding night. What of your husband?”

“He drowned in his wine cup at dinner. The second he lay on his bed, he was snoring… All the better.”

Hoseok pressed his lips together and sighed through his nose. “If it’s not tonight, it’ll be tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow, I’ll already be yours.” You raised the dragonglass and once more cut into your lip. It hurt as much as earlier, but this time you did it willingly. Hoseok frowned when you placed the piece on his lip. “I may be married to our brother by law, but I’m marrying you for love.”

He flinched at the cut. “But this means nothing to the world.”

“It does to us. And not only that, don’t you understand? After tonight, whatever children I have will be assumed to be Yoongi’s. The risk keeping our bodies apart is gone.” You drew the rune on Hoseok’s forehead with his blood, and on board, he did the same to you. “A goblet?” He ran to get one from his bedside table, gulped the wine inside it as he returned to your side. Soon, it was filled with the blood of both, emptied when each drank from it. “Targaryens are dragons, Hoseok. Fire made flesh. And once a dragon bonds with a rider, it is to the death. I bonded with you long ago.”

The moonlight made the tears forming in Hoseok’s eyes shine just as it had the dragonglass.

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife.”

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husb–”

You hadn’t finished saying it when Hoseok smacked his lips on yours, impatient to make you his, make up for too many years of restraint[PG1] .

Neither therefore wasted a breath in taking off the other’s nightgown, and Hoseok swallowed hard when he saw your naked body for the first time since infancy, you almost feeling faint at the sight of his... Your brother was clearly a man grown now and as a woman, you couldn’t keep away any longer.

He let you drag him to the bed and have him lie over you, knees and elbows sunk at your sides, but did nothing more than admire your features with half-lidded eyes as if he didn’t share your hunger anymore. You tried to kiss him again, and he even pulled back.

“Lykirī,” he murmured in High Valyrian as a rider did to their dragon.

Be calm.

Much as he struggled to resist your tempting, Hoseok knew it’d be over sooner than hoped for if you lost yourselves to lust so early.

He placed a finger under your chin and raised it. “Dohaerās.”

Serve me.

Oh, he needn’t ask twice. Your fingers skimmed across his back and waist until reaching his hard erection, then curled around it to move up and down painfully slowly, at which Hoseok gulped. In part, you wanted him to wrap his own hand around your throat and order you to stop teasing, behave, but the excitement to please him betrayed your mischief.

Eyes locked with yours, a scorching sensation was building up in his core that spread through his body like wildfire the tighter you gripped, the faster you pumped, and he wanted to let go so badly… But the reward of coming inside you was a great incentive to find a distraction to focus on until then, such as his erratic breathing.

You felt it on your skin, hot like a dragon’s. It mingled with yours and scented the air with wine and desire, and seeing the latter reflected on your eyes made Hoseok’s tensed arms begin to shake out of weakness. You quickly caught up on it and so sat up, forcing him to do the same.

“Y/N, what–”

“Sh, my love…”

Hoseok didn’t know what you were up to until you bent over and took him in your mouth, sucking hard as your head bobbed up and down his length. Despite the stinging of your cut, you found yourself revelling in the feeling of his throbbing gliding against your lips and tongue, becoming wet enough to ease right between your legs.

“Ah, just like that…” Hoseok wondered if you could tell he was only just quelling the urge to pin your wrists over your head and pound you until sunrise, until it hurt for both—you could. It made you want to try harder to provoke him. At least, you were satisfied he was unable to contain the groan that followed when you took all of him in, the tip of his cock hitting against your throat a few times until you had to pull it out to cough. “Gods, Y/N…”

You laughed, rather embarrassed, “Gainly, I know…”

Hoseok smiled before he cupped your cheeks and led your lips coated with saliva and blood still to his. All flushed, you’d never looked prettier. “As I want you.”

The way he looked at you, so devotedly and without judgement, you felt no shame whispering in his ear, “How else do you want me?”

You could’ve sworn you caught Hoseok’s pupils engulf the purple of his irises as a nervous, low chuckle escaped him. It was always fun to entice him. He whispered back, “Lie on your back and spread your legs.”

You followed his command with eagerness, welcomed the pain in your wound when he leaned in to kiss you deeply, and your delight in turn sweetened his blood, driving you to suck on his lip. He did want to be consumed by you in any way, but a hiss forced him to pull away. The two of you couldn’t help but laugh, yet the butterflies returned with the first kiss of the trail that Hoseok began leaving all the way from your neck to your thighs, each marked with blood on your skin.

His breath hit against your maidenhood the second he hovered over it, making you shiver with anticipation, and seeing this he decided against torturing you any longer. While his hands groped your breasts as he knew you liked, Hoseok’s tongue delved between your wet folds until reaching your clit and licking it side to side without pause, occasionally straying downwards again to tease your entrance with his tip. You could barely keep still, squirming and bucking your hips into Hoseok’s face, moaning from behind the teeth sank like fangs into your bottom lip. He’d dreamed of making a feast out of your cunt for years, and now that he was finally tasting your juices, your pleasure, he realised the wait had been worth it.

“Keligon daor, valonqar…” he heard amongst your pants.

Don’t stop, brother.

But he was going to. He knew you needed more, and it was time he gave it to you.

The pressure of Hoseok’s tongue was straight away missed, but the tip of his cock replaced it after he’d got closer to kiss you again. It rubbed on your clit as a consequence of stroking himself, and with an exhale your head dropped on the pillow, your eyes closing.

Hoseok took the chance to gently push his erection through your entrance, earning a gasp he interrupted with a kiss. You would’ve smacked him for taking you off guard had he not started rolling his hips like that, moving in and out of you slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There had been a slight stinging but now it felt so nice that suddenly, all your brain could think of doing was wrapping your arms and legs around him to pull him closer.

“You want me deeper?” he whispered before nibbling on your earlobe. You had not the strength to answer, only whimper, but Hoseok understood. And burying himself inside you all the way in a few times, with the scant moonlight shimmering on his blood, sweat, and purple irises, you’d never been so attracted to him. “You’re so tight, I can’t believe it…”

“Hoseok… More, please,” you begged, and it was an order he was keen to obey.

Intertwining your hands, he started pounding you hard enough to send you into a daze similar to the one wine would heave you to, only, overflowing with desire. Hoseok grunted in the crook of your neck with every thrust and you moaned loudly in return, not caring whether all of King’s Landing would hear. There was no need to hold back anymore, not now that you were both so desperate to reach your high.

Soon enough, your walls did indeed begin to clench around Hoseok’s cock, which forced him to fuck you so fast that tears of pleasure formed in your eyes and you had to hold your breath as a heavenly sensation engulfed you whole. You didn’t return to your earthly body until Hoseok finished too, his warm seed filling you.

Afterwards, he kissed you softly and with your eyes closed, both remained still for a while.

“I love you, Y/N.” His tone told you that there should be no doubt of it, that he was there and not going anywhere. The corners of your lips curled into a smile.

“I love you too.”

You kissed his nose, then opened your eyes to see Hoseok already looking back at you, like nothing else in the world mattered more. His gaze wandered about your face, then fell on your mouth. He scoffed, “The court will be suspicious when they see my lip is sliced also.”

“Then let me kiss it better, brother.”

#bts au #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok imagine #jhope #jhope x reader #bts jhope #hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bangtan imagine #bts smut #bts fic #house of the dragon au

[nucleo-bang-tan]

The Uisa's Daughter | Prologue

Pairing/s: Kim Taehyung X Reader, Jeon Jungkook X Reader, Slight Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Medieval Korea AU, Mystery, Strangers To Lovers, Angst, Smut

Ratings: 18+ Mature Themes

Warning/s: None for the Prologue except extreme confusion

Word Count: 450

A/n: Hanseong: Modern day Seoul; Uisa: A doctor, Please leave comments, I love to hear from you guys...

Teaser Chapter 1

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In the 1700s, the Jeon Dynasty spread all across the Korean peninsula.  Happiness quadrupled with the founder Emperor's presence, or so it seemed. Secrets scattered over the palace in the capital city, Hanseong* were known to none except a few.

None pretty, all better when hidden from the kingdom.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

What does freedom mean? The question has been haunting her for twenty years. What she got for an answer was a good thrashing, more oppression, and no escape from the life she lived. Her only connection to reality was her addiction to him. Being with him was the only thing that kept her alive.

He was the only one who made her feel free. Oh, how couldn't he? The love was utterly pure, the lust was never-ending, may it be physical or emotional, and he couldn't help but ask for more. They were each other's restraint from going insane.

All she wanted was to run away with him and be addicted to him for the rest of her life. He was the cure.

All he wanted was for her to be with him. He wasn't the one to hesitate even a bit to kill for her. She was the cure.

Only there was another. Whose eyes were reserved only for her, many years past and many to come. Oh, but she was forbidden.

But only when Eve ate the forbidden fruit did humanity come into existence. How was he supposed to keep himself from her then?

  ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Who are you?" She looked at his drenched form, mirroring hers. The only thing that differed was his bare torso. A sudden realization made fear shoot through every nerve of her body. He seemed to be a commander of higher rank and she just made him save her clumsy self from the rain. What if he tells the emperor? She could be put to death for just being here.

He was scared too, but for a different reason. Being with her scared him. His love and obsession for her scared him. The last thing he wanted was to see her hurt. That is why he kept his distance all these years, but guess what? Even fate wants them to meet eventually.

"I am sorry but you need to be more aware of your surroundings." He said trying to sound nonchalant. He could see the fear in her eyes but chose to ignore it. Did he scare her?

"I-I'll keep that in mind." She bowed fervently.

"Jungkook..."

"What?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"I am Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook." Prince Jungkook?

.

.

.

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. ---Federico García Lorca

#prologue #bts series #bts #bts fic #bts smut #bts namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts min yoongi #bts suga #bts min suga #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts park jimin #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimim #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #taehyung smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung x you #nucleo-bang-tan

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 09

One day, when I wake up at 3:00AM, unable to sleep, I will look next to me and you will be there, Sleeping peacefully beside me. And suddenly, the world won't seem so lonely.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Jimin/Yoongi focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.5k ⤑ warnings: implied smut, interrupted foreplay, heavy angst, oppression against mages, jimin as a warning himself tbh ⤑ note: surprise!! i took a few months off from writing this story to pursue other story ideas, but i ended up wanting to come back to this one lol. i have another story in the works, but i do plan to start posting semi-regularly for this series again soon ^^ i hope you guys enjoy! this takes place right after the final of pt 1.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

From the distance, the haunting, sonorous tolls of church bells ring in the hour for the sleeping town of New Haven.

Once. Twice. Three times.

3:00AM. The witching hour.

Monsters and magic are most active at this time of night. Their connection to the Veil – a realm of dreams and demons – is at its strongest peak, opening a window of chaos and mayhem and spilling them into the living world.

For mortals like Park Jimin, the witching hour is dangerous. Humans become prey to these abominations. Kidnapped and sacrificed, they become targets of dark magic, tortured for a mage’s sadistic greed and pleasure.

By law, those cursed with magic are condemned to their high towers and impenetrable castles. But there are some who’ve managed to escape their confinements. Who’ve garnered sympathy from fools they’ve bewitched, and who’ve hidden their unnatural powers to inconspicuously blend in with human villagers.

That’s when the hunters come in.

While the wardens are busy keeping the monsters locked away, allowing them to practice tricks and spells deemed safe by the Devoted, and silently killing them through deadly trials like the Harrowing, it’s the hunters that protect the towns and villages from mages outside their gilded prisons. People who, without law or regulation, take matters into their own hands when facing the Wicked.

History speaks of the war between humans and mages. The human sacrifices, the stolen blood of innocents, the dark summonings, the ominous hauntings, the deals with devils. Magic, after all, is the root of all evil.

And the latest of these horrendous acts is what happened at Blackstone Castle.

Several apprentices rebelled against the teachings of the Devoted and performed a forbidden summoning. The mutiny caused mages to attack the wardens, unleash creatures beyond nightmares into the mortal realm, and escape the castle’s defenses. The leader of the apostate group is rumored to have transformed into a hideous beast that the Warden-Commander had successfully defeated, but by the time the monster was slain, it was too late. Many mages have fled from Blackstone and found refuge in nearby villages, causing fear and suspicion to strike within the communities.

Any mage, surrounded by the temptations of the mortal realm, is a dangerous threat.

Two months ago, when news of Blackstone Castle hit the capital, there was no doubt in his mind what he must do: he had to return to his hometown in New Haven, make sure there aren’t any mages infiltrating his town, and eliminate the ones he finds.

With the key to his grandmother’s floral shop and the blessings of his family from the capital, Jimin returned to town, surprised to see not much had changed since he was last there.

Except for one thing.

The unnamed shop across the street.

The one odd place in town, full of mystery and wonder. What once was ruins and a disarray of abandonment is now warm and cozy with whimsy and comfort. Colorful and mix-mashed, yet in a way that works together. Like it was made of magic. 

And, to his dismay, the cutest shop owner he’s ever seen works there. One that he’s hopelessly fallen head-over-heels with. 

Even though he highly suspects that you are, ironically, the very thing he hunts down.

Jimin reminds himself of that as he sits back on a chair and faces the bed. Under the gleam of moonlight, the dagger in his hand shines. Embedded in the blade are ancient symbols of the Devoted. Once penetrated, it will render even the strongest mage useless, temporarily paralyzing them from using their powers as the effects of the enchanted markings sink in.

An heirloom and a prized possession of the Park family. One that his father used when he became a hero of the town. One that his grandfather used to kill the mage that murdered his parents. And now, one that belongs to him.

He flips the nullifying weapon in his hand over and over. Keeping it close to him, just in case.

In case you suddenly wake – snapping your eyes wide open, the colors of your pupils turning into an eerie, bright gold – and lunge toward him in inhuman speed. In case you levitate off the bed and hurl things flying in his direction. In case the devil’s mark sears red on your skin during the witching hour and turns you into one of them.

Wicked.

Like those corrupted mages – easily trading their souls for wealth, beauty, power, and fame – that the Devoted has warned them about. Like the ones he’s seen attack humans with their unnatural strength and twisted powers. Like the ones who had surely killed his parents.

After all, magic is the root of all things evil.

And you, a mage, are a monster. A human vessel that will inevitably succumb to the darkness and unleash chaos into the world with your cursed power.

His eyebrows furrow together and a deep frown is set on his plush lips

You – the most evil, dangerous, wicked thing to ever exist – continue to sleep soundly on his bed, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. The black dahlia – doused with potent lavender extract – is disposed of, but it’s already done its job. Keeping you unconscious. Keeping you vulnerable. Right where he wants you.

Time ticks on and Jimin tightens his grip on the dagger. He has to act, and he has to do it fast. He’s certain once the sleeping effect wears off, you’ll attack him.

One minute passes. Then, two. Then, three more.

Abruptly, Jimin stands with the dagger at hand. The chair legs scoot back against the wooden floorboards as he steps closer to you, blinking away the drowsiness from the potent side-effects of the flower.

Was he wrong?

No, he’s certain you’re one of them. He’s certain that one or more of them in that shop are like you as well. Mages and monsters.

Yet, there’s no trace of a golden glow in your eyes. No objects suddenly falling out of shelves, no picture frames or doorknobs rattling, no unexplained knocks or whispers. No faded bite mark that a demon left as a claim on your skin.

His fingers barely touch your neck when you make a sound.

A moan.

Of someone’s name.

Jimin freezes, eyes wide as he looks at your sleeping face. He can’t be certain if you said his name or—

A chuckle of disbelief comes from his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair. This should be easy. Insultingly so.

Yet, Jimin finds himself sitting back on the chair and facing his bed for the fourth time that night. He’s had that dagger in his hand since you fell asleep hours ago. He has every intent to kill you and the others in that shop.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he silently takes you in. The distinct features of your face that he likes, the way your lips part slightly as you sleep, the slow sound of your breath and the way your eyelashes touch the top of your cheeks. The way the moonlight is cast upon your bare skin, almost making you look ethereal in the night. 

He thinks about earlier that afternoon, when you came to his shop, picking flowers to lay out a message of apology and confession. He thinks about the genuine surprise in your face when he admits that he loves you too, that you already have his heart. He thinks about how he meant what he said too.

And as the shop closes and the afternoon rolls into evening, he thinks about his hand in yours as he leads you upstairs to his room. He thinks about your shy giggles when he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and the top of your breasts until you start to remove your clothes for him. And as Jimin takes in your body, he whispers that you’re beautiful without realizing the words came out of his mouth.

This should’ve been easy. If he had known you were a mage sooner, before he caught any feelings for you, perhaps this would have been different. 

But tonight, Jimin sheaths the enchanted dagger and lets you live for one more night.

Your dreams. They always start like this.

High walls of a strong, impenetrable fortress made of dark brick and stone. Willow trees in the courtyard, and a prism of sunlight peeking through the weeping, green leaves. Rows of old books stacked together on long shelves with worn bindings and stain-aged pages. Faceless apprentices in uniformed robes, passing through the candle-lit hallways from one lecture to another, their disembodied voices echoing down the long passageways. Plated armor and concealed weapons of guards that look down at you with disdain.

Blackstone Castle.

Once upon a time, that place was all you’ve ever known. An institution where you’ve excelled too well in the classroom lessons and teachings. Where your exposure to the outside world is limited through words on paper and stories from fellow apprentices of what they could remember before coming to the castle. A so-called home where you had the promising future of becoming one of the best enchanters among your peers.

You lean back against your chair in the lecture room. Notes in your handwriting are on the desk, detailed with whatever you thought is important to note. You tilt your head, frowning a bit in confusion as your hand continues to write.

You’re … actually not sure what you’re taking notes on. The longer you look at the scribbled words, the more ineligible they appear.

The sound of giggling catches your attention. When you glance at the source of the noise, you drop the quill in shock.

Mina?

At the back of the lecture room, Hoseok and your old roommate are snuggled together. Neither of them are paying attention to the lesson, shamelessly making out and touching each other through their clothes. You see her running her hand through his hair and tugging him closer as their tongues slip in each other’s mouths. Although they’re sitting a bit far, you could hear Hoseok as if he’s right next to you. You hear him tell her, “It should’ve been you that made it out of the Harrowing instead.”

“Hoseok?” you utter, your voice pathetically soft. Why would he say that?

When you finally force yourself to look away, Namjoon stands before you. No longer are you in a lecture room, but at the library. His face is completely neutral. Guarded. He asks you, “What is it that you want?”

“I just…” you begin, but before you could answer, he pushes you down on the table.

“I’m not your boyfriend. I couldn’t care less about what we are,” Namjoon tells you as he pins you down. His hand flips up the end of your dress. “There’s only one thing I want from you.”

When you exhale, it’s shaky. Like you’re trying not to sob.

Before anything happens, Namjoon is shoved away. When you turn around, you’re in the ritual room. Seokjin has his hands full, fighting beastly creatures from the Veil with a sword and shield. He shouts for your help, and it takes you a moment to process that you’re in the middle of a battle.

You need a weapon.

The tower rumbles and debris falls from the ceiling. Your heart races as you look through the rubble for a wand, a tome, anything to help Seokjin.

But you’re too late.

An anguish scream cuts you deeper than any blade. Panic and fear seizes your entire body as you watch him slump to the ground. The battlefield is deathly quiet, and you’re sitting there, alone, cradling his head on your lap and crying apologies for what feels like hours.

“Scary.”

Through your tears, you see one other person standing in the distance. You sniffle when you recognize who it is. “Jungkook?”

“You did that to him,” Jimin says from the other side of the room, opposite of where Jungkook is. “You couldn’t save him. This is your fault.”

“I know, but—”

“Scary,” Jungkook repeats, both of them looking at you like you’re something evil. Black smoke swallows them whole, thick as clouds. It takes over the room, Seokjin, and eventually, it takes over you as well.

But once it clears, you find yourself in a séance room. Taehyung sits across from you in a black and gold cloak and a crown on his head. He shuffles tarot cards and asks you the same thing Namjoon does. “What is it that you want?”

“Love,” you answer. Exhausted. Heartbroken.

You don’t want to be seen as a monster. You don’t want to have these doubts. These insecurities. This nightmare.

He sets down one card in front of you. The Reversed Hermit.

Betrayal. Isolation. Paranoia.

As it sinks in, you realize that Taehyung has disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Truly, you are alone again.

You’re not sure how long you sit there in the deafening silence. Wax melts from the candlesticks as the fire burns down the wick. The shadows in the room stretch longer, surrounding you in darkness. But the thoughts in your head are loud, calling you loveless, weak, incompetent, never enough.

Suddenly, you hear music playing. A soft, faint melody from a piano.

You don’t want to be here anymore, so you run toward the sound. A sense of déjà vu hits you as you exit the séance room and find yourself in a long, dimly-lit hallway full of identical doors. Just like your Harrowing, each door you enter leads you to the same hallway over and over and over and over. Despite how gentle the music sounds, you feel desperate to reach it. To see him.

Relief washes over you when you finally do.

In the domain where you first saw him, Yoongi stands behind a piano, dressed head to toe in all black with silver jewelry. One hand presses the black and white keys of the grand instrument, absently playing a tune you vaguely recognized. One he’s certain would bring you right to him.

He glances at you expectantly. A faint smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

Without hesitation, you run toward him, lost and then found. Grief, fear, doubt, and anxiety melt away the moment you’re in his arms. “Yoongi!”

Your familiar pulls you close, brushing his lips against your hair, just as a sharp sting claws into your inner thigh. You whimper and gasp from the pain, squirming in his arms, but Yoongi grabs your jaw and continues to kiss you like nothing is happening.

When the pain subsides, Yoongi finally lets you go. You back away from him, breathing hard, and finally, you notice the golden color in his eyes. He doesn’t move as he peers down on you, lips tugging a bit with an arrogant smirk.

Hesitantly, you lift the bottom of your dress to look at your thigh. A strange, red mark is visible on the skin.

Yoongi merely tilts his head and reminds you, “You’re mine.”

A loud wail is what wakes Jimin from his sleep. His body jerks in reaction, and before he realizes it, he’s tumbling off the chair and onto the wooden floor.

As clumsy as he is, this isn’t unusual for him. He is, however, surprised to see your black cat glowering down at him. Its tail swishes back and forth slowly as an annoyed grumble comes from its chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize, holding a blanket over your body with one hand and shutting the window with the other. “He was crying outside.”

Jimin blinks slowly at you, and then turns his attention back to the cat, who continues to glare down at him. He squints back and whispers, “Isn’t it too early in the morning to be a menace?”

Yoongi gives a grunt of a meow. As if Jimin should’ve known better than to question it.

“I should get going anyway,” you tell him, your voice soft and sad. If Jimin wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly is now. He pushes himself up and sees the redness in your eyes and face. You’ve been crying. “I didn’t mean to stay overnight.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin gently asks, jumping to his feet. He starts to approach you, but stops himself. His eyes linger at the blanket you have loosely around you, and how, somehow, you’re even more beautiful to him in the daylight. 

You peek at him with wet eyes. Even now, there’s not a trace of wickedness in them at all. “I’m okay. Bad dream.”

Yoongi meows and rubs himself against your legs, trying to comfort you. A wry smile touches your lips as you bend down to pet him, quietly assuring him again that you’re okay. It feels like this is something that happens every now and then.

When the connection between you and the Veil are the strongest.

It’s subtle, but it’s still proof that Jimin isn’t wrong about what you are after all. He’s never been to a Harrowing, and he knows very little about the Veil itself, but mages leave their physical forms behind to enter that dream-like realm. In order to seek truths, gain knowledge, enhance their skills, and meet both good and evil spirits that reside in that world. It shouldn’t surprise him that mages that fall into a deep sleep during the witching hour could be affected by the Veil.

Jimin crouches down to meet your eye-level. There’s a pleasant smile on his lips as he reaches over to rub your back. “Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

You feel good after a long sleep, a good cry, and dipping into the warm water of a bath. The others at the shop are worried about you, even though you’re just across the street. Yoongi tells you as much as he helps you wash up.

“I know. I meant to go home last night.”

Your memory is a bit fuzzy, but that much, you know, is true. Sometimes, when it feels like you’re dreaming in the Veil, it’s hard to distinguish reality and dreams. You look at your thigh, where you envisioned the devil’s mark to be, and see nothing out of the ordinary on your skin.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues to rub soap on your back and shoulders. It feels nice. You start to lean in on his touch and sigh with content. Then, he asks, “Did anything happen?”

“Other than the obvious? No. I just fell asleep,” you answer, almost certain that there isn’t more to the story. Wake pulled you out of sleep as gently as the nightmare ended, and as you laid on Jimin’s bed, you were overwhelmed with emotion. Every detail, every word from your dream, you remember it. But through the tears in your eyes, you saw Jimin sleeping on a single, uncomfortable chair, facing you and dressed in his clothes from the night before. He had let you sleep on his bed throughout the night, watched over you, and kept you safe. And somehow, just seeing Jimin there with you after a terrible nightmare only reassured you that you were okay. That a dream was just a dream. “I really like him, Yoongi.”

“I know you do,” is all he says. You don’t need to face him to know that he isn’t entirely happy with it. “I just want you to be careful around him.”

“I will, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry about me.”

It isn’t long until you’re out of the bath and dressed up. The two of you are relatively silent as you face a mirror and use magic to fix your hair. Then, Yoongi asks, “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

You glance at him from the reflection. He’s dressed in black clothing and silver jewelry, just as you imagined him. His eyes, however, are normal. Dark, inquisitive, and gentle. Unlike the haunting yellow from your nightmare.

“No. Not yet,” you reply, your hand twitching as you try not to touch your thigh. There’s no pain and no strange mark, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamed of it. The mark that Yoongi mentioned once in passing to further strengthen a bond between a mage and their familiar. “Soon, though.”

You’d think those kinds of dreams would’ve stopped by now, especially after hearing from the boys themselves that they loved you. It feels silly to even question it when it’s obvious that they do. Yet, the same dreams keep occurring over and over, filling your mind with doubt and insecurity.

“Okay.” Yoongi stands next to you as you finish getting ready. “You look nice today.”

You grin at him, a little shy from the compliment, but tease, “Are you saying that I look bad other days?”

“You look nice every day,” he corrects with a shy kiss on your cheek. Then, before you could retort, he’s back into his cat form. You smile at him lovingly and hold him in your arms, feeling the rumble of his purrs vibrate from his body.

Downstairs, Jimin finds himself in a bit of a dilemma.

He has nothing to eat for breakfast.

Work has him traveling out of the shop often, delivering bouquets to customers, picking up new supplies and flowers, and even stopping by local guilds to pick up any magic-related reports to take up. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s rarely home to stock up on his personal pantry.

He’s still rummaging around for something when you finally come down with Yoongi in your arms. “Jimin?”

“I’m back here!” he shouts, grabbing pieces of stale bread and a half-empty jar of strawberry jam. This will have to do for now, he supposes, though it clearly isn’t enough for both of you. When you enter the back room, he tries to bite into the hard, jam-coated piece of bread and asks, “Breakfast?”

“I think I’m good,” you tell him, looking around. It’s notably empty, you realize, as you turn your attention back to his plate. “Is that all you’re having?”

“Maybe it’s a better idea that we eat out,” Jimin agrees, pushing the half-bitten bread aside. He isn’t hungry for that anyway. If it were up to him, he’d take you right back upstairs and have you stay with him a little longer.

He takes a quick glance at the cat in your arms, who seems to hold a steady glare at him. As if daring Jimin to make a move on you while he’s around.

You smile at him. “I know a place we can go.”

Across the street, the aroma of baked bread and brewed coffee welcomes you into the little shop. Seokjin is up bright and early, humming quietly to himself as he carefully puts pastries on a display case. Hoseok pours coffee into several mugs and adds cream and sugar to everyone’s preferred taste. Namjoon is doing an inventory check with Taehyung and Jungkook, writing down what he needs to shop for when he goes to the market later that morning. But as soon as the bell chimes from the front door and you step through the threshold, a sweeter welcome awaits you.

“You’re home!” Taehyung exclaims with a big, boxy smile and pulls you and Yoongi into a tight hug. The cat meows in protest in your arms, but it’s muffled when Jungkook giggles and joins in the group hug as well.

“We were worried about you, pretty girl,” Hoseok comments, holding two mugs for you and Yoongi in his hands, though he seems relieved to see you.

“Yeah, you didn’t come home last night,” Namjoon agrees as he and Seokjin come into the entrance together.

“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Jimin says from behind you. He steps into the shop with a sheepish smile on his face, seeing that he’s faced with the very over-protective men you live with.

Seokjin scoffs under his breath. “That explains a lot.”

“Is it okay if he stays for breakfast?” you ask them, hopeful. There’s a bit of hesitance, as if they’re not really sure what to make of you and Jimin still.

“Yeah, why not? The more the merrier,” Namjoon quotes with a shrug.

Your heart feels warm at their acceptance. Seeing the boys all together in one room, all seven of them, it feels right. It feels complete.

Both Hoseok and Namjoon look at you with so much care in their eyes, scolding you lightly for making them worry. Seokjin smiles at you, alive and well, before he takes Yoongi from your arms to help him in the kitchen. Taehyung and Jungkook refuse to leave your side, still keeping you in their hold until Seokjin bats them away.

If this is all a dream, it’s the cruelest one yet.

Hoseok hands you your coffee and smiles brightly at their guest. “I’ll get another mug. Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee, Jimin?”

Breakfast goes surprisingly well. Laid out on the table are sunny-side eggs, crispy pork belly, toasted bread with butter and jam, a bowl of fresh fruits, vegetable pancakes, and leftover stew from the night before. It’s a feast compared to what Jimin tried to eat at his own shop earlier that morning.

Everyone sits together on the long table, happily chatting and eating. Hoseok feeds Taehyung and Jungkook food from his plate before he eats himself. Seokjin tries to fish for compliments from you and Namjoon for working so hard in the kitchen. Even Yoongi – who strangely appears when the cat disappears – takes a seat beside you and immediately reaches into the fruit bowl for tangerines. 

It’s a little strange, but Jimin seems to fit in really well. Both Hoseok and Taehyung include him in their conversations, asking him what his opinions are about if tigers or bears are the superior animal or the types of cool dances that they’ve seen at the town square. Namjoon and Seokjin make him laugh at their witty banter, and how they bring out the goofiest sides of each other. Even Jungkook is excitedly clapping his hands and giggling at their antics before cutely asking Jimin if there’s any pork belly left on his side of the table. And while he’s certain that Yoongi hates him, he’s surprised when he is offered a piece of his peeled tangerine.

There’s a sense of belonging that Jimin can’t really describe when he’s around you guys. Something that he hasn’t really felt anywhere else.

It’s a stark difference to when he returns to his lonely flower shop afterwards.

Floral fragrances greet him as he walks in the door instead of the aroma of baked good and brewed coffee. There’s a notable silence that fills the room when there aren’t any customers around, unlike at the lively shop across the street, where there’s always music playing and people talking. It feels cold and empty, far from the warm and homey feelings of yours.

Running a shop by himself keeps him busy. It’s hard work and long days, but he likes the smile on people’s faces when they find exactly what they’re looking for, or when he delivers things he’s made to his customers.

Today isn’t any different. Except, it is.

Because just across the street, you’re there. He can see you welcoming curious people inside, checking on the plants outside the shop that Jimin helped you garden with a raven perched on your shoulder, going to the market as Namjoon holds your waist and Jungkook holds your hand, and coming back to the shop less than an hour later and being showered with affectionate greetings from the others upon your return.

Because Jimin can’t stop thinking about how you and the others across the street are supposed to be wicked, evil, vile creatures that feast on the blood of innocents and animal sacrifices instead of tangerines, coffee, and bread. That you must’ve bewitched humans to do your bidding, even though it clearly seems that Seokjin has a mind of his own and wants to be with you all. That you’d use your power to bring chaos and destruction to the world instead of love and comfort in your shop.

Because Jimin realizes that he can’t kill you because he loves you. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though it’s his job to eradicate people like you from his town. 

Yet, here he is, thinking about how concerned he was when you woke up crying. How troubled he felt when he wasn’t able to make breakfast for you. The way he felt a bit nervous entering your shop and facing your other lovers. How they all tried to make him feel welcomed anyway, even if there’s some uncertainty with how they feel toward him. How the morning after with you was nice until he had to return to his shop alone.

The enchanted dagger upstairs is locked away in his room, waiting to be used. Eager for that next opportunity when you’re alone with him. But Jimin, who watches you from his shop’s window with a forlorn sadness, wants to keep you with him a little longer.

And that, truly, is a problem.

“We need to talk.”

Your heart stutters nervously at the words. Silently, you exchange looks with Seokjin, who is washing dirty dishes next to you. But you know why Namjoon is suddenly summoning you all for a family meeting.

At the market, you noticed it. You’re certain Namjoon and Jungkook did too with the way they tightened their hold around you.

In the town square, they were there.

Hunters.

Many of them are talking about Blackstone Castle and the mages that have escaped. They’re asking townsfolk if they’ve noticed anything suspicious, advising people to stay indoors at night, taking notes of any clues they find through their investigations. The three of you manage to avoid them on the way to the market, but it’s clear that their very presence is a threat: the hunters are here, and they’re looking for you.

“It’s too dangerous now,” Seokjin whispers, worried. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you sit beside him. “We’ll be safer if we get out of town.”

“Where would we go?” Namjoon questions, a bit frustrated. You can tell he’s trying not to raise his voice. “This is our home. We’ve just started to settle down.”

“All the rooms aren’t filled yet,” Taehyung points out as his eyes lock with yours. He’s been certain that Jimin is the last one. That the final room in the shop belongs to him.

Jungkook sighs heavily. “What do we do?”

Running away isn’t an option. You guys already did that, and you don’t want to leave this place behind. Fighting them would only bring more unwanted attention toward you and the shop. Even you’re a bit stumped with what to do next.

“More and more of those hunters are coming into the town,” Hoseok says with a frown. “We have to be careful. We have to look out for each other.”

Namjoon nods his head. “Just as we always do.”

Yoongi catches your eye this time. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

The others look at you as well. Yoongi doesn’t have to say his name for you to know who he’s talking about. You’re the one who knows Jimin the most. They trust your judgment, despite any divination readings Taehyung has on him.

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “I trust him.”

By the late afternoon, as things begin to wind down, you return to the flower shop with containers of food from your shop. “I don’t know if you ate your dinner already, but we made these for you.”

He smiles fondly at you, touched by the sweet gesture as he takes the containers from you. “Thank you, baby. I’ll eat it well.”

As he leaves to put the food away in the back for later, you take a walk around. His shop is empty of customers. Various flowers in full bloom sit prettily on display in arrangements and in pots. Everything is beautiful and pleasing to look at.

Though, you notice that there aren't really any personal touches in Jimin’s shop at all. No family pictures, despite his father being a hometown hero or that his grandmother had owned this shop prior. No food that he keeps in stock with favorite dishes and snacks. Even his bedroom feels minimalistic compared to what you’re used to at one of the boys’ rooms. 

If he ever decides to live with you, in that empty room on the second floor, what would his room look like? Would it be like this shop? Would it be something different?

As you lose yourself to your train of thoughts, you nearly trip over something.

A bucket of lavenders.

It sits innocently near a painted cart among other buckets of bouquets. Its calming fragrance is masked by the other floral scents in the shop. But it makes you back away from it as if you just saw something truly horrifying.

Arms suddenly wrap around your midsection and pull you into their chest. You nearly scream, wiggling to get free, until you hear Jimin’s infectious laughter behind you. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”

“Yes! How dare you!” you playfully shout, relieved it’s just him. He chuckles and starts to kiss your cheek and neck in apology. His lips feel soft against your skin, and your hand reaches back to touch his neck, turning a bit to kiss him back.

It’s easy to be swept up in him. To get lost in the heat of the moment and not think about anything or anyone else. To push your worries about bad dreams, hunters, and the other boys aside and just melt in his arms. You trust him. You know you can.

But something is bothering you. His mouth moves away from your lips to kiss your jaw and the spot just below your ear, and as you turn your head and sigh in content, you notice the bucket of lavenders again. 

“Stay tonight?” he asks against your skin, eyes hazy with lust. 

You’re tempted. But you answer, “I can’t, Jimin. Not tonight.”

With the hunters in town, you have to make sure that the shop is safe. Hoseok and Namjoon have prepared to sage the entire shop to ward off any harmful intentions to you and your family. And you need to cast added protection spells on the doors and windows so that your shop won’t be easy for them to find.

He hums but places another kiss on your face. “We got a bit carried away last night, didn’t we?”

You glance away from the lavenders and meet his gaze. Again, you remind yourself that you love this man. You can trust him.

“Jimin, about last night…” you begin. His smile fades a little as he arches an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m having a hard time remembering how the night ended.”

No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember how you ended up falling asleep in Jimin’s room. The last thing you remember is telling him you had to go back home. That Yoongi would be upset, and Jimin said—

“You just fell asleep, babe. Nothing happened.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It's not that,” you tell him, not sure how to state this without sounding accusatory. You glance over at the lavenders again and quietly admit, “I just feel like I’m missing something. I don’t know. Did… Did something more happen?”

His hands cup your face, warm and a bit calloused. They contract a bit with the cold, silver rings around his fingers.

“What makes you think I’d do something to hurt you?” he questions, trying to sound a bit offended. But for a split second, you could’ve sworn he almost looked amused.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flutter close as he tilts your face up, greeting you with soft kisses again. His thumb gently caresses your cheeks, hands slowly gliding down your neck, fingers tracing your collarbone. Despite the light touches, your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you feel yourself chasing after his lips. 

“Should I remind you then? About last night?” he asks, nose bumping against yours and a hand against the back of your neck.

“I can’t stay,” you remind him, eyes fluttering close. But his lips feel so full and soft when he kisses you. Each kiss entices you for more, and he chuckles when he feels you tug on his bottom lip.

“Then should we stop?”

He pulls away from you a bit, teasing you, but you don’t allow him. Your arms wrap around his neck as you needily answer, “No. Don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jimin praises and rewards you with another heated kiss. You could only moan in agreement, far too distracted to pay attention to anything but the way his tongue slips into your mouth or the way his touch warms your skin, igniting memories of last night with the way his hands roam your body.

With Jimin, it feels easy to love. It feels easy to simply be. Whether as friends, lovers, or something else you can’t quite place, it feels easy to get caught up in the moment with him. Without overthinking of what this all means, without the worry of what you are to him, without caring when the dream ends.

Your back hits the counter, but it doesn’t break the kiss. He feels you over your clothes, and your hands tug him closer.

“Jimin…” you gasp, panting hard when he finally pulls away. He spins you around so your back is against his chest again. Vaguely, through the lust-filled haze, you’re reminded of the night before.

Visiting the flower shop, an apology and a confession, a night spent together. You were trying to get home. Yoongi was upset. The tattoo on Jimin’s chest. A black dahlia.

“Don’t think about it,” Jimin whispers against your skin. He starts to push you down over the counter. Had you been able to see his face, a chill would’ve run down your spine from the way he looks at you in that very moment – like a predator to prey. “Just trust me.”

The chime of a bell snaps both of you out of it.

“What the hell?” a last-minute customer exclaims, unable to open the door all the way to get through. As if, somehow, the door got stuck. “Jimin? Are you there?”

Immediately, Jimin backs off and clears his throat.

“Yes, I’ll be right with you!” he answers, running his fingers through his hair. He stands over you for a moment, protectively shielding you from anyone coming in. When he glances over at you, however, you’re already smoothing over the front of your clothes. Your face is a bit flustered, but not a single hair is out of place. “Are you okay, love?”

“I’m fine, Jimin. I should get going anyway,” you tell him bashfully. He kisses you one last time before he finally lets you go.

With ease, you pull open the front door as the customer nearly stumbles inside. 

When you look back at Jimin, he seems to be staring at you and the door curiously. Then, his eyes lock with yours, and he gives you that same, knowing smile from last night.

The kind of smile where he knows something you don’t. A secret he isn’t meant to find out.

And it dawns to you, just then, that his smile was the last thing you saw yesterday before your world turned black.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

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#magic shop series #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts au #bts fantasy au #bts magic au #bts witch au #bts fanfic #jimin smut

[borahaerhy]

D-Day is an absolute masterpiece; let's discuss.

Obscenely long description of each of the songs under the cut

TL;DR: I'm an emotional wreck and this is the best album I've ever heard for so many reasons.

Haegeum??? That MV??? Never wanted to quit my job and start a gang that bullied the rich and steals their money more in my life (and trust me, that's something I've wanted to do since I was like 13). Yoongi is the only rich man I'd ever let lecture me about capitalism. He can do it all day every day. This is a fucked system, but thank you for turning me on while lecturing me about it and murdering people with some dirty chopsticks 🥴

D-Day is absolutely sick, 100% exactly what I'd expect from him. How a song can go so hard and still be so poetic to me is just insane. The beat is SICKENING. The chorus? CATCHY. 10/10 song, perfect opener to the album and set's the tone for the rest that's coming in an amazing way.

HUH?! killed me. We open the song with "what the shit do you know about me" and bro? Nothing, ion know shit about fuck, but you got me all the way fucked up with that attitude. Hoseok?? THE "HUH"S EVERYWHERE?? dead. deceased. The beat? Would literally sell my soul to be able to be in the studio when that man makes anything. I went to school to be an audio engineer, I've seen the way people put music together and create these catchy ass beats and have even made a few of my own, but FUCK BRO THERE'S NOTHING BETTER THAN THIS MAN IN THE STUDIO.

^^That goes for every song, not just Huh, but I just thought that it was important for EVERYONE to know that I'd sacrifice my firstborn child just to watch this man work.

AMYGDALA had me in tears. I was literally sobbing reading the lyrics. There are no words I can say that will accurately express how I feel about this song. This song has been out for less than 24 hours and I already feel so close to it, I can't even begin to describe it. The way most of the instruments fall out in the pre-chorus just so they can all come back in the chorus for that intensity with him basically yelling the lyrics is just *chef's kiss*.

SDL Is so cute and heartbreaking at the same time. The chorus is everything, so beautiful. Talk about bitter sweet lyrics, I'm eating that shit up. His vocals are absolutely outstanding, that "I'm thinking 'bout you" is making me so delulu you have no idea.

People Pt. 2 has already been out, but man that song is gorgeous. IU's vocals are such a great contrast to Yoongi's rap, and when they harmonize I wanna start crying whY DO THEY SOUND SO GOOD??!

I'M NOT KIDDING YOU WHEN I SAY I WAS CRYING, LEGIT SOBBING THE FIRST TIME I HEARD POLAR NIGHT. The instrumental is so uniquely Yoongi, and makes you feel so much. Yoongi is one of the only artists whos music makes me feel what they feel; and this song is the best representation of that. Everytime i listen to it I have to stop myself from crying and it has nothing to do with the lyrics. I cried before I even knew what the song was about, just because that's how good of a composer and producer he is. Genuinly one of the best songs I've ever heard.

I've never had an interlude make me feel so much. He's perfected the art of making his music invoke the emotions of his listeners and there's nothing more perfect than a minute-and-a-half-long interlude with no words in it that's still able to do that. Incredible.

Snooze is honestly one of the best thing's to have ever graced this planet if i'm being 100% rn. I know I keep talking about the emotion of the music but broooo. And the Woosung feature? His voice is amazing and is already so raw and emotional and paired with this song I just cannot. The lyrics make me want to sob, which I will probably do later when I get off work. And the the reference back to So Far Away? I'm on the floor someone please hug me.

Yoongi's vocals go fucking crazy in Life Goes On. If this was my introduction to Yoongi I would 100% believe that he's a singer and has been his whole life. The pure raw talent of this man will never cease to amaze me.

In conclusion, I love Min Yoongi with my whole chest and I hope he knows how much his music helps people, because it really, really helps. I can never even fully express just how this album alone helps me, that's not even speaking about all his other solo projects and the hundreds of songs he's worked on throughout his career.

If you read all of that I love u and I hope u have a spectacular day.

#D-Day #Yoongi #Min yoongi #agust d #suga #he pours his heart and soul into every track #or maybe it's just crack #idk #but either way #I will never get over this album #crying sobbing throwing up #haegeum #life goes on #snooze #polar night #interlude: dawn #Amygdala #people pt.2 #huh?! #SDL

[quarter-life-crisis2]

Just enough help

✿ Yoongi x reader (she/her) (Namjoon is there for 2 seconds)

✿ wc: 2.1k

✿ baby angst, minimal fluff

✿ summary: You're stuck, not knowing what to do in your life to be happy and content. A surprising conversation makes you think that maybe you can turn things around.

✿ warnings: some talk of capitalism, hopelessness, and being stuck in life, a touch of loneliness & low self-esteem, but nothing physical, just one little wish of being more beautiful, weed smoking occurs (oh no, 2/2 on this one), talk about purpose and shit that's keeping me up at night, but it's not too heavy, ends with more hope than it starts I promise

Maybe part two...?

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

A lovely spring day by the canal, birds singing, sun shining, couples smiling, all that bullshit and yet you’ve been walking around with a dark cloud above you. Sometimes going for a walk makes you feel like you’re finally photosynthesising after a long winter, yet seeing all these happy people reminds you of how bitter you feel. 

Sitting down on the patch of grass overlooking the water, staring into the distance you feel like everything you’ve been working towards has been completely pointless. You pictured this amazing life for yourself, with a career you love and are confident in, living it up in the big city, with a highrise flat, a dog and a partner. Yet all you’ve got right now is disappointment, in yourself and your achievements. 

And that just makes you feel ungrateful because you have a career, a decent one at that, that pays you enough that you don’t have to worry about your bills and you can indulge here and there. Your flat might not be overlooking the city, but it’s nice enough, you decorated it to your tastes and you don’t have to share it with any strangers and argue over whose turn it is to do the dishes. 

Yet it just feels like it’s all wrong, it’s not you, you’re not really living. You’re going through the motions every day, seeing how much you can get away with before you get called in for a disciplinary meeting. Seeing how many hours you can spend laying down on your bed with your eyes closed, picturing you’re someone else entirely, someone better, more confident, more interesting, more beautiful. 

You thought you finally had it, that treasured feeling you’ve been chasing for as long as you can remember, that content little light inside that made you walk with a little more joy, make you lift your head a bit higher, like you actually like yourself. How fragile was it really? It seems like all it took was a slump, and then you went right back to isolating yourself, not taking care of yourself and no longer trying. 

“Here, take this” 

A water bottle is suddenly in your line of vision, startling you from your self-deprecating spiral. Looking up at the man standing in front of you, realising you’ve been crying, in public, in broad daylight, completely sober. Shock and shame quickly mix together, so you take the bottle hoping he’ll leave you alone to wallow for a bit longer before you pull yourself together and make the hour-long journey back to your corner of the city. No such luck, he seems to not get the hint, sitting down next to you, a good 4 feet apart. 

“Don’t worry, I just bought it, it’s sealed. You just looked like you needed it.”

You look down surprised, to the unopened bottle, muttering a small thanks and taking a sip. He’s settled in, staring out at the beautiful view, looking completely at ease with your discomfort, while you’re inspecting his profile, confused about what the hell he wants from you. He can’t possibly just be nice, no one talks to crying people here, you might as well be invisible. The last time this happened, when you were 20, having just moved cities, far from home, it was like you suddenly got a superpower, if you ever cried in public, and you did for a while, a lot, everyone avoided eye contact like they could catch some crying disease. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Letting out a sudden laugh, you might as well engage in this, whatever this is, it might never happen again. Hopefully, it never does, how many times can one embarrass themselves before their self-esteem finally reaches rock bottom? 

“I’m just being dramatic, it’s nothing much.”

“Try me”

“Fine, if you’re really that interested... I just fucking hate my life... I hate my job, I hate my flat, and I hate that I’m not where I thought I’ll be at this age. But I’m sure I’m not the first or the last to think that, so I should just be happy with what I’ve got, it could be so much worse.”

“So what? Just because it could be worse, what, can’t it be better as well?”

“I guess, but at this point, I don’t know what better looks like. I’m sitting here complaining about how unhappy I am, yet I couldn’t even tell you what I want. Pretty fucking pathetic.”

You’re angry you realise, you’re angry with yourself mainly. What is the point of this little sad song you’re singing for yourself? You’re not grateful for what you’ve got and you’re not trying to get anything better, so why would you deserve some amazing life for yourself if you can’t even try? 

“Splif?”

Looking at the guy again, you realise he didn’t say anything back to your lovely rendition of your failures, just offering you a smoke. 

“Fuck it, why not.” 

So you sit there, in silence, going back and forth, smoking this stranger’s weed looking out at the orange hues in the water reflecting from the sunset. 

“How old are you?” you finally ask, once the buzz kicked in and you can feel your anger subside, making room for the light haze. 

“30”

“And are you happy?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes…?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I’m happy right now.” 

“Why would you be happy right now? I doubt anyone wants to spend their Saturday afternoon wasting their weed on a random crying stranger.”

He doesn’t look at you at all while talking, just sits there calmly, takes a final toke, has a sip of his coke and lays down on the grass before answering. This man seems like he’s meditated his way to inner peace right now. 

“It’s not that bad, the weather is nice, there’s music playing, there’s no screaming children. I had a nice lunch and a nice smoke, and you’re not crying anymore. So I’m happy right now. It doesn’t take that much.”

He’s right, it’s a beautiful day, it’s as peaceful as the city will ever feel, and you’re not crying anymore. So you stop, take a deep breath, trying to embody his carefree attitude, and lay down on the grass. You focus on the clear sky, the gentle breeze moving the tree leaves above you and the gentle guitar you can hear from somewhere behind you. 

“How old are you?”

Looking to your right, he’s finally looking your way, sitting up on his elbows, eyes a bit droopy and red. 

“28”

“And what did you think would already happen that hasn’t?”

“I’m not sure anymore, I just thought I’d feel some purpose, like I’d be some inspiring career woman. But all I feel is just dread… like, is this it? For the rest of my life, just wake up, drag myself to do something that’s good enough, that pays me enough, that’s just not annoying enough or hard enough that I leave. Get home, eat, watch some movie that’s interesting enough, sleep, repeat.”

“What’s annoying about it, your job?”

“It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m helping a bunch of rich corporations figure out if they can maybe squeeze another million out of people while trying hard not to spend a cent to help anyone. Not even their own employees. They ask for more money, or better parental leave, or bereavement days, or to not be discriminated against after helping them increase their billions and they say “Sorry, no can do, but here’s a ping pong table and a couple of beers on Friday.” It just doesn’t matter at best and at worst I’m helping capitalism thrive at everyone’s expense. Surely this isn’t what we’re meant to be doing.” 

“Yeah, well I agree with you on that… So you obviously know why this doesn’t feel right, then what should we be doing?”

“What, all of us, as a society?”

“Yeah, all of us.”

“We should be helping each other. Not fucking over everyone we can just so some rich dude can buy another yacht. But so what? I’m not gonna start some class revolution. I can barely keep my fridge stocked. It doesn’t matter how I think we should be.” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure a lot of people feel that way.”

“Maybe… No, you’re right, I know they do. I didn’t come up with any of this. Just not the people that can actually do something about it.”

“You can do something about it, anyone can. Why can’t you help people?”

“Cause it won’t make a difference.”

“Did that water make a difference?” he points to the empty bottle on your lap. 

“I mean, I’m not thirsty anymore…? What’s your point?”

“Did the weed make a difference?”

“Yeah, it did. So what, should we just give out weed to people and hold hands and hope our corporate overlords decide to join us?”

“You’re thinking too big. How do you feel? Like right now, this second?”

“I feel… I feel high. I feel like I’m chatting shit to a stranger.” 

He laughs a bit, continuing his gentle interrogation. 

“And how did you feel 20 minutes ago? Be honest.”

“You’re really walking around providing free therapy?”

“Just indulge me…”

“Fine, I felt like crap, and really fucking hopeless.”

“Well, you still seem a bit hopeless, I won’t lie to you, but you’ve smiled about 1.5 - oh, there we go, 2 times now, so surely that’s a tiny bit better, no?”

“Yeah, I guess so…”

“Well then, I helped you a tiny bit. Do you feel like that matters at all?”

“In the grand sch-”

“No, no, not in the grand scheme, to you, does it matter to you? That you’re high and feel a little bit less crappy?”

“Yeah, I suppose. But, that’s not helping people, that’s just me.”

“Well you’re a person, I’m a person, we’re both people, unless that’s not the case, which if you’re not, please tell me now because that’s a great high conversation to have.”

You laugh a bit amused at how this dude is just taking your ramblings in stride, somehow finding time to not only make eye contact with a crying stranger but somehow give them life advice as well. 

“3, that’s a full smile, new record. Well, now that we’ve established we’re both people, and I helped you a tiny bit, and you helped me pass some time and have a nice chat, then why would it not matter?”

“Right… so you’re saying I should start small?”

“Well if you could actually fix society, like all of it, I’d be really fucking impressed, but I doubt you can just wake up one day and do that. Maybe just think of what you do well in your job, and see if anyone is willing to pay you for it, some place where it’s helping, someone, anyone. Even if it’s just one person. I’m sure there’s something.” 

You look at him for a few seconds, just surprised. It’s not like he’s told you the secret to the universe. You’ve probably given this advice to a friend before, ‘start small, focus on what you can control’, ‘every little bit counts’ all of that. But sometimes, just knowing something isn’t enough, you need someone to tell you just the right thing at the right time. 

“Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you, that actually really helped.”

“Nah, I’m sure you would’ve gotten there eventually. My friend’s finally here, I’m gonna head out. Hope you figure it out.”

You watch him walk away with a little wave. You’re surprised, you realise. He didn’t do anything creepy, he didn’t try to hit on you or ask for your number. He didn’t even ask for your name actually. He was just nice, he listened, gave a little bit of advice and went on his way. He did help, so maybe it’s a sign. How many times would this realistically happen? You would’ve said 0 30 min ago. So maybe you can turn things around, figure out a way to feel useful, a little bit less like a hypocrite. 

……

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? You were talking for ages.”

“I don’t know her, just seemed upset so I talked to her for a bit.”

“And had a smoke.”

“Yeah, and had a smoke.”

“Sooo…did you get her number?”

“No.”

“What? Since when do you talk to strangers just because? You barely even talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you man, I just did.”

“Yeah, whatever you say… come on, let’s go, we’re already fucking late.” 

soooo I'm clearly going through something

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #angst #yoongi angst #lia's hideous creations

[threeletterslife]

19 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, character death, grieving, mentions of blood

⨰ wordcount: 4.5k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Circa Citrine⧗⧖

It’s starting to get colder. When you wake up, frost decorates the drapes of your tent, and by noon, they’re drenched with melted ice. Tomorrow, it’ll be Circa Zircon. There are rumors that there will be another truce this year, but nothing’s set in stone as of yet. Still, everyone is hopeful.

On cold days like this, you like to hold your flames in your left hand, allowing them to thaw your body as you use your other hand to flip through your letters from Hana.

She’s writing in capital letters again, begging you to visit Aella since you’ve already visited the other sectors. She seems to be doing well, keeping you updated on her health, and her progress has been good so far. She says she misses you and also “kicking Darlaean ass,” which are her words, not yours. You can’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm. Her letters are filled with vivid imagery and hilarious anecdotes. Hana has a special talent that makes the simplest things sound like an exciting adventure. It makes you wonder if she starts snoring when she reads through your letters. She makes you promise to tell her everything that goes on in your life, but all that really goes on are waking up, planning battles, eating, planning more battles, attending officer meetings, eating again, sleeping and waking up to do it all over again. There’s no way you can make that sound interesting. So anomaly days—such as the day you visited Ara with the General—always give you great joy to write about. Though you had conveniently left out the part of the General’s confession of his past and his insecurities.

You laugh out loud when Hana calls the day you spent with the General romantic. It was anything but! Romantic? You visited the burial grounds with him! That’s the furthest thing from romance. The mere idea of it makes you snort so hard that the flames in your hand flicker. 

And just when you’re about to turn the page of the letter to see what else Hana has to say about your relationship with the General, Nayoon nearly rips open the entrance to your tent and rushes in, falling onto her knees right in front of you. Your smile wipes off your face. She’s crying. With the tears streaming down her face, it’s a wonder that she can even see right now. The fire sitting on your palm extinguishes.

“Nayoon! What happened?” you say, immediately crawling forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” You run about a thousand possible scenarios through your head. She’s been ordered to go back to Elu. She’s been exempted from fighting, just as you have. She’s been going through some mental turmoil and she’s coming to you for solace. 

But all of those sound wrong. She looks too distressed. Something’s not right. Something horrible has happened. It’s as if someone has died.

You freeze. 

Your mind goes numb. 

Your heart seems to stop beating.

“N-Nayoon,” you say in a trembling voice. “W-Who…?” You’re terrified of the answer. There’s a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. You feel like throwing up. You pray to Sooht, Soo, Sahn and Sori that it’s not him.

“It’s the Lieutenant,” she chokes. “She’s dead.”

Everything becomes a blur after that.

There’s a persistent ringing in your ears that won’t seem to go away. You can’t tell if everything is happening quickly or slowly. You don’t think you’re processing anything. You don’t know if you’re breathing.

Suhyun finds you and Nayoon huddled in your tent, both shell-shocked and unmoving. You think Suhyun’s crying herself, but you can’t be so sure. But she drags you and Nayoon out and orders her two captains to help carry both of you outside to get some fresh air. You’re not sure who tells you this—the voices are beginning to blend in together—but there will be a burial ready in a few hours.

You think Captain Chu asks whether you’ve eaten lunch, but his words fly over your head. Nothing feels real anymore. You’re shivering. Not because it’s cold but because Doyun’s dead. Gone.

You hear Captain Chu yelling at somebody that you’re shaking. Someone envelops you in a warm blanket, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help the fact that Doyun is dead. 

You’ll never see her again.

When was the last time that you talked to her? What was the last thing she said to you? The last thing you said to her? Why can’t you remember?

Your thoughts repeat.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Each time, you still don’t have the answer to your questions.

You don’t know how long it’s been when you hear a voice calling your name.

“Hey… Y/N?”

It’s Suhyun. Her voice is shaky. You hear the distorted noise of her rings clinking against each other. “You need to eat, Y/N,” she says. She hands you a bowl of hot porridge. But when you don’t respond, she sets the bowl down to the side. “At least drink some water.” You still can’t bring yourself to react. 

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Shut it, Goe,” Captain Chu says. “As far as we know, this is the first death of someone she knew.”

“It’s not like she died.”

“Go be an asshole somewhere else, Captain,” Suhyun says. She sounds angry. You’ve never heard her sound so vicious. You want to thank her for her help but the world is spinning. One wrong move and you think you’re going to heave.

“We can’t baby her every time someone dies.” That sounds like Captain Bak. “The funeral’s starting. We should go.”

Suddenly, you’re being hoisted up. You can’t seem to walk, so they carry you instead. By the time you reach the familiar burial grounds, you find that Doyun’s already been buried. The mound above her is devoid of grass. People have circled around her. Some are crying. Others are looking down at their shoes.

Someone pins a white flower into your uniform. 

No words are spoken.

Then, a few people step out, closer to the mound. They all crouch down, kneeling on the ground. Their hands touch the bare grave and grass sprouts from the soil. Soon, this mound looks like the others. One by one, everyone drops to their knees, their palms touching the ground as they bow deeply. You fall to your knees as well, but only because your legs give out from underneath you.

Everyone begins to stand again, and someone helps you back to your feet. The crowd begins unpinning their white flowers from their chests and throwing them around the circular mound. You watch, though with hazy vision, as these flowers begin to root themselves into the soil, growing into a full-fledged chrysanthemum bush.

People are whispering amongst themselves now with bowed heads.

“She was such a good person…”

“Such a pity…”

“Goes to show that nobody is immune to the war.”

“I heard it was an accident.”

“I heard she died saving someone else.”

“I hope our prayers will reach the spirits.”

“I wish her a peaceful afterlife.”

And just like that, the crowd around Doyun’s grave begins to disperse. But you have no intentions of going anywhere. You’re still trying to process the permanence of her leave. She’s not going to come back as Nayoon did. You won’t be able to write letters to her as you do with Hana. You will never be able to talk to her again.

You sink to your knees.

It doesn’t feel real.

It can’t be real.

The funeral happened too quickly.

And people left. Just like that.

Someone puts a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, would you like to leave with us?” It’s Suhyun again.  

“Let her process it alone,” says Captain Bak. “She needs to cry. She’s still in shock right now.”

Suhyun sighs. “Well…” A long pause. “I’ll come back to get you before it gets too dark.” She waits for you to answer, give her some sort of sign that you’re listening. But when you don’t, she gives you one last glance before leaving along with Captain Bak. But maybe Captain Bak is right. Maybe you do need some time alone. 

Yet… how can everyone move on so quickly? How can they be so sad one minute and then go about their day the next minute? 

And why aren’t you crying? Why haven’t you cried at all? Is there something wrong with you? Are you really still in shock? Will the shock ever wear off? What if you’ll be stuck in this hollow state forever? What if you can never feel again? But your frenzied thoughts, they all fade away after a while. All you can do is stare at her grave, unblinking, unmoving. 

Emptiness.

It’s the first time the world comes to a standstill.

Or maybe your senses are shutting down. Your eyesight is blurry. You’re panting, gasping for breath—like you forgot how to breathe. The ringing in your ears is back, louder than ever. 

But when your shaking eyes shift to the mound next to Doyun’s, something snaps inside of you. Something that had been inevitable. As if it had been waiting for you to trigger it.

Your vision clears momentarily. You catch a glimpse of it.

Pansies. White pansies. They fill your vision.

Doyun’s been buried next to her girlfriend.

The first few tears roll down your face slowly, silently. The next few come in rapid succession. Then, all too soon, you’re sobbing loudly. You sob into your hands, attempting to muffle your cries. There’s an uncomfortable lump that grows in your throat, and it won’t seem to go away. It’s choking you; you aren’t able to breathe. And the few moments of silence where you’re gasping for breath, you’re shaking. 

You can’t seem to think.

The only thing you can do is cry. You don’t know how long you’ve cried but your voice becomes raw and your eyes become puffy and your cheeks become irritated from the salt of your tears. Nothing comes out of your tear ducts anymore. You must’ve squeezed them dry.

But you continue to scream. It feels like you’re ripping your throat; you can taste the iron. Yet you can’t seem to stop. Only when you gasp for breath, gulp in the dull air, does your throat finally get a reprieve. It feels good for a split second before you torture it all over again.

Only this time, you notice someone sitting next to you. A familiar silhouette. The hunched back, the soft hair… 

He notices you staring at him, mid-breath, mid-scream, but doesn’t speak. Just looks straight forward, keeps you company but doesn’t force you to be sociable.

At that moment, the scream dies in your throat.

He looks disheveled, fatigued. You aren’t sure if he was at the funeral, if he was sitting next to you all along but you hadn’t noticed. Had you been screaming in his ear? Why did he choose to stay?

The General finally looks up, meeting your eyes. Then, wordlessly, he passes you a cup of steaming Incha. Your hands shake as you grab onto it, but the General must’ve accounted for that because none of the drink spills out. He’d poured in just enough. You take a slow sip. The liquid descends your throat, soothing just a bit of the soreness of it. You’re not sure if it’s because of the Incha or because you cried everything out of your system, but you suddenly feel better than before. The world isn’t spinning anymore, nor is it at an eerie standstill. It looks the way it always looks. Normal. 

And that’s when your senses come back to you. You realize the sun has set. It’s nighttime. You hadn’t noticed before. The night breeze is cool on your clammy skin as you and the General sit in silence. 

He looks down at his own hands. They’re rough and calloused and dirty. The nails have been bitten off—so much so that the edges are bloody. It stings when he touches them. But who knows? The blood could also be from a Darlaean. Everything’s bathed in blood these days, anyway. What’s a few more drops on his nails? He continues to stare down at his hands, until he remembers why he decided to come here in the first place.

“I wanted to read you something,” he says.

You don’t even react. Don’t even turn his way. He understands. “It’s a note. From Doyun. She told me to share it with the people who needed it…” He searches you for a reaction. 

Nothing. 

“Would you… Would you like to hear it?”

Again, there’s nothing.

For the first time, the silence is uncomfortable. Yoongi is unsure of what to do. But he might as well finish what he’s started. So he gently tugs a folded piece of parchment paper out of his uniform. He unfolds it, lights a flame with one hand to combat the night, and begins to read.

“‘Dear whoever, if you’re reading this, I have died.’” He pauses, watching for your reaction again. There’s nothing. So, he continues. “‘But don’t fret. Don’t you dare worry. I’m sure Yoongi took good care of me. By now, I’ve been buried next to Minhee, just as I always told him to do. And if I’m not buried next to Minhee, dear soldier, I beseech that you confront him and demand that he grants me one last fucking wish. But Yoongi’s responsible. He wouldn’t do me any wrong. Especially not after I’ve died.

“‘By now, you might’ve already shed some tears for me. But don’t feel pity, soldier. Don’t feel sad. I was never afraid of dying. You see, this is my closure. I’ll finally be with my Minhee. I’ve been alive for enough in this damn war. It’s time for me to retire. Think of it like an eternal rest. I’m sure the spirits will take good care of me, and I’ll be reunited with Minhee. So soldier, don’t be sad because wherever I am, I will truly be hap—’”

“Please…” your voice comes out as barely a whisper. “Please stop.”

Yoongi immediately stops talking. In fact, he freezes. Was this a mistake? Did this make you more upset? Maybe he should’ve minded his own business. But he was only worried. He heard from Major Ki that you broke down when you heard the news. That Major Ki and Captain Chu were so worried you’d pass out that they stayed by your side for three hours, until it was time for the funeral. Major Ki described it like you’d lost consciousness. Except, you were awake and blinking and breathing.

Meanwhile, you are still awake, blinking and breathing. You just can’t bring yourself to do any more than that. 

Closure?

Fucking bullshit.

Death isn’t closure. It’s a cutoff. You refuse to believe that in Doyun’s last moments, she was happy to be dying. What if she was in pain? If you’re in that much agony, is it even possible to accept death? Or are you more likely to accept it with open arms? Or do you try to fight back? Do you try to hold on? 

Doyun didn’t know how she would die when she wrote that note. So how could she accept her death if she knew so little about it? What if she died a horrible death? What if she suffered? What if… she doesn’t reunite with Minhee?

Somehow, there are still tears left in your body. They begin to fall from your eyes, silently rolling down your face. 

Yoongi notices. But he doesn’t know what to do. So he just watches. Lets you cry. Death is hard. He remembers when he was younger, when he first learned of eternal rest. He remembers being confused. How can something be so permanent? How can it be so unpredictable?

He was never solaced as a child. Consequently, he doesn’t know how to solace others—other than to stay by their side, hope his presence is somewhat enough. 

You’d once told him that you’d follow him until you died. Well, he’d do just the same. Maybe even more. 

⧖⧗Circa Zircon⧗⧖

It’s been a week.

You’ve already profusely apologized and thanked those who had cared for you that tragic day. You’ve especially apologized to the General—for neglecting to speak to him when he was only trying to make you feel better—though he waved your apology away.

So much has changed in a span of seven days. Major Ki is now Lieutenant Ki, inheriting Doyun’s previous responsibility of fighting in the place of Major Jang. Captain Chu is now Major Chu. After her promotion, Nayoon is now a third sector captain. There’s also a new face in the officer circle: Captain Jo. She was one of the top soldiers in the third sector—hand-picked by Lieutenant Ki herself. Now, she has become the newest addition to the officer meetings, and she’s got big shoes to fill—Im Nayoon wasn’t your average captain.

There’s been so much change, but you haven’t been reacting properly to it. Things seem to happen, and they also seem to pass by just as quickly. It seems like ages ago when you were laughing and giggling at Hana’s letters, not having a clue of all the disasters that would follow.

You’ve grown increasingly numb. And though you still complete your work—for if you stopped to mourn and cry, you would be letting down thousands of others—you’ve lost your joy in it, your passion. It’s hard to go about your day, then realize that you won’t be able to sit down and have tea with your favorite Lieutenant anymore. That you won’t be able to hear her funny jokes or her sarcastic remarks. That you can’t go to her for advice or hear her hilarious anecdotes anymore. 

You miss her, and it’s only been a week.

Will you miss her more as time passes? Or will it begin to fade away?

The General once told you that time can heal, but what if it leaves an ugly scar?

The first snow is late this year. You didn’t think it would come today, so you’re shivering outside in your cotton uniform, bowed down in front of Doyun’s grave, paying your respects as you’ve done every day since the day she died. The snow falls onto your back, and the frost on the ground clings to your knees, your elbows. But you stay in your bowed position.

Until you hear footsteps superimposing the white snow collecting on the ground. You quickly stand on your knees, brushing the wet snow off of your uniform. Only to see him. The General. He spares you a small glance, before he, too, sinks to his knees and bends forward, bowing in front of his former Lieutenant’s grave. And he stays down for a considerable amount of time.

When he finally sits up, he refuses to look in your eyes. “It’s cold, isn’t it?”

You only hum in reply.

Silence.

Then, to his surprise, you speak. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to anyone first after the burial. 

“I just… don’t want to believe it.”

He turns to you, eyes softening when he realizes you’re crying again.

“I know,” he says, though he wishes he could say something more comforting.

“I can’t remember the last thing I said to her.”

He can’t remember either. Was it before she went out to the battle that ended up killing her? Or was it after the battle, when they rushed her barely conscious body into the medical tent?

“It’s okay if you can’t remember,” he tells you. But he knows how much last words can matter. He keeps his brother’s last words close. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done if he had simply forgotten.

“Is it?” You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t even get to see her before she left. I never thought she wouldn’t come back.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Stupid! Idiot! How is it that he can console his other soldiers but not you? Why does he second-guess everything he wants to say to you?

“I feel so empty,” you say. “There’s a gaping pit in my stomach.” A snowflake catches on your lashes, and you blink it away; it immediately melts on your skin. “I don’t feel like myself, and it’s scary. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You’re grieving,” Yoongi answers. “You’re dealing with insurmountable sadness, and this is how your body reacts. You don’t have to know when you’ll be back. Just be… Just be gentle with yourself.”

More tears spill out of your eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t. You’re our officer. We trust you.”

“I just don’t get how everyone else is doing so well.”

“We put on a façade for the others,” Yoongi answers. “No one is ever doing well.” He pauses. “So it’s okay if you aren’t either.”

You sniffle, wiping away your tears with your already wet sleeve. “Then, sir?”

“Hm?”

“How are you really feeling?”

His eyebrows turn down in concentration as he tries to think of a word to encompass all of his emotions. But then again, there’s not much to encompass. So he opts for, “Numb.”

“Numb?”

“Yes.”

He feels empty. Doyun had written him a personal letter—one that fell out along with the other note that he’d read you. The note he had expected; she told him she was going to write it. But the letter? No, that had been a surprise and a rather depressing one at that. Yet he took all the words in, felt nothing, read it again, and still felt empty.

Dear Yoongi,

Surprise! You didn’t think I’d leave you a letter, did you? I was never too sentimental. I remember three years ago I had to wring the words out of me, writing that other note. Hopefully, it wasn’t too tragic. I meant the letter, but I guess that could be said about my death too. It’s been five years though, so perhaps I’ve grown to be more sentimental. In fact, I was inspired to write this by both you and our officer. You’re the most sentimental person I know, and she’s been writing letters to Soldier Baek. It looked like fun, so I decided to do it. I don’t know when you’ll read this—if you’ll die before I do (that would be a bummer because this entire letter would go to waste). But I’m currently writing this on the first day of Circa Citrine. Has it been long?

And how did I die? I’ve always wondered about that, Yoongi. As I’m writing this letter now, I’m laughing because, though I’m currently alive (obviously), by the time you’re reading this, I won’t be. I’ve always had a lot of questions about death. Would I meet Minhee in the afterlife? Would she remember me? Would I remember her? Is there even an afterlife? I’d be able to answer these questions by now, but it’s a pity that I won’t be able to share them with you.

There are a few reasons that I’m writing this letter, and one of them is to give you a friendly reminder that I deserve to be buried next to Minhee. I tell you this every Circa Citrine, around the time of her death, so you better not forget.

Another thing: I know I’m dead and my opinion doesn’t matter anymore, but I’m sure we both agree that Ki Suhyun should take my place (unless she’s dead, then it’s really up to you to decide). I won’t talk about my preferences for the other promotions—I want you to decide that with Lieutenant Ki (has a nice ring to it). We’ve been working together for years, Yoongi—eight to be exact (or it could be more if we both survive another year). It’s time that you get used to a new right-hand officer. (And no, I don’t mean Y/N.) Don’t give Suhyun the cold shoulder. She’s too shy to confront you, and I want you two to be friends. Like us. We lasted so long, didn’t we? It was because of trust, Yoongi. So learn to trust a new person. It shouldn’t be that hard. You’ve already given your full trust in Y/N, haven’t you?

Be gentle with yourself as you are gentle with her. That is my advice. I might have more to say later, and I’ll add them as the years go by. As of now, I need to

The letter had ended just like that. Unfinished. 

She probably expected she was going to live longer. The letter is fairly new after all—barely a circa old. 

Yoongi shakes his head. Be gentle with yourself as you are gentle with her. It’s good advice. Not that he’ll follow it anytime soon. It’s by habit, that he’s so self-critical. And it’s a good habit to have when you’re a leader. Because if everyone else is too scared to keep him in check, he’ll do it himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

Your voice fills his head. It’s soft, mellow, light like the morning breeze.

“You’ve known her since you were young. And so much has happened… With you acquiring a new lieutenant, a new captain… When will you ever get rest?”

He turns to you, cocking his head. “This is my rest.”

You frown. There are still tear stains on your cheeks. “Mourning is your rest?”

“No,” he replies. He’s not sure why he says his next words. Maybe because he thinks you won’t remember. Maybe because you confessed you feel empty inside, and maybe that means that you have less of a chance of reacting. “Being with you is my rest.”

You pause.

Yoongi holds his breath.

“Is it?”

You’re so close to each other that he can feel your body heat. That you can feel your arm graze his. 

“I miss her,” you whisper. 

Then, you do something that he doesn’t expect—that he would’ve never expected in a million years. You lean on him. Rest your head on his shoulder.

He freezes.

You act as if it is nothing as you stare off at Doyun’s grave with a wistful look on your face. There are still tears welling in your eyes, tears that will fall any second now. Yoongi shifts closer so that you can lean comfortably. And he lets you cry, lets your tears wet his uniform. The first winter snow rains all over the two of you. The evening air is chilly, and it bites at your noses, pokes at your thick clothes.

But Yoongi has never felt so warm.

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: i am so sorry 💀

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[star-my]

WIP Tag Game

rules: post 3 snippets from published work, and 3 from your wips

Thanks @theharrowing for the tag! I'll tag @minisugakoobies @colormepurplex2 @hisunshiine and whoever else wants to play! No pressure, and my apologies if you've been tagged already.

I don't have 3 works published yet in this fandom, so one will have to do:) y'all do, however, get never-before-seen snippets of unpub works!

Published- We are Forever Bulletproof: Oracle

CHAMESH 1ST, 2011

BREAKING NEWS: BANGTAN EMPIRE ATTACKED BY TOOPEEHM KINGDOM

CHAMESH 2ND,  2011

BREAKING NEWS: BANGTAN AT WAR WITH TOOPEEHM

“It’s for your safety, honey.”

“I know, but I want to stay here with you. It’s my place!”

“Jeongguk, your place is to stay safe, so we don’t have to worry for your safety and well-being and we can focus on the war.” His mother hugged him tightly. “Your hyungs will take good care of you. Be good, and don’t worry about us, okay? We’ll be fine. We love you.”

“I love you.” He hugged her back tightly. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be good.”

Jeongguk arrived at Bomnal Palace in the Kim Realms and was greeted by Queen Mishil. She led him to the sitting room where her sons were hanging out with their friends, the Empire’s other princes.

Six pairs of eyes met his large ones as he took in the room and its occupants.

“Hi, Jeongguk, right?” A tall, handsome young man came over to meet him warmly. “I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin like the others do.”

Jeongguk nodded. 

“Okay.”

“We haven’t seen you much;  it’s usually Junghyun with the Emperor and Empress,” said a boy, smiling widely at him and waving. “But Junghyun hyung talks about you a lot.”

“He’s told me about all of you too,” said Jeongguk, smiling shyly.

“I’ll let you boys take care of Jeongguk then, while I make arrangements for you all,” said the queen, and left with a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

Arbah 34th, 2013

TOOPEEHM’S WAR WITH BANGTAN EMPIRE DRAGS ON THROUGH SECOND YEAR

Shesh 7th, 2013

BREAKING NEWS: THE MAD MAJE RETURNS ON TOOPEEHM’S SIDE IN EHM-TAN’S WAR

“I’m back!”

“How’d school go?” Jin appeared from the direction of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. 

“It was fine,” Jungkook shrugged. “Lots of homework, even for the first day.”

“Let us know if you need help,” called Yoongi from the office/study area.

“Thanks, hyung!” he called back, following Jin to the snack he knew the oldest had prepared for him.

Hoseok and Jimin were talking quietly by the island. “With the added help from the Mad Maje’s forces, who knows how much longer this will drag on for. The first Maje War was five years long, and it’s already been two years-”

“DO YOU WANT TO TRY MY NEW CRACKERS RECIPE OR THE BROWNIES, JUNGKOOKIE?” asked Jin, loudly announcing their presence and shutting up the other two.

“Both, obviously,” grinned Jungkook. 

They weren’t subtle, but they loved him and had readily adopted him as their little brother, doing their best to shield him from the news of the war and the unease it brought and raise him to be a good prince, and more importantly, a good person, like his parents wanted.

He had only been able to see them and Junghyun a couple times since he was sent away; all the princes of the Empire had moved to the highest-protected city in the Empire, the Jeon Kingdom’s capital, Bangtandosi, shortened by its natives to ‘Bangtan’ or ‘Tan’.

They lived in a large stone house in the old district, close to Bangtan University where the older princes attended, and a five-minute walk from Jungkook’s high school.

Visits with any of their family members were few and far between, with the war taking up most of the royals’ time and attention, and the need to keep the heirs to the Empire’s location secret.

They seven of them had consequently created a bond closer than just brothers as they adjusted to life as civilians in the middle of wartime. They would do anything for each other, no questions asked.

{You can find the whole fic here on tumblr or on ao3}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unpublished- currently my only WiP is We are Forever Bulletproof: Truths

(shocking, i know, but i'm writing for the BTS fandom and hiatused my other fandom because i was overwhelmed with its WiPs. i'm trying to keep the pressure lowkey for my BTS fics. Feel free to request more, though!:D)

The air had a cool bite to it, signalling the start of the autumnal season. A gust of wind blew a falling yellow leaf into Jungkook’s face as he passed under the tree-lined avenue leading to Bangtan University. 

He brushed it away, turning to inhale the aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods carried by the breeze. Ah, good old 00:00 cafe. Located just outside campus grounds, it was a popular spot for students to crash and study, or go on a date right after class, or to work in before classes started. Jungkook had written more than one paper there as he had access to immediate coffee refills.

Jin or one of his other hyungs would have been more than happy to run an in-home coffee service for him during his previous three years of secondary schooling, but he enjoyed people-watching and the academic vibes he got from studying at a coffee shop.

Jungkook stepped in and inhaled the more concentrated scent of fresh-brewed coffee, likely a fresh shipment imported from the Jung Archipelagos.

The line at the counter was surprisingly short (though maybe that was because this was only the first day of classes and students didn’t need as much caffeine to function) and he quickly ordered his usual caramel frappuccino.

The worker behind the counter nudged the shoulder of his coworker and gave her the order details while he attended to the customers at the register.

Jungkook leaned against the counter by the pick-up area and watched students crossing from the busy streets of downtown Bangtan to the lush grounds of Bangtan University’s campus. A fun little game he liked to play was deciding what year a student was in and what they were majoring in. He was pretty sure he’d just identified a fellow fourth-year PolSci major when his name was called.

“Jungkook?”

He turned to collect his drink and heard bells ringing. Little specks of glitter floated around Her head, a small smile on Her lips and Her light eyes sparkling as She met his awestruck gaze.

I love you.

The lights around Her head disappeared and the bells abruptly stopped ringing as She pushed his cup into his hand and wrapped his fingers around the curved sides, turning to take the newcomer’s order while Her coworker manned the coffee.

“Have a good day!” She tossed over her shoulder, smiling at the newcomer.

Jungkook sipped his drink, frowning as he exited the coffee shop, the bells ringing goodbye in a mocking way, a far cry from their melodic tinkling when he met Her.

That was a good frappuccino; he’d have to go back. For the coffee, too.

{is this all i've written for WaFBV:T? you don't have access to my docs and can't prove anything>:D}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fic I've written but haven't published/typed up- Godmother: Vixen

Ara, Age 15 (10 years ago)

"Jungkook, you know how you're going to be my official bodyguard in a couple years, when you turn 18?"

Jungkook's head was in Ara's lap, her fingers combing through the soft black strands. "...yeah?"

"So then I won't have Lee watching us all the time?"

"Yes? Where are you going with this?" "Patience, Kookie." Ara booped his nose, making him crinkle it at her.

"Well, then I'll be able to sneak out with you more. I won't have to make you sneak out to get my stuff anymore, and I can really begin my- our plans."

"But I don't mind it! I like it!" Jungkook protested. "It keeps you safe and under Lee's watch, where you're supposed to be."

"Yeah, but it's so boring. I don't get to practice my black belts on anything...you can join the underground rings but I can't, yet. Ugh, I wish you were older so I could polish the plan better."

"Slow and steady wins the race, Ara. You've got two years to finish learning all that stuff you want to know, as if Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung won't help."

"Yeah, but they'll be busy for appa, and it's too close; he'd be suspicious and they'll be in trouble even if I'm not. It's good for me to know hacking and strategy, anyways. You've been with me for my physical training, but I can't lead a gang just because I have five black belts in martial arts and a gun."

"Okay, you have a point, Bug."

"When do I not?" she smirked saucily at him.

~~~

(present day)

Jimin complied, following her to a small room that reminded him of a cabin. She pointed to the twin bed and shut the door behind her. Jimin didn't feel like a captive since there was a window large enough for him to crawl through, and there didn't appear to be any bars or lasers to stop him from doing so if he wished. But he didn't wish to; he was here for a reason, afterall.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as someone came jogging up to Vixen. The tread was heavy, likely male, and the visitor greeted her in a male's voice.

"Hey Vix, I found out where he keeps the goods- why are you frown- ouch! VIX-mmph!"

That male voice sounded awfully familiar. Jimin frowned.

"Shh! I'm gagging you because he's next. Door!" hissed Vixen harshly. "If you'd checked outside before you snuck in, you'ld've seen his car!"

Jimin strained his ears as the whispers softened and moved down the hallway. However, he'd managed to drop a bug on Vixen's back as he followed her, so he pulled out his receiver and shamelessly eavesdropped.

"I came over the rooves tonight so I didn't see. I'm sorry, VIx, that was careless; I should've known better. I'll check 360 degrees next time, yakseokhae."

That was definitely JK.

"Good. Yeesh, oppa, you almost gave everything away! I had Han ready to rush you with his knife to slow you down!"

Oppa?! Why was Vixen so close to JK?

"Sorry, Vixen. But I found out where he keeps the goods, and I'm getting mine tomorrow, so I need to make sure the others won't be visible when it's done."

...the blacklight tattoos each member got when they were inducted into Bangtan? He'd thought JK was a reliable asset to Bangtan, so he'd invited him to get it. JK was obviously Vixen's spy in Bangtan, but why?...most of JK's time was spent on his bodyguarding duties with Ara.

Unless...Vixen was going to take out Ara to hit Bangtan and Grey? But both of them were allied with her, that didn't make sense. And he knew JK would never hurt or let anyone or anything hurt Ara.

Clearly more investigation was required.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{I forgot how much I liked this fic! It definitely needs some polishing, but maybe I can get it done for some event or a friend's birthday!}

Masterlist is here

#star scribbles #star speaks #wafb:t #godmother: vixen #jjk x oc #pjm x oc #bts fanfiction #tag game: wip

[louisianaspell]

June Bangtan Fic Rec

🔪 Dark fics: These fics/series contain scenes and plots that can be triggering! Please make sure you read all the warnings, tags, and authors note before reading!

🔥 Smut: These fics contain sexual situations, 18+up only!

Sweet as Honey (ao3)

In a time where omegas are increasingly rare, others constantly question your resistance to find a mate. No one seemed to understand that you were content to stay in your comfort zone, focusing solely on your job. However, a series of unexpected events set your quiet world into motion, making you question your outlook on life and on mating bonds (Series Warning: 🔥)

Before I Leave You

Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega (who’s clearly been through some shit) [Series Warning: 🔥)

Dance With Me (ao3)

All your life, you thought you were a beta, a simple and boring beta. Until everything change. But now that you've presented yourself as an omega, how will you manage to live and hide it from your six friends and best friend, all alphas and all in the same pack? (series Warning: 🔥)

Lone Wolf (ao3)

In a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life (Series Warning: possible 🔥)

Late Bloomer (ao3)

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor— until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything (Series Warning: 🔥)

Cien Años (ao3)

A sad story of two best friends who loved each other for different reasons

C

You’re Losing Me

He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other

Stigma (ao3)

Finding himself lost in the woods after a failed expedition, Yoongi receives help from a misterious stranger and ends up uncovering life altering truths about himself (Warning: 🔥)

The Email (ao3)

Working for a company that doesn't give a damn about you, you just try to survive 12 months until you can move on to your next job. But one day you accidentally paste a smut story into an email meant for your awful manager Min Yoongi

Everything and Nothing (ao3)

Some 50 years from now or maybe in a parallel universe, capitalism has become even worse, and productivity and availability are considered your most valuable assets. To reduce stress and illness, companies have developed so-called "Husbands" and "Wives", cleverly designed androids, that take care of you and make sure you don't lose focus on what matters most: work (Series Warning:🔥)

The Promises We Keep

A super soft fic wherein Hoseok notices you and your daughter at his laundromat and decides he wants to know you more 🔥

Foolish (ao3)

You keep going back to Namjoon, it's what you've always done. Then you meet Hoseok, who draws you away like he's not even trying 🔥

F

G

This Is Us

After fighting to be in a relationship with Jungkook, you begin to wonder if it’s all worth it (Series Warning: 🔥)

Cuddle Therapy (ao3)

Jungkook and you meet at an experimental course called 'cuddle therapy'. It quickly becomes clear that you want to be his little spoon. And maybe even something more (Series Warning: 🔥)

#fic rec #bts fic rec #june bangtan fic rec #kim namjoon fic rec #kim seokjin fic rec #min yoongi fic rec #jung hoseok fic rec #park jimin fic rec #kim taehyung fic rec #jeon jungkook fic rec

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Hi, I tried to think about more unique plot about King Yoongi flash fiction, but can only come up with generic one. But it's okay I guess, my thirst will still be quenched anyway.

How about yandere Emperor Yoongi and a palace servant or concubine, later become his queen.

I just could not hold back. Please accept it as a tribute to 'His Pet'. The original character here is inspired by @amoc94's 'His Pet'. Please check out the amazing book if you have not yet.

The Fragrance of Love #1

Yandere Emperor Yoongi x Original Character (Jang Yuri)

Warning- Threats of murder, manhandling, implied royal brutality.

It was already winter and the waning moon was nowhere in sight. The clouds hovered ominously over Yuri and her little brother’s head as she rushed in loading the horse with the essentials she had brought with her. The horse was stable and strong, it had cost her almost half of all of her savings.

But her prime concern was on getting herself and her brother, her only family as far away from the palace, from the capital as possible.

“Wherw are we headed to Nuna?” she gripped her brother’s tiny body tighter as she set him up on the horseback before holding the reins

“Somewhere far, Bonhwa.” she kissed his head gently before proceeding to tie a cloth around his stomach and her waist, keeping him firmly attached to her. Bonhwa was her world, and she would not live a day if any harm comes to her family due to her selfishness.

She was a lowborn, and thus, a maid of the imperial palace. People called her fortunate for being chosen as Empress Dowager’s chambermaid. The pay was better and Bonhwa cold have more meat. Thrice a month! And it was incredible for Jang Yuri.

But fate was a curious little schemer. A single visit of His Highness, the Emperor to his mother’s palace, and one glance, it all took one glance to set the spark and put her heart ablaze, like his fiery gaze, the charcoal orbs and his gold-bathed hair. All had her transfixed. She had never known of the power of one glance until the day she had locked her gaze with Min Yoongi, the seventh Emperor of the Min Dynasty.

And like blooming lotuses, love blossomed between them. He had often declared how he would never let her go, he always needed to hear that she belonged to him from her lips. She had woven a dream of their forever over cherry blossoms.

Cherry blossoms were not forever-blooms. They were seasonal, just like their love.

It was not long before the Empress Dowager found out.

“Either you leave the palace, go far away from the capital itself, or we bring you your sweet little brothers head. And I will make sure you watch it all.”

The words still rang in Yuri’s head, making her shiver.

He was the flame, and she was the moth. She would always want to be one with him, but she knew the cost. And she was not ready to pay the price. She loved the Emperor, she loved him with all of her heart, mind and soul, but she loved her little brother the most. And in the palace of vipers, she knew that a girl like her was only the prey.

She was a commoner, thus, an illiterate. The Emperor had been kind enough to teach her to read a few things in their time spent together. She could manage to read, but she could not write.

She knew that the Emperor would never let her go if she told him, he would cause a ruckus, he had professed his love for her so many times, he had refused to take any concubine, refused to meet virtuous ladies, princesses for marriage, Yuri had no choice but to believe him. But how could have she forgotten, she was a mere commoner and he was the Emperor? Their love was doomed from the beginning.

She wished to leave him a letter. But alas! She had not yet learnt to write.

“Nuna, Nuna!”

Yuri was startled out of her thoughts, looking down at her brother, she smiled at him.

“What is it Bonhwa?”

“Thirsty Nuna…” he whined

“Just a bit more, Bon, we will be by the river soon. I will fill the sack with water then. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

“I can’t Nuna, I want watew.” the child was only four. What would he know of the storm brewing in their lives?

The Emperor was a man of passion, and the passion drowned her, made her so blind to the consequences that she did not see the wildfire spreading until her own nest was on the verge of burning away.

A nest made of cherry blossoms. But cherry blossoms soon wither away. They symbolised the fleeting nature of life and love.

Yuri pulled her brother closer before urging the horse to move faster, her brother was thirsty, and she could not even hear the river. It was the dead of the night, the freezing weather that turned the place quieter.

----

“Stay here, okay? Do not move much, just keep your hold on the seat,” she instructed her brother while tying the horse to a tree trunk.

The water was glacial, but it would do, if she kept it in a warm place for some time, it would be-

The sound of the movement in bushes was distinctive. She stilled, regulating her breathing to hear clearly, until…

Hooves!

Gasping, Yuri rushed towards her horse. Freeing its rope, she lept on it. She held her brother close with one hand while the other caught the reins.

No, no!

It was already too late, the royal guards surrounded them.

“Jang Yuri, the Emperor has demanded you to be brought to the Imperial Palace.” one of the guards declared.

But she knew that no one could be trusted. What is it was the Empress Dowager who had changed her mind? Yuri knew that the woman would be more than happy to have her and her brother beheaded.

But when Kim Namjoon, the most trusted of the Emperor’s Council appeared, high on his majestic horse, she was partly relieved.

“Yuri, you need not fear anyone, I am here to escort you and your brother safely back to the Imperial Palace.”

“Your Grace!” Yuri was quick to jump from her horse and be on her knees, bowing to the aristocrat with her head on the ground “My Lord, I am afraid that I cannot do that.”

“Are you disobeying the Emperor? The man on the throne by the will of gods!” she could already envision Lord Kim’s eyes narrowing in displeasure as he came down from his horse as well and marched towards her.

“No, No, I shall brook divine fury if I ever dare to…”

“Well, then you must not waste another moment and hurry. The Emperor waits for you with waning patience. He has ordered you to be brought back to the palace.” Lord Kim stated firmly.

And Yuri was left with no choice but to oblige.

-----

The sight of the Imperial Palace made her stomach twist in knots. Her palms were sweaty even in such freezing weather conditions. She let out a quivering puff of breath, and she could see the cloud forming in front of her as she heaved a sigh.

She was not ready to face the Emperor, he despised when she addressed him formally, but she was habituated with that, and as much as he hated it, she could not dare to…

The distinctive figure in black robes caught her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. The golden dragon embroidered on the silk gleamed under the brightly lit torches. And she could already feel his burning stare, the heartache increased with every movement of the horse. She clutched her brother closer to herself as she fought back her tears. He was standing still and powerful, his pale tresses chasing the winter wind.

Finally, when her horse was right in front of the Emperor, with his burning feline eyes boring holes into her form, with stilled breathing, she waited for his command. He said nothing, Lord Kim did

“Emperor of the world, I bring you, Lady Shin Yuri, as commanded.” Yuri frowned at his words. That was not her name. Why was she addressed like that even? She was a damned commoner after all.

Emperor Min tilted his head, his gaze flickered over Lord Kim once before returning to her. She could not even keep up with his fierce stare. It made her feel naked.

Emperor Min Yoongi had his hair tied in a loose ponytail, the absence of his usual headband somehow made him seem primal. There was indeed something primal about his gaze. His scar was more visible, most people in the empire saw it as a bad omen, an emperor who carried a scar. But not her. To Jang Yuri, the scar only enhanced his otherworldly beauty.

There was something so dark, almost carnal about it. And she was not sure if she should fear it or give in to her temptations.

His tongue pushed against his cheek. At last, his body moved, with his robes swishing, he marched towards her horse and she stiffened, pulling Bonhwa closer to herself, the poor boy was confused but dared not to let out a sound.

Defying all her expectations, he instead offered his hand to her, as if she was a royal, Yuri was left stunned. Yet, her hand seemed to have grown a mind of its own as it reached out for his hand. His grip was iron-bound as he helped her down the horse but his warmth, welcoming.

But his one command shattered the illusion of calm and peace.

“Take her brother away Namjoon,”

“What? No, where are you taking him? Wait! My Lord, please do not do this! BONHWA!”

His grip on her did not loosen as she watched helplessly her little sobbing brother being picked up and being taken away by Lord Kim while she struggled in the Emperor’s hold relentlessly but in vain.

“Please, please not my brother, he is innocent, he is innocent!” Yuri begged, she had no clue what was to be done with her brother, that tiny life could be crushed by the cruel forces of the palace and no one would even bat an eyelash.

Never in a hundred years could she envision Emperor Min Yoongi doing this, but he was noble after all, and nobles did not know kindness.

Seeing no other choice, she fell on her knees and begged him.

“Bonhwa is innocent, please!”

“Get up, Love.” his voice was soft but cold.

She opened her mouth to protest but got yanked up back on her feet instead. His grip was punishing as he dragged her with him instead, tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued to beg for her brother’s life, but he responded with nothing but heavy silence.

Finally, reaching a chamber, he kicked open a door, for the first time expressing the boil within.

“For once…” he finally began, his deep, raspy voice ould have been a blanket on her scarred heart had she, not been dragged away from her brother like that “For once I had expected you to not walk away, to believe in me instead of my mother.”

Yuri froze at his words, he knew.

“Yoongi is my son, he would always choose his family, his empire, his throne. Only a lunatic would even compare it all to a mere commoner. It would not even take him sundown to find another girl to warm his bed.”

Empress Dowager’s callous words rang in her head as she stared into the Emperor’s stormy orbs.

He smiled. The smile lacked any warmth.

“But you tried to run away like a coward, the Empress Dowager’s venomous words outweighed my honest declarations of love.”

“M-My L-” her words were cut off by his fingers clasping her face, his grip was painful, making her tears spring up,

“Try again, Love.”

“Y-Yoongi!” she gasped out as he finally let go of her. She gasped, unable to look back at him. His touch felt alien to her. She had known of him as nothing but a gentle lover.

“Bonhwa shall remain under Kim Namjoon’s care until I decide otherwise. Meanwhile, my love, you will train to be a proper lady of the court. You are Shin Yuri from this day, daughter of a noble far in the northern mountains.”

“B-But I am not...I am a commoner what are you planning? Where is my brother?” Yuri spluttered, disoriented and afraid.

“Not anymore. I believe that it is time for you to learn the ways of the court and the world. To see all of me. So that you do not repeat this mistake again.” his tone was clipped, and although he did not raise his voice, it was far more terrifying. Because now Yuri could see a new side of the man she had loved so deeply. She feared him.

Yoongi turned his head to one of the chamber guards and nodded before the guard stepped out, and moments later, four chambermaids hurried inside the place.

“I claim all of you as witnesses to me declaring Lady Sin Yuri as my chosen beloved.”

The Emperor declared before taking off one of the many precious rings adorning his fingers and slipping it on her finger instead, before clasping the back of her neck and pulling her into a passionate, melting kiss.

And Yuri felt her heart stop.

****

@trishadgrn-blog @angryperfectionpersona

Unedited

Also, I have no knowledge regarding the historical facts and elements concerning this fic. Kindly treat it as pure fiction.

Also...There would be a second part since *clears her throat* we all are hoes for Daechwita Yoongi.

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yandere king yoongi #yandere emperor yoongi #yandere yoongi x oc #yandere bts drabbles #yandere yoongi smut #yandere king yoongi x oc #yandere royal bts #yandere suga #the fragnance of love

[nebulaofbangtan]

#agust d #Suga #Yoongi #A yoongi a day keeps the capitalism away #Bts

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

[1kook]

Podcaster Yoongi 👉👈

Yoongi’s set-up is very… unique to say the least.

You place his sandwich beside him, triangle cut because that’s the way he likes it best. It finds it’s home right next to his elbow, tediously balanced on an assortment of wires and cables that you couldn’t differentiate between to save your life. Across from your boyfriend is his friend, Namjoon, fellow podcaster and frequent visitor of your home. “Thank you,” Yoongi murmurs, purposefully covering the black head of his microphone with his palm as Namjoon begins his dramatic reading of today’s Dictionary.com Word of the Day.

You acknowledge him with a hum, careful to keep your voice low lest the sound is picked up by either of the two microphones. Last time you had spoken on the podcast, Yoongi’s audience of young adult men had flooded the comments asking to see a photo of his significant other, who, until that point, was a person everyone believed was made up. A chaste kiss against his temple marks the end of your silent visit, Namjoon waving at you from across the table.

The two have picked up speed these past few months, and by speed you mean someone had clipped a short section of their audio and uploaded it on Twitter, gaining a couple thousand likes that had made Yoongi the talk of your small town for a few days. It’s a hard business, podcasting that is, because just about everyone is doing it these days. And while Yoongi and Namjoon have a small step up on everyone else— they’re going on year four of hosting the Simple Scholar, a 45-minute, once-a-week show where they, in a sense, summarize worldwide happenings in a ‘chill’ manner, as Yoongi puts it, making political issues and social trends accessible to dudebros everywhere —they had been stuck in a rut for a while.

But that was before, and this is now. They have a steady stream of consistent listeners each week, which is good. Or at least, it is to you. Yoongi thinks otherwise. He thinks they should capitalize off this moment, utilize this chance to the highest degree, so he’s been pouring over ideas like crazy, trying to make a story out of something, anything. Tonight he’s stuck on the avocado phenomenon. “Would you say you consume avocados regularly?” Yoongi asks, notepad on his lap. You had been sitting at your vanity, carefully applying your skincare routine. “And if so, how many on average?”

You shrugged, fingers dancing along your cheeks. “Maybe a couple a week,” you respond, having long since grown familiar with Yoongi’s random questions that begin appearing at the end of every week. He liked to collect stories, he claims, from real people. To make his podcast more believable or whatever. “I like it on toast in the mornings.”

From behind you, there’s the sound of furious scribbling. “Uh huh,” he hums, taps his pencil against his notepad a few times. “Would you say you consume avocado-based products more than the average person?”

Avocado-based, what— “baby,” you begin, whirling around to face him head-on. Yoongi pauses. “If this is for your podcast, I’m going to be honest and say that many guys don’t wanna tune in for a podcast on avocado face masks.”

He frowns. “You don’t know that,” he huffs. Except you do. Two weeks ago, you had tried to rope Yoongi, a guy, into trying an avocado face mask with you and he had complained the whole way through. He must realize this at the same time you do, because suddenly his features droop. “Does it suck that bad?”

Getting up from your seat, you join him at the bed. “Honestly, yes,” you admit and he pinches your side. “Don’t force the stories,” you hum, brushing his hair away from his face. He’s so handsome like this. “Just do what you’ve always been doing.”

Yoongi smiles, leaning into your touch with a sigh. “You’re right.” And then, “maybe I should have Namjoon recap an episode of the Kardashians again next week.” It’s even worse than the avocado idea.

#Yoongi fic #min Yoongi fic #suga fic #bts Yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #mine #mygd

[kookieswan]

Amaranth Part V - Buttercup

Apprentice!Jungkook x Royal!Reader (f)

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff-ish, Humor, a tad bit of Angst. Warning for mention of attempted physical harm against MC.

Summary: Awaiting much needed answers, the Dark Mage asks you about love and you have nothing to say in return.

Note: Yes this took me forever to get out. I rewrote it multiple times. I am sorry lol

Find the Amaranth Masterlist here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Since we’re almost home, I’d just like to thank everyone for staying quiet and not disturbing the peace.” The peace being Namjoon. His voice rings out through the car, which had, in fact, been quiet till he said anything. There’s a chorus of different replies, mostly ones of defiance. Should have just kept his mouth quiet, the lovable dolt.

Your group had decided to leave as soon as possible now that you collected Yoongi, mostly because you being out of the capitol for so long was a huge risk. A risk you wish you could take more often really, but you stayed silent as Namjoon quietly spoke with your guardians. It’s like your little vacation was over just as quickly as it started. Sigh.

“Yeah, it’s not like you threatened to feed us to a ravenous Jin when we get home or anything Joonie.” Namjoon glares very pointedly back to where you and Jungkook sit, eyes narrowed into thin slits. You smile and wave back kindly as Jungkook makes a silly face into the mirror, nose scrunched cutely like a bunny. You’ll never admit how much fun you have teasing the poor man, and it doesn’t help that Kookie always eggs you on.

“Soooo… what’s your favorite color Yoongi?” Jungkook shifts underneath you, arms wrapped lightly around your waist. You sit idly on his lap as Namjoon continues to drive down the road, carrying the whole group back to the capital in a cramped little car. A sigh leaves your advisors lips, disappointed, but not surprised. He’s been grumpy all day, not happy in the least about having to drive. You had offered, but almost everyone had sad no immediately. Losers.

“I cannot see color.” Yoongi sits in the front seat next to Namjoon, facing forward, back straight as he stares into nothing, or maybe everything. You’re surprised he’s even acknowledging Kookie at this point, he’s made his dissatisfaction clear (although you think he secretly likes him. A trill rings through the car and you glance to the left to see Jimin running his hand through Tae’s mused hair affectionately.

The taller of your guardians has got a protective barrier set over the car, mostly to keep you protected but also to prevent being tracked. It’s probably taking a lot out of him, so Jimin’s comfort is likely a nice distraction. A secret smile comes to your face, happy to see them acting natural even in front of a stranger. If Yoongi minds, he doesn’t say anything.

“Soooo… What can you see? Just shapes or outlines…? I mean, you can see some things, right? You walk around easily…” Jungkook leans in closer, pushing you both forward in the cars small space. Ever the curious one, you hope it doesn’t bite him in the ass one day. Jimin bristles next to where you sit, hand coming down to slap Jungkook on his hip lightly. His wings flutter from where they’re trapped behind him, giving away his annoyance. Jimin’s promptly ignored as Yoong glances over his shoulder slightly.

“I can see you, sadly.” A tiny giggle leaves you then as the Mage turns back around, unable to hold it back at the smugness of the answer. Jungkook scoffs lightly before poking your sides, making you laugh even harder. He nuzzles the back of you neck hastily with his cute nose to tickle you more before sitting back, arms wrapping tighter around your waist. You dare say he makes a better seatbelt than the real thing with how strong his arms are.

“I am curious, how do you see if your eyes don’t work like normal?” Yoongi likes you for whatever reason, so you decide to test the waters and see if he’ll actually answer you. He doesn’t have much of a reason not to, but maybe it’s a sore subject. He doesn’t hesitate to answer though, deep voice floating across the car.

“I can ‘see’ with my elemental energy. I push it out or pull it in, but it works independently like a normal set of eyes would. I used to have to try, but it’s second nature now and happens naturally.” You want to ask how it happened, how he lost his sight, but refrain out of politeness. Perhaps another time. Glancing out the window, you almost get lost in the scenery before his raspy voice interrupts you again.

“May I ask you a question, Highness?” The man turns around in his seat slowly , face parallel to yours almost. It’s now that you can see the scaring around his eyes properly, just how pale he is as veins run across his paper-like skin. You tell him to go for it almost immediately, curious to know what he’d like to know. He’s been so quiet till this point after all…

“I don’t get out often, that much is obvious, I’m sure. From what I’ve head though, there have been whispering of a marriage in your future. Are any of them true?” A very undignified snort leaves you then, answering his question without any words. Marriage… something you’ve been avoiding for a good few years now. Jungkook flexes his hands in your waist, cheek resting against your shoulder. He knows how you feel, they all do. The rest of your entourage remains quiet though.

“No. There’ll be no wedding in the foreseeable future… or ever preferably. I’d like to think I can take over things by myself just fine when the time comes.” You’ll never get to pursue love how you want to, so you’ll never pursue it at all. Better to avoid all the shit now than fall down a deep hole you can’t crawl out of. Plus, if anyone thinks you need a man by your side to function, they’re dead wrong.

Your uncle had already tried on a few different occasions to get you interested in someone. He had brought over princes from other lands, all of them snooty men with zero personality. One by one, they had all tried to court you…

And failed miserably.

Jungkook and Namjoon were always there to pick you up when things went badly, your guardians not far behind. Things always went badly because you never accepted the offered courtship which would lead to a less than happy prince. One had even tried to strike you for your ‘insolence’. Jungkook had seen. The prince was lucky he didn’t die.

You can’t recall ever seeing Kookie that mad, it’s almost like he was a different person. His energy flaring dangerously, fire rising from his hands so quickly like second nature… There hasn’t been a single suitor to visit you since, likely for the betterment of their health. Good riddance to them all.

It’s always been a ruse, true love would never exist in your area of royalty. Even if it did, it would never last. Your father and mother had been in love, truly smitten with each other, but look how that turned out for them. Your uncle had married as well, but it was for naught as his wife died of sickness soon after. Now he’s a cranky old man that doesn’t make the time of day for anyone.

“I see. I didn’t think any of the whispering had merit, not truly. You seem too strong willed, too much like your father, to accept a husband or wife blindly.” Jungkook laughs quietly at the double meaning of his words. It’s true though, you’d rather disappear than marry some random idiot to please the masses. If you uncle was loud about you marrying, then the general public was like an echo chamber of screams. Humming a bit, you decided to shoot back the question, and save the comment about your father for later.

“What about you? Have you ever married? Had a significant other?” Jimin and Taehyung both peer toward the front of the car curiously as the Mage shifts in his seat. Tae sneezes suddenly before Jimin coos, pinching his cheek cutely before offering him a tissue. Where the hell had he got s tissue? Yoongi remains silent for a bit, and you shift uncertainly on your human seat. Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked, but it only seems fair.

“I had a lover… once. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen him but I think we’ll meet again sometime soon.” Well that’s cryptic. You know that Yoongi’s on the older side, so his list of lovers could be long as hell and yet, only one. It’s not like he’s a bad looking guy, though he is kind of a recluse. Huh.

Seeing the capital on the horizon, you decided to stay quiet for the rest of the way there. The talk of marriage hangs overhead, creating a bit of a sour cloud. You say you won’t marry, you don’t want to marry… but do you really have the choice…?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yes, well, we’re finally home and I’m free of all of you for the next 24 hours so goodbye.” Namjoon tries his best to wander off as soon as he’s out of the car, any responsibility for you completely forgotten, but Jungkook won’t have it. He latches on to the taller man easily, whining about a goodbye hug at the very least as Namjoon pleads for a quick death. Deserved after trying to leave you all by yourself.

“Come on Namjoon, just give me a lil’ goodbye kiss!” There’s an unprecedented amount of cackling occurring as Jimin and Tae dance past you, hand in hand as the make their way up the stars to the entrance of the building. There’s actually sparkles surrounding the two of them, likely Jimin’s doing. You know he’s sad to be away from nature, but he has a connection to the city as well that he tied to well. Of course, Tae will follow him anywhere and everywhere he pleases.

You follow silently, Yoongi nearly glued to your side as your advisor and best friend (fiend) continue to bicker. You don’t mind, there’s a lot to take in and he probably hasn’t been here for a while. It’s pretty at least, with huge willowy trees and flowers blooming on either side, sprites floating across the air lazily. It’s too bad it’s not dark yet, it’s so much prettier then against the stone of the building.

You’re not sure why Yoongi’s here still, but maybe you can give him a tour at some point, show him around after he’s finished his business. He’s been here before, yes, but things have changed in the last hundred years or so. The garden, for example, is run completely by you now, and judging by the one that he had at his own home, he may like to see it.

“Hello!” Glancing up the stairs of the entranceway, you’re greeted by none other than Seokjin waving you down. You’re surprised he’s even awake midday, but then again, it’s not surprising that he’s here to meet you. Always wanting the latest gossip, this one. He had looked almost perturbed when you had mentioned that you were going to visit the Dark Mage.

Jin comes tumbling down the stairs quickly, a wiz in the air, and you can see now that he’s dyed his hair yet again. Pink this time, a far cry from the dark brown it had been before. Charming, but then again, he always is.

“Hey, your uncle told me to meet with you after you get back! How was you guy’s tr- Yoongi!?” Jins crimson eyes widen almost comically as he takes in the man beside you. A twisted look of satisfaction falls over the dark mages face as you glance at him, his mouth curled into a smirk. He takes a few steps forward, slowly and calculated, and peers into Seokjins soul as if it’s a snack. Yoongi’s energy ripples forth like a tidal wave, goosebumps washing over your body unwillingly. Well then.

“Hello, lover.”

#amaranth #amaranth part v #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook royal au #Jungkook #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts fluff #bts royal au #bts angst #bts

[btsmakesmehappy]

MicroWave | 3

Genre: Fluff, ANGST, Future Smut

Pairing: Agent!Yoongi x Reader (Agent au. Neighbor au)

Word Count:7,2k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: Protective Yoongi, memories of died parents, lil tsundere Yoongi (because tsundere Yoongi is just hot and sweet af), mention of sex under influence, mentions of sextape, mentions of blackmailing and threat (all of those bad things are just mentioned for a bit), Yoongi being soft and loving (that’s the point of this story), please let me know if I missed any other warnings!

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | completed

Summary: Yoongi can’t help to worry about his neighbor. Not only that she almost burned the apartment down, she also trusts people too much, and yet she doesn’t want people to help her. She is just trouble written in bold and capital and he shouldn’t be acquainted with her. But yet, he makes it his mission to help her with all costs.

Series Masterlist: The Company

A/N: Thanks to @arizonapoppy for betareading mine. Your comments are the ones that made my day! Also to everyone who read, reblog, like, and comment to this series. I love you so much and you are the reason why I continue writing despite how lacking I am.

Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

Also, please send me an ask if you wanted to be added in my taglist!

Knock-knock...

Knock-knock-knock.

Knock-kno…

“You know that I have a doorbell, right?” Yoongi grumbled as he opened his door. His hair was wet and you saw steam coming from his bathroom.

You smiled sheepishly as you entered his apartment. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes fell to a box that was in your hand and took it from you, afraid that you would drop it at his doorway. It’s not that you always fall, but you just looked unstable: taking your shoes off and holding a heavy box. “This is kinda heavy, what is this?”

“My granny sent it!” You walked ahead of him to his kitchen, grabbing a pair scissors from the counter. “Hurry, let’s open it!”

Yoongi put the box on the counter in front of you and he raised one of his eyebrows. “And tell me again, why do you need to open it here?”

You turned your head to him and pouted, “why? I want to share this with you.”

He sighed. “Fine, what is it?”

“It’s my granny’s special lasagna!” You smiled widely, eyes twinkled in excitement. It’s been a while since your grandmother sent you some food, and you just missed it so much. “Just look at that cheese layer, it looks so good!”

Yoongi hummed, “and you need my microwave, don’t you?”

“Well, you can eat it too!” you yelled out, eyes avoiding his gaze, “ and I don’t think my microwave can be used anymore.” You sighed as your hands took the lasagna from the box. The lasagna itself is pretty big. And with your usual eating portion sizes, you can save money for almost a month. But now your lasagna will be consumed by Yoongi and you, so maybe you can last with it for around one or two weeks. But still, free food, right?

He opened the microwave’s door and let you put the lasagna inside. “Aren’t you full? We just had dinner.” He looked at you in worry. Sure, both of you just had dinner around one hour ago, and you were not gonna lie that fried chicken was still residing in your stomach.

“A little, but I just want to take a bite. Besides, there’s always a room in my stomach for my granny’s special lasagna!” Your eyes were on the buttons on the microwave, pressing some of it and letting it run. You had gotten used to it by now, since you had been borrowing his microwave for almost a month. “This microwave is easier to use than mine.”

He scoffed, “yeah, because yours is like hundred years old.” He walked to the fridge and grabbed two cans of beer and handed one to you. “You should just throw it away. Why do you keep holding onto it?”

You sighed and opened the beer, sipping it a little to let the coldness and the bitterness hit you. “I know.”

Yoongi grabbed the oven mittens and opened the microwave just as the timer went off. “No good things will happen if you keep holding the past, and hey, it’s just a kitchen tool. You can just buy a new one when you get enough money.” He put the hot lasagna on the counter and grabbed a plate from underneath.

You saw Yoongi skillfully cut and serve the lasagna in front of you, “I wish… it’s just hard to give it away, let alone throw it out.” With the spoon, you scooped up a bite and blew on it to cool it down. After a moment, you ate it slowly, savoring your comfort food since childhood. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Well, just try harder. Or give it to me, I’d love to hit it with a bat. It’ll be a nice experience.” He took a bite and chewed it slowly. He looked at the slice of lasagna and bit his lips, thinking.

“What is it? Does it taste bad?” You frowned in concern, worrying that Yoongi didn’t like it.

“Damn.” He sighed and looked at the can of beer in his hand. “We should eat this with wine, not with this cheap beer.”

After that incident on Friday, you come to realize Yoongi can be even more protective than he usually is. He knocked on your door the next morning, letting you know that he was planning to drop you off at your work. He called you fifteen minutes before your clock out time, letting you know that he was waiting in front of your workplace. And he checked in a couple of times a day, for a few days.

You rejected his offer at first, deciding you would bother his work, especially on weekdays, but he was persistent and you just couldn’t dare deny him. Besides, you do feel safer around him. You love how he always asks you about your day. You love how he tells you about his day. You love how he curses with you whenever you tell him about an annoying customer you had at the store. You love how he casually picks a blanket from the back seat (which he keeps in his car for you but he always denies it) and drapes it over your lap when you wear a skirt. You love how he strokes your head when you’re drowsy until you fall asleep. You love how his car smelled, a musky scent with a hint of tobacco, a smell that whispers Yoongi whenever you take a breath.

Yes, Yoongi does smoke an occasional cigarette. You never noticed it until you found a pack of cigarettes in the glovebox and you asked him about it. He never smokes in front of you, or even in front of his friends. He only smokes when he’s alone or when he’s stressed about work. He’s been trying to stop completely for a few months now, so one day, when you jokingly said to him that you want to try a cigarette just once, he glared at you and snatched the cigarettes away from your sight.

You’ve never been a fan of smokers, but when you imagine a cigarette tucked between his long fingers, you begin to sway. He’ll look good, hell, he’ll look hot as fuck.

Of course you’d love it more if his fingers tucked in your own, intertwined with your fingers, but that’s a different story.

It’s Wednesday and again you’re back inside his car. You watch the passing street scene as you listen to Yoongi ramble about his brother. The weather is nice; it’s cloudy but you still see sunshine seeping through the clouds, but it’s still too chilly for short sleeves. You snuggle into your black cardigan to stay warm. Well, technically once upon a time, it belonged to him. He loaned it to you one day and you refuse to return it.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he looks at you worriedly.

You turn to him and give him a smile. “I’m fine, I just feel cold.”

He turns the temperature up and looks at the rearview mirror. “I don’t know if you do it just so you mess with me, I told you to bring a thicker jacket, didn’t I?” he sighs. “Just take my jacket then-”

“I’m fine, geez.” You giggle as you hit his shoulder lightly. “You should worry about yourself, Yoon.”

“Fine.” He pulls to the curb in front of the campus main quad and sets the car’s parking brake. “I’ll pick you up at four?”

You nod as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “I can go home by myself you know.”

“No can do, my lady,” he grins and ruffles your hair.

You get out from the car before he can even see your reddening face. “I’m going. Thank you for the ride.”

And he drives away, leaving you with a heavy heart. Truthfully, you don’t have class today and you feel bad for lying to him. Today you’re going to do the job Rosé got for you last week, but you don’t want Yoongi to know about it. You’re sure he will give you an earful or maybe try to give you his money to stop you from working. And you don’t want that.

After you wait for a few minutes, making sure that Yoongi is long gone, you walk to the nearest bus stop, heading to an antique shop uptown. Last night, someone sent you a message by the name Jiho and told you everything you should know about the job. Basically, the task is simply to pick up a package of antique jewelry from the shop and deliver it to him on time. That’s it.

Of course you’re suspicious about it, but again, you check the shop and it does seem to be a genuine shop. So for now, you decided that it’s safe.

It doesn’t take too long for the bus to arrive at your destination stop, and the shop is just around the corner. The shop is small. The front door is just some old wood painted brown and the windows are full of antique stickers and pictures. Through some clear spots in the windows, you see some furniture lining the walls and decorations arranged nicely on tables. You push the door open, causing the bell to ring. The air inside the shop is dusty; the owner hasn’t turned the lights on, so you can clearly see the dust flying on the sunbeams.

A grayed-hair man pops out from a door in the back. He studies you from head to toe skeptically. “May I help you?” His tone is cold and you can’t help but feel a little intimidated.

You clear your throat, then manage, “yes, I’m Y/N, I’m here to pick a package for Jiho.”

His expression relaxes as he smiles. “Oh, you’re here for Jiho. Wait a minute.” The man returns to the back room, and comes back again with a velvet box that would fit in the palm of your hand. He opens the box and turns it to show you. “So this is the locket. Pretty, right?”

You look carefully at the green locket in front of you. It’s pretty big for a usual locket, more like the size of a pocket-watch. The locket is shaped like an egg, with  a tosca green paint on the base, and gold patterns encircling the locket above. The pattern is indeed beautiful and intricate, it’s like you usually see in a Chinese museum. You want to touch it but it looks so fragile that you’re afraid to break it. Maybe it’s better for you to just leave it in the box. “Right. So I’ll just be on my way then.” You close the box carefully and put it inside your backpack.

“Wait, did you say your name is Y/N?” the man calls out to you, stopping you just before you exit the door.

You tilt your head in confusion, “yes, I’m Y/N. Is there something wrong?”

He walks closer to you, eyes scanning you closely, thinking. “Are-are you Hyun’s daughter?”

With the mention of your father’s name, you freeze. “Do you know my father?”

The man smiles. “Of course! He was my friend. That’s why you look so familiar, you look just like your mother! Your mother’s name is Yeri, right?” The smile fades as he sighs. “I just can’t believe what happened with them. It’s just so unfortunate.”

You bite your lips nervously, the accident that took your parents isn’t something you’d want to remember. It was just tragic and unpredictable, and you were too young to accept the fact that you’d never see your parents ever again. “Yes. It was so sudden.”

“You know, your father’s stuff is still here, I’ll get it for you if you want.”

You tilt your head in confusion, what stuff? “I’d love to. But I need to deliver this first. Maybe next time I’ll visit you again?”

“Oh right, of course. You should go. It’ll take me awhile for me to find it anyway. I’ll make sure to find it before you come back again.” He waves you away and smiles.

Why is my father’s stuff in that antique store?

You walk to the bus station, arriving just at the right moment when the bus pulls up. Luckily the bus is almost empty, so you take an empty seat near the window and your mind begins to wander. It’s been a long time since you talked about your parents, not that you ever want to talk about them. And to be honest, you’d rather forget about them, if possible.

They were too busy for you when you were a kid. You spent almost all of your time alone, eating leftovers or buying takeout with any money they left for you on the refrigerator. You barely saw them each day, either they worked late or went to work so early. So it’s fair to say that you didn’t have a nice childhood.

That doesn’t mean you hate them. You knew they loved you. You knew they always snuck into your room in the middle of the night to watch you sleep and kiss you. You knew how they saved your letters and drawings you made in school, hanging them in their room and or in the kitchen. But still, you were just a child and the only thing you wanted was their attention.

So when they came home in the afternoon on the day before your tenth birthday, you were ecstatic. When they promised you that they would take you on a trip the next day, you were over the moon. Only to be woken up the next day by your grandparents, who said that your parents died in a car accident. At that time, the concept of death was very vague for you. You thought that your parents broke their promise and ran away, leaving you alone. You were more disappointed than sad. What they did so early on that morning is still a mystery for you. But the only thing you knew was you’d never see your parents ever again.

And everything went in a flash. You followed your grandparents to the countryside, leaving your childhood house. Leaving all of your memories with your parents. Leaving every bit of evidence that your parents loved you.

Your grandparents fit in your life immediately. They showered you with love and attention that you’d never had. They fed you homemade meals that you’d never eaten. They still can’t fill the empty spot in your heart, but at least, you feel loved. They always make sure that you don’t feel lonely and sad, especially on your birthday.

You tap your vibrating phone and put it to your ear. “Hello, granny!”

“Happy birthday, sweetie. How are you?” You hear a rustle on the other end. “Hey, come here and speak with Y/N!”

You smile as you hear your grandfather grunt. “Hey grandpa! I’m fine and healthy. How are you both? How’s grandpa’s back?”

“He’s fine. We finally hired a part-timer to help us. You know that kid Beomgyu from the red house around the corner? He has been a great help.”

“I remember him. I’m glad that you can take some breaks. Grandpa, please don’t scold him much, okay?” You giggle, remembering the little boy you used to babysit back then.

Grandfather snorts. “He works well, even better than you! So don’t you worry about us. Are you eating well? How’s your studying?”

“I’m fine!! Everything is going well here, so I’d say the same to you: don’t worry about me. And of course he works well, he is getting paid after all!”

He laughs, “yes that might be true. Hear that? She’s fine! Your grandma here is so worried about you.”

“Of course I’d worry, she’s a little girl living alone in a big city, how couldn’t I be worried?” she whines. “I’m so glad that you’re fine, Y/N. Just please come home for holidays or anything, we miss you and we’re not getting younger. I want to see you again at least once before I die…”

“Granny!” you let a loud cry, and clear your throat immediately after realizing that you’re still in a bus. “You’ll live until a hundred years, but yes, I’ll try to find  time to come home. I’m still on the bus now, can I talk to you later?”

“Ah right, take care sweetie! Come home soon!”

“Love you!” You hang up the phone and put it inside your pocket.

You look at the window beside you and see your reflection. “You look just like your mother!”

You do look like your mother; the differences are that you have messy hair, dark bags under your eyes, some pimples on your cheeks, rather than a grown, elegant woman like your mother. Even if she was not using any makeup, she still glowed. She was the woman that you’d wanted to be as when you grow up. Instead, you grew up without caring about your appearance that much. The only thing that you use is just a lip tint and maybe a compact for some occasions.

You take a deep breath, hoping the thought of your parents would vanish into the air, as you rise from the seat and walk to the door. There’s no need for you to be sad about them, they won’t come back.

Just as you step your foot onto the sidewalk, suddenly a rush of wind flows right to you, making you pull your cardigan a little tighter, a reminder that you’re not alone.

And maybe, just for today, you’ll let them wander in your thoughts for a little longer. Today is a special day, after all.

Yoongi throws his head back and sighs. His eyes fall again on the screen in front of him. The footage has been playing for a couple of days, sabotaging his work output on a weekday. It’s not that he doesn’t have anything to do at work, but you just keep appearing inside his head. That’s why at least, he needs to finish this first.

He found that the man who harassed you before has followed you for almost a year, he suspects. The man, whose name he finally knew after investigating it further, Jaebum, also works in the store near your apartment that you usually visit. A year… how come you didn’t realize his presence?

“So you have found the man, Hyung?” Jimin asks as he pops his head in Yoongi’s cubicle.

“Yes, I have. But I still don’t know why he did it.” Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

Hoseok rises from his seat and lets out a loud noise as he stretches. “Isn’t obsession the usual motive?”

Yoongi shrugs and closes the footage on his screen. “Yes, maybe? I just have a bad feeling about him.”

“Aren’t all stalkers worth bad feelings?” Jimin raises one of his eyebrows. “What are you going to do with the footage though?”

Yoongi unplugs the USB from his computer. “I’ll give it to Y/N, I think?”

Hoseok walks over to him, crooking one eyebrow at him. “Who-whoa. Wouldn’t it make Y/N terrified?” When Yoongi doesn’t answer further, Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Yo-You want her to be afraid! But why?”

Yoongi bites his lips and looks at the USB in his hand, then curls his fingers around it, gripping it tightly. “She is so careless! I just want her to be more careful!”

Hoseok eyes Yoongi in silence, thinking. After a bit, he opens his mouth. “You want her to run to you… you want her to ask for your help, don’t you?”

Yoongi again doesn’t answer, only turns his head to face Hoseok.

That makes a smile fall on Hoseok’s face immediately. “You’ve changed, Hyung.”

The sudden charge makes Yoongi’s cheeks turn red and he turns his gaze away. “Shut up. And you should stop doing this psychological-thing to me, dumbass.”

“I’d never stop, besides, I’m studying you, Hyung. I ju-”

“Hyung! Yoongi-Hyung!!” Jungkook opens the door harshly and yells, interrupting the talk. He rushes up to Yoongi and takes a deep breath. “Remember your neighbor? Y/N?”

Jimin hits the younger man’s shoulder lightly. “Of course, he does! We just talked about her earlier! You should see Yoongi-hyung’s face! He just-”

“She’s here! She’s in The Company!”

“What? What do you mean she’s here?” Jimin tilts his head in bewilderment.

Hoseok squints in confusion. “I know you have something special with this girl, but isn’t it too much if you tell her where you work?”

Yoongi frowns. “Are you crazy? I never told her where I work!”

“How do you think she knows, then?” Jimin’s eyes widen. “Don’t tell me she’s a spy! That all those gullible things she did were all an act. Oh my God, she’s damn good, isn’t she? I ca-”

“That’s not what I meant!” Jungkook pouts and looks at Yoongi’s face with a serious face. “Y/N.. She’s in the investigation room right now.”

Yoongi yanks open the door to the observation room and rushes in, followed by his three friends behind him. His eyes fall immediately on the big glass window giving a view to the investigation room, where you sit.

“What the hell?” Taemin screws up his face at the men. “What are you guys doing here?”

Jimin steps in and smiles sheepishly. “Eh... We got some information that you got Y/N, so here we are.”

Taemin folds his hands over his chest. “What? How do you know her?”

“She is Yoongi-hyung’s girlfri- no, I mean friend.” Jimin whispers.

“What? I didn’t know you have a girlfriend! I tho-”

“Why is she here?” Yoongi interrupts, his eyes are still on you, eyebrows frowning in worry. You look so terrified and confused looking at the man in the suit sitting in front of you, and all that Yoongi can think about is how to drag you out from there.

Taemin clears his throat. “Well, our team has been following some guys who stole museum things and sold them in the black market. And that pretty lady over there somehow had a Chinese locket that was stolen in Beijing a month ago. Apparently, she was told to pick it up and deliver it to another buyer.”

Yoongi turns to look at him in disbelief. “That can’t be true! She would never do something like that. Y/N... She’s just a normal girl...”

“Of course we know.” Taemin smiles. “She didn’t even know about the value of the locket, just casually putting the two hundred million won locket in her backpack. The man we suspected before paid her some money and she thought that it’s just a freelance-part-time job. Don’t worry. We’re only talking to her as a witness in this case.”

Yoongi sighs in relief. His mind is in chaos right now. Why does she keep looking for more money? How much does she need anyway? What does she do with the money?

The man inside the investigation room rises and walks to the door. When he enters the command room he is confused by the sudden crowd. “Why are you guys here?”

Jungkook tugs Minho aside and whispers in his ear. “She is Yoongi’s girlfriend…”

Minho’s eyes widen and he chuckles. “Seriously guys, your team’s got some troublesome women.”

Jungkook pouts and his cheeks flush. Jimin looks away from Minho, hiding his expression and Hoseok just shrugs casually. No one wants to complain or explain any further when all of them know that they are always involved in weird women.

“Oh, and by the way, Jungkook, do you never have any plan to take the forensic girl on a date? We’ve kinda got a bet going here with Taemin and Sehun about when you’ll date her. I thought highly of you and I’m going to lose some money!” Minho grunts, “so, please. Take her on a date soon.…”

Taemin looks at Minho immediately, “Hyung! That’s like cheating!”

“Is she done? Can I take her home?” Yoongi asks as he walks closer to Minho.

“Yeah. You can take her.” Minho points to a basket with all of your stuff. “Oh, I think it’s best for her not to use the money. She shouldn’t be an accomplice.”

Yoongi nods and silently gathers your bag and phone. As he stands in front of the door, he sighs again. With his hand tightly gripping your bag, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure.

Finally, his free hand finds the doorknob and opens it slowly. And his eyes met with your confused eyes immediately.

“Yoongi? Wh-why are you here?” you stutter.

“I work here. Let’s just go home.” He looks at you coldly and leaves the room, before making sure you follow along with him.

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to be mad at you, he wants to know what the hell happened and why. He wants to know everything about you.

It’s maddening.

And it’s hurting him.

All this time, the only thing he wanted is just to know you better, and by better he means everything. Like your lunch menu, or your childhood, and even your dreams. He tries hard to make it happen, but he doesn’t understand why you keep it all to yourself.

You make him confused.

He doesn’t even know what’s wrong with him, the only thing he knows is that his heart skipped a beat when he saw you for the first time, hugging your deceased microwave. The only thing he knows is that his eyes have been drawn to you ever since that day. The only thing he knows is that he wants to be with you, for as long as he can.

And just like Hoseok said before: yes, Yoongi wants you to ask for his help, to run into him, to take his hands, and to open your heart. And maybe that footage was a stupid and selfish move of him. Or maybe he’s just that desperate.

He wants to be the one to make you happy, he wants to be the one who makes you smile widely. If people want to label it as selfish, doesn’t that mean that every love is also selfish itself?

“---Yoongi… please say something…” You call out to him after both of you enter his apartment. Yoongi hasn’t talked at all on the drive home from the big building where he works. And it makes you uneasy. Even if Yoongi talked so much before, you still can’t understand him completely. And now he is silent? It doesn’t make it any easier.

Yoongi slams your backpack on his couch. Your keys jangle in some pocket. “What do you want me to say?”

You gulp at his cold remark, stepping back away from him. “I- I’m sorry. I jus-” you stutter.

“You’re lucky that you were just taken as a witness. But what if they take you to prison?” he hisses.

“I-I know.. I--”

But Yoongi has lost all his patience. He’s tired of this situation. He is tired of guessing your thoughts and your actions. “What were you going to do with the money?”

You grip your shirt tighter, eyes looking at the floor, already wet with tears. “You know my answer, rent, food, anything for living…”

“Don’t lie to me.” He steps forward, and you step backward without thinking. Your back bumps into the windowsill. You look away to avoid the intensity of his eyes. “I know approximately how much the rent is on your apartment, and have an idea of your living costs. I know that even with just one job you can survive…”

“I--”

“There’s no need for you to work to death if you just do it for a living. Why do you keep needing money to the point you work at such a suspicious job?”

Your hands tremble and with your eyes clouded with tears, you can’t think properly. You pinch your arm hard, to stop you spilling your deepest secret. “My-My grandparents are sick…”

Yoongi looks at you carefully and walks to the couch. “Is that so?” He pulls his phone out from his pocket and unlocks it. “Maybe I should just call to check on them. Also, I should thank them for the lasagna last week--”

“NO!” you yell as you grip his arm tightly. “Ple-Please don’t…”

“Then why do you keep lying to me?” His face softens as he looks at your pale face. He gently removes your hand from his arm and holds your hand. His other hand moves to your face to swipe your tears carefully. “I just want to help you Y/N. Will you let me?”

And with that last sentence, you take all of your courage to look into his eyes. His charming eyes now show sadness and disappointment. His gummy smile is now replaced with a tired smile that completed his overall look: a look that shows you how stupid you are. A look that shows how sincere he is. The look of the man that you keep pushing away unconsciously. The look that will make you regret for the rest of your life if you don’t speak up now, if you don’t tell him anything.

And it aches inside you.

The pain suffocates you each time you feel the tears roll down your cheeks.

“Y/N?” he calls you sweetly, eyebrows creased in worry.

And with that voice, you let your head fall onto his chest. You let your silent crying turn into loud sobs as your hands cling to him for dear life. “Hel-help me…” you mutter softly.

Yoongi is stunned as he sees you break apart on his chest. The way you keep your pain and problems all to yourself must be killing you by inches, and yet you are always smiling and doing your best. He puts his arms around you and hugs you tightly, letting you calm down in his embrace. He doesn’t care if he will be hugging you for hours, the only thing that is important for him is that you can at least lessen your burden by letting him carry it together with you.

The only thing he wants you to know is that when your tears dry out and your body is worn out, he will be there for you, with you, the first time you open your eyes.

After you calmed down and are seated on the couch, Yoongi hands you a cup of warm water with a little bit of honey. Well, he doesn’t have anything much in his apartment. With just one look, people who walk into this apartment will know that this apartment is just for him: full white with not a sign of hospitality or even a decoration. It’s actually better than before. After you met him and became his regular guest, slowly he began to stock the things you’d usually enjoy. He just does it subconsciously.

Honey, beer, and sausages.

The three things for your usual moods. Honey when you’re tired, beer when you’re excited, and sausages when you’re too busy to remember to eat.

He remembers how once you knocked on his door in the middle of the night with an empty cup in your hands and a tear welling on the corner of your eye, asking for a glass of warm water. You were writing your papers that were due in the morning and when you wanted to boil water, the pot was broken. (He mentally noted to buy you one.) And while both of you waited for the water to boil, your eyes searched for something in his kitchen, a bottle of honey. Which of course, he didn’t have. He has some now.

Back then, the stress was too much for you. The accumulated fatigue made you very sensitive. So, when he saw your gathered tears, Yoongi grabbed his jacket and wallet and ran outside, only to walk in five minutes later with a bottle of honey and an assortment of any food that he could find at midnight.

At the time, he questioned himself as to why he moved his body faster when it’s about you, but he found the answer right away when you looked at the stuff he bought. Your smile and his rapid heartbeat, how your smile magically sent an unknown wave to trigger his heart rate.

He realized how he was already head over heels about you.

You sip the honeyed water slowly until it’s empty. “You want more?” Yoongi asks as he takes the glass from your hand.

You shake your head. “No, thank you.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you before.” Yoongi sits on the couch beside you, taking your hands in his, his thumbs drawing soothing circles on your skin, spreading more warmth to your body. “I know it’s hard for you, and I shouldn’t force you to talk. I’m sorry. You can tell me anytime you are ready to trust me.” He brings your hands close to his lips and plants a feathery kiss.

“I trust you, Yoongi.” You take a deep breath. “I just never tell anyone about this…”

And so you tell him.

How three years ago you met Jaebum when you were working in the convenience store. How he was so kind and thoughtful to you, helping you study and helping you to adapt in the city. How you trusted him and liked him. How he dragged you to the bar one day and forced you to drink unknown and bitter drinks. How you woke up naked in a hotel room with him. How you didn’t remember anything about that night. How he told you that he had your sextape and blackmailed you. How you have to send him two million won every month for two years.

Yoongi listens to your story carefully, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He is furious. He wants to track that bastard and kick him in his nuts and other places too, then after a few bruises and maybe some fractures, he will send him to the police. But instead, his grips on your hands tighten and he pulls you into his chest.

“It’s okay now, I’ll take care of it.” Yoongi whispers as he strokes your back calmingly. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

Again, you shake your head and put your arms around him, feeling safer than ever. “I don’t. I have you now, don’t I?”

Yoongi smiles and kisses the top of your head lovingly. “You have had me since day one, little bug.”

You look up to see his face, his smile widens and his cheeks turn pinkish, the same shades that’s on your cheeks. “I--”

“I almost forgot...” Yoongi interrupts, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and he inches forward to kiss your forehead gently. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

You don’t believe how relieved you are after hearing those words now. Those words were the one you longed ever since your tenth birthday. Those words were the reminder that you’re left alone in this world, how you’re not a complete person. Now, those words don’t remind you of how lonely you are, but instead, those words fill the empty spot in your heart perfectly and make you warm. Yes, Yoongi does it for you.

After you tell Yoongi about Jaebum, Yoongi calls his friend in the police immediately. Luckily after he explained to the police and gave them the footage of Jaebum following you, Jaebum will be processed. Apparently, he has a prior crime before so the process goes pretty smoothly. But the one thing that Yoongi concerns is that you are needed to be a witness. He’s worried that you’ll meet that bastard again.

“For now, I ask them so you won’t see him, but it might be difficult when it goes to trial.” Yoongi takes your cold hand in his, trying to warm it a little as both of you step inside the police office. “Are you okay?”

You have never been inside this police office before. Two years ago, when Jaebum first blackmailed you, you gathered all of your courage to report him in this exact building. Back then, you were so hesitant and didn’t have any evidence, only ended with you walking back home without even stepping into the building, but thanks to Yoongi, at least, you can sue Jaebum for stalking and blackmailing now. You take a deep breath and tighten your hand, “but then it’ll be over, right? He’ll be in prison?”

Yoongi smiles and pulls you into a hug. “Yes. You're a strong woman, I believe you’ll be okay. But promise you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable with this, okay?”

“What if he’s already posted it on the internet? What if the video-”

He silences you as he pinches your cheeks. “I’ll take it down. I’ll search every part on the net and delete it. Don’t worry about it.”

You raise one of your eyebrows. “You can?”

Yoongi scoffs and smiles widely. He tugs your hand to walk again behind him. “Of course. Who do you think I am? Besides, I don’t think Jaebum actually has the video, it might be just a fraud.”

“Really?”

His feet stop in front of a blue glass door, what it seems to be the police’s office, and he knocks on the door. “Yes, little bug. Either way, I’ll take care of it.” Yoongi ruffles your hair as he looks into your eyes sweetly, sending you a weird sensation on your chest.

The door suddenly opens before you reply anything, and a tall man in a blue suit walks outside to you. His sharp eyes turn to look at Yoongi and at you. “Are you Miss Y/N?” You nod, hands still clenching Yoongi’s sleeve. The man clears his throat and hides his smile immediately. “I’m Jinyoung, and I’m Yoongi’s friend. I’ll need you to answer some questions, please follow me.”

You look again at Yoongi who gives a reassuring smile, and walk with Jinyoung to the room on your left.

Yoongi on the other hand walks freely in the office to the interrogation room. His eyes dart to Jaebum who’s talking to a police officer, who shows him some footage on the laptop.

Noticing a new presence, Jaebum looks up and when he sees Yoongi, his eyebrows frowning immediately. “You…”

“Nice to see you again.” Yoongi smirks. “It’s really nice to see you handcuffed like this.”

“You jerk. Just because I touched that woman you sue me with this nonsense?” Jaebum’s face reddened as he tries to grab Yoongi. “I’ve never followed her!”

Yoongi raises one of his eyebrows and turns to Jackson, the police officer. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Jackson shrugs, “Right? He denies every charge except the fraud thing. He has already confessed about the sextape, which he lied about.” He slams the table in front of him. “Just give up! We have all of the evidence.”

Jaebum takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair desperately, his eyes start to water. “I told you, I didn’t follow her! I work every night, you know that I need money!”

Yoongi steps closer, “a month ago, you followed Y/N to her floor at night, I saw you in the hall.”

“What? I only saw her in the convenience store with you. Sure I followed her for a little while that day, but I have never followed her to her apartment!”

“That’s not what I meant. The next day after you saw her, where were you?”

“Like I said, I was working! You can ask my boss and my co-worker for that matter.” He sighs, his right hand moves to the water bottle in front of him and he gulps it down. “And when I saw her at her workplace, it was just pure coincidence. Please believe me.”

Yoongi shares a look at Jackson and nods. They walk quickly outside and head to the empty room beside the interrogation room with the laptop. “I don’t think he is lying. What should we do?” Jackson asks as he scratches his head.

Yoongi looks again at the footage. “It should be him. If not, who else?” He bites his lips as he looks carefully at the screen. His eyes widen as he realizes something.

The man who followed you every day lights his cigarette with his left hand. He also uses the phone with his left hand. There’s no way… “This guy is left-handed?”

Jackson peeks to the screen. “What? But Jaebum is right-handed. Then who is he?”

This is bad. I thought it was the same man. Does this mean that another man is following her? But who is he?

His thoughts start accumulating and bothering his mind. To think that you are still in danger makes him anxious and sick. “Jackson-ah, just to make sure, please ask him again. I’ll call you later.” Yoongi leaves the room hurriedly, ignoring the call from his friend.

He has to see you.

Who is that guy? What does he want from you?

“Yoongi? Why do you look so pale?” You raise your eyebrow as you clutch a can of apple juice in front of a vending machine. “Did something happen?”

He looks at your brown eyes, the ones that look at him with such care and trust, which looks a little lost and confused. He remembers how his mission in Hawaii became, in many ways, the turning point of his life. Regrets, disappointment, sadness, fear, all because he couldn’t control everything: his mind, his mission, and his emotion. Everything was unpredictable. Everything went exactly opposite to his plan.

Just like this time.

And now it is even worse.

Why does this happen to a woman he adores the most? Why does this happen to a woman that he wants to protect? Why does this happen to a woman who has just opened her heart for him?

His hands turn into fists. This is so unfair…

“.... Yoongi?” you call softly.

And again, even in his most chaotic mind, your voice still stands out. Your warmth is his finish line, a way out from the labyrinth inside his head, a ray of sunshine that shows him the path. No matter how messy his way and how long he walks, it is you that he always seeks.

Subconsciously, his hands reach out to you and pull you into his chest. His breaths even out in your warmth. Your racing heart calms his heart. It’s like everything is falling into their right places.

Your tiny hands wrap around his back. “What’s with the sudden hug? Did you think I’m gone missing or something?” you smile and let out a small laugh.

Why can you still smile like this?

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I can do it.” You pat his back softly. “It’s not like we can control and manipulate the process right?”

Don’t you ever feel anxious? Don’t you ever feel afraid?

“Isn’t that what you’re thinking? That trial?”

But Yoongi doesn’t answer. He just hugs you tighter, doesn’t care that both of you are still standing in the hallway of a police office. Doesn’t care that it can be seen as an inappropriate display of affection. He needs it. And you let him, even if it makes it hard for you to breathe. It’s just right.

Maybe you are just the right answer. Maybe you are the help that he always needed. Maybe you are the balm to soothe his troubled mind. Maybe it’s okay not overthinking it.

Maybe he needs you more than he knows, just as much as you need him.

And one thing he’s sure of for now. That you’re here with him, and he won’t let bad things happen to you.

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[kimnjss]

capital h | pjm + jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader x jimin ⇢ genre: smut. ⇢ word count: 7.6K ⇢ theme: established relationship | threesome.  ⇢ rating: explicit. ⇢ warnings: cursing, dirty talk, slight nipple play, oral (f/m receiving), threesome, semi-public fingering, humiliation kink(?), slight dom!jimin, slight switch!jungkook, slight sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, unsafe sex (wrap it up, loves!). a hint of jikook at the end. ⇢ summary: after learning of the activities your boyfriend and his best friend use to partake in, you can’t help but what to be apart of them. everyone always says, two is better than one, right? ⇢ A/N: this has been in my drafts for about three months, lmao. finally, i finished it and posted it! im lowkey excited because this was a lot of fun to write, and i’ve never written anything like it so! alright, yeah... let me know what you think x.

Your damp locks laid sprawled against your boyfriend's muscular thigh. Warm fingers twisting the wet curls between his fingers. Movements slowed due to the toe-curling, orgasm-inducing, mind-blowing tub sex you just shared. The last thing you had wanted was to get out and brave the cold air, but laying here, wrapped in his sheet with nothing underneath, you didn't want to be anywhere else.

 Being in Jimin's arms was a rare occurrence these days, moments like this becoming cherished treasures that you looked forward to. Excitement was the easy way to describe how you felt when he and his six best friends were pulling up in front of your house, inviting you to spend their day off with them.

 Of course, it was all Jimin's doing, you wouldn't have met any of those guys if it wasn't for your chance meeting with the handsome dancer. They liked you enough, though. Each showed you that they accept your relationship in their own way.

 Seokjin, the oldest, had become something of a big brother to you; oftentimes taking your side on the rare occasion that you and Jimin argued. Never failed to give you insightful advice after the fact. Yoongi didn't really pay you any mind, but he thought you were cute and often times found himself cooing at you. You were closest to Hobi and Joon, becoming fast friends due to your like personalities and sense of humor. They thought you were hilarious, Jimin didn't see it.

 As for the two youngest... despite you dating his best friend, Taehyung didn't really show much interest in you, neither did Jungkook. Yet, Taehyung did put in the effort to make conversation and make you feel included, unlike the youngest male. You had been convinced that he didn't like you, until a few weeks ago when his blatant staring began.

 He'd be quick to look away whenever he knew he was caught, but he wasn't that sneaky. You never missed the cocky grin he'd try to hide or the knowing look he'd shoot in Taehyung's direction. There was definitely something up and it definitely involved you.

 “What do you think of Jungkook?” The question was falling from your lips and you had your never-ending thoughts and overthinking to blame. 

 Jimin let out a snort of a laugh. “Jungkook? My best friend, and teammate? The guy that's been like a brother to me for the past 7 years? I guess he's alright,” Sarcasm dripped from his words and you rolled your eyes, lifting your head from his lap.

 Your hand met his shoulder, gently pushing him back against the headboard. “I'm being serious. What do you think?”

 “So am I. He's like a brother to me, why?” He found this sudden interest in the maknae odd...? Especially for you. It was obvious that the two of you didn't really socialize, so why were you asking about him all of a sudden? “What do you think of him?” Jimin prompted when your answer didn't come fast enough.

 Taking a moment, you debated whether or not you should even bring this up. As he said, Jungkook was like a brother to him... what if calling out his weird behavior ended up rubbing Jimin in the wrong way and now you were without a boyfriend.

 Jimin wasn't the type for dramatics, though. Everything was comfortable with him, not many things reaching his 'serious business' radar, so this should be fine, right? Right. “He's fine...” You buffered, teeth chewing at your lower lip.

 Jimin pinned you with an expectant look, hated whenever you, or anyone, beat around the bush when there was obviously something on their mind. Taking this, you urged yourself to go on. “...I've just noticed like lately he's been... checking me out?” Mentally, you flinched, hoping the news wouldn't upset your boyfriend.

 His chest rumbled as he barked out a laugh, head cocked back as the sweet sounds left his plump lips. Pillow soft punches met his stomach as you tried to get him to focus. “I'm being serious, Jimin! He's always staring at me with that stupid face,”

 You imitated Jungkook's seemingly signature facial expression, eyebrows raised and tongue pushed into the inside of your cheek, eyes tracing over your boyfriend's body hungrily like Jungkook had done to you many times before. Another laugh left his lips at the sight of your face and you were scoffing, pushing him back again.

 “I don't know why this is funny to you. I just told you one of your friends has been mentally undressing me, you should be livid!” You were quick to silence the insecure thoughts that his lack of reaction had floating around your mind.

 It was no secret that Jimin was a jealous guy. What's his, is his... you were his! He should be enraged that some guy was looking at you like a piece of meat, he was the only one that was supposed to look at you like that. So why was he laughing?

 Seeing that you were obviously upset, Jimin was reaching for your arms, uncrossing them from your bare chest. His hands held loosely on your wrist as he pulled you toward him, landing a soft kiss to your lips. “I think it's funny because it's not a big deal. Me and Jungkook are boys, he's not gonna try anything with you.” He assured you, another kiss landing on your lips.

 “Okay, but, I heard him and Taehyung talking and-” You weren't even able to finish your sentence because he was sitting up, squinted eyes finding yours. “Taehyung was talking about you?”

 Oh, now he wanted to be jealous? Scoffing, you pushed him back against the headboard. “Yes.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes. “I was trying to tell you. Not only is Jungkook always checking me out, but I heard them talking about you and us... and something about an H?”

 Jimin's expression softened, eyebrows relaxing as his cheeks tinted a few shades light of red. “Oh.” Crooked teeth worried his lower lip as he reached a hand up to push his hair back on his forehead.

 “Oh? What does H stand for, Jimin?” Obviously, he knew exactly what they were talking about and it was making him... blush? “It's nothing.” He answered a bit too quickly. “It's something.” Your words chased his, a slight bite in your tone.

 His eyes widened. “What are you gonna get mad if I don't tell you?” Laughter laced his words, but it wasn't the 'Ha-ha so funny' type of laugh, it was a type of nervous laugh he let out when he felt like he dug himself in a hole.

 You were nodding your head simply, shoving the blanket from your waist. “Yup!” Hopping from the bed, you began searching the room for the jeans you had ditched the second you were entering his bedroom. Jimin was sitting up quickly, voice stopping your movements just as you got your jeans over your thighs. “Alright, alright! I'll tell you. Come sit back down,”

 A triumphant smirk spread across your lips, as you crossed the room back to his bed. You sunk back down onto the comfortable mattress, crossing your legs underneath your bum as you awaited his explanation.

 “First of all, this was before I met you so you can't hold this against me,” He prepped and you nodded your head, gesturing with your hand for him to go on. “A while ago... with my exes, or just like girls that hung around us... Jungkook and I would, you know...”

 You had pretty a good idea what he was alluding to, but you weren't the type to graciously take a hint. “No, I don't know... you would, what?” He was rolling his eyes at the smirk on your lips, hands pushing his hair back out of habit.

 “Share them, our girlfriends, the groupies... It was fun, you know? Capitol H doesn't stand for anything, it's literally what our bodies do,” He let out a short laugh and you picture the way an H looked. “...So I'd be the middle part?” You clarified, your words making Jimin's eyes snap up to you.

 “Who said...” His words trailed off, brows furrowing as he visibly went through the thoughts bubbling in his mind. You didn't blame him. Despite the occasional interesting position or location, you liked to keep it pretty vanilla.

 Well aware that Jimin was more experienced than you, you didn't want to disappoint. You always thought vanilla didn't technically mean boring... at least it didn't to you. But after hearing that he use to partake in regular threesomes you couldn't help but wonder what else the other girls he's been with let him do.

 Just the pure fact that you were considering this, putting yourself in the situation was enough to baffle your boyfriend, confuse him enough to convince him that you were just fucking with him. A laugh slipped past his lips as he shook his head. “Come on, Yn. You wouldn't be into that.”

 “How do you even know?”

 “Well, because I know you. It was a long time ago, Yn. They were just talking shit, you don't have to-” Annoyed, you were cutting him off.

 “I might want to. I could be into it, you don't know. Jungkook is cute and...”

 His face was twisting, and you were afraid you had said the wrong thing. Sure of it when the words left his lips. “Are you saying you want to fuck, Jungkook?” Thankfully, he didn't exactly look angry... just a little bit put off?

 A hand reached out for his, easily lacing your fingers together. “Listen, I know I'm not that... adventurous, when it comes to sex... but if it's something that you enjoyed doing or if you just want to, I'm just saying... I wouldn't be against it.” Your thumb soothes over the back of his hand and enjoys the smile that pushes onto his lips.

 His eyes soften again, staring up at you lovingly. The confusion of whether or not you had just admitted you were into his bandmate gone and forgotten. “I promise, I like the sex we have just fine, don't worry.” He was leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull your body into his.

 Four days passed since your conversation with Jimin. More and more time was spent around their dorm, soaking up as much time with him as you could before he was jetting off to his next schedule. Being around him all day, though, meant that you were around his friends all day too.

 It wasn't a big deal, these guys were cool. At least, most of them were. In the past days, Jungkook had become bold, to say the least. Not looking away when he's caught staring, instead of waiting for you to be the one to break. On top of that, it was like the kid never knew when to shut up, always coming up with a snarky comment or undermining you but at the same time calling you 'Noona' with that boyish grin of his.

 Jimin no doubt told him all about the talk that you two had if those boys were sharing girls... there was no way they weren't sharing secrets. You don't know what you knowing about their sexcapades did for him, but it clearly had gone to his head. It'd be best to just ignore him, you decided. No matter how undeniably attractive he was, there was nothing there for you. You didn't want him. Didn't need him, no matter the dampness that ensued whenever he smirked. And of course, you didn't ever notice the size of the bulge that constantly pushed against his pants. Was that boy always hard, or something!?

 Like right now, just walking across the lawn in search of the ball he had been playing with, but right there fighting against his swim trunks... a huge boner! You cursed the moment Jin suggested a pool party would be a fun way to spend the afternoon.

 It had sounded fun at the moment. Yoongi said he was going to barbecue and you were even more convinced when your boyfriend was making his way down the stairs shirtless in his swim shorts. The sexy one-word tattoo on full display, ripples of his abs seemed to glisten, the single trail of hair below his belly button disappearing underneath his waistband.

 Yeah, you'd definitely enjoy this afternoon. So sure of it, until you were catching sight of the man that followed him down the stairs. Jungkook, of course, who else could irk you just with their presence?

 A lot taller and more muscular than your lean boyfriend, black shorts hanging loosely on his hips, giving you a perfect view of the well-worked on V-line that acted a huge fucking arrow to his dick. Gentle lips found the top of your head, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. “You look pretty,” Jimin mumbled into your ear, and you grinned, leaning into his chest.

 Jimin was always very vocal when it came to the things that he liked to see. You showing some skin? Definitely at the top of his list. Took that into account when you picked out your swimsuit for this gathering; a red triangle string bikini, lacy black flowers decorating your breasts, and hips.

 It was obvious that Jimin thought you looked good, could tell with the lingering glances in your direction as you laid on your back trying to soak up some sun. What you didn't account for was the slight chance that his friends might think the same. And by friends, you meant Jungkook, of course.

 Poor kid couldn't take his eyes off of you, not even for a second. Which explains his constant need to get out of the pool and retrieve the ball that he kept failing to catch. The situation almost funny, if the sexy flex in his arms as he pulled his body out of the water didn't always catch your attention. If your eyes weren't automatically trailing over every ridge and bump of his muscles.

 He'd smirk when catching you, toss his long wet hair before slipping back into the water. Wouldn't even wait to see the annoyed roll of your eyes, not as it mattered – he had already caught you staring, more than once. Acting as if he didn't affect you was a waste. And to make matters worse, Jimin was always right there observing each and every one of your interactions with the kid, face giving nothing away.

 Not angry, or annoyed. Just watching, as if he was curious to see what you'd do. How you'd react. As if he had put this whole entire thing in motion earlier and was observing the aftermath. 

 By the time Yoongi was announcing dinner, your body was buzzing with annoyance. Or was it desire? Either way, you were about two seconds from ripping your hair at the roots. Jimin sat beside you, the first time he was within arms reach the entire evening. He grinned, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you close engulfing you with his sweet scent. 

 Stupidly, you found yourself relaxing in his arms. Head falling on his shoulder while a hand lifted to press against his stomach. He was warm but still a little wet from the pool. You felt the movement of his head but didn't bother with lifting your head to see who he was speaking too. Stupid, because seconds later the spot next to you was being taken up.

 Guess who.

 Of course, Jeon Jungkook was slipping into the space beside you, a cocky grin playing on his most likely soft lips. His eyes flickered over to Jimin's before he was dropping his focus back onto you.

 “We've got burgers and hot dogs, and Jin is coming out with the chicken,” Yoongi called out, stepping toward the table with a tray of meat in hand. The second the food was in reach, the boys were hurrying to load their plates.

 Like the ever so dotting boyfriend, Jimin loaded up your plate as he did his. Comfortable conversation surrounded the table, voices overlapping and thick strings of laughter falling from their lips. You weighed in where you could, beaming when you were able to make a few of them laugh along with you.

 It was fun. Talking to them, getting along. Despite the fact you had been dating Jimin for a while, conversations with most of his friends were surface level at most. It didn't really bother you, but it was a good feeling knowing that if needed, you could get along with these guys.

 “No, yeah... if you're into old-time movies, you should definitely check out...” Taehyung's words were fading into the background, your attention slipping from what he was saying and to the warm hand on your thigh. Jimin's. An unsuspecting smile on his lips when you looked up to catch his gaze. 

 Just barely catching the title of the movie Taehyung was referring to, you turned your attention back to him. “It's good? I should check it out.” He nodded, all at once losing interest in the conversation, Jin's story catching his ear.

 There was a mischievous glint in Jimin's eye as he spread your legs apart, tips of his fingers trailing up your bare thigh. His head tilting until his lips were able to reach the skin of your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses down the length.

 You felt your body melting into him. Ready to succumb to whatever he had in store for you, the tingle of anticipation rushing through your veins. A familiar heat spreading throughout your body, lips curling into your mouth as you waited. The press against your left side had your eyes snapping open, darting to the cool tattooed hand making it's way up to your thigh. Jungkook.

 His fingers inching up your thigh, closer and closer to your core while Jimin held your legs apart, fingers tight against your flesh. “If you don't like it, tell him to stop.” His words are hushed against your ear, and you're nodding quickly, hearing the sincerity in his voice. 

 Jungkook wastes no time, callused fingers finding your clit through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. He presses down, fingers moving in circles as your body jolts at the sudden friction. “She's sensitive,” He speaks as if he's taking notes rather than trying to hold a conversation. You hold your breath, legs spreading slightly. Jimin's lips fall from your skin, cheek resting against your shoulder so he can see.

 Never did you think you'd be the one to have such a penchant for something as risky as public foreplay, but here you were growing wetter by the second, the thought that either one of his friends could catch you with a simple turn of their heads. It had you unbelievably turned on, mixed with the fact that your boyfriend was watching you rather than doing it definitely added to it.

 Jungkook laughs beside you, but not at you. Delved in a conversation with Namjoon across the table as if his fingers weren't pushing your bottoms out of the way underneath the table. A long finger lazily traces over your wet folds. Jimin's chuckle covers the gasp that leaves your lips when Jungkook's fingers graze over your bare clit.

 Jin is smiling appreciatively in his direction at the support of his joke. You were going to get caught. The thought and the consequences weighing heavily on your mind, causing you to shift attempting to close your legs. “It's fine,” Jimin assures you with a whisper, strong hand holding your leg in place.

 The moment you're relaxing, Jungkook's hand is reaching down to grasp your other thigh. Easily lifting it to hook over his own, giving him total access to your throbbing pussy. It's not lost on you how hot it feels to be exposed like this, but you're not given any time to analyze what it means as soon as Jungkook traces his fingers over your entrance.

 The tips of his fingers take their time with gathering the wet arousal that had accumulated between your legs before they're moving back up to tease your tight hole. Teeth digging into your plump lip as the tips of his fingers slowly begin slipping into your core.

 Trying your damnedest to keep your face from giving away what was going on underneath the table. You force yourself to concentrate on the words coming from Namjoon's mind, although they're just words... not coherent enough to follow the actual story.

 Slowly, Jimin is reaching his thick fingers down between your legs, using his middle and index fingers to spread your lips further apart, giving him a better view. You gasp, Jungkook's fingers pumping shallowly in and out of you. 

 For a moment, your body stills, afraid you had been too loud just then. Calming when you realize none of them were looking in your direction, not even Jungkook who was the cause of all of this. No, he was seemingly wrapped in conversation with Taehyung, a teasing smirk on his lips that you guessed was meant for you.

 Jimin was the only one look at you, watching Jungkook's long fingers bury themselves deep inside of you. He's flexing them, curling and uncurling as the pad of his thumb fingers your needy clit. He's basically drooling at the sight, wet lazy kisses landing on your shoulder. His hand resting over his covered crotch, palming himself through the fabric. 

 A louder, desperate whimper is falling from your lips. This time catching the attention of Taehyung. Words coming to a halt as his eyes dart between the three of you, a wide smirk slipping onto his features. “Are you alright, Yn?” There's a teasing glint in his eye, letting you know he's not at all asking if you're alright. No, he knew exactly what was happening underneath the table and he was making it all of his business to tease you about it.

 Plastering a tight-lipped smile onto your lips, you muster all the strength you can to nod your head. “I'm fine,” There's a strain in your voice, giving him enough reason to pull a look of concern, his head tilting to the side.

 “Are you sure? You look a little flushed,” His brows furrow, topping off his fake worry and you're suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. The encounter is catching Namjoon's attention beside him, his gaze lifting to study your face. “Oh, yeah. You don't look so good.” He weighs in, actually looking worried about you.

 Jungkook takes this growing attention as an invitation to speed up the movement of his fingers. Hand tightening on your thigh, keeping you from snapping your legs shut. Two fingers plunging deep inside of you, tips brushing against the spongy spot inside of you. Jimin's domineering gaze watches your face, waiting for your response.

 However, it doesn't come. The thrusts of Jungkook's fingers, mixed with the relentless strokes of his thumb on your clit has a moan falling from your lips. It's loud and breathy, and definitely recognizable even if all attention wasn't on you. You see Jungkook's eyes widen from the corner of your eye, but he's being really careful about not looking directly at you.

 You do, actually, see him steal a glance in Jimin's direction... almost as if he's asking for guidance, but he's being ignored, Jimin's lust-filled eyes never leaving your face. “Take that kinky shit upstairs,” Yoongi speaks flatly, bored expression on his face as he stares at you.

 Jimin's hand is quick to reach between your legs, adjusting your bottoms as Jungkook withdraws his fingers from inside of you, pushing your thigh from his. You ignore the way your walls flutter at the sudden emptiness, snapping your legs shut as embarrassment reddens your cheeks and dampens your pussy.

 “Let's go.” There's no room for protest with the way he speaks, excusing himself from the table as he looks expectantly between you and Jungkook. The younger male is quick to stand, watching you as he pushes his glistening fingers into his mouth. Your heart pounds as he slowly sucks your juices from the digits.

 The other boys have turned their attention from you three, still, your body felt hot. Cheeks flushed and pussy pulsing with want. Need. You needed them, both of them. Need to have both of them on you, around you, inside you. With a breath, you're standing, following them into the house and up into Jimin's room.

 Jungkook shuts the bedroom door, flicking the lock as Jimin turns to look down at you. “You still not against this?” Eyes much softer now, gentle hands finding your hips in order to pull your body toward his. You're nodding without a second thought, want buzzing in your veins. No way were you backing out now.

 Despite the grin rapidly growing on his plush lips, Jimin was still asking: “Are you sure?” Your words chased his, hands reaching up to land on his jawline. “I'm sure,” Your lips found him, instantly being parted by their thickness. His tongue twists and tangles with yours, a single hand reaching to grasp your jaw, holding your head in place as he licks into your mouth.

 Suddenly, he's pulling back, soft eyes tinted with a dark desire. He's turning your head with the grip of his strong hand, your eyes finding Jungkook who had moved to stand directly behind you.

 Jungkook is quick to capture your lips with his. Soft lips tasting heavily of cherry, you kiss him back, body turning, melting into his as the erection between his legs brushes against your lower belly. He bites into your lower lip, tugging it slightly and pulling a whimper from his lips.

 You feel his smirk as his tongue slips past your parted lips, mapping out every inch of your mouth while his hands drop to your scarcely covered ass. Hips pushing back, involuntarily surrendering more of your ass to his. Jungkook's lips are falling from yours, hands sliding underneath the fabric of your bottoms to cup your bare ass.

 “Jungkook,” You gasp out when his hands squeeze down hard on your ass, grip pulling your body tight against his. With little to no effort, Jungkook is lifting your body off of the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He walks the two of you to the bed, laying your body onto the soft mattress.

 When he had moved was lost on you, Jimin now sitting comfortably on the chair adjacent to the bed. Hard cock straining against the fabric of his swim trunks, his hand resting over it as he watched you with his best friend.

 With your legs hanging loosely from his hips, Jungkook leans down to bury his head in the crook of your neck. Sucking wet hickeys into the skin while his large hands trail down the gentle curves of your body, fingers finding the tight bows on either side of your hips. Your breaths come out labored, rapidly losing yourself in the way he's tonguing at your skin, teeth grazing its sensitivity.

 “Fuck,” He groans, hips pushing into yours. The sound of his voice nearly startling you, with how quiet he has been since the start of all this. “I never thought I'd have a chance to have you like this,” He sighs softly against your skin. Only a second was spared for you to wonder just how often he thought about having you like this. If Jimin knew.

 Jungkook's hands were quickly traveling up your back, a single tug on the string of your bikini had it loosening around your chest. He wastes no time with discarding it, tossing it somewhere behind him before leaning down. Hot tongue connecting with your hardened bud, rolling it around in his mouth. A soft moan slips past your lips, head falling back just enough to catch sight of Jimin.

 Teeth worrying his plush lips, a hand-dipped into the front of his shorts as he watches you. Hooded eyes find yours and you swear you see his cock twitch in his hand. Your fingers tangled in Jungkook's hair, holding his head against your chest as he grinds his covered cock against the flimsy material of your bathing suit.

 Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his closer as you lift your hips. Jimin's groan mixes with the sound of yours, Jungkook's head lifting only for a moment to catch sight of his older friend, only to drop back down mouth latching onto your neglected nipple.

 “Make her cum, Kook,” Jimin speaks hastily growing impatient with how slow Jungkook was being. How he seemed to be taking his time, reveling in each moment he had with you. Allowing himself to memorize every inch of your body while he had the chance.

 The sight demand has Jungkook's body jumping to action, teeth grazing over your nipple as his hand travels down the front of your body dipping into your bottoms and covering your pussy without pause.

 Your legs squirm while his fingers toy with your bundle of nerves a wet trail of kisses, creating a line from your breasts down the middle of your body. You're sprawled out beneath him, legs wide as you wait for what you know is coming. It's not long before his head is between your legs, looking up at you with the sexiest pout and you feel as though you could cum at the sight.

 “You're soaked,” His head is tilting slightly, licking along your slit in one click motion and you're moaning out. “I've always wondered the sounds you'd make having your cute little pussy eaten.” His thumb is covering your clit, stroking it gently as your core flutters, from the growing smirk on his face, it's safe to say he noticed.

 Strong hands holding your legs apart, Jungkook lunges forward to press his soft lips against your folds. He sucks kisses against your damp lips, tongue stroking against them slowly. You're whimpering, can feel your pussy dripping as you reach down to tangle your fingers in his soft locks.

 He's quick with the up-down movement of his tongue against your slick pussy lips, tracing over each ridge and cure but avoiding that one spot he's sue would have you falling apart instantly. Instead, kept his thumb pressed against it still, motionless.

 Your hips lift, rocking into his face while his tongue lowers to tease your wanting entrance. Large hands curling around your hips to grasp the cure of your ass, pulling your body tighter against his mouth. “Fuck, Jungkook!” The shout falling from your lips as he ups his speed, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit.

 Jimin's breathy groan sounds from behind you, the familiar fap of his hand working against his hardened cock filling your ears and egging you on. His thumb slowly plays with the head, spreading the precum leaking from it. Having him watch you, turned on by the sight of you moaning his friend's name, turned on enough that he was jerking himself off at the sight. It made you feel hot, an unexplainable rush of desire coursing through your veins.

 Jungkook is pulling his tongue from inside of you it quickly being replaced with two long fingers. He pushes all the way to the knuckle, curling them to press deep inside of you. You feel the coil in your stomach slowly tighten as he continues his movements, your orgasm approaching.

 A silent scream leaves your lips the moment his lips are wrapping around your neglected clit, sucking softly as his tongue teases it. Hips lifting and rolling, body convulsing as your orgasm begins to wash over you. Jungkook's grip tightens around your shaking thighs, holding your legs in place as he pushes another finger inside of you.

 His lips suck down harder, head tilting to the side to twist your clit along with it. That paired with the new stretch of his added finger have you cumming hard all at once. His name leaves your lips in a desperate mewl, grip tightening in his hair as your back arches off the bed.

 Jungkook's pulling his fingers from your body, letting up on the suction around your clit relaxing into gentle licks of his tongue. His strong hands cover your ass, holding your body against his mouth as you ride out your orgasm. He laps up every bit of your wet cum, ignoring the sensitive twitch of your legs until he's finished. Until he's satisfied and sitting upon his knees, licking your arousal from his lips.

 He's staring at you with so much want, lust, lips slightly swollen and very red. His hair sticks up messily around his head from the grip of your fingers, chest heaving with heavy breath as he watches you.

 Jimin stands from his position behind you, hands tugging his shorts the rest of the way down his legs before he's taking slow strides in your direction. With much effort, you're lifting your body until you're seated. He grins down at you, a hand wrapped around his length while the other reaches for the nape of your neck.

 “I want you to suck me off while Jungkookie fucks you open, how's that sound?” He's wearing such a sweet smile on his face, a direct contradiction to the words that fall from his lips and the vulgar things they convey. You're nodding your head quickly, either way, leaning into his touch as his hand travels to rest against your jaw.

 Jungkook has stood from the bed, discarding his shorts in the process. He's rummaging on the other side of the room, but your focus is not on him. No, your attention is stuck on the man in front of you. His soft thumb brushing against your lower lip, your mouth falling open. He grins.

 “You made me so hard baby. Loved seeing you cum on Kookie's tongue, did it feel good?” You're nodding your head, eyes snapping up to find his. He chews on his lower lip, tracing the curves of your lips with the tip of his cock. You try to move your head to coax his cock into your mouth, but he's having too much fun teasing you to let that happen.

 Pushing your tongue out, you manage to slide it over the underside of his cock. He groans, head lolling to the side as he gives in, slowly guiding his cock past your lips and into your mouth. Your lips latch onto his dick and quickly begin licking and suckling at his length. His teeth dig into his lip as he watches you, hand reaching to grasp your hair.

 “Your mouth feels so good, baby.” He pants, rocking his hips forward slightly. Your body warms at the praise, sucking harder and speeding the bob of your head. His lower belly tightens, both hands tangled in your hair and tightening to hold your head still. Mouth widening, you allow him to push his hips forward, taking more of his cock down your throat. 

 You let him gag you, spit gathering around your lips as tears brim in your eyes. Hands braced on his hips as if that'd be enough to slow his movements. With the fucked out look on his face, the grip in your hair; it was obvious he didn't plan on letting up any time soon. Not like you even wanted him too, anyway.

 Jungkook was coming to crouch behind you, large hands finding your hips. The palm of his hand is slapping against one of your cheeks, forcing your body to jolt forward a muffled moan leaving your lips. The movement pushing you down further onto Jimin's cock, the head hitting against the back of your throat causing a cough to fall from your lips.

 Reluctantly, you pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his length as heavy coughs shook your body. Jungkook let out a loud laugh, hands on your hips positioning your body onto your knees. Jimin's unmistakably gentle hand rubbed at your back, attempting to soothe your coughs as he lined his cock with your lips once more.

 You were taking him into your mouth once more, sucking with much more fervor this time. He chuckles above you, eyes flickering up to Jungkook who's fingers caressing your wet pussy lips. “She's so wet, Hyung. Think she liked choking on your cock.” He comments, fingers lazily stroking your pussy.

 Warmth spreads through your body at his words. Jungkook was much different from Jimin, sexually as well as everything else. Where Jimin never mentioned how much he knew you liked to suck him off, Jungkook was more than willing to voice his revelation that you were particularly dripping. As if he got off on the thought of embarrassing you, and it should annoy you, but it only made you want him more.

 Wanted to prove to him that you didn't so easily wither, that it would take a lot more to make you shy away. No matter the blush the took over his cheeks every time he was crude.

 His hand reached for your hair, tangling in the soft strands and slowly pulling you off of his friend's cock. Your back was soon pressed flush against his chest, a strong arm wrapping around your waist. You can see Jimin clearly now, muscles glistening with a thin layer of sweat as his palm stroked his wet cock.

 Jungkook's dick is pressed firmly against your ass cheek and your hips slowly rock back, rubbing against it. He bites back a groan, hand dropping to hold your hips in place. “You want me to fuck you, Yn?” His mouth is right by your ear, but he's speaking loud enough for both you and Jimin to hear. “Want me to make you cum, again? But this time on my cock... make you fall apart while your boyfriend watches, you'd like that, huh?” Rough fingers find your clit, flicking and tugging at it. And you nod frantically, spreading your legs wide from him and avoiding the lust-filled gaze of your boyfriend.

 He reaches for your chin, lifting your head so you're looking directly at Jimin. Jungkook moved behind you, shifting his hips until the tip of his cock nudges your awaiting entrance. “Say it,” He hisses into your ear. “Tell him,” His lower lip drags over the shell of your ear, fingers dipping lower to spread your lips for him.

 “I want-,” You feel heat growing in your chest, Jimin's expectant gaze making you feel small. He's stroking his cock much slower now, waiting on labored breaths. Jungkook's fingers pinch your clit and pleasure shoots through your veins, body twitching. “Don't be shy, princess. He can take it...” His fingers rub figure eights into the bundle of nerves.

 There was no telling how you looked right now, fucked out and panting. Desperately trying to wiggle your hips in hope to steal away more than he was letting you have. Lips are swollen and cheeks tear-stained from having Jimin's cock down your throat moments before. Your back arches against his chest as he drags the length of his cock over your slit, teasing you.

 “I want!” You shout, an electric shock of pleasure fueling you, “Jimin, fuck... watch me. I want you to watch me when Jungkook fucks me,” You plead, crazed eyes staying trained on your boyfriend. “Want you to see him make me cum.”

 “Fuck,” Jimin groans, at the same time Jungkook is pushing inside of you. His thick cock spreading your folds and breaking through your walls. You let out a loud whine, pushing back against him welcoming each inch of his length. He's groaning only when he's bottoming out, hands falling to your hips, body dropping onto your knees again.

 “She's so tight,” Jungkook sighs, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock is catching on your pursed entrance. He pushes forward quickly, pulling a wail from your lips. Repeating the action until he feels your walls loosening around him.

 He's soon falling into a steady pace, hips snapping against yours as his fingers bruise your hips. Your legs spread wide as you fist at the bedsheets below you, whiny moans leaving your lips as you move back against him. Jimin steps back, no doubt taking in the sight in before him. The way your eyes continue to roll, flushed cheeks and mouth open wide. How your back curves into the globes of your ass the ripple with each strong thrust of Jungkook's hips. “Fuck, baby. You're taking his cock so well,” Jimin praises with a proud look on his face. 

 His soft hand brushes your hair out of your face, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail. “How does it feel, baby?” Weakly, you lift your gaze to look up at him. “S-so good,” Voice hoarse and breathy. Jungkook grins behind you, angling his hips to slide deeper inside of you.

 “Such a good girl,” Jimin's free hand wraps around his cock. And your mouth is opening before your mind can register what he wants, warm cock filling your mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the base.

 He's sliding down your throat easily, your head bobbing in time with the slow thrusts of his hips. You reach your hands forward to grasp his balls, hands massaging against the velvety skin and his pants. Incoherent mumbles of praise fall from Jimin's lips as his head falls back.

 He looks so hot, even from this angle. The veins of his neck prominent with the clench of his teeth. Collarbones thick and on full display, housing his well worked on pecks and the tight ripples of his abs. His hand lifts to grasp your hair, holding your head in place to thrust shallowly down your throat.

 “S-shit, I'm cumming.” Jungkook whines from behind you, hips pressed flush against your ass while his legs tighten. You feel the familiar expansion of the condom around his cock as the sounds of his whiny moans fill the room. Jimin lifts his head, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes find the pink-cheeked man in front of him.

 “That was quick,” Jimin teases, pulling his hips back until his cock is falling from your lips. Jungkook does the same. Your body shocked instantly with emptiness, you whine in protest, hips wiggling in search of your release.

 “It's been a while,” Jungkook defends, slumping against the mattress, arms lifting to cover his eyes. Desperately trying to slow his breathing, not paying any mind to the cum that leaks the condom in thick globs painting the sheets underneath him. “Did Kookie even make you cum?” Jimin's words are directed to you and you're quick to shake your head.

 He tsks, hand reaching for your thigh and flipping your body onto its back. Your legs spread as he lowers himself between them, cock easily pushing its way deep into your pussy. A moan falls from your lips, hips lifting to meet his thrust. “Let me show you how to do it.”

 Jungkook is removing his arm from his eyes, turning his attention to yours and Jimin's bodies. He watches as Jimin's firm ass lifts and drops into you, each powerful thrust pushing your body up. Watches as your nails mark up his smooth back. Listens to the way his groans mix with your whimpers.

 Your eyes catch his for a moment, and you're soon realizing that he's not watching you. Mouth parted and eyes dazed as he stares. But not at you. Jimin's reaching his hand down, fingers finding your clit as he pushes you toward your nearing orgasm. Eyes screwing shut, you let yourself feel it.

 Toes curling and back arching as your release washes over you. Jimin hisses from the way your walls clench around his cock, his thrusts becoming sloppy, untimed. Jungkook watches as he cums, filling you up. Your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan. Your legs tighten around his waist, holding his body tight against yours.

 Minutes pass before Jimin is pulling out, rolling onto his back with a huff. He grins wide down at you, lips catching yours in a loving kiss as his hand moves between your legs, pushing his escaped cum back into your pussy. You can't help the giggle that leaves your lips from the feeling.

 “You did so well, baby.” He's complimenting you after his lips are releasing yours. You smile wide, eyes shifting between him and Jungkook. “It was amazing, thank you.” Jungkook nods his acknowledgment while Jimin presses another kiss to your lips, before standing from the bed.

 “I'm gonna go run you a bath,” Jimin grins, kissing the top of your head gently before disappearing into the bathroom. The second he's gone, Jungkook is standing from the bed. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy, and he looks out of breath; but nevertheless he's moving as if he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

 You let him. Don't bother to ask him why. You know why. And now that you knew, all the little things surrounding were starting to make sense. As if a neon sign had been flashing the warning from the beginning, but you had chosen to ignore it. Explained it away as Jungkook being a protective best friend, but you were wrong. You were so wrong. Realization was hitting you all at once and you wondering how many of their conquests found out the exact same thing.

 Jungkook was in love with Jimin.

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