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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant.

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail.

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him.

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage.

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you.

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline.

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then:

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus.

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing.

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano.

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck.

It's too much.

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you.

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him.

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you?

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before.

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach.

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing.

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—"

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you.

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot.

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car.

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth.

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice.

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of.

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair.

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight.

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bts smut #suga x reader #joy.masterlist

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

Text

Blood Bounty - Part 1 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 10K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings: Non-consensual vampire feeding (graphic, provocative, sexual, blood play, and twisted as fuck), captivation/enslavement, blood, drugging (force feeding vampire blood), obsession, violence, PTSD, at one point the OC pleads for death, it’s dark guys you’ve been warned. While the vampire feeding in this part is highly sexualized, I do have somewhat more “traditional” smut scenes planned for part 2 and 3.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: This mini-series is a loose retelling of Anastasia, you’ll find it to be very different from the animated film. I attempted to blend both the history and the story together in a new historical fantasy world that is not our own. Anyway I hope you enjoy the start to my three part twisted tale, and if you have any questions at the end please feel free to send them my way! Also a big thank you to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi and @ladyartemesia. This story wouldn’t have made it this far without you!

This story is dedicated to all of those who have lost themselves to a monster (of any form) at some point in their life. I know the journey back to yourself can be hard, but trust me, you are worth every effort.

...

From the break of dawn you’ve crossed miles of ground, traversing through grassy fields and deep rivers. Accompanied only by the clothes on your back, a stake in your hand, and a pair of boots far too big for your feet, all stolen during your hastened departure.

You consider yourself lucky after making it out unseen. Lucky that Taehyung had left his fortress of a castle, lucky that he took most of his capable progenies with him, lucky that the underling who tended to your room left the fire iron within your reach, and lucky that it was able to break the chain of the shackle fastened around your wrist. You left as soon as daylight broke. With everything working in your favour for your escape, even acquiring your captor’s clothes and cap to pass off as a young man. For sightings of a woman travelling alone might tip off those you would rather avoid.

But now, with your heels raw and bloody, it would seem that your good fortune has finally run out, as the smell will no doubt attract his hunters. You curse your carelessness, for the number of times Taehyung has complimented you for your most potent scent. You’ve witnessed it yourself, a single whiff of your blood during his feedings having sent several of his men into a frenzy. This unfortunate blessing left you to be seen as a bounty, condemning you to his captivity, and now the struggle as you flee for your life.

You attempt to clean the broken skin and stem the flow with strips torn from your tunic. The fine piece of clothing is barely recognizable after the paces you’ve put it through today. With the extra fabric now wedged into your boots you can only hope that it’ll make your journey tomorrow easier, and detain much of the scent that would allow them to track you.

You wish that you could continue on tonight, but the darkness of the wood, your sores, and your fatigue impede your plans. You’ve gained ground but the lack of settlements must mean that you still lie within his realm. With your memories stolen in an effort to keep you at his side you have little to go on but a tapestry that hung in his den. It showed a city to the east, beyond the boundary of his land, and what is hopefully your home. But with the woven display having no proper scale you have no idea how long it will take to actually leave his territory. Freedom could be hours or days away. You can only hope that the rivers you’ve traversed will keep them at bay until you can find a safer place to stay. Their weaknesses are all you have to lean on to prevent recapture, but will it be enough?

After tending to your feet you settle in the nook of a tree, leaning your head against the mossy trunk. Your stomach growls but you have no food to feed it, nor a blanket to dismiss the chilling wind which forces a shiver from you. Your deflated spirit is made even worse when a raven takes notice of your poor state. It circles overhead, undoubtedly looming with the hopes that you have given in, and that he too can feast on you.

Ignoring the omen, you close your eyes, directing your focus instead on the surrounding sounds of the forest, listening for anything that might be a predator making an approach. Despite an exhausting day you still are wary of sleep, knowing what will greet you as you drift off, and concern of someone, or something catching up to you once you do. You rest there for what must be an hour, debating with yourself the advantages slumber, before you hear the snap of a nearby twig. Your fingers drift to the wooden stake on the ground next to you, your movement is slow hoping to escape the notice of whatever might be drawing closer. The footsteps which crunch on the leaves continue to advance on your position. There’s no running now, all you can do is play ignorance until they are in range for you to act.

When a hand reaches down and tilts the brim of your hat, you open your eyes, driving your weapon up in an aim to strike, but your assailant is too quick for you. He catches your arm in an iron grip, much like the remains of the manacle that still holds your other wrist. Though his face is hidden by the dark of night and his frame draped in a long coat, there is no doubt about what he is, and what he’s come for, his speed in stopping you was far too fast to be human.

“Be still,” the monster growls. “It’s me, Yoongi. Are you hurt?”

His concern is almost laughable. His implication of a connection likely a trap, one intent on luring you in, with a motive to end the hunt. “Not if you leave me be.” You attempt to press the stake towards him still, but he barely even registers your efforts.

“Have you forgotten me?” The beast’s grip tightens on your arm as he dismisses your threat, taking the stake in his own hand before he pulls you up while he continues his deception, “I know that to be what I asked for, but I didn’t think... no, it matters not. ” He shakes his head as his words trail off. His voice then returns resolute and firm once he changes thoughts. “Come, we must get you somewhere safe.”

You dig your heels into the ground as he attempts to pull you along, clawing at his fingers until they release you. “I’m not going anywhere with you vampire. You will not take me back to him, anywhere is safer than there.”

“I am not taking you back, but we must leave. They’ve already placed a large bounty on you and these parts will be flooded with hunters soon.”

“How can I be sure you’re not one of those hunters?” You make an attempt to retake the stake, showing you have no intention of complying with him. But he pulls it back, holding it just out of your grasp.

“You will have to take me at my word, I am not of Taehyung’s kin and I have no plans on handing you back over to him. Now if you please, I can either escort you to safety, or take you there by force.”

“I don’t trust you.” You glare back at him.

“Very well,” the vampire sighs, tossing your wooden weapon aside, putting it far beyond your reach. He then bends down, throwing you easily over his shoulder, and thereby ending the argument over your fate. Your fists collide with his back several times in an effort to make him release you, but he doesn’t appear bothered by the attack. You draw breath ready to call out when he stops you with a quick jostle. His shoulder lays into your abdomen knocking the wind from your lungs. “You may hit me all you want, but do not scream. I would rather not alert others to our location.”

Could he really not be someone sent by Taehyung’s underlings? Regardless, even if he is, you don’t have the strength to over power him. There’s little you can do but lay like a rag doll propped over his shoulder, with his arm hooked on the back of your knees.

He hauls you over to a break in the trees, one which leads out to the road where a horse waits patiently for him. You’re thankful when he seats you on the saddle rather than throwing you on your stomach once again. With the full light of the moon on the open dirt road, you’re finally able to see his face properly. His soft and sombre expression is a drastic difference compared to Taehyung’s sharp features and cruel grin.

“Are you going to behave now princess?”

Your eyes widen with terror in response to his last word uttered. You immediately try to pull away to put as much distance as you can between you and him, but he holds you firm in the saddle. The confining grip matching the memories of the name he has just called you all too well. Your breathing comes in short panicked waves as your hand moves to conceal the scar on your neck. You can’t go back, you won’t go back, you refuse to endure that supposed term of endearment anymore.

“Prin-” The vampire tries again to elicit a response from you, only this time you cut him off. Your fear turning to anger unwilling to tolerate another lie from his lips.

“If you are not one of Taehyung’s clan then tell me, why do you address me in that manner?”

“You don’t know why I call you princess?” He gazes upon you, his eyes narrowed in confusion as you recoil once again. This time he takes your hand, which bears the weight of both the iron shackle and bitten brand, to hold you still. When you wince from the pressure of his touch, he looks down to examine the sensitive spot. His jaw stiffens as he finds the source of the pain. “What has he done to you?” He whispers softly as his fingers trail over the wound on your palm.

...

“Open up princess, I have a gift for you,” Taehyung orders, standing over you as you sit on his desk. Gripping your jaw, while your lips remain sealed in defiance. “I said open.” His hand tightens, forcing your mouth to unfasten and expel a cry of pain. He presses the bloody tip of his finger to your tongue, dragging his index from the back to the front coating it with the thick fluid. “Now swallow.”

Your mouth begins to salivate with the intrusion of his blood. You know if you take it in you will lose everything once again, you’ll lose the will you’ve been building back up to defy him. He is never truly out of your system, you still have gaps in yourself, but the need to disobey always has its way of creeping back to you first. To be forced back into obedience within your own body and mind is nothing short of torture.

You refuse to allow him to drag you back to the dark willingly, spitting your saliva along with his blood into his smug expression.

Taehyung chuckles darkly as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right my princess. How could I think that only a drop would be enough to dispel your greed? You deserve more.”

This time he bites into his hand allowing the blood to pool, while the other takes hold of your neck. The dripping flesh of his palm covers your gasping mouth. Your head is tilted back by his grasp as the blood drains down the back of your throat.

“You will keep this down. You will accept my control. Every time you look at yourself you will think of me. When you close your eyes you will dream of me, for you can not run away only toward. You will remember nothing before me, and nothing before the night I bestow you with this.” His thumb passes over a three month old scar on your neck, continuing to mark it as the cornerstone of the earliest memory you possess.

Every week without fail he reweaves his bonds inside you, tending to them as a doting hunter with a valued prey. He takes his fill of you in between, sometimes it’s only a taste and others a full meal. Treating his desk as a dining table and you the feast, placing you down upon it for his consumption.

“I will have to leave you weak in the knees today princess if I must go without you for a fortnight.” His finger catches a drop of blood that escapes your mouth running it back along your lips before his hand moves away and down, trailing deep red lines down the skin of your jaw and neck. “I’m sorry to leave, but there are some pressing matters which I must attend to.” He portrays a look of sorrow, but you know better than to believe that he can possess a single human emotion. “You’ll be good while I’m gone won’t you? Shall I give you something to remember me by? Another mark unhealed for you to see? You can watch as it slowly means, knowing that I’ll be back to tear you open again.”

He lifts your hand to his face with his own bloody fingers. How you wish you could slap him away, but your body refuses to move on your behalf, after consuming his blood it yields only to him.

He does not hesitate before sinking his teeth into the base of your palm. Matching his own wound that he inflicted on himself, but as yours grows deeper, his begins to heal. He takes a long draft before releasing in a pant. Your blood acts like a drug to his system, making him as he so often puts it, ‘Feel alive again.’

He wipes his palm on yours allowing the breach to clot, he doesn’t mend it completely, instead leaving the painful imprint of his teeth, branding you anew, just as promised. “Appetizer, now entree Princess,” he mutters as he moves on, shifting to cradle your head and neck in his arms. You attempt to pull away, but that only forces him to issue the command, “Stay still.”

His face hovers over the pulse of your neck, with you now frozen beneath. His fangs are careful not to dive too deep, retracting just as the blood begins to trickle from your throat. It collects in the well of your collar and trails down your chest, seeping beneath the bodice of your dress. The white fabric of your garment starts to bloom with scarlet. He could have chosen a gown of darker cloth for your personal wear, one that would be less prone to display the gruesome patterns of his actions, but he prefers to see the art of your suffering, your clothes and body becoming a canvas for his great masterpiece. He mutters how beautiful it looks while his fingers add to the display, painting a ruby-red choker around your neck using the blood as a stain.

His eyes linger taking in the sight before he moves in again to collect the flow, lapping it off your skin like a beast amidst a drought. You cringe as his tongue crosses your flesh, relentless in its desire to gather every drop it can. And just when you think he’s finished it makes another pass, accompanied by a growl and another sharp nip.

Unlike your hand, he completely remedies the gash on your neck, leaving only the one scar upon your throat from his first feeding. The loss starts to hit you, your skin turning cold like his, your breathing shallow, and your pulse quick. You hope that might be the end, that he has had his fill and needs no more, but his hand then fastens on your leg having pushed up the hem of your skirt and thin petticoat. “Let me in princess, I still have room left for dessert.” His teeth skim across the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh mapping his preferred spot from your pained twitches.

You whimper as he clamps down for his last bite. The only solace you can take is that he will not be here for two weeks. You have more time without him feeding, time to gain back control, and time to escape. You stare off to the woven tapestry map behind him, not knowing where to go but longing to be anywhere but here.

...

“D-don’t call me that.” Your demand catches and cracks at the back of your throat.

“But it’s what you are-”

“I am not his dinner, I am not his slave, and I am most certainly not his princess! I will not go back. If you have any mercy, please... drain me here. For I am far more willing to meet death, than I am to see him again. ”

To your confusion he looks shocked that you would even suggest such an act. He takes a moment before looking into your eyes with a narrowed gaze, “You don’t remember anything do you? It’s not just me you’ve forgotten.”

You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes, “I remember nothing before him.”

The vampire holds what’s left of the iron shackle in his hands, bending it apart with only his grip, freeing you from it’s clutches.

There's another sigh from him as he takes the space on the saddle behind you. His body is uncomfortably close to yours, with his breath on your neck, and arms wrapped on either side to take the reins. “And I thought he could sink no lower...” He urges the horse forward with a nudge and a few mumbled words far too low for you to hear. “You are right, you are not his meal, nor his property, but it is not simply a given moniker to which I am referring, it’s what you are. You are the only living heir of a human kingdom just east of here.”

“You lie, there is no way I could be,” This is just another game of his. It has to be. “If I am what you say, how could I have ended up where I was?”

“You went missing, disappearing from your bed in the night. Your people assume that you were kidnapped, that you were taken by a monster, not knowing what we are. But I assure you, you are the lost pr-” He stops as you stiffen once again. “I can take you home, back to your family, back to your people, if that’s what you wish.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I broke a promise long ago, I plan to remedy that mistake.”

“I fail to see how that applies to me.” You mutter as you slump down in the saddle, no longer fighting your current fate. This vampire too can easily overpower you, he can take you wherever he desires to go, but as long as it’s away from Taehyung you have no wishes to slow him down.

He pulls a skin of water from his horse’s pack offering it to you. Your dry mouth wants to empty it in one swig, but the possibility of what else it could contain holds you back. You turn your nose up instead fearing that he’s drugged it with his own blood.

“I have not tampered with it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You keep assuming your words carry weight with me. I will need more than that if I am to drink this.”

“If I intended to manipulate you with blood I would have done so already instead of fighting to get you on the horse.”

He’s right, it would have been far easier. You take a careful sip rolling over your tongue, trying to detect even the slightest taste of iron before your swallow.

He holds out food too, in the form of a few pieces of dried meat. Your mouth waters at the sight. The unaltered drink gives you the confidence to abandon your worries and take it, asking more questions while you eat. “You said I forgot you, but how was it that I knew you Yoo-” You pause trying to recall the name he led with when he found you.

“Yoongi.”

You wait for more but he doesn’t continue, after swallowing your current mouthful you press further. “Are you not going to tell me?”

“It would be better if you remembered.”

“You expect me to trust you, but then you hide truths?”

“I expect you to trust me because I want you to recall your truth of our encounters, not mine. When you do I will gladly discuss it with you, but not until then.” His tone is stern, boasting an air of finality to his argument.

You huff back in frustration. “Can you at least tell me how long you’ve known me?”

“More than ten years now, you were a child of fourteen when we first met.”

“So you must know my name? My real name?” You ask with near excitement, hoping it might stir up some of your past within you.

“I do.” But as he recalls it, whispering the name for you to hear, nothing happens. You thought when you heard it again that everything would come back all at once like a spell broken by one magical word. But the name that comes from Yoongi’s lips has no meaning to you, no memory, no warmth. It bestows only a cold emptiness, a fear that you’ll never quite be able to bind yourself together with the person who bore that name before.

...

Hours later Yoongi pulls his horse off the path and into the woods, trotting down what looks to be an overgrown trail. You finally come to a stop in front of a mound, backed by an elevation of stone and earth, bearing a small cave-like entrance.

“What is this?”

“An old mining site. We’ll have to stop here for now.” Yoongi helps you down off the horse before removing the tackle and taking the large pack, he ties his steed up with a long lead on a grassy patch. Once finished you follow him through the dark and into the cavern, lagging a few paces behind with your legs stiff and sore from the night’s travel.

“But there’s still another hour or two until the sunrise. Why stop here?”

“Because this is the last dark space that’s marked for the next fifteen miles.” He opens one of the bags pulling out a lantern, he lights it, dousing the cold and damp walls of the cave in a warm glow. Taking out a thick piece of paper next, he unfolds it with careful precision, laying it gently across a leather pack. He acts as though it’s a precious heirloom passed on to him from a loved one long gone. Your heart starts to race upon realization that it’s a map, and how with it’s aid you’d be able to find your own way home.

Dark circles on the heavy parchment denote what according to the key is a resting spot. He opens it further pointing to both your current position and destination, your fingers tracing over a kingdom which he says is yours. With still three times the distance you’ve travelled yet to traverse, much of your contentment fades.

Despite the blow to your morale, you continue your examination of the map, hoping to learn as much from it as you can. It’s beautifully intricate and precisely made, the only flaw is an ink smudge in the lower left hand corner, which appears to be a faint mirror image of the compass rose on the right. Likely the result of the map being folded before the ink had completely dried. You run your index over the blot feeling much the same. A partial imprint of your past life, and a great distance away from what you must have been.

Yoongi watches you with a keen eye as you attempt to commit your future route to memory. “Does it look at all familiar to you?”

“No, I remember nothing of this land.” Not the names of rivers or cities return to you. How can you call a place home if you know nothing of it? “Thank you for your assistance. I know you have to stop, but after seeing this I feel that I should keep going.” You offer cordially, praying that he’ll agree to parting ways here.

“Oh no you don’t. You’ll stay here until the sun sets, and we’ll continue together.”

“Why should I? If the sun is out I’m not at risk from vampires.”

“It is still a while before we reach your kingdom. You can see that can’t you? At least two more nights where you would be alone if I let you leave. Not to mention the risk from your own brethren. You haven’t been among other humans enough to know that they can be just as malicious.”

“Then give me your horse and I’ll out ride them.”

“When was the last time you rode a horse on your own?” He asks lowering his brow, scoffing as his tongue pokes at the side of his cheek.

“I-I...” Naturally you can’t remember, and he knows it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes of course you’ll be fine, it’s not like there will be vampires nipping at your heels the whole way home. Do you know I could smell the blood trailing from your feet a mile away? I can’t imagine they are in a good state. If the horse were to unseat you and run off, would you even be able to continue?”

You wince at the thought of treading forward on foot. The blisters are already a source of great agony, it’s painful to think what they would be like after another mile or two.

Yoongi notices the show of discomfort in your face, “Looks like you’ll be staying with me then your highness.”

“I’d rather not...” You're grateful he’s stopped calling you by the other title, but that still doesn’t prove his loyalty. “Why are you so insistent on taking me home? What’s in this for you?”

“Your company.”

“I am serious,” you groan, casting a dark glare back at him over the candle light.

“So am I.” He mutters his response, it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

“You are insufferable! I should be taking advantage of the daylight, I should be putting more distance between myself and his prison. You should have left me there in the forest so I wouldn’t have to deal with your so-called assistance.”

“Forgive me for wanting to keep you alive and safe. It must be truly awful to have someone come to your aid.”

“You are not someone, you’re a vampire,” you bite back against his sarcasm. “I take no pleasure in being in the company of your kind.”

Yoongi sighs looking defeated, following it with an odd request. “Give me your hand, the one with the wound.”

“Why?” You clutch your palm to your chest in defence.

“I’ll mend it properly for you, your heels too if you’d like. I want to help undo the damage that my kind has done to you. He should never have left you scarred like that.”

“He shouldn’t have fed off me in the first place!” You shout back your voice echoing off the walls.

“You’re right,” Yoongi levels with you. “But I can’t imagine you want to keep it.”

“I don’t, but I also don’t want help from you! I would rather carry this than any more of your poison. So you can keep your blood to yourself.”

“As you wish,” Yoongi responds, yet he still shifts towards you, encouraging you to back away and keep the space between you.

“I’m not going to...” His tone sounds exasperated but soon changes to a softer register as he looks at your terror ladened face. “Just, take this.” Yoongi passes over a bed roll before pulling one out for himself from the woven pack.

You stare at the bedding, questioning it, the convenience of such an item along with supplies all seem too good to be true. “Why would someone who travels alone have a second? Why would a vampire have a stash of water he can’t drink, and food he can’t eat?”

“I brought them for you. I knew you would need them on the journey.” His answer comes off as thoughtful, but the explanation still doesn’t sit right with you, surely there can be no rational reason as to why he was so ready for your escape.

“You expect me to swallow your perfect timing? That you just happened to be in the right place at the right time, ready to play the role of saviour-”

“Who said the timing was perfect? It has been anything but ideal,” Yoongi growls cutting you off. “I have been trying to get you back ever since I learned that you were taken. But we have limitations that prevented me from just storming his castle. A vampire can not enter the home of another without permission. I tried to get you, believe me I did. While you were trapped inside for five years, I was kept outside for just as long. But I have always been prepared to leave with you at a moment's notice.”

You were ready to continue your argument again just as he was to finish, but one of his last reveals disarms you with an all too unpleasant fact. “H-how long did you just say?”

“Five years?”

“No... that’s not possible, I can’t remember more than a few months.”

“Prin- your highness.” Yoongi catches himself as you turn to panic.

“Please don’t tell me that he held me for years.” You panicked whispers become sobbing pleas, you would gladly take the lie now. The thought of more tortures of imprisonment lying just below the surface of your memory is enough to make you want to do away with your entire past. Blindly tossing it all away and building it all anew, if only it worked that way.

“It’s been years, I’m so sorry, but you’ve been with- you’ve been missing for half a decade.”

“Why? Why would he take that too?” You whisper stand up clutching the scar on your neck, the mark you thought to be the first was likely a only a sequel to many. How many more lie hidden in your skin, healed and masked his blood? Feeling a pull to leave, you stumble towards the mining shaft’s entrance, unable to take another minute beside a monster who could do the same. Yoongi grabs you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist to prevent you from progressing any further outside. You strain against him determined to go back out into the open air. “No, let me go.”

“I can’t do that, your highness.”

You turn into him pushing against his chest as you shout. “Let me go Yoongi.” He doesn’t stop you from shoving, or cursing him out. He just stands there holding tight as you take out your loss on him.

“If I were to do that his hunters would find you,” Yoongi warns. “Is that what you want? Because I’m not ready to lose you to him again...” The last of his sentiment drifts off as if he’s said too much. His grip loosens to the point where you can slip away. As much as you want to turn out and run towards the sun he’s right, you can't risk losing another five years or maybe more. He nods down to the bed roll abandoned on the ground. “You should get some rest, you’ll need it for the journey tomorrow.”

You obey, taking the bedding and lantern, wandering back farther into the cave and further away from the vampire. Slipping off your boots you find the cloth you had wedged in earlier caked with blood. You glance over to your nocturnal companion seeing if the reveal had any effect on him, but he’s already lying down, his back towards you, paying no attention. Desperate to dispose of the temptation you hold the two strips of fabric above the lantern flame. Fortunately they are dry enough to burn, leaving only ashen traces of the linen scraps. You redress your wounds with more fabric from your garment, but before curling under the blankets for the day you take one last precaution. With numerous broken branches littering the floor of the cave, you take the most jagged and sturdy, tucking in by your side. The sharp twig is not quite a stake, but a better defence than nothing at all.

...

Even after travelling all day and night with little rest it takes an age for you to fall asleep, not because of the hard ground, not due to the pain in your legs, nor the questionable motives of your new guard, but the knowledge of who you’ll see once you do. Although Taehyung’s blood has lost control of your physical movements, his hold on your mind is still tight. You know you’ll see him when you drift off, but your exhaustion is unwavering and your need of rest undeniable.

It seems like only moments after you close your eyes that you’re reunited. He lies there beside you back in his castle, with his own eyes closed, his face content with a small smile as though he’s just fed. But on this night, something’s different. You finally feel as though you have the power to fight back against him. The stake you had stolen from his collection, and promptly lost to the forest, found again by your side. You’ve always wanted this moment, taking vengeance on the one who put you through hell. Even if it is only a dream you’ll embrace it though reality.

Mere inches away from his chest your hand is stopped by his. His eyes fly open and he tackles you back. “Killing me won’t grant you freedom, it won’t stop others from coming for you.”

“Then let them come,” you sneer back at him. “For any life without you Taehyung will be a vast improvement, no matter how short or perilous.”

There’s a quizzical look on his face, his thumb pushing into your palm trying to get you to realise the stake, “Wake up your highness, it’s not what you think.”

You are pulled from the dream to find yourself with your pitiful excuse for a weapon in hand. Pointing it at Yoongi’s heart as he hovers over you. You drop it quickly, and attempt to slide out from beneath him out of fear of retaliation. “I thought you were him.”

He places a heavy hand on your shoulder preventing any further retreat on your part. “I figured that to be the case. Do you have these dreams often?” His tone is not angry, but concerned.

You relax with his understanding, “Every night, he made sure it was so.”

“I know it won’t mend the past, but I’m sorry... for what he’s done to you.”

“I’m sorry I attacked you...”

“I can’t blame you for that,” Yoongi admits with a curling smile on his lips. “If I looked at myself and saw Taehyung I would respond in the same manner.”

You let out a small chuckle, leading to a surprised expression on Yoongi’s face. His smirk soon turns into a sad smile. “I want you to know, when you are with me, you are safe. No one will feed from you, no one will touch you, myself included.”

...

You wake to the sound of a raven in the early evening, the deep croaks of the bird carrying through the mine. Keeping your head down you glance with narrowed eyes to spy on the vampire who currently ties a small roll of parchment to the leg of the dark creature. It waits patiently on his knee until the knot is firmly in place, letting out another loud cry once Yoongi’s hand retreats.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting more then?” Yoongi takes his index, and presses it down onto one of his sharp teeth, allowing a bead of blood to form on the tip. The raven then takes his finger into his beak and tilts his head back as it feeds on the red droplets. You start to gag at the sight, alerting Yoongi to your awakened state. The bird takes flight as your escort gets up to check on you, but as he comes closer you draw back. He pauses after his first couple steps, and asks from a distance instead. “Are you alright?”

“Why did you feed it your blood?” You heave again at the thought, but with little in your stomach there is nothing to come up.

“He’s delivering a letter for me. The blood is his reward; it keeps him healthy, but it also allows me to convey where he needs to go and who he needs to find.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“The raven is more than happy to take it as payment for his service. But I know of what you mean, when the exchange is done improperly...” Yoongi pauses as another wave of nausea overwhelms you again, “Forgive me, I thought you were asleep, I didn’t know you would be watching.”

“What were you sending?”

“Notice to my clan. I left my surveillance post, they will wish to know why.”

“Will that be a problem?” You hadn’t considered groups other than Taehyung’s, but if you can avoid interaction with them all the better.

“No, returning you home will be a greater blow to Taehyung. He has likely built a dependence on your blood and without you he’ll be left in a far weaker state. We might finally have a chance to diminish his hold on the region.” Yoongi takes a brief glance to the entrance and starts to pack away his supplies. “You should ready yourself to leave. The sun is almost down.”

You climb out from your bed roll to find that in the night the blood had seeped through the new makeshift bandage. Yoongi clenches his teeth, and makes another offer. “Please just let me heal them, you'll only need a drop.”

“That’s one drop too much.” You move back unsure if you should be more worried about Taehyung’s men tracking you down, or the more current and looming threat of the vampire in front of you. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” “No,” he confirms, however there’s a slight hesitation in his answer. “But you should go wash up before you lose all daylight, there’s a river just down hill.” He takes a kerchief from his pocket and places it on a rock between you. “You can have this if you’d like. I don’t have any bandages to offer, other than the treatment you find so distasteful.”

You reach out and grab it. “You won’t be getting this back.” You eye him darkly.

“That’s fine, just go clean them off before others who may be nearby take note of your aroma.” You observe him with caution, hesitating to pass by his threatening mouth to get to that of the cave’s. “Unless you want to stay and watch me eat.” He comments as he pulls out another soft flask which he carries in his jacket. You cringe as he holds in what is likely a stolen meal.

“What?” He fires back at your critical glare.

“Do you drain all your victims into wine skins, or just those you wish to save for later?”

“The one who gave me this was not my victim. They were willing to part with it.”

“Willing?” You scoff. “I find that hard to believe. Are you sure you did not slip them some of your own blood first?”

“No I did not, but if you have a problem with how I conduct my feedings you only have yourself to blame.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Now hurry, so we can make use of this night.”

You do just that, darting past him you leave the mine heading down to the river in the fading sunlight.

...

As you return Yoongi is already outside and packing the horse. With his back to you he pulls an apple from the saddle bag, and the horse turns his head towards the treat with it’s mouth open and reaching. He pulls it back and away from the creature, “I know, I know this should have been yours, but you’ve had enough grass and she needs food. Do you mind sharing?” You watch as he rubs his steed behind the ear and it gives up on it’s want for the fruit. “Thanks, next one is yours, I promise.”

“Am I to thank you or the horse for my meal?” You call out to the vampire.

“You may thank him if you like.” Yoongi hands off the apple to you as you approach.

You can’t help smile as you stand in front of the massive and beautiful stallion letting him smell the back of your hand before you reach you pet the star on his forehead. “What is his name?”

“Horse...” Yoongi admits.

“Horse? Surely you jest. Why would you not give him a proper name?”

“He went for so long without one it just stuck.” Yoongi responds as he tightens the girth of the saddle. “What would you have named him?”

“I’m not sure, but certainly not horse. You poor beast, first he deprives you of a suitable name, then an apple.” You take a few bites but with your stomach still queasy and unable to take anymore, you give the rest to the poorly named steed. Once the bridle and tackle are secure you mount up despite the instant outcry from your legs. You find Yoongi watching you, taking notice but remaining silent. You’re grateful for his lack of discourse, not wanting to have to explain the tenderness of your ass and thighs owing to yesterday’s travel.

Regrettably, the aches become worse, and after only a couple hours of riding you’re barely able to stay upright. If Yoongi’s arms weren’t circling around you to keep hold of the reins you would have slid to the ground long ago. It seems that he’s no longer able to disregard your comfort though. “Are you well?”

“Relatively speaking, yes.” You whisper holding in a groan.

“Relative to what?”

“Relative to a week ago.” To your time with Taehyung. You grimace further with each mounted stride.

“I think your scale is skewed. We’ll slow for a bit. Though you might think differently, I have no desire to see you in pain.” He slows his steed to a walk and dismounts, letting you lean back as he leads the horse forward.

“This is nothing I promise. We should keep the pace up.”

“You wish to be rid of me so soon? Even if it causes you agony?”

“Yes.” Your short reply is enough to make him pause for a second, his face splitting into an open smirk before he continues again.

“Though I appreciate your honesty, the horse could use a break too.” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “You’ll have to learn how to hold that tongue of yours again once you return to court.”

You take in a sharp breath as a chill runs down your spine. You’ve been so focused on what you are running from you haven’t given thought as what you are running too. “Do you know much about my family, about my life back home?”

“Some.”

“You said I was the last remaining heir. There must have been a time when that wasn’t the case.”

“Your brother...” Yoongi explains, his gaze fixed on the road. “He passed away a few weeks ago. He was very ill, had been all his life.”

You take a deep breath as you register the news, but it’s hard to properly grieve when you can’t recall what you lost. “I wish I could remember-”

Yoongi must be taking pity on you as he delves further without your prompting. “You loved him very much, but you weren’t as close as you would have liked to have been. His ailment was unknown to many and it prevented him from spending much time with you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you told me.” He whispers, finally meeting your eyes again.

“Wh-what else do you know? Will you tell me?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Give it time and you’ll remember on your own. His hold won’t last forever.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t say more.”

“Because I don’t want to give you a false sense of your past, only to find out later that it was different than I thought, than I hoped. Your affection for your brother was obvious, but with other focuses of your adoration I cannot be sure. So please do not ask much of me. You’ve gone through enough, I have no wish to plant false regard for things you did not actually love.” While Yoongi continues to look up to you his expression takes a sudden shift. His nose lifts into the air and takes a deep breath, before his head snaps back at the road ahead. “Humans... four of them.”

Your heart leaps at the prospect, but Yoongi cuts your anticipation short. “Don’t get too hopeful. They are currently trying to conceal themselves on the path ahead. I doubt their motives are well intended.” He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair that had fallen out from your cap. “Stay on the horse and keep quiet. I’ll deal with them.”

“But-”

“For your own safety, please do what I ask.”

The trees growing around the road are thick and dense, your eyes dart between the trunks in hopes to catch movement, but with the forest cloaked in darkness you have little ability to find anything. Minutes pass and just as you are about to question Yoongi, you spot a man with tattered clothes lying in the middle of the dirt road ahead. Thinking he might be a victim of the others mentioned, you make an attempt to dismount. But Yoongi holds your hand firmly on the reins, while he calls out to the casualty. “The wounded traveller? Do people still fall for that?”

There’s a moment of silence before a man emerges from the forest to the left. “You’d be surprised,” he responds, while two more appear on the right.

The destitute wayfarer on the road gets up and dusts himself off. “It’s a shame you didn’t fall for our ploy, it’s much easier both for us and those who do, so much less blood. You look to be worth the effort though. I’m sure we could fetch a pretty penny for a steed like that.”

The four close in ranks and advance. Yoongi stays by your side, eyeing their approach, he gives a warning. “For your sake, I hope there will be no blood involved.”

“Is that a threat?” One of the highwaymen asks. “I should like to see how you plan on besting us without a blade.

The man closest to you, with a dagger drawn, reaches out to grab hold of your leg. “Come down off the horse lad. There's no point in putting off the inevitable, it’s ours now.” In spite of his weapon you ready to kick the man off, but before your foot can lay into him his grip is torn away. In the blink of an eye Yoongi is on the other side of the horse forcing the assailant to his knees with an arm behind his back. There’s a loud pop from the thief’s shoulder, resulting in a cry of pain. One of the other bandits charges to free his ally, his sword ready. Yoongi succeeds in dodging the initial thrust of the steel, and with one hand takes the saber, turning it instead on it’s owner. Your vampire escort issues another caution with the point at man’s throat.

“If you would like your friend to keep use of his arm then I suggest you all back away.” While the disarmed thief retreats backward with his hands in the air, the rest are frozen in place refusing to move. “You think I jest?” Yoongi’s grip tightens while his captive lets out a shout. The little effort used on the vampires part to make the man submit finally prompts his fellows to take two steps back. “I swore to my companion that no one would touch them on this journey. You’ve made me break that promise, and I am not pleased.” There’s a deep growl to his voice that sends chills through even you. “I should take this limb in payment, and maybe one from each in your party too.”

“Yoongi....” You whisper in a low tone.

He turns back to you with a slight smirk. “But you are lucky, my friend prefers mercy. It’s far more than you deserve.” Yoongi lowers his head muttering into the bandits ear. “I’ll tell you what. You may keep your arm, but you and your men will abandon your camp, head south and keep walking. You will tell no one of us, and if I ever come across your path again I will not hesitate to act on my threats.”

Yoongi releases the man allowing him to scramble away as he clutches his shoulder. The other three support their injured cohort as they run off.

Yoongi takes hold of the horse from the ground once again, leading you off the road. “Their camp it’s just this way. They might have had some supplies which will be of use to us.”

You only nod in response unsure of what to say, after what you just witnessed. The first humans you had interacted with in years, and here they intended to rob you.

The smoke of their smouldering fire draws you in. Yoongi’s hunch was right, they had a good deal of useful items. Rations for you, along with spare changes of clothes. He fills a bag and ties it on the saddle, leaving their stolen riches along with the blade behind for someone else to find.

He mounts up behind you again, carrying on forward for some time before speaking again. “Are you well your highness? You’ve been very quiet.”

You give him another nod, while chewing on your lip. “Why south?”

“That’s where my own clan’s territory lies. If they try to pull something like that again they’ll regret it.” He shifts in the saddle behind you, “Back there, I-I didn't scare you did I?”

You fall silent again, unable to confess he somewhat had, but also that the terror of your fellow mankind outweighed his by far. You fear the idea of having crossed them alone. They would have taken advantage of your mercy, who knows where you would be now if it weren’t for the self-proclaimed guard at your side.

Yoongi seems to take your lack of answer as confirmation of his worry. “I needed them to see me as a vicious monster, had they not backed off I would have had to become one. I’m sorry you had to witness the threat but it was necessary. I needed to terrify them for their sake and yours. I promise didn’t intend to frighten you, only to keep you safe. ”

...

Coming close to the break of day you find rest this time in a small abandoned house. The windows shuttered completely to prevent even the smallest stream of light from entering. Unlike the night before Yoongi doesn’t light the lantern. It’s so dark inside that he has to lead you to an empty space of floor for you to rest on. He takes a couple steps away, giving you some space before settling down himself once again between you and the door.

“I’m not going to run, you’ve made your point, or I should say the thieves did.”

“I don’t rest between you and the exit to keep you here, but to stop others from entering,” Yoongi explains. “These spots I’ve scoped out, I am not alone in using them. They are how my kind travels, some might have found different places to rest away from the sun, but I can tell that others have used this location. Don’t go examining your surroundings too closely, you might not like what you find.”

Now thankful for the darkness, you take your bed roll from Yoongi. “Rest easy,” he mutters as you climb in between in the blankets.

“Not likely,” you whisper back. “But thank you.”

Unfortunately you are correct, your sleep is once again disturbed by Taehyung. You catch a glimpse of his face before you're surrounded by him. The darkness holds you in a suffocating grip, your mouth slowly filling with blood. You struggle trying to breath reaching out to take a hold of anything that would pull you out.

A hand grabs on to the side of your face, another on to your arm. Finding the shine of Yoongi’s eyes once you're able to open your own, you gasp out to him begging for some sort of relief. “Can’t see... can’t breath...”

He picks you up only to set you back down on the floor a second later. There's a click and the front door opens to reveal a narrow shaft of sunlight. A single beam a couple inches wide, but it’s enough to dispel the darkness inside. Your eyes start to water, blinded by the light, but it’s far too warm and comforting to deny yourself the sight.

To your disgust there’s a lingering taste of blood in your mouth. Reminding you of the shackles that still bind you to Taehyung as it continues to overwhelm your senses. Yoongi’s voice flows from the darkness just to the side of the door, his eyes glowing like that of a predator’s. “I think you might have bitten your tongue in your sleep, your highness.”

He’s right, you find a sore spot as you press it to the roof of your mouth. You make an attempt to focus back on the sun. You sit there in silence letting your breath and heart return to a normal rate. All while Yoongi’s eyes continue to watch you, burning in the darkness. He apologizes for his gaze, but does not withdraw his attention, “Sorry but it’s been so long since I’ve seen someone bask in the sun. I’ve forgotten what it feels like myself...”

“How long?”

“I lost count around the century mark, but it’s likely been double that.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes, but I understand. Immortality is a large price to pay, and every monster must have an equal weakness.”

“But I suppose, not everything it repels is a monster.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow as if he’s hiding a small smile in the darkness. “Dare I say, that sounds almost like a compliment?”

“Merely an observation,” you whisper, but your words trigger something inside you, a pain and longing which you can’t explain. “Yoongi, what were we to one another before...” Before Taehyung interrupted your life. “Please I know you don’t wish to speak for me, but I need to know your view of what we were.”

“We were friends, just friends.” He responds but you're not convinced, just friends do not wait outside the home of their enemy for five years. Just friends don’t put their entire life on hold for another. Just friends aren’t overwhelmed with the desires that seem to be returning to you now.

You’ve seen this expression on him before, you know you have. On the edge of your memories lies a dark cavernous stone built hall, one in which only you and him resided. You find him crumbling under the weight of what he is and what he’s lost because of that. Fragments of your words and his surface in your mind.

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here... You would be better off if you forgot me entirely.”

You remember your wish to comfort him, to embrace him and prove that he has not lost everything because of what he is. With the recollection fading, falling from your grasp, you panic out of fear of losing the brief moment of memory. Closing the door you move towards Yoongi, the only focus you have of your previous life, hoping the scene in your mind might continue.

“I don’t need saving from you,” you mutter, blinded by the rapid loss of light, reaching out in an attempt to find him again.

He takes your hand and holds it, his cool fingers trailing soothing lines over the mark on your palm. “If not from me, then at least from my kind,” he responds, following the path of your dialogue from long before. “You remember our last meeting?”

“Only a fraction of it. I remember wanting to...” To confess to him, to kiss him, that was your past self was leaning towards. You thought well enough of him to desire an intimacy with one who feeds on others... that can’t be right. But even now you can start to see the appeal your younger self cared for. His soft touch on your hand, his calming presence, and protection, those are not qualities of a monster. And in the memory you were worried that he would reject your affection, that he would be the one to pull away, not you. “Did you ever desire to be more than friends?”

His eyes grow wide at your question, but his stance remains the same. “You know I will not answer that.”

“But this is regarding your feelings, not my own!”

“I will say no more of us. I’ve told you far too much already.” He leaves the topic at that, directing you to your present state instead. ”There’s a few more hours before sunset... do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

You shake your head and move to sit with your back against the boards of the wall. Your reply is slow to come, and muddled with the first gasp of tears. “I can’t...” The prospect of closing your eyes again is too terrifying.

Yoongi comes to sit beside you, as he continues to hold your hand, his other arm wraps your shoulders as you let out the pain. A couple of hours ago you would have pushed him away out of fear, but with the spark of your past self craving his presence, who are you to deny the support it needs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I have to keep my view from you. I don’t want to add to the damage that has been done.”

“There is not more damage that could be done. All I have to remember is a few months spent in agony and terror. How can I find comfort or rest when that is all I have? I have no knowledge of who or what made me happy, or of what dreams chased away the nightmares.”

“An adventure,” Yoongi mutters, his head bowed to the floor as he concedes with another part of your past. “You always dreamed of having an adventure.”

You let out a broken and weeping scoff, crestfallen that your ambitions to learn more only exposed a further divide. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Your parents were overprotective, because of your brother's condition. You were forced to keep to the castle, you just longed for something different.” His thumb rubs along the back of your hand as he holds it.

“But I don’t feel like one to see the risk of adventures as desirable.”

“You’ve been through much since then, fear has a way of changing what we want. I will admit I wished for you to be more careful back then, but never at a cost like this.”

“I don’t know if I will ever be that person again...” You draw your knees to your chest letting your head lull to the side and onto him.

“That’s okay,” His arm grips you tighter, as his face lowers to the top of your head. His lips briefly brush against your hair, before his cheek comes down to rest, taking their place. “That’s why I’m taking you home.”

...

#bts smut #yandere bts #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts thriller au #bts vampire au #yandere taehyung #min yoongi #kim taehyung #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #suga x reader #v x reader #bts blood bounty

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krreader · 3 years

Text

dal | sasaeng fan.

pairing: jennie kim x idol!reader - platonic fandom: dal ; bts ; blackpink warnings: big hit girl group member!reader ; language genre: angst ; fluff word count: 1.1k+ other: for more DAL content, please check out the DAL masterlist

summary: if you have a gut feeling, don’t ignore it. a lesson you had to learn the hard way.

a/n: this seemed to have been a favorite. since DAL is all about women supporting women, I wanted to go for this route! I hope you guys like it and thanks again for all your DAL requests ♥

Everyone had told you to be careful from the start. To always say it when you get a weird feeling from someone. Because it's better to play it safe, rather than to be sorry in the end.

But you didn't listen.

“You're so so beautiful... the most beautiful human being I have ever seen on this earth,” a compliment, though creepily put. Still, you chuckled when he said that and thanked him. But he just had to continue: “I wish I could just grab you and run away with you to where it's just you and me... forever together.”

That was just downright taking it too far.

You opened your mouth, ready to say something, anything, but your manager asked him to move on.

And to your surprise, he did without hesitation.

That made you let out a sigh of relief and think: “Maybe he didn't mean it like that... maybe you're just paranoid because of what everyone is saying.”

You kept it to yourself at first, but that feeling of unease never quite left after that day. Again, at first you thought you were simply being paranoid... there was nobody following you, watching you. Couldn't be, right?

Until you mentioned it when you were having dinner with Ari, Namjoon and Yoongi one night.

“It's stupid, I know,” you said with an uncomfortable laugh once you told them everything.

Ari immediately shook her head and covered your hand with hers, “Why didn't you say something until now?”

“Wasn't this one of the first things we taught you? To always go to the company when you feel this way?” Namjoon also leaned forward on his elbows resting on the table, his eyebrows furrowed with worry, “How do you know that it's not just a feeling?”

Yoongi started looking around, but there were barely any people in this restaurant, none that paid any attention to the four of you, anyway.

“Maybe he was just trying to be nice.”

“They always try to be nice. Too nice. That's the issue. They smile at you like they try to be nice, but when you look into their eyes, you can see that they desire more,” Yoongi let out a sigh, “Call your manager later and tell him everything. Just as a precaution.”

Yeah.. just a precaution. Maybe they were right. Your manager would know what to do anyway.

And so you called him as soon as you got home.

Ari wanted to be there with you, but you told her that you could handle it on your own. That you'd rather talk to him about this on your own. Ari already had enough on her plate, you didn't want her to handle your mess – if it became one – too.

“It's probably nothing,” your manager said.

“Yeah, right? I kept saying that too.. just a fan.”

“Some fans are like that when there's a new idol group. And you're not what they are used to. It's fine, (Y/N), really.”

Despite him brushing it off like that, he did make you feel better. More at ease.

But that was a huge mistake.

That same week, you decided to go out with some idol girl friends. Without your group.

And you just left your little group of friends for maybe a minute to go to the bathroom... and ran into him.

“There you are,” he beamed from ear to ear, but you could see it in his eyes.

Yoongi's words echoed in your ears: “They smile at you like they try to be nice, but when you look into their eyes, you can see that they desire more”

“I uh..- sorry, I'm very..-”

“No, don't be sorry, my love,” he quickly grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it, then he actually pulled out a ring box, “Here, I got this for you.”

“No, I'm okay, thank you,” you pulled your hand back, but he immediately reached for it again, then wanted to shove a ring – an expensive looking one – on your ring finger.

It looked like an engagement ring.

“This is to show everyone that we're together. Forever.”

His grip tightened and you had trouble pulling your hand away this time. He was already shoving the ring on your finger, when another customer of the restaurant wanted to go to the bathroom and ran into the scene.

You weren't sure if he knew who you were and understood the situation, or if he just saw the fear and anxiety in your eyes, but he quickly pushed the guy away from you.

“Is this guy bothering you?” he asked, now looking at you. But you were both too flustered and too shaken to properly respond, so he took that as a yes and addressed the other guy once more, “Didn't your mother teach you any manners? What kind of scumbag are you, making women uncomfortable like this?”

His voice got louder.

Loud enough for the rest of the restaurant to hear him, despite the bathrooms being in the back of it.

It didn't take more than five seconds for all four of your girl friends to come rushing.

They understood. Right away. Which was the saddest part.

One of them put her jacket over your shoulders, the other one pulled out her phone and called a cab, while the third was already on the phone with the police.

And the fourth? Well...

“You think we're dolls?” Jennie got so riled up that she nearly pushed the guy against a wall if it weren't for the other dude holding her back, “You look at her and think you own her because she's pretty? What's wrong with you? What kind of sick piece of..-”

“It's fine,” you pulled on her sleeve to stop her from taking this any further, “Let's just go.”

“Fucking prick,” she muttered under her breath and wrapped an arm around you before leading you outside.

The police arrived relatively quickly and as soon as you were done with giving your statements at the police station, you were off to BigHit.

And so here you now were, with Ari, Jennie and the other girls from your friend group, all yelling at your manager for not having done something about this despite him knowing about it.

And Bang PD let them. Because they were right.

He had brushed this off, hadn't taken it seriously enough and so you had almost paid the price for his stupidity.

You couldn't even feel bad for him when Bang PD called you into his office the following Monday to introduce you to your new manager.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N),” she smiled at you, “My name is Haneul and I will be your new manager from now on. I will take care of you and will protect you no matter what. I hope we'll be a great team.”

You let out a relieved sigh.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #blackpink scenario #blackpink #blackpink x reader #jennie x reader #jennie kim #jennie scenario #request

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bxngchxn · 3 years

Text

mr. big shot || s. changbin

characters: seo changbin + female reader

words: 3.2k

genre: smut, some fluff, angst if you squint

warnings: dom!Changbin, brat!reader, slight degradation, orgasm denial, oral (both parties giving + receiving), unprotected penitrative sex (use protection always!), general hard dom themes, Changbin is kinda conceited at first but it’ll be ok don’t worry

This is a piece of fiction and is not suitable for anyone UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

summary: You run into the hot shot producer on campus at a frat party, who seems to take a liking to you, the only person who doesn’t care.

You don’t even like frat parties.

The LED lights that are somehow always a dark blue, the more than slightly used furniture that has no doubt been passed down a generation or two, not to mention the obnoxious antics of drunk, stressed college kids? Not your thing. In fact, the only reason why you were here was because of your roommate Rose, who had her eye on Bang Chan, a member of the frat who’s kitchen you were currently sitting in. By yourself, with a drink in hand. It isn’t even good alcohol, either; just some sad excuse of an Amaretto Sour that was not even giving you a nice buzz.

It’s around midnight at this point, and the party is in full swing. Couches in the living room were pushed against the walls to ensure ample room for dancing, sweaty bodies clinging to each other and grinding to the beat playing out of the speakers set up in the main room. You look around the room and you see a few people you recognize from your classes, but most remain unfamiliar to you.

ADK (Alpha Delta Kappa) was one of, if not the biggest (and most popular) frat on campus. Their parties were always crowded, mixing top 40s hits with some original music that the music production majors of the house compose themselves. The parties almost always ended up lasting until sunrise, and you can only take pity on their neighbors, who have to deal with the noise so late into the night.

You, however, had no intention for staying that long. Getting annoyed, you pushed your way through the sea of people in search of Rose, to let her know you were going home. As you walk through the crowd, finally spotting your roommate and heading her way, someone grabs you by the arm and spins you around to face them.

“Can I help you?” you ask, attitude through the roof as if someone thought they could just grab you like that. “Well, you sure seem to be in a hurry. I’m just trying to keep you company,” the man says with a charming (read: aggravating) smile. You look up at him in annoyance and also confusion. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen this guy in your life.

He looked to be one of those snobby rich kids; his hair dyed silver and styled oh-so-perfectly, complemented by a button down that you could clearly tell was designer. His shoulders were broad, and his skin a glowing tan that actually would’ve made him look like the sun itself, if his smile wasn’t so kniving.

“I’m..sorry, do I know you?” You ask, and his expression goes from smug to shocked in under three seconds.

“You don’t know who I am?” He asks, unconvinced. You couldn’t believe the arrogance coming from this guy. Who even is he?

“Yeah, I have no idea who you are. Sorry, maybe you mistook me for someone else.” you say. You try to leave, but his grip is still on your wrist, and you’re forced to turn back round. Wanting nothing more than to clock the man standing in front of you, you huff and give him a piercing glare. “Let go of me,” you insist.

He smirks and let’s go of your wrist, but for some reason the look he’s giving you makes you freeze on the spot. “My name is Changbin. Give me one dance sweetheart, that’s all I’m asking,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

Changbin...you were racking your brain trying to figure out why that name sounded so familiar to you. And then it hit you.

Seo Changbin is a member of AKD, and a friend of Chan’s. You figured he must be the Spear B that everyone on campus raves about, and now you know where his cocky demeanor is coming from. Girls and guys alike fall for all 3 members of 3racha. You had never met Changbin before, so it was no surprise you didn’t recognize him right away. Up until now, he was almost like a piece of folklore; everyone had a story about him but you were pretty sure he didn’t exist.

This would be a bad idea. Giving into him. You knew it would be. But regardless, he was attractive, and it doesn’t hurt to have a little fun every once in a while, right?

He watched your resolve slowly crumble as he stuck out his hand. Taking it, he pulls you onto the dance floor (well...the spot of the living room that was turned into one anyway) and doesn’t hesitate to turn you around, feeling your back come into contact with his broad chest.

There’s an upbeat pop song playing through the DJ speakers, and you start to sway your hips along to the beat while trying to distract yourself from the arousal that's starting to creep in as you feel Changbin’s arms snake around your waist, pushing your hips against his. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say, remembering that you hadn’t even told him your name.

You can feel his breath ghosting against your neck as he brings his mouth to your ear. “So, Y/N,” he asks, “you really didn’t recognize me did you?” he asked, the feign hurt in his tone making you roll your eyes. “You know, you’re not all that special Mr. Big Shot,” you say, chuckling under your breath.

“Hmm and how can you say that? This is the first time we’ve met, doll. Can’t think you’d know everything about me just yet.” he says, and the use of the nickname sets you on fire. His hips have started moving to match your own, and you would be lying if the pressure you were starting to feel on your lower back didn’t spur you on to tease him a little, moving your hips away from him now and again only to have him pull you right back, turning you around to face him this time.

“Aaanddd where do you think you’re going?” He laughs, and you roll your eyes at him. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” you say as you start moving your hips again.

“Better lose the attitude baby, it’s gonna get you in trouble if you’re not careful,” he says, his eyes darkening as you wind your arms around his neck. “Will it now? No offense, but I don’t think you’ll be able to do much damage,” you say, although you can feel yourself breaking already as you have less than innocent thoughts running through your mind.

“Is that a challenge I hear?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at your antics. “Does it sound like one?” you snap back, anticipating his next move.

Before you know it, Changbin’s lips are on your neck, his grip tightening on your waist exponentially. “Just remember: you asked for it.” he says against your ear as he pulls you from the living room and down the hallway of the AKD house.

Once Changbin has you in his room, door locked, it’s game on. He immediately pushes you against the bedroom door and begins his attack on your neck once again. You want to keep your composure; make him think that you’re not that easy to break, wanting to make him work for it, but the way he moves his lips up your neck and finally to your lips is already making you want to surrender and let him have his way with you. He bites your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you immediately grant him. Kissing Changbin was different. It was red hot and every movement was making the knot of excitement in your stomach tighten.

His hands slip under your shirt, and the feeling of them on your bare skin has you letting out the tiniest whimper. He pulls away from your lips with a smirk. “There it is..I know you’re starting to break baby, why don’t you just be good for me and do as you’re told, huh?” He teases, lifting your shirt up to touch more of your skin. “Not a chance,” you tell him, although your voice is already sounding breathy. You move to touch him over his jeans, his cock already hard.

Changbin groans quietly and moves to grip your hair. He pulls your head back harshly, and laughs at the expression of pleasure on your face. “All I had to do was use a little force and you’re putty in my hands, baby.. I knew it. You like being bossed around don’t you?” He says, fingers moving under your skirt. “Answer me, slut.” He says, pulling your hair once more for good measure. “Yes sir,” you gasp, feeling every ounce of brat you had in you leaving your body.

“That’s more like it,” he says, releasing your hair. “On your knees,” he orders, pushing your shoulders downward.

You immediately oblige, looking up at him with wide eyes as you undo his belt and pop the button of his jeans. Pulling his cock out from his underwear, you’re pleased with what you see. Changbin is surprisingly well endowed; long and rather thick, and you can’t help but imagine what he’ll feel like in your mouth.

Grabbing the base of his cock, you give kitten licks to the head, pink and enticing. You hear Changbin groan and you make eye contact with him. “Stop teasing doll, you won’t like the outcome,” he growls, and that’s enough for you to take him as far into your mouth as you can, tip hitting the back of your throat.

You make sure to run your tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the vein and making sure he feels you on every inch of him. You start off a steady pace, Changbin’s fingers pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You suddenly relax your throat and take all of him, gagging slightly as he slides down your throat. “Jesus Christ,” the man says as he feels your throat around him. “You’re so good at this,” he says breathily and the praise spurs you to continue.

Before you even get the chance, Changbin is setting the pace, fucking into your throat. Tears stream down your face at the roughness of it all, but the moan you let out around his dick lets Changbin know that you’re doing just fine.

Pulling you off of his cock, he sighs. “As much as I would love to cum down that pretty throat of yours, doll, I have other plans.” He says, picking you up and immediately making his way to his bed, laying you down on the soft pillows rather roughly. He’s over you in an instant, taking your shirt off as well as his own, and letting his eyes roam over your chest and the pretty pink lace that adorns you.

“Hm, pink. It’s cute.” he says quietly and you blush, the compliment soft in contrast to the situation. You take a second to admire him, and it was just what you had imagined. Tan skin, muscles flexing as he’s moving over you. He lets his lips wander your collarbone, taking the skin into his mouth and sucking a dark purple spot that will definitely leave you thinking about him for days to come.

Taking one of your breasts in his hand, he enjoys the feeling of the lace under his hands. You arch your back slightly as he takes the nipple in between his fingers, twisting and pulling until it’s hard. He does the same to the other, and you almost want to start begging. It seems like he can read your mind as he moves you to sit up so he can take your bra off for you. He gets it in one try, and you’re not surprised. Once the piece of fabric is removed he replaces his fingers with his mouth, circling his tongue around your nipple and biting on it teasingly.

His kisses start trailing down your abdomen, sucking random marks into your skin that you know will end up bruising. You buck your hips up instinctively, silently begging for him to just touch you. Placing a hand on your stomach to hold your hips down, Changbin settles in between your legs, leaving kisses on your inner thighs as he pushes your skirt up.

“Changbin,” you breathe, hoping he’ll just get the hint. “Yes, doll? What is it?” he says, opting to just take your skirt off, revealing the matching panties underneath. You lay there, refusing to beg and trying to hold onto whatever resolve you had left. “I won’t know what you want unless you use your words, baby. Come on,” he says, continuing the kisses on your thighs, fingers playing with the elastic of your underwear. Huffing, you finally give in.

“Please Changbin, I need you” you begin to beg, and he looks up at you. The look on his face set your insides on fire, you don’t even mind the embarrassment you feel in the pit of your stomach as you beg for him.

“You need me? Need me where, baby? Here?” he says, his lips moving closer to your core but not where you truly want them. “Need your tongue on my clit. Please,” you ask quietly and he finally pulls your panties down, throwing them somewhere. “I don’t know doll, doesn’t sound like you really want it,” he chuckles, and your cheeks go red as you realize just what he wants to hear.

“Please Changbin, I need your tongue so bad. I promise I will be so good..just..just please,” you basically whine the latter half of the sentence, hoping it’ll get your point across.

“Now, was that so bad?” He says and finally licks a stripe up your clit, you moan out loud at the sensation, finally getting what you want.

Changbin is relentless, lips and tongue moving in a way that you have never experienced before. Switching from flat licks against your heat to small kitten licks against your clit. You can feel the knot in your core tighten impossibly tight, and you almost can’t take it anymore.

Changbin knows your close, and pulls away from your pussy. His lips are glistening and he looks up at you with a smile when he hears you whine. “Please Changbin don’t st-stop,” you say, feeling sad as your high ebbs away slowly. “Mm I don’t know if you deserve it, you need to be punished for how bratty you were acting earlier..you realize that acting up means punishments, don’t you doll?” He says, fingers tracing patterns into your thighs, moving closer to your core to tease you even further.

“Yes sir I understand.” You say, just hoping that he’ll eventually give you what you want.

“Good. Now, you’re not allowed to come until I tell you to. Understood?” He says, moving back to your clit. “I understand sir,” you say, throwing your head back as his tongue finally comes into contact with your core again.

Changbin edges you two, maybe three more times after that. Honestly, you stopped counting, just trying to focus on every ounce of pleasure that he’s giving you. It was truly torture. The only thoughts in your head were him, him, him, and you knew he was set on making sure that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

At this point he already has two fingers inside of you, and you’re sure you’re going to explode until Changbin slows his ministrations at the last moment, edging you for the fourth time. He trails his fingers to your mouth. “Open,” he says and you immediately comply, cleaning his fingers off and sucking on them once for good measure.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” he asks, taking his jeans and underwear off, leaving the both of you completely naked. You nod your head furiously. “What’s your color doll? I need to make sure you’re okay with this,” he says as he runs the head of his cock through your folds.

“Green, Sir fuck, just plea-” your sentence is cut off with a moan as Changbin finally pushes himself into you, going slowly to let you adjust. Once he’s bottomed out he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss. Once the slight sting of the stretch has dissipated, the fire igniting in you grows stronger and you move your hips, signaling to him that you’re okay.

Changbin pulls all the way out and slams back in, your eyes rolling into the back of your head almost instantly. The drag of his cock against your walls is enough to have you seeing stars, finally satiating all of your desires. He sets a rough and steady pace, and it’s hard to keep yourself together. The room is filled with a mix of sounds; skin slapping against each other, your breathy whines and a grunt from Changbin every so often.

“Look at you doll, taking me so well. You were really made for my cock weren’t you? All mine to ruin and destroy.” he says in your ear, one hand going around your throat and applying slight pressure. It’s bringing you closer to the edge and Changbin knows it, snaking his free hand down to your body to rub harsh circles on your clit. “Go ahead baby, cum for me, let the whole house know who’s making you feel this good” He says as his pace quickens.

His permission was all you needed, the knot coiling tight and finally breaking. Your vision goes white, and your legs are shaking as your orgasm finally washes over you, stronger than ever due to the four denied orgasms you’ve already had tonight.

“Oh my god, Changbin,” you repeat over and over, riding out your high as he continues his rough pace. He was getting close too, the feeling of you contracting around his cock bringing him to the edge. He pulls out and flips you around, helping you get to your hands and knees before he inserts himself in you once again, the new position letting him fuck you harder than before.

“I’m almost there baby, you think you can cum for me one more time?” he says with a grunt. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm and you can definitely feel a second one approaching, babbling nonsense as Changbin starts to lose control. His thrusts become more erratic, and his hand is around your throat again, pulling you close to him as he fucks you into the mattress.

Your second orgasm washes over you and the only thing you know how to say is his name. The feeling of your own orgasm finally pushes him over the edge too, groaning as he spills into you and helps you both ride out your highs. Once you’ve calmed down he pulls out of you, and you both fall to the mattress.

Changbin pulls you into his arms, bringing your back against his chest, just how it was when you first met him earlier in the night.

“That, was…” you say, “Amazing.” Changbin finishes your sentence for you and it makes you giggle. Snuggling into you a little closer, you hear him laugh under his breath.

“I know this is a little backwards, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner tomorrow,” he says hesitantly.

You turn around in his hold and place a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I..would love that, Changbin.” you say right before you succumb to the desire to sleep. The last thing you remember is a kiss on your forehead.

Your dreams seem to be filled with him, and when you wake up the next morning, seeing him bathed in the soft morning light, you feel content for the first time in a long time. And you welcome the change.

Maybe Seo Changbin is all that special, and then some.

taglist: @dom--minnie @sparklemin @minholuvs @hanflix @mochinnie @moonlit-lixie @formidxble @chaangbin @jisungiesbunnie @es-kay-zee @jinned

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #changbin smut #bxngchxn fics #binnie #changbin scenarios

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pupandangelscoffee · 3 years

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR, DANGEROUS LIKE SNAKES

Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley x Reader

Genre: Action, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of being shot, mentions of being attacked, jumping out of window (no death), mentions of deaths in the past, inappropriate language

Synopsis: When Buck and Eddie agreed to do an undercover job for Athena, they didnt expect to meet someone like you

Wordcount: 2387

Taglist: @enterprise-medical

When Athena had come to Bobby with the request to allow two of his firefighters go undercover to a rather inclusive underground dance club, he had been against the idea. For one, he didn’t want to put Eddie or Buck in danger, but most importantly, he knew how reckless those two could be and he didn’t want them to risk being caught up in anything more dangerous than their everyday work. But after some persuading from both his wife and the two men in question, he had given in.

That is exactly why they are now standing in the door of your dance studio, eyes following your every move as you lead the group choreo, believing that you had yet to take notice of them and Athena. However, when you send them a smile through the mirror, Buck feels his breath get stuck in his throat. Eddie chuckles between his friend, feeling how the other stopped breathing for a moment while Athena shoots the young male a quick glare. “Remember, Buck, this mission is extremely important. Do not compromise it by sticking your slong where it does not belong,” she hisses as you finish up the dance and make your way over to them. “So, these two are the ones I am supposed to take with me?” You ask with a rather hushed voice, looking them over before raising a brow at Athena. “Listen, Athena, I respect you but with those clothes, they will stick out like a pink elephant in a black room.” You state blankly, earning an offended scoff from the two men and a small chuckle from Athena. Before any of the three could even reply, another girl walks up behind you and wraps her arm around your waist. “Hey babe, who are these two flamingos?” She asked, studying the men from head to toe before chuckling at their appearance. “Did you pick them up at the circus?” She added, making you giggle and shake your head before retorting “nah, I found them outside the clown school. Apparently, they got kicked out for looking too much like a giraffe that drank too much paint.” While the two men look incredibly offended at your comments, Athena tried to bite back her laughter. “Do we have to work with them? They are mean.” Buck whines softly, looking at Athena like a puppy that was just kicked.

Shaking your head a bit, you turn to look at your friend. “Okay, Marie, you will help these two gentlemen find some new clothes, okay? Afterwards Marcel and I will see how well they can dance and help them learn some moves, so they won’t stick out like a wedding dress at a funeral at the party tonight.” You instruct her, earning a small nod before she rushes off, dragging the two dumbfounded men along. “You will take good care of them, right? Otherwise I may lose my husband, they are like sons to him.” Athena explains causing you to nod with a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, Athena. I will watch over them like my life depends on them. I just hope that Travis won’t figure out what we are trying to do. I would prefer not getting shot again.” You state before sending her off with a wave.

An hour later, Marie returns with Eddie and Buck, both looking more like they would belong to your scene than being model citizens. At this point, you had discarded your shirt and Buck had to do everything in his willpower not to stare at your chest. “We are back, and they finally don’t look like tropical birds in a crowd of crows.” Marie informs you, smiling at you through the mirror before grabbing her bag and waving goodbye to you, rushing out of the practice room. Turning to the men, you introduce them to Marcel before instructing them to show you some of their dance moves. To your surprise, Eddie was rather good at an assortment of dance styles, whether it was just basic salsa or some sort of break dancing, he was doing well enough that you didn’t have to fear for him to stick out unnecessarily. Buck, however, well he was a completely different story. You wouldn’t say he couldn’t dance, he could, but The Sprinkler and The Carlton would not be received well in any club, especially not one as exclusive as the one you were planning to take them tonight. While you managed not to burst out laughing, Marcel was on the ground, crying from the laughter that was ripping through his body. “Please, please do not do that when we are out tonight.” You beg gently, trying to not let the laughter get out that you were trying to keep down, eyes flicking over to Eddie, who is very amused by his friend’s interesting dance style.

You end up taking some mercy on the poor man, stepping closer to him, and placing his hands on your waist. “Just follow my lead, darling.” You say softly right as the music starts before starting to lead him, giving him a gentle smile as he stumbles a few times. After a few hours of showing him random dance moves that would be acceptable in the club, you hum in succeed. “Great, imma go shower and then we can head out.” You state before grabbing your bag before heading to the shower.

The smell of sweat and alcohol are the first things that hit Eddie and Buck when they finally get to enter the club. You had introduced Eddie as your boyfriend and Buck as your friend from a few states over to get them access to the club and Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart sting when you introduced Eddie as your boyfriend instead of him. Weaseling your way through all the bodies, you lead the two boys over to the table where your friends are sitting and to sell the illusion of dating Eddie, you sit down on his lap. Buck quickly averts his eyes as he feels jealousy raise in him, though it dies down as soon as the waitress brings over a tray of shots. Quickly, all of you grab one and down it before your friends stand up as your group’s name gets called out by another group of people. Frowning a bit, you get up as well, whispering a threatening “stay here or I will make sure neither of you have sex ever again” to the two men before following your group to the middle of the dance floor. Of course, the one night you bring in firefighters to a club that has seen more deaths than necessary, is the night your group gets challenged to a dance battle. You figure that they must be new around the club, because your group had a reputation build up about how you didn’t come to play. “Basic rules, whoever gets the loudest cheers gets to stay, the losers leave.” You state, smiling at what you assume the leader to be as you reach your hand out for a handshake. Your opponent nods and takes your hand, shaking it before both of you resume to your positions in your groups.

Meanwhile, Buck and Eddie both stood up, trying to see exactly what was happening. Buck is the first of the duo to end up climbing onto the table to get a better view, becoming completely entranced as he watches your group – especially you – start to dance. Holding his breath, he watches as the crowd goes wild for your group after the battle is over, only releasing the breath once you are back safely at your table and on Eddie’s lap. Eddie quickly wraps his arm around your waist, smiling and pressing a gentle kiss to your sweaty shoulder, clearly enjoying the fact that he got to play your boyfriend for the night.

Both of the men nearly forgot why they were with you and your group of friends in the first place, having a wonderful time and probably a bit more alcohol as they initially planned, though making sure that they were sober in case anything happened. And sure enough, after dancing, drinking, and talking for nearly two hours, three rather big men came up to you three. “Travis wishes to see you.” One of them states, motioning for you three to follow them, which you do. Once you enter the room where Travis is waiting, the bodyguards leave as Travis waves them off. “I see you brought some new friends, Y/N and you didn’t even bother introducing them to me. That is rather rude, ya know?” Travis states as he pulls out a clear bag of some white pills. “Why don’t we show them what real fun is?” he adds, mistaking your smirk for an agreement though quickly frowning as you take a picture of him holding out the pills. “You see, Travis, I don’t think the police would be very happy if I allowed their men to take some of your shit.” You state with a hum as you walk over to him and pat his cheek while Eddie takes out the handcuffs that he had hidden in his pocket. However, before he could get close enough to arrest Travis, the man dropped the bag and ran off. Sighing a bit, you take your heels off before chasing after him, knowing the club like the back of your hand.

A small scream, courtesy of Buck, could be heard when you jump out of the second story window, as he fears. Though when Eddie starts laughing while looking out of the window, he slowly walks closer and the scene in front of him was rather amusing. Not only were you absolutely fine, but you had also managed to catch a very bewildered looking Travis, who did not understand how you were able to cut him off and pin him against the metal fence, since he had been so far ahead. “Oh, this is Julie,” you whisper before slamming his head against the fence again before looking up at the boys. “Are you gonna come arrest him or do you want to continue playing pretty creepy dolls?” You yell up to them, causing the two to spring into action.

Soon enough, Athena shows up and takes Travis off your hands, not even questioning why he has a cut on his face. “He deserved it.” You state with a shrug before turning to Eddie and Buck to thank them and wish them a goodnight. “So, you think we are pretty, huh?” Buck teases before you can even say a word, causing you to giggle. “I said pretty creepy if I remember correctly, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Evan.” You reply before giving him and Eddie each a soft hug and a kiss on the cheek before grabbing your heels and walking off into the night.

It has been a few weeks since the boys last saw you and even if they didn’t want to admit it, they actually missed you. So much actually, that they drove past the place that you took them to, only to find it completely abandoned. Through a stranger, they found out that after Travis was arrested, the whole place fell apart and people just stopped showing up.

So, the surprise was real, when they hear your voice after coming back from a call. Racing up the stairs, they find you and Chris dancing with one another. “Well, what is going on here?” Eddie asks, immediately regretting that his voice came out a little more on the hostile side, but it was his father instinct kicking in as soon as he saw Chris standing without his crutches and only holding onto you. “Well hello to you too, Edmundo.” You state, quickly handing Chris his crutches before grinning and leaning down to his eyelevel. “You wanna show your dad what you learned?” You ask softly, getting an eager nod in return. So you step back and turn on the song that Chris had requested, watching Chris take the “stage” and showing off the dance moves that you had managed to teach him while the 118 was at the call. Meanwhile, the whole team joined you, all of them watching the young boy enjoy himself. “You have a very cute and sweet son.” You whisper to Eddie before walking over to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water, one for you and one for the young boy. “Dad, what do you think of my moves?” Chris asks innocently as he sips from the water bottle that you hand to him opened already, allowing you to pick him up and set him on the couch besides his father. “They were really good.” Eddie smiles, looking at you in amazement before ruffling Chris’s hair. “What are you even doing here?” Buck asks you, the smile on your face faltering. “Athena said it would be the safest if I change back to being a paramedic instead of a dance instructor, especially since I was attacked twice last week.” You add the last part in a whisper, not wanting the kid to hear.

Though you couldn’t help but giggle at the shocked faces of everyone except Bobby, who had been informed by Athena that you would be joining his team, because somehow none of them expected you to be a paramedic. “I finished the training 3 years ago, right after High School. However, I preferred dancing and it paid very well, so I never actually went to the firehouse.” You explain quickly before Bobby added “they will be joining us starting next week”. Huge smiles break out on Buck’s and Eddie’s face as they realize that this means they get to spend more time with you, almost like their wishful thinking has actually worked. A definite bonus was that Chris also seemed to really like you, so perhaps they could make things work.

But with your past? Would it come haunt them as well? Would it bring any of them into danger? Would it put Chris in the line of danger? Could they actually win your heart though? Only the future can tell, but the two men hope that their future is with you by their side.

#eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley x eddie diaz #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley #eddie diaz imagine #911 fanfiction #9 1 1 fanfic

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, coworker!hyunjin, florist!jisung, punk!jisung (yeah boiiii), agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food, passive body shaming

Word count: 5.5k (y e e t we love self indulgence)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE

busybody noun

:an officious or inquisitive person.

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There are a couple things that your mother is known for--or rather, a couple things that she has been deemed.

Mother, wife, friend, matriarch, socialite, unofficial event planner, gossip, show off, professional nagger, and, to certain people, bitch.

And yet, somehow your mother was intertwined with some of the most prominent circles within the city, and she knew everything about everyone’s business. Frankly, she often didn’t have anything better to to with her time. ” If she had any job at all, it would be calling you every weekend to give her opinions on your rather “less than auspicious” life choices.

To her, another one of your “less than auspicious” life choices had to do with the way that you had dressed yourself; however little sense this made.

Your mother sipped at her tea with dainty fingers, barely cracking with age due to her expensive hand creams.

“Quickly. Go get changed. We don’t have much more time and you’re dallying. It should fit you, just as long as you haven’t put on any more weight.” Her hawk-like gaze inspected your hips and thighs. “Hmm. I think you’ll be fine.”

Seungmin, where he sat on the couch with perfect posture tapped his feet up and down with discomfort.

I hate you for doing this to me, he glared at you with despair, hiding it behind the wide smile he performed for your mother.

“What? Do you not trust me to be alone with your friend here?”

Your best friend nervously chuckled out in that little puppy-like way that he would. “What? Ahh no, I’ll be fine, go on Y/n, I should be leaving soon anyway, I was just stopping by.”

Your mother’s eyes followed you up your staircase, watching for the very moment that you closed your bedroom door. The second you did, her snide voice hissed out loud whispers, undoubtedly drilling Seungmin about the usual questions: are you married, where do you live, what’s your profession, what does your family do etc.

The little metal zipper of the pencil skirt pinched your fingertips as you attacked it up your body. Once again, your mother had underestimated your clothing size. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes looking at the tags for the designer matching skirt and blazer ensemble. There was nothing in your mother’s life that didn’t denote the status that she “worked so hard for.”

In a way, you hated that you had done this to Seungmin as well. Initially you had thought that having some kind of male presence over when your mother arrived would deter her stabbing remarks about your singledom, but in fact, it has just made it worse. For once in your life, you just wanted to hold something over her. Now, you’d likely traumatized the best friend that you had.

You nearly slipped on the carpeted stairs in your nylon stockings on the way down, but held fast the the banister, looking a bit like some kind of sad, business-casual, plastic-looking prom queen.

Seungmin’s eyes widened seeing you in the toning skirt. Likely you knew that he must’ve been keeping his jokes to himself the very best that he could--you wouldn’t hear the end of it later.

“Wonderful. Let’s get going.” Your mother set down her teacup with a clink. “I’ve got some cosmetics in the car that you can use as well. We’ll be stopping off at the flower shop before we get to the venue. I’ve ordered an arrangement for the bride-to-be.”

“I feel like a China doll.” You muttered under your breath, catching a little laugh from your friend. Your eyes met as if to ask him if he was okay, which he rolled his eyes as his answer.

You put on the only pair of kitten heels that you owned: they were brown, banged up and the pleather was cracking a little at the edges. Of course, your mother let out an exasperated sigh upon seeing them.

“I’ll bring shoes next time.”

Seungmin politely opened the door for the both of you and the spring morning’s sun washed your face in it’s warmth. The morning was perfect: the exact kind of day that you would spend in your garden writing or reading on the single-person porch swing you had just installed. Dew still held to the Kelly green blades of grass and your cherry blossom tree bowed a little in the breeze.

“Well, it was nice meeting and speaking with you Seungmin--”

“--We’ve met before thou--”

“--You seem to be a strapping and organized young man. I do hope that you consider what we discussed.”

Seungmin appeared to flush a little, “I-I’ll think about it.”

You tugged at your friend’s shirt, pulling him in to whisper, “What the hell did she talk to you about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes fluttered around nervously. “She just kept going on about how she wanted me to--”

“--Oh, Y/n!”

From your mother’s surprised expression on the other side of the car, to the way that Seungmin stopped dead in his sentence, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Your body turned around in slow-motion, hoping that this must have been some kind of nightmare, and that you hadn’t woken up that morning yet and were cozily still tucked in bed.

If it would have been socially acceptable, you would have hidden behind that car until he walked away, but it was too late considering he already knew you were there.

Your mother let out some kind of ungodly squeal before rushing towards Minho and taking his hand in hers to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I take it that you know my daughter? And who might you be, such a handsome man as yourself???”

You really did contemplate hiding behind that car.

It was unfair how you had to run him into at a time when he looked like that. Your mother was nearly eating him with her eyes while Minho looked to you in his confusion.

Of course when your mother had to see him, he was fresh off of his morning run: white cotton sleeveless shirt, running joggers, a thick headband with sweat dripping down his body in rivets from his forehead to the curves of his toned arms.

Life was just too fucking unfair.

“Minho!” Internally, you crawled so far into yourself it was like you were barely there. You squeaked out the words coupled with a poorly-timed voice crack, “I didn’t plan on seeing YOu here!”

“Minho?!” Seungmin echoed your phrase, grabbing onto your arm with force.

“Uh, hello, nice to meet you I’m Lee Minho. And yes, I do know Y/n, I actually live a couple doors down--”

“--A neighbor! How wonderful! I know she doesn’t leave the house that much, but I’m so glad that the two of you have met. Do you live your family..? Or...your wife...?”

He smiled warmly, polite as always, “No Ma’am, I’m not married, I live with my mother.”

“Your mother? Well, that’s very honorable.”

You and your best friend locked eyes upon hearing the answer to the question that both of you had been silently wondering.

With a little eyebrow raised, he gave you a smirk, before braiding his hand through his locks strung with sweat. “I also live with my cats too.”

“Cats?” Your mother tried her best to hide the distaste in her mouth. “That’s...honorable as well. Taking care of animals is...hm, well, Y/n get in the car, time is ticking!!”

Your mother’s shrill voice was clipped by the sound of the car door closing behind her. You and your best friend choked in silent laughter together.

“Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?” You patted down your itchy grey blazer.

Seungmin nodded, “Do you want me to tell you the truth? Not your colors. But, you’ll just have to live with it.”

“I think that you look nice.” Minho’s compliment melted into your skin like honey. “But I agree, the colors don’t work the best. Sorry.”

“Oh. Thank you...” Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry! God, I’m-this is Seungmin, my-my friend Seungmin, sorry I didn’t introduce you both, my head is just--”

“--Nice to meet you. Finally.” Seungmin’s expression turned a bit more stoic, a stark contrast to his softer features.

“Nice to meet you as well.”

“Okayyyy, well, I’ll just...get going then. See you both...later.”

Seungmin slammed the door behind you, leaving you with your huffing mother in the car.

“All of these handsome men around you and you can’t lock down one? I can’t believe you...” She threw her makeup bag on your lap. “I’ll play matchmaker if you want me to, I don’t mind, but you know that I have a lot going on already--”

“--Haven’t you already started? Don’t pretend like you didn’t tell Seungmin something. Seungmin is my friend, mom.”

“I just don’t get you. Aren’t you ever a bit sad that you don’t get invited to things like this since you have no female friends...?”

“Honestly? I don’t really care--”

“--You should. Thank God that you have me.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The front windows to the floral shop winked in the morning sun and the gold lettering of the signage glistened with a similar glow. On the display, there were several dozens of different types of flowers all arranged into different glass vases, tied with bows or swaddled in burlap. The arrangements of roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, daises, sunflowers and other wildflowers appeared to be freshly cut, and beaded with water droplets.

“Here. Take my card. If any of them seem to be brown at all, tell them that you won’t pay until they fix it.”

You took the little plastic card from her red painted nails. “Will do.”

There was a little bell hung over the shop door, and it tinkled when you entered like fairy chimes. The entire place seemed a little magical: the kind of place that you would find yourself reiterating in your writings. On the marble tiled floors, flecks of dirt seemed to gather in the grout.

The golden brass counter stretched on for nearly the whole length of the shop, and held a display case which doubled as a cooler holding smaller things like corsages and boutonnières.

“Can I help you?”

The man approached you wiping the dirt off of his hands onto his canvas apron which was stained with smudges of green and brown. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos adorning his arms in beautiful patterns of black with muted colors of yellow, lavender and pink. They were nearly all floral in design and reminded you of the drawings from a botany book. His shaggy dark hair had a bit of a curl to it that tasseled over his eyes. His smile too was devastatingly charming, decorating it was a black hooped lip ring.

“Here to pick up an order?”

“Y-yes, for L/n.”

“I just finished that one up, lucky for you.” He palmed through the little stack of receipts near the register. “I’ll go get it real quick.”

It was criminal how fast you found your heart beating after hearing how strikingly soothing his voice had sounded. You also found your head spinning over how familiar he seemed, like someone you had met before, but couldn’t place where.

He had brought the sizeable arrangement over, and upon seeing it, you knew that your mother must’ve asked them to pull out all the works. Not only were flowers like this a bit of an unusual bridal shower gift, but it was just one more way for her to show off. The moment that the two of you would arrive with that, heads would turn, and that was exactly what she wanted. It was so large, you had to crane a little to see the florist behind it.

“That’ll be 360.”

Never had you been more thankful to pay for a gift with someone else’s money.

When you passed him the card, you noted the little scrapes up and down his hands and forearms, looking a bit like cat scratches.

“It’s the roses.” He chuckled. “This job is a lot more dangerous than you would think.”

“Oh.” A heat in your cheeks rose along with his observation of you.

“Beautiful day isn’t it?” He tapped at the register, then nodded to the sunlight streamlining in from the windows. There were little rainbows speckling the store from the prisms hung above the displays.

“I-it really is.”

Your eyes wandered to his nametag which looked like he had decorated with hand-drawn stars. Jisung. Once again, he caught your eyes, slyly rolling his tongue over that black hoop.

“It’s the kind of day that makes me wish I wasn’t cooped up in here and doing something else; going somewhere else. You seen the cherry blossoms yet?”

“I-I have one in my yard.”

“Oh really? It’s my favorite time of year because of them.”

His smile was a bit in the shape of a heart, and the way that his eyes smiled along with it was just as charming as the rest of him.

Blaze.

He was Blaze.

Quite literally, never in your life could you have said that you had felt your heart skip a beat, but, you imagined that there’s a first time for everything.

He scribbled down something down on the receipt, handing you both the card and the slip.

“Have a good one, ‘kay?”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would have slapped yourself square in the face, right then and there, to snap yourself out of your awe.

“Yo-you as well.”

It was a miracle you didn’t drop that expensive-ass floral arrangement getting out of there as fast as you did.

“What took you so long? People will start wondering where we are.”

Your mother said a couple more chastising remarks, but they faded away once you looked at the crinkled piece of paper on your hand:

I hope to see you again, Blossom.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“Y/n!!! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you. I’ve been decaying, simply drying out in this office all by myself.”

You swatted your melodramatic friend by the backside of his head, subsequently ruffling up his perfectly primped long, blond hair.

“Shut up. You’re surviving just fine without me.”

Hyunjin lowered his voice into a rather loud whisper, “Everyone here is just so boring.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting ‘Jin. It’s a publishing company, all we do is read here. You kind of did it to yourself too. Hell, you edit the children’s books!! You don’t have a thing to complain about.”

“Are you sure that you can’t take an office here? We could eat lunch together, make coffee together from that broken-ass coffee machine, and bitch about Mr. Yoon together. By the way, what are you doing here anyway besides not seeing me?”

“Picking up a couple manuscripts. I finished the ones from before.”

“You’re inhuman. I don’t know how you get through 300+ pages over a weekend.”

You shrugged, “It’s just what I like to do, that’s all. And, no, I will not be taking an office here, not when I have my classes too.”

“Aren’t you the perfect symbol of adulthood.” Hyunjin pulled up for you the creaky plastic office chair from the empty desk next to his.

“Tell that to my mother, I think she’d have a different oponion.”

“Screw your mother--and you can tell her that I said that too.” Your coworker fiddled with his white collar, pulling it from his neck. You knew how much he hated those and would have much rather preferred the silky low-cut ones which had become his trademark.

“If only it were that easy.”

“How’s Princess Bomi doing?”

“My cat or the story?”

“I was talking about the story, but sure, tell me about your cat too.”

Hyunjin was a sarcastic little shit, but that was why you loved him. Seungmin tended to be the same sometimes--you surmised that perhaps you made the same type of people gravitate towards you.

“It’s been pretty well received actually, and I think I’m just about done with the first book, there’s probably only a few chapters left. I just passed 8,000 reads.”

“Wow, that’s actually...really impressive. I mean it.”

When he wasn’t being a sarcastic little shit, Hyunjin was actually a genuine friend. He had been supportive of your writing ever since he forced the information out of you a few months ago after seeing a your chaotic notes mixed in with your manuscript ones. Of course, he had laughed at the prospect of you naming your main character after your cat, but he understood otherwise.

“You’ve been getting good feedback?”

“Mmhm! They really like Bomi as a character, that, and it seems like Blaze has some fans too...”

Upon saying the same, the boy from the flower shop sneakily crept back into your head along with that stupidly Blaze-like smile of his--or at least, the smile that you had always pictured Blaze to have.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to Y/n? Where did you go?”

“Huh? Oh sorry, I think I just got...lost in thought.”

“I said I think that you should really consider brining it to the company. What if they want to publish it? I think that it’s worth a shot. You said yourself that its successful online. What makes you think that people wouldn’t be interested in the print version?”

“I--Hyunjin, Princess Bomi is kind of a personal thing...”

“--Why do I even bother!” In his mock disgust, Hyunjin crossed his flabbergast arms against his chest. “I’m only trying to give you a helpful suggestion.”

Above the two of you, the florescent white lights bore down on you with a harsh luminescence.

“But--” You shyly picked at the hem of your blouse, “I could use your help with something else.”

“What?”

“What do you suggest that I wear...to meet someone’s mom?”

Hyunjin practically leapt out of his chair and three feet into the air.

“YOU’RE MEETING SOMEONE’S MOTHER?! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!”

“Get your ass back down in your seat.” You whipped your head around to see your coworkers concerned glances. “Yes, I am.”

“Thank God that you asked me. This is a serious matter.”

“I can’t exactly ask Seungmin...so...”

“Don’t you worry! I know exactly what you can do. So,” His voice turned sing-songy, “~What’s he like~ And how come you didn’t tell me about this sooner??”

“-Because I knew that you would have this exact same reaction.”

“I promise I’ll calm down, okay, go:”

“Well, he’s my neighbor, and I’ve only met him a few weeks ago, and he’s got cats, and he’s really sweet and not to mention hot as well but in like kind of a... cozy, librarian kind of way? Anyway, he wears cardigans--and you know that I’m a sucker for a good cardigan--and I’m convinced that the universe is trying to get me to destroy him but, that’s beside the point--”

“Slow down slow down! Literally all of the words you said just now don’t make sense together.”

You wheeled your chair closer to the man across from you, “And then he asked me to meet his cats and his mom or maybe just his cats or his mom, he was kinda unclear about that now that I think about it...”

“So he’s hot and has cats, hmm, sounds right up your alley.”

“I-I guess.”

“Are you sure he’s not, you know, trying to be neighborly?”

You punched Hyunjin’s arm so hard you jiggled your glasses on your face. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Sorry I brought it up! Ok, ok, I think I know what you should do. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you bag this sexy librarian man?”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“I sure as hell hope that you’re not trying to be neighborly.”

You smoothed down your freshly ironed blouse: a floral pattern with birds, something “light and springy” just as Hyunjin had recommended. The pleats in your trousers were in shape as well. He had suggested too that you tied your hair up, something about it being professional and “dateable.”

Bomi sauntered up to you while you inspected your outfit in the full-length mirror. Her gorgeous green eyes were squinted after her day-long nap, and she yawned while she brushed up against your leg.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Bomi?” You bent down to pat her head, which she promptly shied away from. “You think that this looks good? Mother-worthy?”

Bomi blinked.

“Thanks for your input Bo.”

Another yawn.

Your nightstand held your little jewelry tree, and from it you took a dainty silver necklace that hung just above the neckline of your blouse, as well as the thin tan wristwatch that you wore once in a blue moon.

The watch face read 5 o’clock exactly.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!.”

Bomi scrambled out of your way as you flew around the room trying to find a matching pair of socks. You stopped one more in front of the mirror. Your mother’s words always did find a way of seeping back into your skin like poison. Even if you had looked “nice” a nagging voice deep down echoed: “you’ve only ever been less than auspicious. Why don’t you ever change that?”

“Screw your mother.” Hyunjin had said.

If it only was that easy.

Your footsteps clomped down the stairs, and you threw on the same pair of kitten heels.

“Shit. The gift.” You slapped your forehead, cursing your horrid memory.

“And don’t forget to bring his mother something. A gift. Something small but thoughtful. Something that she can use. Mothers eat shit up like that.”

You frantically searched your entire home for something that resembled a gift. After a few moments of searching, you had resolved to go without it--you’d explain that it was in the mail, or misplaced, or anything but the fact that you didn’t have one. You grabbed your humorous amount of keychains on your keys, eyes catching that little box of complimentary chocolates from the bridal shower.

“Good enough.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

One more time, you checked your reflection in the glass door leading to Minho’s mother’s townhouse.

“This is fine, you can do this. Don’t screw this up, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

Minho opened the door, looking as confusingly adorable and downright gorgeous as you had grown to know him as. This time, he had ditched the cardigan for a sky blue sweater that still pooled at his palms. Seeing how casually he had dressed, you instantly felt overdressed, and made a mental reminder to cuss out Hyunjin when you got the chance later.

“Come in,” He gently ushered you to the spot where you switched on shoes for slippers.

“You-um, look really nice.” Minho pushed up his glasses up his nose bridge, “Really pretty.”

“Th-thank you, um, you too.”

He snickered, “No one has called me pretty before.”

“Shit, Sorry, that was weird, sorry, I’m just kinda...nervous.”

“No, not at all, I don’t mind. I appreciate the compliment.”

You stood at the doorway, awkward silence permeating the air. Suddenly, you remembered the chocolates in your hands.

“Oh, this is for you and your mother, I thought I might as well bring something over...”

Minho took it from you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t think too much of the packaging that just looked a little too wedding-y.

“Thank you for this.” He popped the box open excitedly, “What kind are they?”

It took a couple seconds, but you watched in horror as his expression turned from thrilled to deeply confused.

“What is it?” You craned your neck over to see.

“Are they...supposed to look like that?”

Inside of the little plastic compartments, each of the chocolates had melted into blobs pathetically and swirled together making one huge, brown, melted--and then solidified again--chocolate mess.

“Oh my god.” Your throat felt as tight as a knot in your embarrassment. “They’ve...”

Minho hurriedly closed the box. “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” He tried the best he could to suppress his laughter. “It’s still about the same.”

“No it’s not.” You whined out the words. “Don’t let your mother can’t see them, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What happened to them?”

Your horrid memory suddenly let you remember the fact that those chocolates had stayed in the car after the bridal shower when you had gone to visit your mother’s home.

“Nothing good, just-hide them--”

“Minho? Is that Y/n? Is she here?”

“--Hide it, quick!!!”

Minho shoved the box behind a large houseplant, still hiding his laughter caught in his throat.

“Ahhh Y/n! It’s so good to meet you at last! I’ve heard so much about you!”

You greeted Minho’s mother with a bow, throwing the box of chocolates a disdainful glare. She was a gentle looking woman who appeared to be a little older than your own, or, perhaps the same age. You wouldn’t be surprised if your mother had paid enough to procure the elixir of life; sounds like something she would have done.

“I’m so happy to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me in.”

“Minho!!” His mother nudged his arm, “You didn’t tell me how pretty she was.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat when you gave another little bow in thanks. “Your home is really lovely too.”

“Oh, it was all Minho’s idea, I’m just the one that did the cooking. I’m always happy to cook for a neighbor.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got a couple more things to prepare, Minho, you go show her the cats, I’m sure that she’d like that--I hear that you have a cat too?”

You nodded. “Are you sure that you don’t need any help?”

“No no, you both go on, I’ll handle this.”

By each passing moment, this all started to feel a bit more like a playdate than an official meeting of one’s mother. Here you were, a grown woman, and you had gone over to someone’s house to play with their cats. Maybe you weren’t as much of a grown woman as you thought you were.

“Over here.” Minho guided you to the living room: it was a modest one with furniture that looked to be very old, with beautiful traditional pictures of landscapes with assorted baby photos hanging on the walls. Everywhere, there was little pieces of evidence of the residence of cats: cat toys, scratching pads, a couple cat carriers and the cat tree nearest the window. At the top tier of the structure, there was a white and orange cat lazing with a foot slung over the side.

“Doongie?” You carefully approached the furball to pet it’s tiny paw.

“That one is Soonie, I have two cats that look a bit similar. Doongie is probably somewhere strange. You never know cats. Mine really like hopping on top of the china cabinet; it scares my mother half to death”

“I can imagine.”

Soonie remained unbothered, little cat body peacefully sleeping.

“Over here is Dori, the youngest one.”

Dori was a bit striped, with a grey body and a white belly. The smaller cat was rolled up into a perfect cinnamon roll on the loveseat. The cat stirred hearing it’s name, and keened into Minho’s touch when he scratched its head. You copied the touch, and Dori granted you the same permission.

“You cats are so sweet...wanna trade?”

“I...think that I’m good with the cat’s I’ve got. But that is a tempting offer.”

Making a rather loud appearance was Doongie, who ambled into the room with a series of loud yowls and meows, looking up to both you and Minho with striking yellow eyes.

“Doongie!” You crouched down to give the cat scratches under it’s chin, making it purr slightly. “Did you miss me? I hope that you’ve been staying out of trouble.”

Minho’s gentle brown eyes observed your interactions with his cats, simply letting you play around with them as you wished. Every once and a while, you could catch his eyes following you with a contented little grin on his face.

There was something so domestic and comforting about the whole scene. Inside the townhouse that felt well loved and with the smell of a homecooked meal in the air, there was something so peaceful about it all that was a little foreign to you.

“Minho! Please come help me with the bowls!”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Crickets chirped along the pathway and into the spring’s chilly nighttime air. Minho had offered to walk you home, even though you were just two houses down. Because of this, it seemed as if the two of you were walking in slow motion, taking one step after the other as slowly and carefully as you could. Absentmindedly, you both wanted just a little more time.

After spending the night being on your best behavior, you felt as if you could finally breathe. Granted, you had grandly spilled soup all over Minho’s mother, but this seemed to diffuse quickly once she had laughed raucously at the event. She was a sweet woman, with a kind soul, much like Minho. Her lightly wrinkled face shone like the sun and made you feel loved even without knowing her much.

In many ways, you wondered what it would be like having a mother as such. It was likely however, maybe you just weren’t supposed to know.

Minho cast his gaze up to the sprinkling of stars spread out over the vast sky: most of them invisible due to the closeness to the city.

“You know, I’m starting to really like living out here, in the suburbs I mean. Everything in the city was so fast and chaotic, it’s nice to sit back and let things be still for a while.”

“You don’t miss it?”

“Not as much as I did. The city...holds a lot of memories for me; some of them I’d rather forget. Being out here feels like a new start.”

The two of you stopped near the light coming from your porch. In the soft glow of yellow, coupled with the gentle navy blue tint of the night, Minho looked ethereal--perhaps even a little fairy-like.

You cursed out your writer brain for thinking of your little made up world at a time like this when you had this boy, real, in front of you.

“I had a nice time with you tonight.” Minho shoved his hands into his pants pockets with a cute little smirk. “I think my cats are a fan of you as well, so, that puts a good word in for you in my book.”

“Me too. Thank-thank you for inviting me.”

“Next time, we should do something different, I heard actually that there’s a meteor shower in a couple weeks.”

“Wait, next time?”

“Or, we could do something sooner if you’d like.”

“You want to do something else? With me?”

“Yes you, who else would I be talking about?” Minho capped his sentence with a little snicker.

“S-sorry, I just...don’t understand...why would you... I mean, I don’t do too much besides kinda hide in my house with my cat...there isn’t really a lot of things interesting about--”

Minho squatted down, sweeping something off of the sidewalk. It wasn’t until he had put it in your hair that you had realized he had taken one of the cherry blossoms from your tree to tuck it behind your ear. His head titled slightly as he admired the decoration, fingers lingering by the side of your cheek for a moment.

“I disagree.” He hushed, barely saying the words louder than a whisper. “Even though you you tent to get yourself into...situations--not that I mind anyway, you are special. Hell, and I haven’t even known you that long. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would’ve kissed him right then and there.

If only it were that easy.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Chapter 25

There Blaze was, standing, simple, cuts on his face and that little scar on his eyebrow twitching. The campfire illuminated his eyes with the flames, creating that brazen fire that he had gotten his name from.

Bomi knew him well. In fact, she thought she had known him better than most--a fact which she selfishly kept to herself. Blaze was everything she had known for the past year or so, and the time had interwoven their paths in ways that she had never expected. Before her was a person who knew her too, perhaps better than she knew herself.

Blaze’s callused hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing over her own battle scars.

“If you’ll not have me, please know Princess, you are the strongest warrior, bravest leader, and wisest friend that I have had the pleasure of knowing. I’ll stay by your side until I breathe my last breath.”

With a shaking hand, Bomi took Blaze’s hand resting on her cheek. She memorized the way that his skin felt on hers, making a million silent wishes that she knew would never come true.

“You and I, we both know that fate would have other plans for us...I’m sorry.”

Bomi turned from the warmth of the campfire, and the way that his eyes held hers.

She wished a million wishes, and he was nearly every one one of them.

128 notes · View notes

kz-i-co · 4 years

Text

A Simple Favor

»Summary: Your best friend ends his relationship and ends up staying with you.

»Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

»Genre: smut

»Words: 2.1k

» M.List

»A/N: let me know if you guys want this to be a series?

"Why the hell did you go in there? Tsk...you deserve to die then- ahh." You screamed as you heard a knock on your door that was perfectly in time with a random jump scare.

Your body was fighting every urge to get up and retrieve it but before you know it you heard your door close shut and foot steps coming closer. Your breathing picked up as you sat up staring at your hall and a shadow coming closer. As soon as the figure turned the corner you screamed throwing a pillow.

"It's just me." You heard the voice and immediately grew angry.

"JISUNG WHAT THE FUCK!!!" He was quick to sit next to you already hogging your blanket and eating your popcorn. "You can't just enter my place."

"You were taking forever and I know where your spare key is.

"You scared the shit out of me."

"Why are you watching Annabelle?"

"I like horror movies." You shrugged.

"Not me." He grabbed your remote changing it.

"Excuse me, who invited you?" You snipped taking your remote back.

"I always come to your place."

"It's fucking 12:30. Why are you here so late?"

"I have nowhere else to go."

"What do you mean? Plus you have Chris and Minh-"

"Nowhere I actually want to go." You were silence as you tried to put the pieces together.

"I broke up with Sohyun." He was looking at the tv. "I'm just fed up with her, she complains about everything, she's constantly yelling at me for every little thing, I just need a change."

"Have you ever thought that maybe this quarantine is just making you both nuts?" You suggested trying to sound optimistic.

"We've been fighting for months. But I'm sure it's not helping."

"I'm sure you just-"

"I'm sure." He cut you off. "Our relationship stopped feeling special for a while now, I just didn't want to believe it."

"I love you Jisung but you're really bringing me down." You slouched against the couch.

"Maybe if you turn off this evil doll movie, it will lighten my mood."

"Fine." You picked through different comedy titles until one crossed your sights.

"You looking for a roommate?" You looked at him pursing your lips not knowing what to say.

"My apartment is a one bedroom."

"I can stay on the couch."

"Doesn't your other friends have open rooms?" He just stared not answering. "I'll let you stay for a little bit so you can find your own place or moving back in with your girlfriend."

"I'm not moving back in with her." He quickly shut you down.

"You've been together for what....7 months? You really want to throw that away?"

"Thanks for reminding me....how could I be so stupid to move in with her, 7 months is way too soon."

"I don't understand, you two seem fine last time I saw you."

"I was dead inside." He laughed at his own joke. "No really she's fine one night and then the next she's pissed at me. I can't even remember the last time we kissed."

You couldn't help but feel sympathy for your friend. You never really liked Sohyun but that was none of your business.

"What about you (Y/N)?"

"We are never going to finish this." You teased.

"What about me?" You continued to ask.

"Who was your last boyfriend again? Wait...please don't tell me Sungjae."

"Yeah, so what?"

"That was over a year ago that's all." He looked back up front letting you unpause the movie.

It's been one week since you've let Jisung stay with you and it really wasn't as bad as you thought, especially during quarantine. He was a slob no doubt but he was actually nice about helping you stay tidy, but with a helping of sarcasm. He was your best friend after all and he was fun to be around, for the most part.

"Your bed is a queen right?"

"Yeah." You looked at him confused.

"Meaning you can fit two people in it."

"You ask about sharing my bed one more time, I will seriously toss your ass out."

He pouted. "No, I appreciate your couch, I just want to make sure you're not lonely."

"I'm perfectly fine thanks."

"Shall we rent a new movie?" You changed the subject. "Oh how about this?" You picked a comedy movie that had actors you recognized so you decided to complete the purchase.

Jisung has ordered food since he was grateful for letting him stay.

"This movie is unrealistic." Jisung complained.

"How?"

"They don't even like each other." He was referring to the sudden make out scene that was quickly turning more intense.

You always hated watching a movie with these type of scenes, it was always awkward no matter who you watched it with. In particular Jisung, who was fresh out of a breakup. He was clutching onto your pillow trying to stay still as he grew uncomfortable.

He sighed suddenly as he began by turning next to you. "I know you don't like to talk about it but I'm just curious."

"What?" You whined.

"When's the last time you did it?"

"Come on-"

"(Y/N) you know you can trust me with anything." And you could. Jisung was the only friend that you were an open book to, but you still couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"I don't know, last summer."

"What?"

"Please shut up......this movie was a bad idea."

He was silent for a little while that it actually worried you, so you felt relieved when he began. "I have a proposition." You looked at him. "Why don't we just do it with each other, it's been awhile for the both of us."

You weren't convinced you heard him correctly.

"(Y/N), please I'm not into hook ups and it's a hard time to date right now."

"But we're friends."

"That's why it's perfect, we know each other more then anyone and it won't be weird since we trust each other."

"It's weird just talking about it."

"It's not weird, we just use each other for special needs and we can stay friends...no ties."

"Someone always gets hurt in these things, don't you watch movies."

"How are we going to get hurt, we've been friends forever and we're always honest with each other. If you don't like it we can stop."

"I don't know."

"I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that don't you?" You hated when he looked at you like that. Jisung was an emotional person and really was everything to you.

"Okay......" He smiled. "But I have conditions." His smile quickly dropped as he looked at you unamused.

"This is only between you and me. Don't tell anyone, not even your friends. Also if you happen to get back together with Sohyun, we end it."

"That won't happen but okay."

"And if things start getting weird between us, I want it to stop."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just don't want this to change us."

"It won't." He said. "When can we start?"

"You're really bottled up aren't you?" You arched your eyebrows.

"You have no idea." You couldn't help but notice his already visible bulge. This movie just had to have explicit scenes didn't it?

"Bedroom or here?"

You rolled your eyes. "It don't matter."

"Would you rather do it in the kitchen?"

You playfully hit him. "Let's just go to the bedroom."

"In your bed?"

"Was this all to just win over my bed?"

"Of course not. And it's not just me, you want it too, unless you would of said no."

"Whatever jerk."

"Last thing." He began and you looked at him confused. "Try not to fall in love with me."

"Likewise." You returned his cocky attitude and got up and made your way to your bathroom.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"It's been awhile so I need to clean up a little."

"I don't care about that."

"I don't want you to be disgusted-"

"You are far from disgusting (Y/N)."

"You've never seen my body."

"I don't need to." You were taken back, you couldn't help but blush.

He looked around the room. "First things first, do you have any condoms?"

"I think I have a few of Sungjae's left over."

"What? Ew."

You gave him a questioning look. "It's not like they are used Jisung."

You opened your underwear drawer grabbing the box. "They're too small."

"You didn't even see the box yet."

"Don't need to." You shut him up by throwing the box at him. "Sungjae is a medium? Did you even feel anything?"

"You are seriously making me regret this."

"Can I just pull out?" He whined.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Okay fine." He began by removing his plaid shirt that hung over his plain white t-shirt.

"So how do we-"

He came really close to you that you grew speechless. "Um.....we don't have to kiss or anything." You looked up at him as he was already leaning down.

"How are we suppose to set the mood if we don't kiss?" He arched his eyebrows. "Plus...I'm like a really good kisser so you wouldn't want to miss this opportunity."

You shook your head amused. "Why do you have to be so annoy-" You were cut off by him sealing his lips with yours. You had the urge to push him off but you couldn't, something felt right.

And now you fear the worst.

Once he pulled away, you felt dizzy but you wanted more as you kissed him back to his surprise and he leaned you down on the bed.

Everything was happening so fast that you couldn't even process. He had you pinned against the bed while he kissed up and down your neck. His wandering hands started brushing up your shirt, feeling every inch of you.

You felt him playing with your bra strap, eventually loosening up the tight fabric. He had it off quicker then you realized and immediately started messaging your chest, loosely under your shirt. His lips made it's way back up to your lips, feeling more moist then before.

He stopped suddenly once he felt your hand making it's way inside his jeans. He closed his eyes tightly as you rubbed against him. You could feel the tightness growing causing you to unzip his jeans for more room.

When you felt like he had enough, you tugged his shirt up signaling for him to pull it off. You took some time to admire his toned body that you began to wonder when he even started hitting the gym. He suddenly distracted you by tugging off your sweats and you went ahead and took off your own shirt being completely exposed.

It almost looked like he blushed as he saw you in full. At this point you were growing impatient as he was taking his time with the protection.

"Jisung can you step on it?"

He looked at you amused. "Wow someone is a little eager."

"Shut it."

"I told you I didn't even want to wear one." He leaned forward and began kissing your neck once again before making his way to your swollen lips. You felt him slowly push in, not aware of how tight you were.

You couldn't help but wince from the slight pain until the feeling subsided to pleasure. His muffled sounds were so beautiful as he began your movements faster. The pleasure was familiar and too far forgotten. Almost like a dream. If only it was to save you from all the trouble you can already predict.

He leaned down kissing you passionately once again as his pace was comfortable. You felt like you were lost in your own world not caring who can hear you. You moved your hand to the front of your folds to guide your pleasure closer to the edge. You felt numbness scattered throughout your body as the climax finally reached its high point. Once he reached his he collapsed to the bed next to you.

You looked over at Jisung and you couldn't help but smile seeing how exhausted he was. He turned on his side facing you as he gently started to close his eyes.

Try not to fall in love with me.

You remembered what he said. Maybe it was just your hormones talking but you felt butterflies non stop. You're just hoping you didn't feel this way tomorrow.

#stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #stray kids masterlist #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #han jisung #han jisung scenarios #han jisung smut #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fluff #han jisung imagines #masterlist

253 notes · View notes

sonnetthebard · 3 years

Note

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place.

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly.

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded.

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked.

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly.

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left.

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room.

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed.

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled.

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery. “Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again.

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled.

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job.

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel.

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully.

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down.

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything.

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh.

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good.

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully.

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled.

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly.

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him.

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out.

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded.

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned.

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in.

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased.

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest.

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded.

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv.

#tw: swearing #tw: panic attack #tw: implied ptsd #tw: anxiety #tw: triggers #spies are forever #saf #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #agent owen carvour #joey richter #curtwen #gay #lgtbtq #oneshot #tin can bros #tcb #tin can bros fanfiction

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

"Holy shit the school bad boy's courting you." Dustin whispered in disbelief as he stared at both the pin and the worn bloodied bat Steve had settled between them on the table.

"Wait, he's what?" Steve frowned, fingers picking up the pin adorned with a creepy smiling face. "No way."

"No, I'm serious Steve. This is like straight-up Jason Todd style courting. He totally kicked the whole baseball team's ass for you."

“That’s ridiculous man, Frank wo-” He ended up stopping mid-sentence because actually, Frank would. He definitely would. Everyone had heard the beating he had given Billy for smacking Hak-Quinn’s ass the other day, it made sense he would go against the baseball team as his way of proving he could provide for him.

Realization crossed Steve's face, lips forming a small surprised ‘oh’ while Dustin just shook his head as if he couldn't believe it had taken Steve this long to realize he was being courted.

"So what are you gonna do?" The younger boy asked, stealing a couple fries from Steve's plate before the other could react.

"What do you mean what I'm gonna do?" He said weakly, slapping Dustin's hand away when he tried to reach for more fries.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" And it was clear in his tone he knew Steve was acting like this on purpose. "Are you gonna accept his courting, or tell him no?"

The Omega blushes, immediately flustered by the question. Having thought he would be a Beta or an Alpha for most of his life, he had known the whole courting thing would've eventually fallen on him to do it. Now with the roles reversed, he couldn't help but feel flattered by the gestures.

"Look, I don't know, maybe I will talk to him about it or something." Dustin seemed to catch the finality in his words because he finally changed topics, asking Steve instead about how Demo was faring.

Still, he had already made up his mind on this topic.

By the end of classes the next day, he hunted down the self-proclaimed leader of Legion. Steve might've been an Omega sure, but he was also taller and had the body of an athlete. Even so, he believed it wouldn't have been so easy for him to cage Frank against the wall had the Alpha not allowed him to.

"Are you... Are you courting me?" He cut right to the chase, wanting to make sure it wasn't all in his head.

"Been trying my best, yeah." Frank had a jackal grin on his face, looking up at Steve. Not intimidated in the slightest, with a flicker of something in his eye that stirred something up in Steve's gut. Something strange and new and not at all bad. "You like?"

Steve didn't answer with words. Doubts he even could. Instead leaned down and kissed Frank hard. Kissed him until they were both out of breath, Steve's cheeks flushed a pale red. A wide grin stretched his lips when he finally pulled away.

"Friday, 7 pm. I'll pay for the movie tickets if you smuggle in the food. Deal?"

"I got a key to the theater's back door. No need to spend money on me, doll." Frank's grinning again, all sharp cheekbones and even sharper fangs.

"You kick the whole baseball team's ass for me, and I don't get to spend a couple bucks on you? Unfair." And yeah maybe he was pouting, but really it didn't sit well with him not to repay Frank in some way after the way he left the baseball team.

"If you insist, ain't gonna put up a fight. Just thought I'd tell ya if you wanted to trade emptying your wallet for a little thrill." Frank shrugged, grin still solid on his face. Reaches out to cup Steve's face. "Comes with the bad boy package, y'know?"

Steve couldn't help leaning into the touch, eyes never straying from those stormy grey irises. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, dripping with honesty. "I think I would like to find out."

Frank laughed and Steve found himself liking the sound way more than he expected. It was rough and relaxed and shameless.

"Be happy to show ya, doll."

And Steve had to admit the excitement of knowing he had an actual date was enough to keep his mind off the bullying and taunts for the remaining days of the week.

Frank meets him at the theater entrance, right on time. Steve, who had walked the whole way here so as to not have to explain to his parents where he was going, is thankful that he will be able to catch a ride once the movie is done.

As promised Steve pays for two tickets then Frank drags him into another movie after the first movie ends, and another one after that. Steve doesn't feel like complaining, even if the movie genres are all over the place. He's having fun and this is the most he's broken the rules after the whole omega thing.

And really, if they makeout halfway through the second movie and end up missing half the bullshit plot, Steve only has Frank to blame. He kept heckling the cheesy bits under his breath making Steve laugh until he was hiding snorts behind his hand.

It's around midnight when they finally leave the theater, and as soon as they step outside Steve's phone starts ringing. His parents on the other end of the phone, angry because Steve's being careless.

"You should be more careful! What if something happened to you? And shouldn't you be worried about studying? You already lost that baseball scholarship-"

He must've made a face or something because Frank snatches the phone from his hand. Quick reflexes and firm grip. It takes Steve by surprise.

"Hello, Mister .. Missus Harrington -" He starts, and he's determined to take the weight off Steve as best he can and he's no Fairfield and he's certainly not Hak-Quinn, but he can play a part good enough for a phone call. "The movie ran a bit later than expected, but I'll see your son home safe and sound!"

And before his parents have any chance to respond, Frank hangs up.

Steve is stunned for a whole five seconds, blinking at Frank, before what happened sets in and he groans. "Ah shit, now they are gonna want to meet you!"

"I got makeup in my car," Frank says, clicking his tongue as he hands back the phone. "Nothing I can do about the hair."

And Steve looks at Frank dumbly for a second. Confused because, why would Frank need makeup?

"Tattoo. For hiding the tattoo." Frank waves a dismissive hand as he slings his other around Steve's waist. Comfortable. Warm. Close. "Hak-Quinn taught me how."

Steve is dumbfounded. "You would... For me? Wha-"

"... Well duh?" He kinda looks at Steve, confused himself. "I'm not exactly the kind of person people are proud to bring home but it stresses you out so I can play pretend." He raises an eyebrow, grins again, like a feral dog. "Unless you'd rather I show up as is? Full punk?"

"Oh. Oh Frank no, I'm not ashamed of being seen with you." Steve shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "I just know my parents and they will try to prevent me from seeing you. I don't want that to happen, that's all."

Frank looks at Steve. And he's quiet for a moment. And then a softer smile steals across his face.

"You have no idea how you smell right now, do you?"

Steve flinches a little, looks away, but he knows Frank's question is honest, not a jab. "I'm scent blind actually. Doc said it would get better with time but I can't recognize my own scent at all."

"You smell miserable, doll. Not too keen on handing you back to the cause of it, y'know?"

And then Frank scents him. It's light. Polite, even. But Steve knows the action even if he can't smell what it does.

Skin on skin contact and the soft rumbling purr of an alpha.

It kinda hits him then that he's not alone anymore. Frank cares. Cares enough to willingly offer to hide parts of himself just so Steve wouldn't get too hard a time with his parents. It's easily the most thoughtful thing someone that is not Dustin or Nancy, has done for him. Can't help it if he tears up a little.

"Waitin' on your answer, doll," Frank murmurs, probably aware of how Steve is feeling thanks to his scent. "Makeup will take a hot minute and we're gonna have to get you home .. eventually."

Steve ends up shaking his head, surreptitiously wiping a tear or two off his cheeks. "I'm not gonna hide you like you're something to be ashamed of. I'll just deal with them if they get too pushy."

"Cute." Frank's grin returns and he steals himself a kiss before pushing Steve towards his car.

They drive too fast and blast the music too loud. Steve doesn't know any of the lyrics, the music too far off from his usual tastes, but when he tries to somewhat sing along and Frank rewards him with a heart-stopping grin? Worth it.

As expected, Steve's parents are at the door when they arrive. Disappointed face, even more, disappointed scents. Steve's mom is glaring at Frank, his dad is just looking at Steve like he's a lost cause.

"Mister Harrington. Missus." Frank's got a jackal's grin on his face again, and Steve can't smell it, but his scent is twined around the anxious omega like an extra buffer.

It's amazing how Frank doesn't even care about the venom in his parents' eyes, writing him off near immediately with his dyed hair and throat tattoo and grunge aesthetic.

Steve's parents don't even deign to give a response, just march back inside and wait for him to follow after them.

"I had fun, thank you. I will see you tomorrow." Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to Frank’s cheek before going in and closing the door behind him.

They barely waited until the door was closed before they started demanding answers. Frank probably hadn't even left, but they didn't care and Steve hated it. Hated all of it.

His night had been amazing, maybe even the best night he had had this year, but that call had to ruin it.

Before presenting, when they had still thought he would be a Beta or a late Alpha, his parents wouldn't have bothered calling him for a night out. As long as he was home for breakfast, everything was fine. These days though, they had become protective to the point it was bordering on controlling and it bothered Steve.

Maybe he should be glad that they were trying to show they cared but it was hard to do when their words were “Stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger that will just cause more trouble for us.” and not “We are just worried something will happen to you.”

Ever since the goddamn results came back, it was always about them. How this would be a problem for them. How losing the scholarship meant they would have to invest more money in him. How Steve getting involved with a delinquent would look on them.

They don't bother asking how he is coping with it all. The changes in his body, the bullying at school they know nothing about, how he had to give up the sport he loved because society decided Omegas weren't made to be in sports. For God's sake, he had cried the morning he received the letter notifying him his scholarship had been suspended. But either they didn't know about that, didn't realize, or didn't care.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” His dad demanded, disappointment emanating from every pore in his body.

Steve might've been scent blind, but familiarity and time had allowed him to distinguish his parents' scents and the shifts in their emotions. Because of this, he wasn't spared from the full brunt of disappointment, anger, upset coming from both his parents. It was hard not to reflexively make himself appear smaller but he knew that would just make his dad angrier.

"I don't really see what the problem is, dad." He said, running a hand through his hair and sighing in exasperation. "I told you guys I would be out till late, and that I was going out with a friend. You had the location of the movie theater too. So what really is the problem here?"

"When you said you would be going out with a friend, we thought you meant that nice girl Robin, or maybe the Wheeler's kid, Nancy. You guys made such a cute couple, Stevie." His mom interjected, her tone softer but no less upset than his dad's had been.

"Mom, please. Nancy and I broke up a year ago already, will you drop it? Plus Robin is not even my type!"

"Of course because apparently, your type is no-good delinquents, you have made that clear." His dad snapped, glaring down at him.

Steve frowned, glaring back at him. "Frank is a classmate and a friend. He defended me when the baseball team started labeling me as a slut just because I'm an Omega. I think that's more than either of you have done about this!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve knew he had made a mistake. His dad's nostrils flared and his mother gasped like maybe they were sensing something he wasn't. At least his dad might've because his mother was as scent blind like him, maybe worse. There was a reason scenting was something he didn't know how to do properly.

"Can't believe you needed the help of someone like that to defend yourself. Didn't we teach you to stand up for yourself, Steve? Or do you think just because you are an Omega now you get to play the weak card?" His dad snarked, eyes narrowed.

"Honey-"

"No." His dad shook his head, ignoring his mother's hand on his shoulder. "You are to stop any contact with that delinquent. Now to your room, Steve."

"Wha- Dad-"

"To your room, I said." He didn't yell but the growl was so clear in his voice that Steve couldn't help but flinch and lower his head.

Fine. He would play to their rules while they were watching, but like hell he would give up on what he and Frank had. Not after he had just gotten it.

#alpha/beta/omega dynamics #dbd #dead by daylight #steve harrington #frank morrison #dbd frank #dbd steve #adopted au #drabbles #Morrington #frankxsteve

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jamaiskookie · 4 years

Text

Yoongi Doesn’t Romance [myg x reader]

✂︎ warnings: excessive cursing, bad writing

✂︎ word count: 6.6k (I meant to write a very short drabble… aHAHHA)

✂︎ genre: it’s.. literally just crack. Good dosing of cheesy romance and overused cliches

✂︎ A/N: it took awhile but we here!!! with a short drabble but still!!! hope you enjoy this cringey fluffy fic full of shameless jimin and shy yoongi- arguably the best yoongi

masterlist asks

✂︎ synopsis: yoongi isn’t great at expressing feelings- especially with how nervous he gets around you. alternatively titled: yoongi sucks at romance

“... and I don’t understand why you’re so hell bent on denying it! You obviously have a crush on him!” You roll your eyes at Namjoon, flicking your index finger at his forehead and watching as he flinches and lets out multiple sounds of pain, which you promptly ignored.

“I’m denying my crush because he so obviously doesn’t like me back! He hates me, Joon. He literally detests me.” You say, jumping back onto the stained and cluttered couch that occupies most of you and Namjoon’s shared dorm.

“And I’m telling you that you’re overthinking it,” Namjoon says, chewing on some popcorn. “I don’t think he hates you, you’re just exaggerating things.”

“I am not!” You protest, swinging your head around to look Namjoon dead straight in the eyes. “He hates me! He practically leaps out of the room whenever I’m around.” Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Taehyung, who is currently seated two feet away on a small thrifted chair.

“Shhhhhhhh-” His eyes are still fixated on the TV screen, watching the random nature documentary playing that you and Namjoon had long ago abandoned. You and Namjoon both watch Taehyung for a second amusedly as he attempts to stuff popcorn kernels in his mouth and completely misses the mark. You’ll have to remind him to clean up the floor later.

“But,” Namjoon whispers to you, “Literally every time you aren’t around I swear all he can do is run his mouth on and on about you.”

“Not true!” You yell, squeaking out a quick apology to Tae, who glared at you for interrupting the segment on apes. Something about how apes can learn languages, but you’re not too sure. “Lies!” You hiss, elbowing Namjoon in the rib.

“Ow-!” He jumps back, wincing. “Why do you always resort to violence?” You didn’t have an answer to that question, unfortunately. “And I’m not lying! I swear on my bonsai trees he always asks where you are whenever you don’t show up to stuff.”

“Maybe he just wants to know how much glorious time he has left before he has to face me again.” You offer, tearing open what must be your third dorito family pack of the night. (It’s fine, you’ll burn it off by running to class tomorrow when you’re inevitably late once again.) “Namjoon, face the facts: he only tolerates my presence occasionally because we share a couple of mutual friends. If it weren’t for you and the other guys, he would’ve already started a hate club for me, I’m sure of it”

Namjoon stared at you exasperatedly, before muttering something that very suspiciously sounded like ‘God you’re such a dumbass’ before taking out his phone to swipe through Tinder, not uttering another word to you.

Despite Namjoon’s utter and complete lies, you don’t exaggerate anything when it comes to Min Yoongi. Not his hatred towards you, or how he speaks two words maximum every year directed at you, or your massive slight crush that you’ve harboured for him, or how cute he looks with beanies on, or how you almost fainted that one time you saw him playing basketball, or- well, you get it.

The point is, you can’t acknowledge your crush on Yoongi (Even though everyone around you is fully aware of it) because he seems to completely resent you and your existence for no reason in particular. Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, and many others insist that he doesn’t hate you as much as you think, but you dismiss their stupid assumptions time and time again. You’d love to believe them, but the evidence and first hand experiences you’ve had says otherwise.

✂︎

Exhibit A: He seems to avoid you on campus, or anywhere you go. This one is actually quite impressive considering the classes you two share. You’ve never seen someone go so out of their way to ignore someone they don’t like. It’s pretty commemorable. Whenever you sit in the same row as him during a lecture, he’ll move seats. One time you waved at him at a coffee shop and he just strangely blushed, and bolted out of there faster than you could say ‘rejected’. Taehyung ended up saying it, all while laughing his ass off. (You made him pay for your coffee that day.) Everytime you head over to Jimin’s dorm, he’ll just blankly stare at you two and march straight towards his room and lock himself in there until you leave. He even gulpes and swerves away when he sees you in a hallway.

You know, that awkward thing when you’re heading the same direction so obviously you’d try and be slightly friendly and wave or something but then he’ll just suddenly turn around, navigating through the crowd of angry, late students and facing all that social pressure just so he doesn’t have to waVE BACK AT YOU- okay, maybe you aren’t as over this incident as you thought.

Exhibit B: He won’t speak to you or touch you or interact with you in any way. Okay, maybe ‘in any way’ is a teensy bit exaggerated, but he definitely seems to find trouble when you two are left alone for some strange reason. He seems to be fine when all your other friends are around, but he just looks so uncomfortable when it’s just you two. He won’t look you in the eye, and he’ll just mutter incomprehensible sentences under his breath.

A couple months ago you attempted to hold a decent conversation with him in the kitchen of Jin’s fancy ass apartment. After many awkward silences that you had to fill up with your timid and boring small talk, he just mumbled something and you had to watch him go into the bathroom and scream. Either he was having some really bad explosive diarrhea, or having to talk to you was just that excruciating. Apart from intense Uno game nights or when he’s under the influence of alcohol, you’ve never even heard Yoongi raise his voice!

How is it possible that just by talking to you, he feels the urge to scream? You aren’t that boring, you think-! Actually, now that you think about it, you did try and bring up sea otter fun facts as a conversation starter, so maybe that’s why he had to scream.

Personally, you think that sea otters are the most adorable creatures to ever grace the earth, but Yoongi does seem like the kind of guy to prefer bats or something like that.

Exhibit C: The elbow incident. This haunts you to this day, not just from the horrible humiliation, but if the two previous exhibit’s weren’t convincing enough, this was real cemented evidence that Min Yoongi hates your guts.

You were talking to Jimin about the significance of ‘Phineas and Ferb’ in the cinematic industry, when your dumbass had tripped and caught yourself on Min Yoongi’s fucking arm (His bicep, on a completely unrelated note, was much bigger and stronger than you had thought, which was a complete other source of anxiety.) You would much rather fall on the ground and break all your bones, because the look on Yoongi’s face as he stared down at you clutching his arm like some sort of idiot, could only be described as disgust or horrified. Maybe both. You immediately let go, of course, and blabbered out apology after apology, but all he did was just stare and blink owlishly at you.

You proceeded to blush madly and run away, hiding your face in Jimin’s chest, which was, in hindsight, not a good idea, considering how hard he was laughing at the time. (What you didn’t see was Yoongi staring from behind you, deciding to never wash the hoodie he was wearing ever again.)

So, that concludes your argument against Namjoon’s preposterous claim that ‘Yoongi doesn’t actually hate you Y/n, it’s all in your head’ Delusional, that’s what he is. How could someone like Min Yoongi, a person you have literally been drooling over for most of your academic career, a person who single handedly has every sorority girl wrapped around his finger, even tolerate your very existence, much less be attracted to you? No, none of it makes any sense. You’ll continue to hurt yourself by being around him, despite clearly knowing that he detests your presence, and will even deny the crush you’ve somehow managed to build up for him.

Because even though it hurts to see him flinch and ignore you, you truly do think that Yoongi is one of the greatest people to ever walk on this shitty earth. He’s caring, even if he does pretend to not care, he’s smart, passionate, ambitious, and you’d be absolutely lying if you said you haven’t dreamed of pinching those squishy cheeks he seems to hide away so often.

If only you knew why he hated you so much.

✂︎

All the way across campus, Yoongi was having a similar breakdown while Jimin looked on anxiously.

“God fucking dammit!” He screamed. The sound comes out slightly muffled since Jimin can only hear what he’s saying through the pillow that Yoongi currently has his face buried in. He kicks his legs up and whines, hitting the bed with his hands. Jimin is suddenly reminded of his 4 year old cousin who threw a tantrum when she didn’t get the doll she asked for.

“And then you know what I said, Chim?? Do you kNOW?” Yoongi’s been screaming for the past thirty minutes or so. Jimin’s surprised that nobody on campus has come pounding on their door telling them to shut up yet.

“Please, do enlighten me.” Jimin murmurs, picking at his nails.

“I said ‘Salutations’ AND THEN I RAN OUT THE FUCKING CLASSROOM.” Yoongi tilts his head up from the pillow and groans, scrunching his nose up at the embarrassing thought.

“At least it’s not as bad as the time you screamed in the middle of the street when she touched your shoulder… right?” Jimin offers timidly, forcing a smile on his face. An angry, sleep deprived Yoongi is already scary enough, but he’s ten times more intense when the source of anger comes from you.

Honestly, sometimes he wonders how effective it would be if he could just lock Yoongi and you in a room and force you two to admit your feelings for once. (Until he mentioned this idea to Namjoon, who dejectedly informed him that they’ve already tried that.) ((Yoongi broke out of the room using a bobby pin and sheer force of will)) He’s never even seen a pair so smart, and yet so obliviously naive. Anyone with functioning two eyes could see the horribly obvious feelings the both of you shared for each other. In fact, for the first couple months upon meeting Yoongi, he thought that you were his girlfriend, based on how much he talked about you. That assumption carried on when he met you, until Jin told him that the two of you were just in a weird phase of dumbasses who kinda flirt.

It’s not Yoongi’s fault that he’s so bad at having actual emotions that aren’t the tears of joy that he sheds whenever he gets free coffee from the barista at the local cafe, and it’s not your fault that your self esteem is too low to recognise that Yoongi basically worships you.

In theory, you two are a match made in heaven. Both just as stupid as the other.

“How do you do feelings, Jimin?” Yoongi sits up from the bed, and Jimin thinks that the tear tracks and defeated look on his face is a tad bit dramatic, but he chooses not to comment on it, for fear of his own life.

“... what?”

“You know, feelings. How do you romance?”

“... what?”

Yoongi, completely exasperated, throws his hands up in the air and turns around to face Jimin. “Everytime I try to talk to her by myself it’s like I’m a fish out of water. I get way too nervous, and then she starts talking about otters, and she’s way too pretty so I obviously start freaking out! I don’t know, you and Jungkook have been dating for a year now, right?” Jimin nods.

“How’d you do that.”

“... Are you asking me how I got a boyfriend or-? Because I assure you that 85% of getting Kookie to be my boyfriend had to do with my great ass, so I can’t really help you out there- ” Jimin laughs as he watches Yoongi squeal and cover his hands over his ears.

“Can I ask you for relationship advice without hearing about your sex life, please?” Yoongi pleads. “I know too many unnecessary things about how Jungkook is in bed.”

Jimin decides to put his friend out of his misery. He places a hand on his shoulder, and shoots him a soft smile.

“Yoongi, my young grasshopper- ” He retracts the hand when he sees the deathly stare Yoongi is looking at him with, but so far so good, “- there really isn’t much to it. Tell her you like her, and in the very, very, extremely small chance that she rejects you, so what? It’s not like you’re going to spend the rest of your life getting ov- ” Jimin’s voice falters again when Yoongi’s stare intensifies.

“You don’t get it!” He complains, throwing himself back onto the bed once again. “You’re all good at this sort of stuff!” Jimin tilts his head in confusion. “You know, relationships! Talking to people! And I’m pretty sure Y/n is the love of my life, so I’m literally going to break down if she rejects me! I’m going to cry for days, I already know it!” Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, pouting at nothing in particular.

“She’s so perfect, smart, nice, caring, funny, strong and incredible. It hurts that she’s never going to like me the way I like her.”

“You know, Yoongi, if you never talk to her, she’s never going to know you feel that way.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, while it takes all of Jimin’s strength to restrain himself from not throwing Yoongi out of the window.

Once he’s absolutely sure that Yoongi is fully asleep, he pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes. After a few quick taps, he brings his phone up to his ear.

“Guys, I can’t deal with him anymore. We have to do something.”

✂︎

“I would like to, once again, reiterate that I am 100% against this idea.”

“Shut up, Namjoon.” Namjoon grumbles something about being unappreciated, but continues to speak up.

“It’s a bad idea, Chim. Logically, there’s only a small chance this will work out in our favour, and if it doesn't, I’m at least certain that Yoongi will dislocate all of our limbs until we’re a pile of human flesh.”

Jimin dismisses the thought. “Yoongi would never do that to us.”

“Of course he would,” Taehyung piped up. “Do you remember the time he dyed my bright pink because I made fun of Y/n for her stupid heart patterned boots and she cried?” 10 pairs of eyes slowly looked up at Taehyung.

“Well, that’s justified, we all want to murder you.” Taehyung gasps at Jin, who smiles back at him in return.

“And also, you were being a huge asshole that day and you totally deserved it. The pink hair didn’t even look that bad.” Tae smiles proudly at Jimin.

“That’s true, I fucking slayed with that pink hair. I kinda miss it, actually… ” He hums thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Jimin looks away and scoffs. Taehyung’s one of his oldest friends, but sometimes he gets a little too art-kid-college-dropout-hipster for him to handle.

“Do you guys think I should dye my hair pink again?” Nobody answers his question.

“Tae might be an absolute douchebag, but he has a point. We all know how protective Yoongi is over Y/n. Are you willing to potentially risk your life if this doesn’t work out?” Curse Namjoon for being logical. Maybe Yoongi killing him is a bit of a stretch, but he would make Jimin’s life a living hell if this operation ended up a failure.

Nevertheless, he continues to insist. “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? I physically can’t stand Yoongi stomping around the dorm because he’s emotionally incapable of working out his feelings anymore! Yesterday he fell asleep in my bed. My bed, Namjoon. For such a tiny man, he’s really fucking heavy, I couldn’t move him and had to crash on the couch for the night. If this doesn’t end up working, Yoongi will just go back home and mope around all day long. Nothing different from what he’s doing now.”

“Um, what’s the worst that could happen?“ Namjoon asks incredulously. “How about if Yoongi finds out we tricked him, invites us to a murder mystery party, but then decides to kill us instead, and covers it up by burying our cold hard, deAD bodies in a highly unhygienic GRAVEYARD? What will you do if that happens, Jimin?“

“..........“

Nobody says anything to Namjoon, and the boys turn to Jimin once again. Shaking his head, and attempting to ignore... whatever the hell Namjoon just did, Jimin speaks.

“Oh come on guys!” He shakes his shoulders and lightly taps his foot against the ground. “Aren’t you guys tired of dealing with these two dumbasses too?” A murmur of agreement seems to go around the group, and Jimin breaks into a huge smile.

“Well, gee,“ Namjoon mumbles sarcastically. “Why don’t you just make a Namjoon Facebook hate group?“ Taehyung shushes him.

Beside him, Jin and Jungkook are exchanging money, clearly for some kind of bet. What the bet entails, Jimin has no idea, but he doesn’t have the time to question them right now.

“So, we’re in?” Everyone slowly begins to nod, all except Namjoon. Jimin beams, looking up expectantly at him. Namjoon bites his lip, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fine.” He grumbles out, not acknowledging Jimin’s shouts of joy. “If this goes wrong though, you bitches better be fucking responsible.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re all on board, because Hoseok is already here.” Jimin happily smiled up to find Hobi shuffling through the cafe doors, waving enthusiastically at him. He also decides to ignore the collective round of groans and ‘Jimin!’’s that went around the table.

“Why did you even ask us for our opinions if you already planned this out anyway?” Jungkook hisses, awkwardly smiling at Hoseok.

“Because you guys can never say no to me!”

“That’s only because of how fucking annoying you are, Chimmy.” Jin moves over in order to let Hoseok sit, even though he doesn’t look overjoyed at having to abandon his favourite seat.

“Well, all of you look super happy to see me.” Hobi jokes, immediately picking up Namjoon’s milkshake to take a sip.

“Sorry that you had to get dragged into all this bullshit, Hobi,” Namjoon says, pushing his milkshake towards him and sticking a second straw in the cup.

“No problem! I love pissing Yoongi off!” The group slowly stares at Hobi, who is still cheerfully sipping at Joon’s milkshake.

“Well,” Taehyung mutters. “What else do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Drowning yourself in lava?”

“Taehyung, play nice. Some people are just special. Anyways, here is the plan for Operation: Delusional Idiots Who Need To Make Out.”

“... Can’t we shorten that?”

“Yeah, seems pretty lengthy.”

“How about Operation: DIWNTMO? Like, pronounced as diwinteemo?”

“That’s… even worse, somehow.”

“Let’s just shorten it to Operation: Delusional Idiots.”

Six voices, in the middle of the busiest cafe on the school campus, suddenly shout out the words ‘Operation: Delusional Idiots!’, and a cheer goes around the table.

Onlookers wonder if they are referring to themselves.

✂︎

In hindsight, Namjoon was probably right. But Jimin can be extremely convincing sometimes, and Jin takes every opportunity to throw a party, so maybe Namjoon was fighting a lost cause in the first place.

He ponders what he wants his tombstone to say, while pacing around Jin’s apartment, where the party is already going on, full force. Maybe something like ‘Kim Namjoon (1994-2020) Murdered by Min Yoongi at a house party.’ Well, at least if he really does die tonight, it would be a good night for it.

Namjoon has many complaints about Seokjin. He could probably pull up a never ending list of the girls and guys who have come complaining to him for his friend’s mistakes, screaming about how Jin broke their heart, so and so. But, even he has to begrudgingly agree, Kim Seokjin throws one hell of a party.

It was one of those rare nights where you could actually make out the faint stars in the Seoul skyline, where the twinkling of the stars felt peaceful. Namjoon isn’t too much of a party person, but the monsters that he calls his friends go out every Friday night, pulling him along most of the time. He’s gotten used to just camping out on Jin’s fancy apartment balcony, (Seriously, what kind of college kid has a balcony?) avoiding the cheers, loud screaming and horribly unhygienic things that are happening inside.

Unfortunately, thanks to Park Jimin and his horrible ideas, Namjoon is currently wincing in the middle of a huge crowd full of sweaty bodies. He regrets not faking a fever while he could, but it was way too late now. His job tonight was to keep Y/n preoccupied.

“Remember Joonie, under no circumstances can Y/n see Yoongi before Hoseok completes the task. If she even sees a glimpse of him, she’s going to freak out and leave.”

His aforementioned target was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon is starting to worry that all their efforts will go to waste just because you decided it was another Friday to stay in bed and watch Disney movies on repea-

“wHOA!” Another sweaty hand pulls him out from the crowd, and Namjoon stumbles out, breathing heavily.

“Why aren’t you out on the balcony?”

“Why- what- oH! Y/n!”

You stare blankly at Namjoon, who is still rubbing his arm in pain.

“You came!” He says, with a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher.

“What do you mean, I came? Of course I came! It was you and Jin who insisted I come, right?” You dragged him over to the makeshift bar that Jin had set up hours ago on his kitchen island, pouring the both of you strong drinks. You’ll need it to get through the night.

“Right!” Namjoon awkwardly laughs and follows you into the kitchen, craning his neck to lock eyes with Jimin, who then gives him a thumbs up and leans over to whisper to Hoseok.

“Y/n,” He says, patting your back when you start coughing lightly from the shot you just downed. “We’re friends no matter what, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, looking around Jin’s apartment. “Wow, it’s pretty empty today. Aren’t there usually like 50 people trying to get into one of these parties?” Luckily for Namjoon, who was almost sweating and about to cry trying to come up with an excuse to satisfy you, you ignored him and continued talking.

“Whatever, it’s fine. The less, the better.” You’re still looking around the crowds when you grab a hold of Namjoon’s shoulders, turning him towards you. “Yoongi’s not here, right?”

“What? hahahHHAHAHA nO of course not!”

“Oh okay,” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “I look terrible today, I would not be able to face him.”

“You look great today! What do you mean…!” Hopefully you dismiss the bead of sweat trailing down from his temple. It is pretty hot in here.

Apparently, it took multiple threats, to Yoongi’s coffee machine and lots of bargaining from Jimin to convince him to attend the party, but it seemed to have worked, considering that Namjoon could make out the dark figure of Yoongi, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans in the corner of the room, chatting to Jungkook. His eyes, however, were riveted straight beside him, on Y/n.

“They really are idiots.” Namjoon muses to himself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung is waving his arms around trying to catch his attention. He mouths something that Namjoon can’t quite make out, so he just mouths a ‘what?’ back at him and shakes his head.

Namjoon can almost hear Taehyung sigh from across the room.

You’re still pouring your second shot, so you don’t notice as Hoseok walks slowly from the living room. Namjoon has actually never seen his friends more concentrated on anything in his life. Even Seokjin, who was, just a second ago, dancing with some guy that Namjoon isn’t even sure he knows, has now pushed the stranger away, completely fixated on Y/n, who is blissfully oblivious to the attention focused on you.

“Hey…!” Hoseok slowly slides in, real fucking smooth, if Namjoon could add, beside Y/n leaning on his forearm and smiling up towards her. Namjoon has to commend Jimin for the execution of Operation: Delusional Idiots. He’s honestly never seen Jimin put this much work into anything.

Hoseok was the only mutual friend they knew of that Yoongi was familiar with, but not Y/n. Jimin said that he had considered Jackson for a short while, before realising that Jackson can’t talk to girls for shit. At least Hoseok can force his thoughts into some semblance of order when he’s flirting.

“Oh! … Who,” You furrow your brows at Hobi, and Namjoon slowly backs away against the kitchen wall. “Are you?” Hobi laughs and spins around to face you.

“I guess you don’t know me. I’m Jung Hoseok,” He sticks his hand out and you tentatively shake it, making him grin. “I’m friends with Namjoon.” He points up at Namjoon, and Joon awkwardly smiles, waving back at the pair.

“Ohh,” You say, nodding. “Hi! Nice to meet you!” Sometimes Namjoon worries about you. You’re way too friendly and nice for your own good.

“I’m a dance major, actually. You can call me Hobi, by the way.” He smiles at you and finally lets go of your hand. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?” You shake your head, murmuring incoherently. “No, I didn’t think so. I’d remember you if we met.” You giggle and push him aside playfully, offering him a drink. Hoseok accepts it with a smile even wider than the last.

(Namjoon is now a little skeptical about Hoseok’s claims of flirting skill, but thankfully, you are, admittedly, a little stupid when it comes to this kind of stuff. You probably won’t even notice Hobi’s flirting with you at all.)

From the corner of the room, Yoongi’s deep gaze is now glaring deep into Hoseok’s back, but Hobi either seems to not notice or acknowledge it. He continues to stare at Y/n, laughing at whatever comes out of your mouth.

“You’re a dance major? That’s so cool!” You gush, and if he didn’t know you so much, Namjoon would think that you were flirting back. No, you were just that naive.

“- Thanks!” Hobi suddenly laughs at something that Namjoon didn’t manage to catch, but what he does catch is the look on Yoongi’s face when Hobi touches your forearm.

Even Jungkook, who was talking to Yoongi, gulped and took a step back. Jin gestures something to Jimin, and Jimin shoots back an enthusiastic thumbs up. He then shouts something over to Namjoon, but he can’t quite hear over the loud party noise.

Based on his own mediocre lip-reading skills, he either said ‘It’s going well’ or ‘Jungkook smells’ He’s thinking maybe it’s the first. Namjoon slides away from the kitchen to join Jin, who is happily watching all of this unfold from the sidelines.

“When do you think he’ll break?” Jin says, sipping on a bright blue drink that Namjoon doesn’t even want to know the contents of. He quickly glances over at Yoongi’s face, which is getting redder by the moment.

“Anytime now. His glass is about to explode from his grip.” Sure enough, Namjoon predicted correctly. A few moments later, Yoongi begins to stalk over to the kitchen, and Jin clinks his bright blue monstrous concoction against Namjoon’s glass. Grumbling, Jungkook also comes over and slaps a $10 dollar bill into Jin’s palm, scowling when Jin smiles and accepts it.

“Yeah, so a group of otters are actually called a romp, can you believe that- oomph!” Seemingly popping out of nowhere, Yoongi grabs a hold of your hand, glaring at Hobi.

“Yoongi!” You squeak out. Namjoon, that fucking liar! He left you all by yourself with a new friend and didn’t even bother telling you the love of your life was in the very same room? You didn’t even wash your hair yesterday night! Well, at least someone finally listened to what you have to say about otters… say, that was a bit unordinary, nobody else has ever been interested in your otter fun facts before-

Your trail of thought fades away when you look back up at Yoongi, who is still strangely looking at Hobi. “Um...” How is he holding you right now? He flinches away whenever you poke him on the shoulder, how is he holding your arm right now, completely unaffected? Oh.

Of course Yoongi wouldn’t touch you willingly. He just has to be stupidly noble and moral and save you when you’re alone with a man he isn’t familiar with. “Oh, ah… Yoongi! This is my new friend, Hobi! You have nothing to worry about, I was just talking to him about otters and- oh, nevermind. Anyways, you don’t… have… to… hold my hand anymore.” Well, at least you can save him from the embarrassment of holding your hand any longer.

“Yoongi, Yoon- Yoongi,” He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you attempt to slip yours out of his. He seems to be gripping on, for a reason you can’t seem to comprehend. All he’s doing right now is maintaining eye contact with Hobi. Instead, he just glares into his eyes, repeating your words.

“Friends. Friends?”

“Yes, friends! Oh, ah, let me introduce you, um, Hobi, this is Yoongi, and Yoongi, this is-”

“Jung Hoseok. You call him Hobi?”

“Well, yes- oh! Do you two know each other, or?”

“Of course!” Hobi says, pouring another drink out. He stretches out his arm and offers the glass to Yoongi, but all he does is stare at the glass, not moving an inch. Still smiling brightly, Hobi just brought the glass to his lips, sipping on two separate drinks at a time.

“Long time no see, man! Yoongi, how’ve you been?” Yoongi, still clutching onto your hand, stayed silent for a while, all while Hobi continued to smile.

“I’m… fine.” He eventually chokes out.

“Yoongi, are you okay? You seem really-” You’re once again interrupted when Yoongi pulls you away, stomping out the kitchen. You lean backwards, yelling out a quick apology to Hobi, but he doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.

“Yoongi, you’re being rude! I said you don’t have to worry! Hobi is a new friend I met, he’s a friend of Namjoon’s, and we were just talking about otters-”

“Why are you defending yourself?” Boy, you just keep on getting interrupted tonight.

“Wha- huh?” Yoongi finally lets your hand go when he reaches the apartment door, shutting it closed, leaving it swinging in midair, even though he regretted it immediately after. You can still faintly hear the party going on through the door, but you had no time to process the fact that Yoongi just pulled you outside the party when he spoke up again.

“I said, why are you defending yourself like that? You have no reason to. You’re acting like I just caught you cheating.” Yoongi’s voice turns faint towards the end of his sentence, and he looks down at his feet, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“I’m not defending myself! I’m just- I’m just, well, I-” You fumbled with your words, stuttering and fidgeting around with your fingers. Why were you defending yourself? It’s not like… Yeah, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything.

“You can talk about otters to whoever you want. You might want to change up your flirting tactics though, not many people can put up with your strange obsession with otters-”

“hEY!”

“- Anyways, Hoseok’s, not a bad man. He’s pretty great, actually,” Yoongi admits. “He’ll treat you well. And he seems to be super interested in you, so… ” Yoongi clears his throat. You narrow your eyes and look down at his shuffling feet. This is probably the most Yoongi has ever spoken to you, in private, anyway. Why is he so unbothered? And why does that bother you so much? He doesn’t even care a little bit? Does Hobi really seem like such a great guy?

“You don’t care?”

“No, just, you know, don’t get hurt, or whatever. I’ll have to murder him… Or something.” You let out a small laugh, but he doesn’t seem to be joking.

“So, if I go straight back in and ask Hobi out, you wouldn’t mind?” You swear that a vein pops out from Yoongi’s neck, but perhaps it was just your imagination.

“Why would I mind?” He says, through clenched teeth.

“... You’re right. Why would you be mad? You don’t care about me anyways.” Something ticks in Yoongi’s jaw.

“What do you mean I don’t care for you?” He blurts out, just as you were about to head back through the apartment door.

“Oh no, please, it doesn’t bother me as much now, trust me. It’s fine, Some people just don’t… vibe with you, I get it! You don’t like me all that much, it’s okay! It’s not like you’ve hurt me or anything! You just don’t like talking to me because I’m kind of a dumbass, that’s alright. It’s okay to keep avoiding me. And again, I’m sorry for the whole elbow thing, you didn’t talk to me for like the next two weeks, and again, I totally understand, you know?” Yoongi stares at you, blinking in realisation.

“So… you mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve thought that… I didn’t like you?”

“Well,” Now you’re blinking confusedly along with him. “Isn’t that… why you run away everytime I come over to hangout with Jimin?” Yoongi brings his hands out of his pockets and buries his face in them, groaning.

“And that’s why you don’t like talking to me, right? And that one time I spoke to you and you went into the bathroom and screamed for like five minutes? … Do you not hate me?” A look of realisation floods his eyes, and Yoongi leans against the wall, slowly sinking down to the ground until he’s practically sprawled out on the floor. Staring aimlessly, he reaches up and grabs your hand again, pulling you down to face him. You let out a small squeak, but you crouch down on your feet, awkwardly looking at your right hand that Yoongi (!!!) is currently holding for the second (!!!!) time.

“Forgive me, Y/n.” He whispers, dropping his head onto your hand.

“Forgive you? What for? Yoongi this is a little dramatic, don’t you think? This is technically a public area, um, maybe you wanna go back to your dorm? I can call Jimin out here, I’m sure he’ll leave the party early, let me just-” He pulls you back and won’t let go, even when you try to stand and leave his grip.

“Yoongi!” Like a child clutching onto his mother, he just sits there and pouts, not letting your hand go.

“I’m sorry!” He wails, lightly kicking his feet up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being my emo self and avoiding you, I’m sorry for making you think I hate you when that really isn’t the case at all, I’m sorry for being an idiot and screaming whenever you touched me, I promise that none of that was ever your fault, because you must have felt so hurt and disgusted by me-” Yoongi suddenly looks up and glares at you.

“Yah! Why didn’t you just slap me!”

“Slap… you?”

“Yes, slap some sense into me, you idiot! I was so mean to you, why didn’t you just tell me you were hurt?”

“Well,” You said, smiling nervously. “I wasn’t hurt!”

“Yes you were!” He wails again. Some sort of strangled noise comes from the back of his throat. “You must’ve been really hurt, and I’m sorry! I don’t want you to be hurt! I don’t want you to date Hobi, and I don’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and I’m fucking stupid!”

You speechlessly opened your mouth and closed it again, like a fish. Well, that was a full 180. What is he talking about? Apologising? You had dealt with the uncomfortable small talk and denying your feelings for years only to have him apologise now? You finally manage to open your mouth and firmly say something, but what comes out of your mouth is certainly not what you planned to say.

“Min Yoongi!” You yelled and watched him slightly tilt his head up. “How could you say that now!?” His head is fully up now, gazing at you slightly dazed. “How dare you mess with my feelings for the past two years, just to completely, unexpectedly, blurt all of this out outside of Seokjin’s shitty house party?” You cry, slouching down onto the ground and sitting cross legged. Your unoccupied hand reaches up to your hair, frustratingly running your hand through your messy locks.

“... If it counts for anything, I think that your obsession with otters is really cute.” You sniffle, for no particular reason, and nod.

“... Does that mean you like me then?”

“Y/n,” Yoongi sighs, taking your other hand out of your hair and placing it into his own. “Isn’t that obvious, you fucking dumbass?”

“You’re kinda giving off mixed signals here.” Yoongi squishes your cheeks together in a brave act from an unusual burst of courage that he managed to somehow build up.

“Y/n,”

“Mmph- Yesh?”

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’m sorry for being a dumbass who couldn’t ask you out, and I’m sorry I had to do this at Seokjin’s ‘shitty house party’, but I’d really like it if you would go on a date with me sometime.”

Yoongi releases your cheeks from his grip when you stay silent for a small while, red slowly creeping up from the neck up to his ears.

“I mean, you know, only if you want to, it’d be fine if all of that was just, you know… ” Yoongi mutters, gesturing around randomly.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Yoongi.”

“Oh. Cool, that’s cool. That’s… yeah that’s cool.”

“Text me the details?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, I’ll do- I’ll do that.”

You can hear a faint scream when you enter Seokjin’s apartment again, but instead of filling you with the insecure, horrible feeling like it once did, you just smile and giggle to yourself again. What you don’t seem to notice is Jimin, Jin, Joon, Tae, Jungkook and Hobi exchanging victorious glances across the room.

(About a week later, Yoongi took you to the zoo for your date. He slightly regretted that decision after you spent an hour making faces at the otters.)

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