ArtisticMiniTiger

Artist 🎨 / 23

[vanilla-and-cherries]

A phone call

Felix Volturi x Demetri Volturi x human mate

The chime of the iPhone on the mahogany side table cut through the heavy silence of the Volterra study with the startling sharpness of a gunshot.

Felix didn't even look up from the ancient ledger he was scanning, his massive frame shifting slightly in his armchair, but Demetri was already moving. In a blur of motion that displaced barely a ripple of air, his hand snatched the glowing device from the surface.

His red ruby eyes locked onto the screen. Her.

It had been only seven days since the scent of her blood had upended centuries of detached immortality. Seven days of watching her from the shadows, of approaching with agonizing slowness so as not to shatter fragile human nerves, of making solemn promises that she wasn't yet ready to believe.

Demetri swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear, his voice slipping into that low, velvet cadence meant to soothe a skittish animal. "Little bird? Is everything—"

“Di, please can you please, please can you help me? Can you give me a ride?”

The words tumbled out of the receiver, fractured, breathless, and soaked in absolute terror.

Demetri froze. The world around him seemed to violently contract. It wasn't just the panic clawing at her throat that made his cold heart seize—it was the word itself.

Di.

She had never called him that. In a single, desperate syllable, she had discarded the cautious, formal distance she had maintained all week. The barrier had crumbled, replaced by an instinctual, raw surrender to the only anchor she had left.

Across the room, Felix caught the shift in the air instantly. The ledger slipped from his large fingers, hitting the desk with a heavy thud. He was on his feet in a fraction of a second, his imposing presence looming over Demetri's shoulder, his low growl vibrating in the quiet room. “What is it?” Felix demanded without words, his dark, predatory eyes flashing a warning shade of crimson as he watched Demetri’s face drain of its porcelain warmth.

Demetri didn't answer his brother. Every muscle in his body coiled, instantly locked in lethal, hyper-focused predator mode. The Tracker’s mind calculated distances, hazards, and variables in microseconds, while the mate inside him roared for blood.

"Stay exactly where you are," Demetri commanded, his voice dropping an octave—smooth, absolute, and carrying a terrifying promise of swift vengeance. "Lock every door around you. Tell me your coordinates, mina. We are coming."

The line crackled with a static-laced silence that stretched like a razor wire between Volterra and her hidden sanctuary. For a single, terrifying heartbeat, the ambient sound of her ragged breathing vanished entirely, swallowed by a muffled, sickening thud from the other end of the line.

“There is someone in the house... I am in the closet. I am alone...”

The whisper was barely a fracture of sound, so quiet it might have been mistaken for the hiss of the wind, yet to the supernatural ears of the two vampires, it hung in the air with deafening clarity. Every syllable was underscored by the frantic, thudding rhythm of a human heart pushed past the brink of exhaustion, and beneath that, the unmistakable, metallic tang of cold, unadulterated terror radiating through the digital signal.

In the span of a nanosecond, the study underwent a violent atmospheric shift. The temperature in the room plummeted, the air growing instantly stale and heavy with the dense, suffocating weight of ancient rage.

Felix didn't wait for permission, calculation, or a command. With a sound like tearing metal, the heavy mahogany desk beneath his hand splintered under his grip, wood fibers groaning and snapping as his immense strength fractured the solid structure. His chest heaved once, a massive, shuddering intake of air that was entirely unnecessary for survival but entirely driven by the primitive, predatory fury roaring through his veins.

"Burglars," Felix hissed, the word a gravelly grinding of stones that vibrated in the foundations of the palazzo. His crimson eyes dilated, the dark irises nearly swallowed by the sudden, blazing intensity of a hunter who had just discovered interlopers trespassing on his sacred territory. The thought of fragile, human flesh—their fragile, human mate—cowering in the dark while lesser, vile creatures violated the sanctity of her home was an affront so absolute it bypassed reason entirely.

Demetri was already moving, his phone gripped so tightly in his palm that the casing creaked ominously under the pressure. The Tracker’s face had settled into a mask of terrifying, chilling serenity—the calm before a cataclysmic storm. Every trace of warmth had vanished from his striking features, leaving only sculpted marble and eyes that burned with a cold, terrifying luminescence.

"Keep your breath steady, mina," Demetri murmured into the receiver, his voice a low, hypnotic purr designed to tether her fracturing mind to reality, even as his own thoughts raced at blinding speed. "Do not make a sound. We are already halfway there."

It was a physical impossibility in the human world—they were hundreds of miles away across land and sea—yet to them, distance was merely a minor inconvenience when their mate's life hung in the balance. In the blink of an eye, Demetri vaulted over the shattered remains of the desk, his body blurring into a streak of midnight motion as he headed for the high arched windows. Felix was right behind him, a juggernaut of pure destruction clearing the space with a deafening crash of shattered glass and splintered wood as they burst out into the cool Italian night.

They didn't take the cars. Machines were too slow, too bound by the mundane laws of physics.

Side by side, moving with a supernatural grace that defied gravity, they tore across the terrain. Trees became mere blurs of green and brown; stone walls and jagged cliffs were scaled and leaped over in single, effortless bounds. The wind shrieked in their ears, a violent gale whipped up by their impossible velocity, but neither vampire noticed. Their senses were stretched to the absolute limit, locked onto the faint, flickering digital lifeline of the phone call that still connected Demetri to the terrified girl shivering in the dark.

Back in her bedroom, the silence was broken by a heavy, timber-shaking groan from the hallway just outside her door.

Heavy boots—clunky, careless, and reeking of cheap alcohol, sweat, and cheap tobacco—thudded against the hardwood floor. Muffled curses drifted through the slats of the louvered closet doors, accompanied by the distinct sound of dresser drawers being violently yanked open and contents crashing to the floor.

“Check the back rooms,” a rough, raspy voice grunted from somewhere near the foot of the bed. “Find the jewelry box, find the cash, and let's get out before the neighborhood wakes up.”

Inside the suffocating, cramped darkness of the coat closet, surrounded by the scent of her laundry detergent and wool coats, she pressed her hand hard over her mouth to trap the sob threatening to tear its way out of her chest. The floorboards beneath her sneakers creaked ever so slightly as she tried to curl into a smaller ball, her knees pulled tight to her chin. Every instinct screamed that she was trapped, entirely helpless, a cornered animal waiting for the inevitable moment the handle would jiggle and the door would swing open.

She remembered the promises they had made—whispered in quiet corners, spoken with an intensity that had frightened her then, but brought a desperate, clinging hope to her now. We are yours. No harm will ever touch you while we draw breath.

Footsteps approached the closet. Slow, heavy, and deliberate.

A calloused hand gripped the outer brass knob. The latch clicked.

Through the tiny crack between the doors, a wedge of harsh hallway light cut through the pitch blackness, illuminating the floating dust motes and the white-knuckled grip she had on her own shirt. The door began to swing open.

And then, the world outside the window shattered.

It wasn't a subtle entry. The reinforced glass frame of the bedroom window exploded inward in a brilliant cascade of glittering shards, accompanied by a sonic boom of displaced air that blew the bedroom door off its hinges and knocked the intruder stumbling backward into the hallway.

Before the glass could even hit the floor, a towering mass of muscle and shadow materialized in the center of the room. Felix landed with cat-like silence, his massive chest rising and falling, his eyes locking instantly onto the terrified burglar who was currently scrambling backward on the floor, clutching a stolen silver candlestick like a pathetic weapon.

"What the—who the hell are you?!" the man sputtered, his face draining of color as he looked up into the terrifying, inhuman visage of the vampire blocking his only exit.

Felix didn't speak. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his face—not a smile of amusement, but the baring of fangs before the kill. He took one slow, deliberate step forward, the floorboards groaning under his weight, blocking any path between the hallway and the closet.

At the same instant, Demetri glided through the shattered window frame, his presence as chilling and absolute as an executioner's blade. He didn't look at the intruder. His golden eyes were fixed entirely on the louvered closet door, which remained half-open, framing a pair of wide, tear-filled human eyes staring back at him from the dark.

Demetri dropped to one knee right in front of the closet, the terrifying predator of a moment ago instantly vanishing, replaced by an overwhelming, tender urgency. He reached out with hands that were steady as stone, gently pulling the door open the rest of the way.

"You called for a ride, mina," Demetri whispered softly, his voice a warm, sheltering embrace in the middle of the nightmare. He reached inside, his cool fingers gently wrapping around her trembling hand, pulling her out of the shadows and directly into the safety of his arms. "And we never break our promises."

The moment her fingers closed around the familiar, cool strength of his hands, the fragile wall she had desperately tried to hold up all week completely fractured.

She didn't just step out of the closet; she collapsed forward, the adrenaline leaving her limbs in a sudden, sickening wave of weakness. Her arms flew up, wrapping frantically around his neck, burying her face into the curve of his shoulder. She clung to him with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, pressing her entire body against his unyielding chest as the first racking, violent sob broke free from her throat.

It was the first time.

In the seven days since they had found her, she had kept her distance. She had flinched at their proximity, maintained a polite and terrified barrier, and met every tender touch with rigid hesitation. But tonight, stripped of her safety and cornered in the dark, all fear of the supernatural melted away, replaced by the instinctual, primal need to be held by the only beings on earth strong enough to keep the dark at bay.

Demetri froze for a fraction of a second, entirely unaccustomed to the raw, unfiltered weight of a human breaking down in his arms. Then, without a moment's hesitation, his arms wrapped completely around her. His hands—usually capable of holding back a charging bear or snapping steel—gentled into an impossibly tender cage, one palm pressing the back of her head firmly against his chest while the other locked securely around her waist, lifting her slightly so her trembling feet barely touched the floor.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her fear—now fading into the sweet, intoxicating warmth of pure relief—and murmured low, rhythmic comforts against her temple.

"I've got you. I have you, mina," he whispered, his voice vibrating deep within his chest, a steady, unbreakable drumbeat meant to chase away the echoes of the nightmare. "You're safe. No one will ever touch you. I swear it."

A few feet away, in the center of the bedroom, a muffled, wet thud echoed against the hardwood floor.

The burglar, paralyzed by sheer, unadulterated terror, had dropped the silver candlestick. He was pressed flat against the baseboard of the hallway entrance, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he stared at the towering monster of a man blocking his escape, utterly unable to comprehend the impossible speed and lethal grace he had just witnessed.

Felix didn't even glance down at him. His crimson eyes remained fixed on the doorway, a low, predatory growl rumbling in the back of his throat—a warning to any other living thing within a mile that this territory was claimed, and the penalty for intrusion was absolute. But as he heard the hitch in her breathing and the soft, broken sounds of her crying against Demetri’s shoulder, the terrifying tension in Felix’s massive shoulders shifted.

Slowly, heavily, Felix took a step closer, his large frame acting as an impenetrable human shield, boxing them in from the rest of the ruined room. He reached out a massive, scarred hand, resting his palm gently over Demetri’s shoulder and the top of her head, his touch impossibly light for someone of his strength.

"Let them try," Felix rumbled softly, his voice a deep, gravelly purr that vibrated with absolute, terrifying devotion. "You're home now, little bird. Let them come."

Demetri’s gaze dropped from her wide, luminous eyes to take her in, his sharp mind instantly cataloging every detail of her appearance. Dressed only in the delicate, pale green Tiffany-colored nightgown edged in fine lace, with her long, vibrant red hair tumbling in wild, messy waves around her pale shoulders, she looked impossibly fragile. The contrast between her delicate vulnerability and the harsh reality of the ruined room only sharpened the protective fury singing in his blood.

"Just two," Demetri answered softly, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear tracking down her flushed cheek. His voice was a low, soothing hum, intended only for her ears. "Two pathetic fools who picked the wrong house on the wrong night."

Across the room, the single word was enough to snap the cowering burglar out of his paralyzed stupor. The man realized with a jolt of blind panic that the terrifying giant blocking the exit hadn't even looked at him—until now.

"T-two?" the burglar whimpered, his eyes darting frantically between Demetri holding the trembling girl and Felix looming like a monolith before him. "Man, what are you—get away from me, I'm warning you—"

Felix didn't give him the chance to finish. With a lazy, terrifying grace, the massive vampire closed the distance between them in a fraction of a second. Before the man could even blink, Felix's large hand clamped around the collar of his jacket, lifting him effortlessly off the floor as if he weighed nothing at all.

"You made a mistake stepping foot in her home," Felix rumbled, his crimson eyes narrowing as he brought the shaking, sputtering man inches from his face. "And now, we're going to have a little chat about manners."

"Oh no, honey, it's the 5th floor" she says looking down shaking her head, before bury her face in the crotch of his neck.

The breathless declaration slipped past her lips before she could even catch it, a second unconscious, intimate nickname tumbling out into the quiet room.

Demetri stopped dead in his tracks, the smooth, effortless glide of his supernatural momentum halting instantly. He looked down at her, a slow, breathtaking smile breaking through the stoic marble of his expression. For a vampire who had lived millennia, that single, unscripted word—honey—felt sweeter and more intoxicating than any bloodline he had ever tasted.

Before he could answer, a soft, helpless giggle bubbled up through the remnants of her tears, followed immediately by her frantic, wide-eyed realization of where they actually were.

“We are at 5th floor,” she babbled out, clutching his lapels tighter as her gaze darted from his face to the gaping, shattered frame of the bedroom window that opened out into the empty, dizzying night air.

Demetri let out a low, rich chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest like a purr. He didn't tighten his hold—his grip was already as secure as a fortress—but he shifted her slightly, pressing her face gently back into the crook of his neck so she wouldn't have to look down at the dizzying drop.

"Is that all you're worried about, mina?" Demetri murmured, his voice a warm, teasing melody right against her ear. "Did you forget who is holding you?"

Outside, hovering effortlessly on the absolute edge of the shattered window sill with the whimpering burglar dangling casually from one massive hand, Felix looked back over his shoulder. A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him at her words, his crimson eyes flashing with affectionate amusement.

"Fifth floor?" Felix echoed, his gravelly voice dripping with dry fondness as he peered out into the dark abyss below. "Little bird, to us, the fifth floor is just a very short hop. Close your eyes and hold on to your 'honey'." Felix laughs, winking at her.

[ktownshizzle]

Smoke & Mirrors, part three | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader  ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe  ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should.  ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: not in fic order: kim effin’ namjoon :3, probably wrong ways to set up mic packs, yoonmin, kim seokjin the knower, yearning, angst, i switched the tour schedule of paris and munich for the plot, lyrics of SDL used as a new song, the smut!, cock sucking, cockwarming, cum facial-ish, p in v, implied big dick yoongi <3, yoongi being bad at all kinds of sports except basketball, mc being bad at all kinds of feelings, yoongi’s toe (this is serious), the last smut scene is a lot to handle bec emotional sex, yoongi wants to make out with MC so bad lol  ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 9k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie. ILY my queens. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie ✎ ˎˊ˗ Banner by @risky-peaches ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Thanks for waiting patiently for this one. To all the SM!Yoongi haters, let’s talk after 😀 Enjoy!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

[Brussels, BE, July 2026]

The VCR is already rolling, the massive 360 screens pulling the audience’s attention while backstage moves in controlled chaos.

You’re digging through the rack of bright cloaks—the ones everyone throws on for the next entrance so the members can blend in and slip onto the stage unnoticed. They switch up colors sometimes, nothing serious. Members just have to make sure they enter with the group wearing the same color so they don’t stand out.

Usually, red goes first, then blue.

You slip your red one on, pull it over your head. You should be in the zone, but are still a little salty about the interaction with Yoongi earlier. But it’s whatever.

“Which color are you taking today?” you ask. He always picks the blue coat, but for some reason, you’re hoping he goes with your color instead. You don’t know why. You just do.

“Don’t really care. I just pick whatever.”

You hum, a little disappointed. He knows what color group you’re in. And he should be smart enough to know why you’re asking. 

“Wae? Why are you pouting?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t elaborate. You just walk away.

You button the front and smooth it out, then you tug the hood tighter. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance at you, then away.

Seokjin walks by, a crimson delight. You’re curious when Yoongi stops him in his path, a blue coat hanging from the crook of his arm.

“Hyung.” Yoongi holds up the coat in his hand. “Trade.”

“Why?”

“Yah.” Yoongi impatiently shoves his blue cloak to his elder. “Just do it.”

Yoongi’s gaze lands on you.

There’s a second where Seokjin looks behind him and spots you too, then he grins. “Aah, I see how it is.”

You look away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What does Seokjin mean by that?! Surreptitiously, you view their interaction through a mirror on the side.

“Hyung,” Yoongi says flatly, eyes closed.

“Okay, okay,” Seokjin laughs, already shrugging off the red.

Before you know it, Yoongi walks towards your group, adjusts the red sleeves, checks the buttons, like normal.

You can’t look at him because your heart is doing dumb shit in your chest right now. 

“Happy?” he asks, low enough so only you can hear.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” he says immediately.

“Clearly.” 

He shakes his head, but there’s the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth. “Now you can stop sulking.”

It’s stupid how much that small thing sticks with you. Matching colors with him. Walking to the stage with him by your side, arms brushing slightly. 

Maybe it was nothing.

But lately, despite all the rules you've set for yourself, you've started collecting these little moments with Yoongi.

Little things that probably don't mean much on their own.

It's probably reckless to give them a place in your heart and revisit them later, to let yourself wonder if they're adding up to something more.

Still, this one really feels worth keeping.

⊙⊝⊜

[London, UK, July 2026]

Backstage is once again in motion. Cables snake across the floor, staff weaving through each other with practiced urgency, voices overlapping through comms as the low roar of the crowd seeps faintly through the walls.

You’re halfway through helping reset a prop when Angel grabs your wrist.

“Hey,” she says, already pulling you along. “I need you on Yoongi. His in-ear was acting up earlier.”

“Since when am I in technicals, or wardrobe?” you mutter, but you’re already moving.

“Since…” her voice trails, shooting you a wink. “You decided to become a tour slut.” Then she goes back to professional mode, handing you the spare tape and a headset. “Just check the pack. You know how.”

You do.

That’s kind of the problem with this job. Everyone knows a little bit of everything, and suddenly you’re doing things that aren’t technically yours.

And when you think about it—it’s not just things.

People, too.

Like the man in front of you.

You sigh and slip the headset on as you approach him.

Yoongi’s standing off to the side, dressed for stage, mic already fitted, absently adjusting his bracelet.

“Angel sent me,” you say. “Need to check the pack.”

He glances at you, then nods once, turning his back without a word.

You crouch behind him, one knee rooted on the floor for balance. Your fingers find the small wireless set clipped at the back of his waistband. 

“Your right side was cutting earlier,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him as you check the cable connection.

“Mm.” He glances back at you, expression unreadable.

“Can you lift your shirt?”

He doesn’t question it. Just hooks his fingers into the hem of his tee and lifts.

You’ve seen this before. His slender waist, the black band of the non-descript boxer-briefs he likes to wear. And you’ve been in this position before, mouth busy, tear ducts on overdrive, knee caps a little red.

Your eyes linger on his body before you can stop them, catching the line of his waist, the muscles on his back, the lean stretch of his torso… Shit. You swallow it down just as fast.

Focus.

You reach back to adjust the strap of the pack properly against his waist, tightening it so it sits secure. Your fingers brush against warm skin for a split second and you draw your hand away quickly as if you got burned.

You tap your headset monitor, nodding to Yoongi. “Say something.”

“Something,” he says, flat.

You huff. “You’re so helpful.”

“Thought that’s what you asked for.”

You shake your head, adjusting the cable one more time just to be sure. “Again. Properly. If this fucks up, you’re the one singing without a monitor, not me.”

With his cooperation, you finally get things sorted out, but before you can go, his voice crackles in your ear.

“Hey, Y/N.”

He speaks in a frequency just for his and your set.

You stop at your tracks, adjusting your mic. “What?”

You turn to see the glint in his shadowy eyes, enough to know that when he speaks again, it’s not for audio checking. “You look pretty.”

Your brain takes a second too long to catch up. 

Because between his sheets, he has sung your praises. Hot. Sexy. So tight. But not like this. Not with his eyes a little too fond, telling you you’re Pretty, of all things. You don’t know what else to do but deflect.

“Pretty cause I got on my knees for you?” You smirk, deliberately making it sound crass. Because you can’t fathom the alternative. The tenderness, the gentleness in the way he said it.

There’s the most minute crease on his brow before someone calls his name across the room. And then he’s gone before he can answer.

You’re left standing there, headset buzzing softly in your ear, trying to remember what you were doing before your brain short-circuited over one word.

⊙⊝⊜

[Paris, FR, July 2026]

You’re in Paris, the city of love, and Yoongi’s been in your mind a little more than usual. Over a cheese croissant, you thought about it: inviting him. Granted, you can’t have him in your room because your twin accommodations aren’t exactly conducive for the activities you usually partake in, but maybe at least you can initiate. 

Maybe even ask if he wanted to walk somewhere. You know, get food… then coffee… stroll along the Seine riverside like every other tourist…

The idea flies out the window and flings itself onto incoming traffic the moment you spot him backstage fifteen minutes before showtime.

Yoongi is sprawled across one of the couches, one arm stretched lazily along the backrest. And directly in front of him sits the prettiest faerie in all the land. Park Jimin.

See, this thing between “YoonMin” has always intrigued you. You’ve always thought the boys were platonic, because the alternative would border on incest with how their brotherhood almost runs deeper than blood. But these two looked like they always had something different.

“Can you braid my hair, hyung?” Jimin asks with a little pout.

Yoongi, whose fingers were already absently playing with the edges of the younger’s blonde tips to begin with, nods his assent.

You shouldn't linger. You have somewhere to be. Yet somehow your feet stay planted.

From your shadowy corner backstage, you watch Yoongi gather sections of Jimin's hair with surprising care. His fingers move deftly, practiced, like this isn't the first time he's done it.

Jimin says something you can't hear and Yoongi huffs a laugh, open and wide, almost a guffaw. That’s a real one, unlike those tiny chuckles you’ve seen in interviews. You wonder, almost bitterly, if he’s ever laughed like that with you.

Fuck. You gotta snap out of it and get it together. You have a show to do and this is ridiculous. Jimin is Jimin and Yoongi has known him for half his life.

But when Yoongi finishes the last knot and pats the younger man's head absentmindedly afterward, something contorts in your stomach.

A staff member rushes past you, breaking the moment.

When you look back again, Jimin is already smiling bright and toothy at whatever Yoongi says next and Yoongi’s eyes are shining.

For some reason, you find yourself thinking about the word he'd called you over comms in London. Pretty. Then you immediately hate yourself for it. Because one word doesn't change anything. You’d do your best to remember that.

⊙⊝⊜

Namjoon: Are you bored? You: save me Namjoon: Yeah, that’s why I texted.

It’s your last night in Paris and the city glittered beyond the open balcony doors.

It was close to eleven and the sky was washed in the deepest navy. Beyond the wrought-iron railing, rooftops stretched endlessly beneath a sea of golden lights.

And there, impossibly, the Eiffel Tower. You keep catching yourself looking at it. You don’t wanna be dramatic, but hello?! That’s the Eiffel Tower and it just feels ridiculous that it's right there.

Growing up, Paris existed in movies, postcards, textbooks and now you're sitting on a hotel balcony with a direct view of it.

This is not your hotel room, obviously. Yours has a stunning view of the adjacent building's white-washed wall.

But Namjoon's room? WOW.

You briefly wonder how long it takes before views like these stop feeling surreal.

The warm summer air drifts through the balcony as you sit cross-legged on one of the loungers, while Namjoon occupies the chair opposite yours, glasses slipping lower down his nose as he scrolls absently through something on his phone.

He suddenly exhales through his nose, locks the screen, and tosses it onto the table between you. “Can I ask you something weird?”

You squint at him immediately. “Sus, but okay?”

“Do you think…” He pauses, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Do you think people like me actually have a shot at normal love?”

“That’s kinda… loaded.”

“Mm.”

“Also, define normal.”

“You know what I mean.” Namjoon leans back, sighs.

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Is love ever normal?”

Namjoon shifts slightly, gaze drifting toward the Eiffel now instead of you. “Maybe I’m just too hopeless.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“You know.” He sighs from deep within his chest. “This life. Always seen. Always moving. Never really staying anywhere long enough.”

“I think the right person wouldn’t care that your life’s this.” You smile faintly, swirling the wine inside your glass. “They’d just wanna be part of it regardless.”

He nods. “I think I’d be happier if I did have someone.”

Your eyes flick toward him. He’s looking at you. Eyes filled with exhaustion, but wrapped in sincerity. His life is never gonna be normal, you both know this. Idol life is not for the weak. And despite all his struggles, Kim Namjoon is still one of the strongest people you’ve ever known.

“Like…” He searches for the words carefully, elbows resting against his knees now. “Someone who actually knows me outside all this. Someone to come home to eventually. I like imagining that. Going to work, home by 7, and there’s a home-cooked meal and someone to have dinner with… Like I’m just a normal fuckin’ guy.”

Your heart bleeds a little. “I think wanting somebody to come home to is probably the most normal thing about you.”

Namjoon laughs softly, almost embarrassed by himself. “After shows I know everybody goes somewhere. Hobi likes to go out. Jin is perpetually on a video call with Hana. Kook, Tae, I know they get up to stuff. They got lives. And I dunno, I just…” He shrugs. “I feel it more lately.”

Loneliness. That’s what this is. Not dramatic loneliness. Just the quiet adult kind. The kind that makes you feel small and sneaks up on you in big hotel rooms after midnight. Like now. You understand exactly what he means.

“Namjoon-ah, I think somebody out there is gonna love you so much that all this,” you gesture vaguely around the area, “won’t scare them away. You’re gonna find them.”

Dots sink against his cheek and for a while neither of you speaks.

A dog barks. A group of women giggle. A police siren blares from a distance.

Then, Namjoon glances over. “What about you?”

You immediately groan. “Absolutely not. We are not doing this.”

“Oh, come on. I was vulnerable. Give me something here.”

“Nope. You’re not baiting me.”

“You’re definitely the type.”

“The type to what?”

He grins, like he’s about to give you the best psychoanalysis ever. “To believe in serendipity and soulmates and all that shit.”

You stare at him blankly.

“No, hear me out.” He settles deeper into his chair. “You’re the kind of person who still thinks there’s meaning in things. Like if two people keep ending up in the same place over and over again, you think it’s fate.”

Looking away, you shake your head.

Namjoon points triumphantly. “See? That face means yes.”

You collapse backward dramatically against the seat. “God. I hate that you can read me.”

“So I’m right,” he says. “You are a hopeless romantic.”

Yup, read you like a damn book.

You pull your knees closer to your chest, staring down at your socks.

“I think…” You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy. “I think I’ve always assumed there’s somebody out there specifically for me.”

Namjoon doesn’t interrupt. So you keep going.

“Like not a fuckin’ prince charming or anything. Just someone…” You exhale softly. “Mine, I guess.”

The confession sounds embarrassingly earnest once it leaves your mouth.

But Namjoon just nods slowly like he understands.

“I know it’s stupid,” you mumble. “Eomma made me watch too many Disney fairytales.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe not to you.” You laugh quietly. “But sometimes I feel kinda pathetic about it. Like everybody else grew out of wanting that.”

“You didn’t.”

“No,” you say quickly. “But, I also know now you have to be practical.”

“Practical how?”

“To just accept what version of love that’s handed to you. Even if it’s not perfect. Even if it’s just a semblance of it. At least it’s yours.”

Silence stretches again.

You’re not sure if Namjoon understands what you’re talking about. Or who you’re talking about. 

Or if he even agrees with the idea.

You stare at the city lights again, voice quieter when you speak next.

“I’m scared of ending up alone.” You swallow once before continuing. You’ve only ever admitted this out loud to one person.

Namjoon’s expression softens almost painfully. “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t.” He smiles faintly. “But I still don’t think it’ll happen.”

You huff out a laugh through your nose when suddenly your phone lights up.

Someone’s calling. You once set a photo and a name for this person. But now, he’s just this emoji: 🙀for security and other reasons.

Just as quickly as you ended the call, it’s buzzing again.

“You gonna take that?” Namjoon asks.

You don’t think about it for long. Shake your head without further delay. “Nah.”

There’s a tiny click and a haptic feedback on your palm before you place your phone face down beside the ash tray.

Funny how Yoongi’s reminding you he exists in this exact time.

“You know what my toxic trait is?” you murmur after finishing your wine.

“What?”

You huff a soft, sad laugh. “I already know love is bullshit. But I still want it anyway.”

That finally makes Namjoon grin.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Me too.”

Something settles warmly in your chest from the strange comfort of being understood by somebody standing in the same weird in-between place as you.

“Wanna hug?”

Disarmed, you blurt. “No. I’m not wearing a bra.” You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling chaste.

“Neither am I.”

The fuck?

Your expression pulls a real laugh out of him, loud and unrestrained, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks as he collapses sideways against the chair.

“You’re actually so stupid,” you wheeze.

He stands up and holds one arm open anyway.

You stare at him for a second before rolling your eyes dramatically and scooting over.

The hug is brief. Warm. Just two lonely human beings holding onto each other for a second longer than usual.

You find yourself wondering how many lonely people are out here tonight. 

In a city this big, probably thousands. But for a little while, there are two less.

Neither of you realizes that as a balcony door shuts somewhere nearby, there’d be one left.

***

[Munich, GE, July 2026]

Yoongi asks you to come over after the first show. Not unusual. What is unusual is that you still have your clothes on. Usually your garments would be flying right off within the first minute or two, especially since you haven’t gotten with him since before Paris.

But not this night, it seems. You even skipped the panties tonight- that's how quick and dirty you thought this would be.

“Give me ten minutes,” he says the second he opens the door, already turning back toward his small setup near the windows, laptop, a tiny keyboard, and a small mic. “I’m just finishing something.”

You narrow your eyes. “Wow.”

He glances back. “What?”

“You’re making me wait.” You kinda sound bratty there, but too late for regrets. “It’s almost my bed time.” 

His mouth twitches faintly as he pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “Stay up for me, baby.”

You scoff under your breath because he is so mean for weaponizing that word, but you toe your shoes off anyway, wandering deeper into the suite while he settles back into the chair in front of his laptop.

You sink into the couch with a sigh. The exhaustion hits you almost immediately. You’re wrung out even more than usual.

Across the room, Yoongi works quietly, keyboard making subtle tapping sounds, mouse clicking every few seconds. Every now and then he mutters something under his breath.

You watch him for a while and you realize there’s something strangely intimate about seeing this part of him. After a few minutes, he leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

You stifle a yawn. “Shoot.”

“I, uh, wrote something.”

Yoongi stares at the screen for another few seconds before finally sighing through his nose.

“I need to know if it’s shit.”

“Okay, read it to me.”

Reluctantly, he mumbles the lyrics in that low rough voice of his. You listen carefully, curled deeper into the couch cushions.

참 말야 바람대로 되는 게 없지 Really there’s nothing that goes the way one wishes 인간관계란 정말 어려워 역시 Human relationships are really difficult, as expected 애초부터 맞지 않는 거였어 From the beginning, we weren’t meant to get along 우리 둘 사이 간극을 The gap between the two of us  좁혀 보려는 것 자체가 억지 it was a forceful attempt to narrow that gap

It’s sadder than what you expected. Lonelier, too. When he finishes, silence settles for a second.

Yoongi doesn’t look at you immediately. He just taps his fingers once against the armrest. “Well?”

You sit up slightly. “I mean…” You hesitate honestly. “I’m probably the worst person to ask. I know nothing about songwriting.”

He shrugs lightly.

“You don’t have to be an expert.” His gaze finally lifts toward yours. “You just gotta be human.”

Something about the way he says it catches you off guard. Like he’s asking for something simpler. More vulnerable. If it made you feel something.

“I think…” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “He feels tired.”

Yoongi’s brows lift slightly. “Tired?”

“Not physically.” You shake your head. “More like…” You search for the right words. “Like somebody who keeps trying, even when they already know how it’s gonna end.”

Silence.

You glance at him, feeling a little silly now. “That’s probably not what you meant, huh.”

“No. Keep going.”

You hate when people say that. Mostly because it means they were listening.

You tuck your feet beneath you. “It feels lonely, I guess. That line about not being able to close the gap.” You shrug. “It sounds like someone who really wanted to understand one person or be understood by them.”

Your voice softens, as a different thought arises. “But, was there really a gap in the first place? He should question that, too. Sometimes, things are much much simpler than what they seem.”

For a moment, Yoongi just stares at his screen. You wonder if you’ve rambled too much. But then he nods once slowly like you’ve landed somewhere close. 

“Yeah.” The word is so quiet you almost miss it.

You smile faintly, leaning back. “Well, if your goal was to make people sad with just a few lines, congratulations.”

A small laugh escapes him. “That’s my brand, apparently.”

“You know,” you continue, “if that song had to be performed, I’d probably picture somebody standing alone after everyone else already left.”

His eyes flick up. “That’s specific.”

You shrug. “You asked a dancer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You guys hear music and think about the track, the production. I hear music and immediately start seeing scenes in my head, movement.”

“Mm.” He leans back slightly. “Tell me what you see.”

You think about it. “A group of dancers in the center of the stage, moving away to reveal somebody sitting on a chair in the middle of their chaos.”

Your gaze drifts toward the city lights outside. “It’s like everybody else moved on already and they’re the only ones still trying to figure out where things went wrong.”

Yoongi is looking at you now. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he breathes. “Damn.”

You don’t know what that means. You don’t think about it again, but sometime in the future, it’s a look that you'll remember.

Yoongi starts typing again after that, keyboard taps and mouse clicks lulling you to sleep like ASMR.

You’re not able to stifle your yawn, and it’s a big one.

“Go sleep in the bed,” Yoongi says and that is not the response you were expecting.

Your eyes widen instantly. “Uh, no.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s your bed.”

“And?”

“And I’m not sleeping there.” 

“Y/N.”

“I’m literally fine.” You curl stubbornly deeper into the couch. “See?”

Yoongi stares at you for a long moment, then shakes his head once. “Suit yourself.”

He disappears briefly into the bathroom while you pull one of the throw blankets over yourself. The couch is unfairly comfortable. Probably even more comfortable than your own bed. And maybe this is the only reason why you stay despite all the good reasons to just leave and pick up where you left off on another day.

You tell yourself you’ll stay awake. Just rest your eyes for a second. Give Yoongi more time because he is in a good flow.

That’s all.

The last thing you vaguely register is Yoongi returning to the room and the soft sound of music playing quietly somewhere near the desk again.

⊙⊝⊜

When you wake up the next morning, sunlight spills warmly across the softest white sheets. Slowly, you bolt upright in the bed, blanket slipping down your lap as your sleepy brain struggles to catch up.

This is not your hotel room.

Nope. This one’s big.

What the hell?

Then you see him. Dark mop of hair on the couch across the room, one arm hanging off the side, the other over his eyes.

Your heart stumbles painfully against your ribs as your mind plays a highlight reel of last night and the realization settles strangely inside your chest. He carried you to his bed and slept out there instead.

Huh. Well, that’s kind of sweet of him, isn’t it? He could have stayed in the same bed, it is his after all, and you’re probably too tired to hear him snore or anything like that. You stare at him fondly for a second too long before ice slides down your spine and panic finally catches up to you. 

In all these months of whatever this is, you’ve never stayed the night ever. Shit. This is not great. In fact, this is a fucking mess. Oh my god. This is–

You’re clambering out of the bed, gathering your things with your pulse thudding wildly in your ears.

Yoongi shifts slightly on the couch and you freeze immediately.

Oh my god. Fuck, he woke up. Shit-shit-shit. How can he be such a light sleeper? 

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No!”

“Okay.”

You chew off a dry piece of skin from your lip as you watch him push himself up with a grunt. 

“Why didn’t you just wake me up?” You really didn’t mean to, but it sounded like you were accusing him of something.

“You were tired,” he scratches the back of his head.

“You could have let me take the couch.”

Finally, his sleepy eyes meet yours. “I could have,” he says simply before a yawn takes over his face. The insinuation that he could have but he didn’t want to, like he wanted your comfort over his–god what is this you are feeling right now?

Yoongi stretches his arm up and the t-shirt rides up to show his abdomen and the happy trail leading down to… a tall tent in his shorts. You gulp. Because he’s looking very enthusiastic this morning. The fabric of his bottoms are so thin that you can almost see the actual shape of his cock and it’s not computing that you’ve been staring.

He knows, and he makes no move to cover or address the elephant or should you say the anaconda in the room.

Thoughts are forming in your brain, solidifying with each charged second.

“I’m doing room service. Wanna get somethin’ to eat?” He asks coolly, checking his phone for the time.

“Yeah, I do,” you respond firmly, knees burning subtly from where they hit the rough carpet.

Eager fingers curl on the waistband of his shorts, and not even a second later, he’s helping you ease it off him.

“This what you want?” he asks with a wicked grin, clearly enjoying himself. He settles at the edge of the cushion and leans back slightly, legs spread in invitation.

No reply is needed, nope, not when you suddenly have a mouthful of his dick and you get a string of pretty curses in response.

You lick him from the tip to the base, dragging the back of your tongue back up again. Eyes on him, you let your lips pucker, soft and sensual, along his firm length.

Breath quickening, Yoongi sighs, pleasure painted in his features as he watches every move you make. There’s something about having his full and undivided attention like this that makes you feel a little powerful. He’s used to the world watching him, but in this room, it’s like you’re the only one worth seeing and the thought spurs you to perform a little. Make it unforgettable.

You let spit dribble from your mouth like syrup, warm, viscous, pouring straight into the column of his cock in clear swirls. The tip of your tongue spreads it further, coating him inch by inch, before you wrap your lips around his head.

You peer up through your lashes, eyes Bambi-like and beautiful and he already looks positively destroyed.

“Love your mouth. Fuck.”

You moan a little before releasing him with a small pop and giving him a sly, teasing smile.

Licking the palm of your hand, you curl it around his shaft and give it a squeeze. It's a little squishy from your spit and you pump him just enough to see him hang his mouth open with the jolt of pleasure.

After a few firm tugs, he tips his head back with a grin, hair falling softly over his eyes. You absolutely don’t expect what he says next.

“Best morning ever,” he slurs unabashedly, shaking his head like he can’t believe his luck.

You giggle, still massaging his velvety skin. “You haven’t even cum yet.”

“Well whose fault is that?”

Oh?!

“Goodbye asshole. Suck your own co—” You make a move to stand up, but he plants you back down, palms on your shoulders.

“I’m joking, baby,” he says, all gummy-grinned and shit, rubbing your traps, and you hate it so much, but between that stupid smile and that fuckin’ word. Folded.

Yoongi grips his cock, teases the fat tip along your lips, slathering your own spit around your mouth like some kind of lip gloss. “C’mon, baby. You wanna finish what you started, hm?”

An indignant huff and you take him back in your mouth, suckling it noisily for show before you bring yourself forward, a choke rising involuntarily as he touches your tonsils halfway in.

Yoongi hisses. “‘ts what I'm talking ‘bout.”

You swallow once, relaxing your throat to take him further, swallowing again.

“Baby, that feels… fuck,” he praises. “You’re so good at this shit.”

Warmth is spreading on your cheeks, a little caught off guard because Yoongi is usually not this vocal. It seems he's a little less restrained this morning. Looser with praise and affection. Maybe because it’s early and he’s still halfway between sleep and wakefulness. You wouldn’t know for sure because the only time you’ve been with him at this early hour was in rehearsals.

Whatever the reason, there’s something less guarded about him right now from the sounds he lets slip to the way he keeps looking at you, sticky like molasses.

You tighten the seal of your mouth around his girth, bobbing your head up and down, sucking the life force out of him. Whatever doesn’t fit, you pump with a flick of your wrist, twisting your fist every time it bounces lightly against his balls. 

“A-aah…”

Got this grown man stuttering and his deep grunts are making you gush between your thighs. 

As salt starts to coat your tongue, a sharp, unexpected spark of pleasure shoots through you. It takes you a second to realize why. Yoongi’s toe scrapes your center, the material of your thin shorts offering little to no barrier against your bare cunt. 

Is he—? Oh.

Okay.

Shit.

You’re already soaking through your shorts. The thin fabric clings to the slit between your folds, and his toe keeps brushing right over it.

Your mouth hovers his fat bulb, lips barely touching it as the tiny sparks from your cunt renders you immobile.

“You’re drooling everywhere, baby.”

And he’s not wrong.

You moan into his cock.

Honestly you’ve become a little distracted since he started wiggling because fuck—that feels so supremely divine—and you swear you don’t have a foot fetish or anything but! The motions are just driving you in-fucking-sane right now.

Yoongi lifts his hips slightly, thrusting upwards so he is just flopping against your mouth, sliding out to the side of your cheek, then back inside again. 

Brain empty.

Pussy wet.

Eyes completely unfocused.

All the while he dips his candy-coated cock in and out of your pathetic mouth, yanking it back, smearing wetness all over your face, your chin, before sliding back in.

You want to regain your composure, you really do. But you love this, the mess he’s made of you, debauched and desperate for that monster between his legs.

Caressing your jaw, he tilts your chin up, bringing you back to the present. “Will you let me fuck your throat?”

You nod eagerly and he beams like he’s won something. He stands up and you adjust your stance, sitting on your heel like a well-mannered sub. 

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he praises as you watch his reddened head poke in and out of his clenched fist. He gives it a few more pumps, a tiny pearl shining on the slit, before seeking entrance in your mouth.

Just as you open up for him, you lift your gaze to meet his. “You don’t have to be gentle.”

“Tss,” he huffs out a laugh. “You say that now.”

“Try me.”

Yoongi makes a few shallow passes, a gag getting caught in your throat as he goes deeper. You relax your jaw, breathe in sharply through your nose, as Yoongi really shoves it in, hips stuttering at a steady pace. Soon enough, he’s bucking into you with more force, the skin at the edges of your lips tears with every pass.

You’re crying now, oscillating between the pain and the pleasure as he wrecks your shit. Fingers threaded through your hair are spurring you forward as your throat tightens and molds to the shape of him.

You kind of regret egging him on now.

“Oh look at you,” Yoongi gasps. “So fuckin’ perfect. Go on, baby, you can touch yourself.”

It’s not like you to wait for his, or anyone’s, permission. And it just occurred to you that you were maybe waiting for it. What the–

“Mmph…” you cough violently when he unplugs, air finally rushing inwards like a salvation. 

“You okay?” A thumb swipes a rogue tear from your cheek. “We can stop.”

“No, I’m fine.” You reply, shaking your head. 

He studies you for a beat before agreeing, his expression morphing into something achingly fond as he tucks a stray tendril behind your ear. 

Ignore ignore ignore

You busy your fingers underneath damp satin, rubbing your nub raw, distracting you from any discomfort from your abused throat or, worse, from the unsolicited affection. Shit. Thankfully you’re wound so goddamn tight and are just seconds away from tipping over the edge.

“Get yourself off, baby. Make yourself feel good. Wanna see you cum for me.”

Yoongi looks like the devil incarnate looking down on you like that, watching you pleasure yourself.

You're chasing your breath, deliriously close to your orgasm, but you’re able to croak out an instruction that you just know will snuff out the tenderness in his eyes before it undoes you. 

“Paint my face.”

And it sure as hell works, if the way he begins pumping his dick furiously is any indication. Your brain helpfully supplies memories of him impaling you, reaching places inside no man has ever touched before. Soon you’re tipping forward, a desperate cry of his name ripping from your chest, your body heaving, clenching, shaking with the force of your release.

It’s a miracle you hear him beneath the static in your ear drums.

“Shit. Baby, show me your tongue.”

You stick it out for him, soft and flat.

Gripping his shaft, Yoongi slaps his angry-red tip on your wet muscle relentlessly, sloppy thwacks filling the room.

“Fuck,” he curses and gasps with each lewd stroke, tapping his cock into your open mouth, pumping it aggressively, groaning roughly. The veins in his hand flex with every move, and it’s obvious he’s close, so you encourage him.

“I need your cum, Yoongi…” you moan salaciously. “Please…”

You shut your eyes and even in the darkness behind your lids you can imagine his gentle features contorted in ecstasy and with a low growl he vandalizes your face with white-hot spurts of his cum.

It gets quiet after that, the aftermath.

You open your eyes and there it is again, feline eyes gone unexpectedly glassy. He starts rubbing the slick on your cheek, smoothing it like it needs to sink deep. You sense a bead near your mouth and you swoop it in with your tongue, lapping up the liquid with a satisfied hum.

Yoongi sighs, grins tiny. “Stay there.”

You shouldn’t. You should actually get up because your knees are burning, your face is feeling gooey, and a quick douse of warm water would clean you right quick. 

Your heart pounds against your ribs because you know what’s next. The part you always refuse. The part you’ve always pretended to not care for.

Yoongi comes back with a washcloth, sits ass-bare on the couch and coaxes you to follow on his lap. 

Gentle as ever, white is wiped from your skin. The hotel’s terry cloth is a little rough, but he’s so tender with it, one smooth swipe after another until the slick is gone. He flips the towel on the other side and passes it over your face again.

But when the cloth is gone, his own hand stays, thumb tracing the soft swoop of your jaw before brushing across your lower lip, catching it briefly against his finger before letting it slip free.

The gesture draws your attention to his mouth. His tongue flicks out unconsciously, wetting his lips beneath your stare.

God. Would it really be so bad?

It’s only, what, 8 am and he got you doing downright nasty shit, but the fantasy is still as simple as ever.

A kiss.

Slow and lush and unhurried and then maybe fast, faster, tongues tangling and from there it’s just impossible to stop.

You're so close you can imagine it: he cups your jaw, parts your mouth with his, kisses you over and over until you’re dizzy and breathless. You link your arms around his neck, pulling him closer…

“Y/N…” Yoongi snaps you out of your reverie.

You blink back to the present. “Yeah?”

“I fuckin’ hate your rule in case I haven’t told you,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

You smush his lips with your palm, shoving his face playfully away before you get off his lap.

It’s still at the tip of your tongue, you know.

His cum.

As well as the truth you almost say out loud: 

You hate it, too.

⊙⊝⊜

It’s been about four months now since the tour kicked off. Long enough that the chaos feels a bit more controlled now.

At the beginning, every venue felt like a maze. Endless hallways, identical black curtains, staff corridors that all looked the same under fluorescent lighting. Now, you can just tell.  You can step into a new stadium and figure it out within minutes. Which tunnel leads to where. Which stairwell gets you quickest to wardrobe. Which backstage corners have decent signal. Which production staff to avoid when they’re stressed.

Tour life doesn’t feel borrowed anymore. It feels like it’s yours. The girls help with that too.

You’ve become closer in the way only people surviving the same madness together can.  Especially Angel who has started dragging you into wardrobe work whenever she’s overwhelmed and needs to yap with somebody. Now you moonlight beside her sometimes before shows, surrounded by rhinestones and loose thread while listening to her bomb ass playlists.

Your latest masterpiece had been Yoongi’s baseball jersey. Well, okay. Masterpiece might be generous. But you did spend almost 40 minutes bedazzling the name Tang and a tiny silver cat onto the sleeve.

You never told him it was you, but during soundcheck, you caught the exact moment he noticed it. His fingers brushed over the tiny rhinestone cat absently before his mouth twitched into that quiet amused grin he gets when something genuinely catches him off guard.

It just might be the prettiest smile you’ve seen on him.

⊙⊝⊜

And then, there’s Namjoon.

There are nights you end up eating backstage together, sharing food while he talks about whatever book currently has him spiraling philosophically. Other times he finds you stretching before rehearsals and starts rambling about his new Pokemon hyperfixation.

Nothing with Namjoon ever feels hidden or awkward.

Your conversations happen under bright lights. In crowded hallways. Out in the open where anybody could walk by and misunderstand absolutely nothing. Even when he invites you to hang out, it doesn’t feel like a secret. He even mentioned it one time within earshot of Jungkook, who seemed unfazed.

Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if this is what being close to someone is supposed to feel like.

Then you stop thinking about it before your mind wanders somewhere dangerous.

Because Yoongi—

God. That’s a puzzle. Maybe even a Rubik’s cube. Or twenty of them.

Because somehow everything between you has stayed exactly the same while also becoming completely different.

The arrangement hasn’t changed. You still slip into his room late at night. Still leave before morning. Still hide behind small rooms. Still finish quick and clean up fast.

But now you know things about him you didn’t before.

The face he makes when he’s concentrating on lyrics. How he goes soft when his eomma checks in late at night. His face in the morning when pleasure washes over his features.

And worse, he’s started knowing things about you, too.

Sometimes he does things that catch you so off guard it leaves you staring at him after like your brain can’t process what just happened.

Tiny things. Like calling you pretty. Like taking you to a Michelin-starred hole-in-the-wall in Madrid. You’re still a little fucked up about that, not gonna lie. 

No matter, they’re inconsequential enough that you can still lie to yourself about them if you try hard enough. And it scares you because the closer you get to him, the harder it becomes to pretend losing him wouldn’t hurt. Though you know you have to. Eventually.

⊙⊝⊜

[East Rutherford, NJ, August 2026]

Production rented an entire pickleball rink in New Jersey and invited anyone who wants to play after the boys’ Run BTS shoot.

A couple of you signed up. You’ve tried it before and you’re pretty decent. Plus, there wasn’t much to do during your day-off and you didn’t want to go outlet shopping with Rei and the other girls.

Eventually you and Seung Eun, Angel, Tiff and some other staff members piled into a van and into The Rink. 

The automatic doors slide open and cool air hits your skin instantly, carrying the sharp smell of rubber flooring and sports cleaner. Bright fluorescent lights spill across polished courts while music from an old BTS album (Love Yourself!) echoes faintly from overhead speakers.

On one court, you see Taehyung aggressively stretch like he’s competing in Wimbledon.

“Wow. He’s so serious about all this,” Angel mutters beside you.

“You’re literally wearing a whole tennis outfit.” You bump your hip against hers.

“It’s aesthetic.” She throws a wink over her shoulder before skipping happily towards her waiting man. 

You find the equipment counter, observing the people who are still around. Jungkook and Jimin probably left already. Meanwhile, Namjoon is sweating buckets by the coolers and Yoongi—

Why is he still willingly here and… oh, he’s running towards you?

“Hello.” You say awkwardly. “Didn’t think I'll see you here.”

“Heard you signed up.”

“Uh, yeah…”

He’s dressed simply. Black shorts. Oversized grey shirt with a small sweat stain on his chest. A baseball cap tugged backwards which is doing inexplicable things to your mind.

“Been wanting to play again,” you murmur.

“You any good?”

“I’m decent.”

“Okay, one game?” He rolls his shoulder, kneading the muscle there.

“Is your shoulder okay to play?”

The question slips out too naturally. Shit. Months ago, this would’ve stayed trapped inside your head, buried beneath all your rules about what you were and weren’t allowed to care about.

Yoongi glances at you. “Mm,” he says. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

A beat.

Then the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “You worried?”

Immediately defensive, you scoff. “No! I just don’t wanna win because your body is 90 years old.”

“Yah! I literally ran a marathon recently.”

“Mhmm and you almost died?” You grin slyly before grabbing an unmanned paddle on the counter, testing its weight. Then, you hit the side of his hip with it. He shakes his head at you, motioning his head for you to follow him.

“So did you win?” you ask about their Run BTS shoot.

“No.” He winces.

“Oh, so you suck at this, too?” You tease, recalling how he was teased relentlessly for his grandpa-esque foot volley performance. 

He narrows his eyes on you, but before he gets a word out, you say, “I can give you some pointers, if you want?”

An arm suddenly slings around your shoulders.

“Y/N-ah.”

Namjoon.

You stumble slightly from the force of it, laughing immediately.

“You’re with me,” Namjoon declares. “Doubles.”

You glance instinctively toward Yoongi and his expression doesn’t change much at all, but his gaze flicks once toward Namjoon’s arm around you before dropping away.

“Ah,” you say awkwardly. “Okay.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon grins. “We’re gonna destroy everybody.”

Yoongi licks his teeth as he declares his teammate. “Jin-hyung and me versus you two.”

Which you didn’t think was unfair at first, but apparently Kim Seokjin is the ace.

“Why are you good at everything?” you yell after he effortlessly sends another shot flying past you.

Jin points his paddle at you smugly. “God gives his hardest battles to his handsomest soldiers.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Namjoon winces before lining up to serve.

Yoongi misses what would have been an easy volley completely and the silence afterward is catastrophic.

“Yoongi-yah!” Seokin explodes and Namjoon hits the floor laughing.

“I thought it was yours!” Yoongi protests immediately.

“It was going to you??” Jin screeches.

You’re laughing so hard your knees nearly give out.

Yoongi glares at all of you. But honestly? He’s terrible. Absolutely terrible! Half the time he swings too late. The other half he hits the ball with way too much force like he’s trying to launch it into 134340. 

Meanwhile, Jin is carrying their duo on his broad ahh back. Like seriously, how come his shoulders are so wide and his arms are a mile long?

“Ah Yoongi, don’t be so useless!” Jin shouts dramatically across the court. 

“We’re still leading by 5 points!”

“Forget the points, your aura’s in the negatives now!”

Yoongi has nothing to say after that, just turns to look at you with a :] and suddenly you are endlessly endeared.

And before you can stop yourself, you holler. “You got this, Yoongi.”

He didn’t expect that. Hell, you didn’t expect to say that out loud, too. But you blame the adrenaline and the endorphins coursing through your body.

Yoongi’s lips press together tightly in a pout. He has this smile that looks reluctant, like he’s trying very hard to stay composed and failing by degrees. It’s a cute look.

Regardless, Yoongi stays terrible after that, but it was kinda worth it to see him a little flustered.

⊙⊝⊜

By the second game, everyone’s sweaty and louder and way too competitive for people who are supposedly here to just have fun.

You’re bent slightly at the waist catching your breath when you feel someone bump your shoulder lightly.

Yoongi.

“You’re with me this round.”

You blink up at him.

There’s no teasing in his voice. No hesitation either. Just quiet certainty.

“Against who?”

He tilts his chin toward the opposite court where Angel and Taehyung are already bickering like an old married couple.

“Oh,” you grin slowly. “Easy win.”

“Really,” Tae points immediately. “Yoongi-hyung, you’ve been taking the L every game.”

“Not this one,” Yoongi says simply beside you. “Not gonna lose with her.”

You look at him. He looks proud.

The game starts pretty badly. Mostly because Yoongi is downright awful.

“You gotta move your feet,” you laugh as he misses another return.

“I am moving!”

“That was one step!”

“I can do two max.”

You shove him playfully. “Get your head in the game, Yoon.”

And somewhere in the middle of the match, something clicks. Not skill. God  no. It’s chemistry. You start anticipating each other naturally.

Somehow, you know when he’ll hit too hard so you compensate automatically. He starts setting shots up for you without realizing it.

At one point you dive for a low ball, barely saving it. Yoongi cuts in and slams the return clean across the court.

The point is yours.

“Oh SHIT!” you yell.

Yoongi turns toward you instantly, eyes wide as adrenaline flashes across his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs breathlessly, holding his hand up.

You smack your palm against his.

“That was sharp!”

“You saved that.”

“No, YOU finished it!”

Tae scoffs from across the net. “The fuck? So much dramatics for one point.”

Angel makes a face at the two of you.

Neither of you even notice, because you’re too busy grinning at each other.

Later, during match point, Yoongi completely whiffs on an easy shot.

“Oh my god,” you collapse against him laughing. “You suck so bad. We could have won.”

“Why do you look happy?” he shoots back.

And you don’t really have an answer for that.

⊙⊝⊜

Or this.

Maybe you’re both tired after pickleball. But tonight, he was exceptionally gentle. Like everything happening was moving in slow-mo.

You’re on your back, the mattress dipping beneath you as he follows, one hand braced beside your head, the other coaxing your thigh to come up around him.

You wind your legs around his torso, ankles crossing at his back as you pull him close.

You feel him slip inside you and when he bottoms out, he exhales softly through his nose, forehead dropping to your neck.

You’re closer than you have been all night. Or ever, it seems.

Everything is so quiet, still. Just the sound of ragged breaths, fanning against each other’s bodies. 

There’s a comfort in the way his cock is nestled inside you like it’s made a home, and for a minute, maybe more, neither of you moves. 

Yoongi groans. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“I know…” you mumble.

“Shit…” Yoongi rasps, voice frayed at the edges. “Always feels good with you…”

Lifting his head, he nuzzles his nose against yours, brushing lightly as he moans at the way you’re clenching involuntarily.

You’re not kissing. You made it clear from the start. But you’re fighting for the same air, mouths a fraction apart. If either of you leans in even a little…

No. You can’t. That’s your rule.

It should feel casual. It is casual.

His slow gaze moves between your eyes and your mouth, like he’s thinking about it. He’s been doing this more and more, and you don’t know what to do with him.

It’s a question. He’s asking your permission without words.

Your hands slide up around his neck, tugging his hair back with a necessary force because everything else feels a little too soft, a little too real. You lick his bared neck, feeling the vibration from his throat against your tongue as he groans. The tenderness breaks.

“Yoongi. Move…” You claw at his back, resting your palm just above the curve of his ass.

Slow at first, he slides all the way out before stuffing his length back in with enough force to shake the sense out of you.

You cry in pleasure as he pulses his thumb against your puffy folds and wiggles it against your swollen clit. He knows your body so well now. Knows it’s not gonna take much.

“Oh, Yoongi…” you beg as your thighs quiver against his torso, each nasty thrust from him pulling out puffs of air from your throat.

You’re almost folded in half now as he snaps his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot making you delirious.

“I got you,” he rasps, voice low and gravelly. 

And then his hands find yours pressing both palms steady against your own. But then his grip deliberately changes, fingers slipping between yours, interlacing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You tighten your hold without thinking. And he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he holds on harder.

This is new. Oh this is fucking new and you don’t know what to do.

The rhythm between you turns unsteady for a second—like you both feel it at the same time—and then it settles again, slower, deeper, more intentional.

Your foreheads meet. He huffs your name under his breath. 

You’re feeling so much. His hand in yours. Your legs wrapped around him. The way your breathing falls out of sync and then somehow finds its way back together again.

His pace doesn’t falter even as your walls continue to swallow all of him as your climax nears.

“Baby… I can feel you sucking me in… fuck.”

“Yoongi…”

“Ah… you wanna keep me in, huh?”

Your hips falter at the insinuation, a temporary glitch in your brain, but he picks up the pace again and soon you’re back in that haze.

“Need you, baby…” 

“I’m here…” he whispers, leaning to plant his lips on your cheek, and another, dangerously close to the edge of your lips. “Not going anywhere…”

It’s those words. Lust-driven words dressed up as a vow that did it for you. 

When you come, he follows, spilling himself inside you with a broken gasp.

⊙⊝⊜

You can hear the electric kettle whistling as you step out of his bathroom.

Yoongi stands near the window, chest still bare, trousers sitting deliciously low on his hips.

There are nights you’re still kind of mesmerized by how incredibly handsome this man is. 

Funny how two Kim Seokjins break the thought. Worldwide handsome is staring back at you from cups of Jin ramyeon on the table.

“I got hungry.” Yoongi says simply when he sees you, walking to retrieve the kettle. “Wanna eat?”

Two cups of ramyeon sit on the table. One is already cracked open, seasoning packets emptied inside. The other is still sealed, waiting patiently beside it.

You’re thinking, processing, buffering. You never ever stay beyond the clean-up. But the familiar and comforting smell of the broth makes the decision for you.

<3

//part four

A/N: Hi! Hope you liked? This Yoongi just... honestly, it was hard to write him at first, but I'm kinda falling in lo💥💥💥

ANYWAY! Leave me a note or a reblog with a review, if you want. It's the best way you can show your support.

Thank you for reading, you lovely beautiful human xo

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[ktownshizzle]

Smoke & Mirrors, part two | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: angsty introspections, smut, fluff (kinda), more arirang song references, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, edging!, implied nipple stimulation leading to orgasm, exhibitionist kink (if you squint), mc being dense af, yoongi being dense af, miscommunication or lack of?, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Madrid OH Madrid ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 7k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie ✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie ✎ ˎˊ˗ Banner by @risky-peaches ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Since you really wanted it...💜 I had to split up the original chapter bec it was getting to 14k it didn't want to end. But the good news is the next chapter is about 80% done atp. Please let me know what you think and enjoy. Taglist to follow because I need to clock in for work in a few minutes. And sorry in advance if I don't get to tag everybody, but I will try! <3

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You don’t really do casual. Or fuck buddies. Or situationships.

There’s a first time for everything.

Because this is where you currently stand with one Min Yoongi.

Your last real relationship was four years ago. After that, it’s just been a string of dates that never really turned into anything.

The plan was simple: focus on yourself, your career, travel the world.

This was not in the plan.

At least your career is thriving. And you are traveling the world. And maybe that’s how you justify it.

Because somehow, you start to understand why Tiff and Bina and Angel agreed to something like this with the other boys. The work is stressful, the hours are insane, and this arrangement takes the edge off in a way nothing else really does. There’s something about being in the same place at the same time a little too often that makes whatever this is with Yoongi… convenient. Easy.

That’s why it works. Theoretically.

You’re focusing on yourself. Your well-being. And if that well-being happens to come in the form of a chemical-induced haze on the regular—dopamine, not drugs—then so be it.

There’s an easy, unspoken rhythm to it now. Between rehearsals, Yoongi glances at you from across the room. A tilt of his head. You follow. In the evening, a text from him. Midnight. Sometimes as late as 2 or 3 a.m. when he’s still buzzing from adrenaline or when he can’t quite figure a track out. You’re out the door and into his lap.

It’s always him. You don’t really initiate. You don’t have to. Not when he seeks you out first and gives it to you all night.

⊙⊝⊜

Yoongi is a generous lover. This to say, he is a munch. 

Now you get why he sings about giving good head every chance he gets. That tongue technology. Feeling the high waves coming. That salt in his tongue. Yeah, that’s your salt on his tongue.

Yoongi knows what to do to make your toes curl. How to pull pleasure out of you like no lover has before. Maybe it’s because of the secrecy, the risk. It heightens everything. Mostly you know it’s him. He’s clocked the hours to up his dick game. There are times you’re bothered by it. There are times you don’t care.

He’s mapped the places in your body that fall apart with his touch. Makes sure he does it again. And again. That’s what keeps you coming back for more.

The part that always gets you though is that brief moment of clarity after the act. The way he pulls you in after like it’s the right thing to do. You know it’s bare minimum. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

But for that stretch of time, danger looms. When your brain conjures a different version of you and him. A version where you’re allowed to ask questions like why he cut his hair. Why he doesn’t eat more. How his cat is doing. Why he keeps pressing on his shoulder like that-Is his past injury bothering him again? Is he gonna do another marathon?

You swallow all of it down. Because those aren’t your questions to ask. They belong to the people Yoongi loves. Jimin, for one. Not you.

Despite the many things you want to say in between the moment you come and the moment you go, you stop yourself because that’s not your role in his life. 

Whatever this is has rules. Unspoken, but clear. You’re a big girl. You’ve come to terms with the fact that this doesn’t extend beyond closed doors and dim lights. That this is temporary. A placeholder until he finds something real and true and worth risking his idol life for.

So you draw your own lines for your own good.

You don’t stay the night. Not once. You leave before things can settle into something softer, something harder to walk away from in the morning.

You don’t let him clean you up, either. Never. The first time he brings you a washcloth, you take it from his hand with a muttered I got it, like it’s nothing. Like you don’t want the care. Like you don’t need it.

Every now and then, a casual baby slips from his lips because he must know exactly how much it gets to you. You’re not his baby, you know that, so you never call him anything sweet. It should be enough for him that the world calls him SUGA.

And kissing. None of that. Let him take, let him unravel you however he wants. Just not your kryptonite.

The rules keep you grounded. You hold the line firmly where you can, even if sometimes things feel like they are starting to blur.

Yet, there are moments when they do blur in your favor.

When he’s with you, breath uneven, composure slipping in ways not many get to see. When his hands tighten their grip on your hair as he struggles to stay grounded. When his eyes—usually so guarded, so distant—roll to the back of his head as you give him bliss. When he calls you that one word in a voice so strangled and desperate, and punctuates it with please as you have his warm and heavy cock wrapped tightly around your fingers and he chants your name and curses over and over before white blooms across your skin.

That’s the power you have. It does something crazy to you. Because for all the secrecy, all the restraint, all the careful distance you keep, you know this much is yours. 

This version of him that comes undone in your hands. Pretty. Putty. It’s enough for now.

[Busan, SK, June 2026]

“Ughhh…”

You’re backstage, in one of the new costumes created for Festa, and this frickin’ zipper won’t—

“Hold still.”

You know the voice, and you don’t even argue. Yoongi steps behind you, tugging the zipper up in one smooth motion, the back of his hand brushing your spine in the process.

“You could’ve cut your skin,” he lightly scolds you with an eyebrow raise.

“Thanks,” you say, not meeting his eyes, ignoring the thump in your chest.

Down the hallway you hear a gaggle of noise and spot some of the dancers congregating by the catering table. You should probably join them and get something to eat, too. Though you’re feeling kinda…

“Nervous?” Yoongi asks.

“What?”

“You seem stressed.”

You don’t even realize you were showing it. “…maybe a little.”

Yoongi nods once like he’s satisfied that he read your mood. “Why?”

“Uh, my family is watching today.”

“Really?” His eyes widen. “Did you ask to seat them in the suites?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. They should be okay in the 300s.”

Yoongi plucks his phone from his back pocket and starts tapping away. You don’t even know if he heard you or anything, but suddenly he’s furiously texting someone, fingers flying across the screen.

Since he seems distracted, you decide to bounce.

“I’m gonna go.” You jerk a thumb behind you. “I have to meet with Seung Eun to orient some of the… anyway, bye.”

Yoongi lifts his head and nods absently, before going back to whatever has him occupied.

⊙⊝⊜

Your phone rings and your sister’s goofy smile fills your screen. You swipe to answer it immediately. “Hey…”

“Unnie!!” There’s an unmistakable tone of delight in her voice. “Yo, the seats were amazing! Thank you for the upgrade!”

You pause mid-step, phone pressed to your ear. “…upgrade?”

“We got moved to the sky suite,” your sister gushes. “There was a buffet and everything. It was so cool!”

You stop walking entirely now, trying to piece it together. “Huh.”

Your sister is none the wiser about your confusion, still gushing about her experience. “We even met V, J-Hope, and RM!” She continues, sounding a little breathless. “Eomma introduced herself to RM. She thanked him for helping with her surgery. He was so nice, unnie. And so hot.”

Ah. That tracks.

Namjoon.

Of course it was him. Now you’re not surprised because you might have mentioned this to him one time. Honestly, you can’t remember. But he’s a generous soul. Does thoughtful things and he never expects anything back. Who else would have done this for you anyway.

“That’s great,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll thank him later.”

“I couldn’t really find you though,” your sister adds sheepishly. “All the dancers looked the same.”

You laugh. “That’s kind of the point.”

“You should come home when you can, okay?”

“How are things with eomma and appa?”

“They still haven’t killed each other.” She chuckles wryly and something pricks at your chest. 

“Were they at least happy today?”

“So happy,” she assures. “I’m proud of you, unnie. We are all proud of you.”

Your heart feels like it expanded two sizes. “...Thank you.”

“Come visit when you get back from tour, okay?”

“Yeah… I should be able to after US. We’ll have a short break.”

“Okay. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

You say your goodbyes as you reach Yoongi’s door, still feeling a little frayed around the edges. It seems to be the case anytime you speak to your younger sister these days, who is literally the best person in your life. You wish you could tell her your worries, but she already has enough to deal with at home.

You sigh deeply, trying to reset yourself before you lift your wrist to knock.

Yoongi has asked you to come over that night and there wasn’t really any reason for you to say no. You still had some surplus energy you wouldn’t mind burning off. And it should take your mind off things. 

He tells you he just wrapped up a Weverse live with the members and you suspect his body is still high from all of the adrenaline and excitement from today.

One thing about Yoongi is that he always knows exactly where to put all that restless energy.

By the time he’s done with you, your thoughts have gone blissfully quiet, your body boneless beside his.

The room is quiet except for the steady rhythm of your breathing, bodies still warm, the sheets a mess around you.

You’re staring up at the ceiling when he speaks. “Did your family enjoy the show?”

You turn to him, brightening instantly. “Yeah. They loved it. I was on the phone with my sister on the way up.”

Yoongi smiles, soft and pretty in the afterglow. “Your dad must’ve liked the unlimited beer in the sky suite.”

You grin. “I think he did. They really appreciated being there.”

“You’re wel–”

It clicks then. “Oh shit.” You sit up suddenly, clutching the sheet to your chest. “I forgot to text Joon.”

“Namjoon-ah?”

“Yeah,” you say, already reaching for your phone. “To thank him for doing that for my family. That was really thoughtful of him.”

You don’t look at Yoongi.

You don’t see the way his expression stills. Flattens.

He watches you for a second longer, something stormy settling behind his eyes. Then he sits up, reaching for the shirt draped over the chair.

“I need to sleep.” He says as his head pokes through the tee.

You glance up from your phone, blinking as realization hits. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” You take it as your cue, slipping out of bed without question.

This isn’t new. This is how it usually goes.

“Sorry,” you mumble, already gathering your clothes. “I’ll get gone.”

He shrugs lightly. “It’s fine.”

You don’t think anything of it. He doesn’t really kick you out per se. But you guess in the few times you’ve done this, he’s figured out you never stay so he doesn’t expect you to.

You dress quickly and head out the door mumbling a goodbye. He doesn’t say anything back.

⊙⊝⊜

You’re walking down the hallway when Namjoon’s reply comes through.

You smile, opening the message.

Namjoon: Your family was so nice. I’m glad to finally meet your eomma. She looks healthy. Namjoon: Wasn’t me though. You should have told me they were coming and I would’ve arranged for it.

You read the last bit again. Confused.

Wait, so if it wasn’t him…

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime.

You step inside slowly, thumb hovering over your screen uselessly.

Before it closes, your eyes lift to the door at the end of the corridor, thinking of the man behind it.

Oh.

Your stomach drops.

Could it be…?

You type before you can overthink it.

You: Was it you?

No reply comes.

⊙⊝⊜

Until a week after, where a u free tonight? graces your thread and you’re up and out the door in a green hoodie you copped from the Goyang tour kick-off. It seems like ages ago now, you think, as you pull some loose threads on the sleeve, but it’s really the comfiest thing ever.

You’re back in Seoul now. There’s two weeks of rest and rehearsals before flying out again. Seoul feels strangely still compared to months of constant movement, but it’s nice to come back to this pace after being crazy-busy.

This is the first time Yoongi has messaged you outside the tour bubble, and the fact that he wants to meet at his actual house sends a strange little thrill through your chest.

The lobby of his high-rise is massive, luxurious, infinitely more intimidating than your condo complex. You half expect security to arrest you, but the moment you say your name at the desk, the concierge nods immediately and sends you up without a problem. Still, maybe you should have dressed up a bit? Ah, it’s useless thinking about that now. Yoongi probably just has a random tee and his favorite sweats on anyway.

When you get to his room at the penthouse level, you press the doorbell on the digital screen. The door swings open not five seconds later.

See, Min Yoongi is a menace.

A white ribbed tank clings tightly to his toned chest, biceps completely exposed, the slim-cut brown trousers tapering perfectly against his narrow waist. He smells so good, too. Soapy and musky from having just showered, hair combed back showing his fresh new undercut.

Damn. Okay.

Yoongi chose violence tonight.

“Hi,” you say stupidly, suddenly hyperaware that this is the first time you’ve seen him outside of HYBE, arenas, and hotel hallways. 

(Except Hannam. But you don’t talk about that.)

Yoongi leans against the frame barefoot. “Hi,” he echoes, quieter, stepping aside to let you in.

His apartment is exactly what you imagined and somehow not at all.

Minimal. Clean lines. Classy. Smells nice. Huge windows wrapping around the open plan layout of his spacious living room, connecting to the kitchen towards the farther side of the room.

“Wow,” you mumble, toeing your shoes off near the entrance. “This is where you live…”

Yoongi snorts softly behind you. “Shut up.”

“Wae? I haven’t even said anything!”

A tiny smile pulls at his mouth as he watches you slowly wander further inside, your fingertips brushing lightly over the back of the couch as you take everything in.

You stop near one of the framed photos on the shelf. “You decorated this yourself?”

“Mm. Mostly.”

You glance around once more, genuinely impressed. “It feels very…”

“Go ahead,” he sighs. “Make fun of me.”

“No, I was gonna say warm.” You look around once more before teasing lightly, “Like a rich man in a K-drama lives here.”

“The lead or the second lead?”

The question catches you off-guard, but makes you grin. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

“They’re not usually both rich, you know.”

“But what if they both are?” He shrugs, still waiting for the answer. “So?”

“Lemme think.” You consider it, making a show of surveying the space like you’re a reality show judge. “The Pinterest touches. I dunno ‘bout those…”

“What do you mean?”

“Yankee candle in Fresh Laundry. Bottle of Rose on the counter with two wine glasses.” You point accusingly. “Succulents.”

The place kinda looks a bit showroom-y, like he got the model unit from the realtor. But there are obvious traces of him everywhere. A pair of ear buds lying on the coffee table outside of its case, shelves of vinyls from many years of collecting, a Spotify plaque for D-day hanging on a wall beside some other accolades, a cat scratching post on the corner.

The one thing making this place feel the most like a K-drama set though is the man standing in front of you right now. In that fit. So fucking handsome. Looking at you with those stupidly hopeful eyes like your opinion of his apartment matters way more than it should.

Hands twitching faintly at his sides, Yoongi seems to be combusting for praise tonight, so you give it to him. It’s the truth anyways.

“Lead guy.”

His mouth twitches. “There it is.”

You smile softly as you watch him pour the wine. The sweet tang of the rosé glides across your tongue, cool and refreshing down your throat while Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter, watching you over the rim of his own glass with far too much satisfaction.

Like he’s pleased you like it here. Like he’s pleased you’re here.

“C’mere,” he mutters eventually, nodding toward the living room.

You follow him deeper into the apartment, eyes trailing after the broad line of his shoulders as he strolls toward the massive couch like he doesn’t realize how unfair he looks in soft pants and that stupid tank top.

He gestures casually toward the sofa. “Sit befo—”

Before he can even finish the sentence, your hands are on him.

“You have no idea how hot this is,” you inform him seriously, shoving lightly at his chest.

“Yah—”

He drops onto the couch with a startled laugh, and you immediately climb into his lap, your knees sinking into the plush cushions on either side of his thighs. His palms slide instinctively up your bare legs, settling at your waist before dipping lower, squeezing at your ass like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you most.

“Why are you wearing this?” you accuse, tugging lightly at the neckline of his tank.

“Why are you wearing that?” he accuses back.

You blink innocently. “Wearing what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely toward your mouth, already looking annoyed. “The lip thing.”

Oh. You smile slowly. “You like it?”

“Hate it,” he deadpans immediately.

Which means you’ve already won.

You drag your bottom lip between your teeth before licking over the stain deliberately, just enough for it to catch the light, glossy and wet.

“Mm,” you hum. “Tastes good, too.”

Yoongi’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His hands tighten slightly on your waist. “You know what.”

You tilt your head, pouting playfully now. “No, I don’t think I do.”

His gaze drops to your lips again like he can’t help it. Like he’s actively losing a battle with himself.

“Y/N,” he warns.

You lean closer on purpose, close enough for him to smell the sweet strawberry tint on your mouth. “What?”

He exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darkening in that way you’ve become very familiar with. “I need to fuckin’ do something with my mouth.”

“Is that your way of asking if you can kiss me?” You laugh softly, pleased with yourself, as you deliberately grind down against his length, just once. “You’re so romantic.”

A groan. A slap on your ass. Then a long, suffering sigh. “What if I say please?”

“Oh wow, big bad Agust D wants to say please?”

“Y/N.”

“You know you can’t kiss me, Yoongi.”

Another sigh. Deeper this time, just like the slow drag of your clothed cunt against the ridge of his cock.

His head tips back slightly against the couch like he’s asking the universe for patience while your smile grows impossibly smug.

“Fuuuuck,” he curses. “You’re evil.”

“Just suck on my tits. I don’t care.” 

His brow quirks. “You don't care?”

You shrug dismissively.

You don’t know it then, but he bookmarks that as a challenge. Not for tonight, though. He’s already so worked up. 

“Lie back,” he smacks your ass again and maneuvers you towards the couch cushions, already halfway peeling your shorts and panties off your legs.

“Show me your tits. Wanna see them while I eat you out.”

You comply, promptly pulling the zip of your hoodie down, showing you’re bare underneath. His eyes bug out temporarily before he shakes his head and drops his gaze between your legs.

He presses his lips to the soft inner flesh of your thigh, inching up to your core. He switches to the other leg, pressing butterfly kisses there to drive you insane.

Then, his tongue darts out to part your folds, gently, shallowly, wiggling it as if to make room.

Your hips arch off from the cushions, chasing his wet muscle immediately. But he holds you down, soft thighs locked against strong arms as he tsks a warning for you not to squirm too much.

He lifts his head and grits, in mock seriousness. “Can I have my meal in peace now?”

God, what the fuck is he saying? No matter, it got you clenching around nothing.

Yoongi lowers his chest further where you’re spread open for him. The warm air from his nose tickles your skin before letting his lips touch yours.

What he does next tracks, because he’s a little shit. 

Yoongi makes a show of making out with your puffy lips as if it was your mouth. You prop yourself on elbows to watch him do it, applying the faintest pressure before pulling it with a gentle suck. He licks and suckles noisily and you whine as his tongue snakes between your slit to flick against your clit. Just the first swipe almost breaks you. 

Yoongi doesn’t really talk much when he gets into a flowstate. Not before he props a pillow behind your head because he knows you love this show. 

“Watch…” he instructs, before your eager nod makes him smirk.

He keeps it soft, steady at first, his fat tongue sliding up and down your aching nub. He takes his time with this, just gives you maddeningly slow, torturous flicks at a glacial pace. The heat pools low on your belly, gradually increasing in intensity as he shakes his head against your mound, tongue zig-zagging against your clit. 

You run your fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp. He purrs when you do that and the vibration makes you shiver.

This is the view you retrieve from your mind palace on nights you’re alone. Yoongi’s dark hair and even darker eyes between your legs. 

Fuck. He’s so insanely good at this. He moves lower to lap at the trail of juices leaking from your hole. You moan helplessly when he fucks you shallowly with his tongue, the sharp tip breaching your entrance but just barely.

“God… Yoongi, what the fuck?”

As if he wants to drive you even more insane, he adds pressure to your clit with his thumb and you’re just moaning and panting haplessly now, mind going numb.

Just when you’re about to—

Of course, of fucking course, he pulls back. You tip your head back, chasing the breath that has left your lungs.

“Look at you, baby.” Yoongi admires how his spit and your juices make your pussy all shiny and pretty. Eyes full of stars, he breathes out, “this perfect fuckin’ cunt…”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, biting your lip as he continues to just ogle at you. “Stop teasing…”

“Okay, okay…” he chuckles, giving your clit one quick swipe.

Yoongi takes your hand on the back of his neck and swallows two fingers, wetting the pads. He bites it playfully before telling you to “play with your tits...”

You pluck at your right nipple, swirling his spit around it before pulling it taut and releasing it with a jiggle. You didn’t realize your eyes fluttered shut until you feel the moist heat of his mouth envelop your other nipple, sucking at it greedily to force your eyes open.

“You ready to come?” he mumbles against your chest, kissing the sweat off your sternum.

“Please…” you scratch the tufts of his hair behind his ear, earning you another deep groan as he nuzzles his cheek against the softness of your tits.

He trails gentle kisses down your body as he goes back to his previous position. And you gasp when he does the thing for you. The finishing move. It’s when he sucks your clit in between his soft, pink lips and the tip of his tongue circles it while inside the warmth of his mouth.

“I love it when you do that… shit…” 

His brows are furrowed while he hums against you, still suckling like he’s addicted, even moaning indulgently for you.

“Yoongi, please. Don’t stop…”

And just like that…

“Not yet.”

He smirks as he withdraws just enough to look you dead in the eye before stuffing two fingers right through your cunt without warning.

“Fuck!” you cry out, walls clamping tight at the intrusion.

God his fingers. They’re moving so fast and it feels impossible. You’re too close to hold back.

“Not yet,” he snarls, fingers moving rapidly in and out of your sopping hole now. “Not until I say so.”

Everything feels fucking lit. Your skin is burning up, electricity running up and down your veins.

But this is where he likes to play, because Yoongi enjoys edging you. Works you up, but forces you to control yourself as if it doesn’t take every ounce of willpower not to explode. He’s a fucking problem.

“Don’t act like you don’t like this,” he mutters, almost to himself, as he watches you tremble. “I know you do.”

You loathe to admit that you like that sadistic grin on his face when he knows you’re close, but even better, the tiny tilt of his brow when he finally tells you to let go.

Your fingers curl against his bicep, grounding yourself as you start to grind against his fingers. You meet his every thrust, the noisy squelches of your pussy filling the room. You’re writhing, desperate, mouth hanging open to take every ounce of pleasure seeping into your bones and dribbling down your thighs.

There’s something glinting in his eyes when he asks. “You let anyone else see you like this?”

You’re still hyperfocused on rocking against him.

“Answer me,” he says, adding a third finger now as he scissors your gummy walls open.

You roll your eyes, even as your pulse races. “You’re the only one stupid enough to deal with me.”

That seems to satisfy him.

“Good,” he smirks. “Come for me.”

Your brain seems to respond to his voice because suddenly you’re shuddering as your orgasm racks your body, spine bowing towards him, while he continues to piston his fingers inside, your cunt weeping violently in surrender.

His fingers slow, helping you ride out the wave. You sink back into the couch cushions, smiling a little dopey as you stare at the ceiling above.

“I’m not done with you…”

“I’m not done with you, either,” you reply, more breath than your actual voice, still heaving from your release.

He grins all big and cocky, licking your juices clean off his bony digits and you feel another twitch right in the spot where he just left.

You move to stand up, jelly legs still a little wobbly. He catches you by the ass, and you shove his cheeky face back, giggling.

An equal opportunity lover he maintains, but you suspect deep down he’s an ass man.

Yoongi licks his bottom lip while you shrug off the hoodie, eyes on him. He looks chuffed as hell as he palms his crotch, the stiff one underneath the thin material already making itself known.

“Pants off,” you say sweetly, sliding your hands from your sides to cup the underside of your breasts.

A sharp inhale mixes with the shuffle of pants and briefs as it joins your hoodie in a messy puddle.

Yoongi is big. You already know he packs a wallop, but it still surprises you every damn time.

He tugs at the velvety shaft languidly, a tiny bead of white pooling at the tip.

You bite your lip, heart racing, as you watch him spread his cum around his cockhead with his thumb.

The grin he has on his naughty, just one corner lifted up, eyes shining with mischief. “Sup?”

The fucking audacity.

So tonight, you decide to lean into every unfair advantage your years of dancing gave you. You know exactly how to move your body to elicit the right reactions and bring Yoongi to his demise.

You turn around, gathering your hair on one side, then glance at him from over your shoulder as you throw your ass back, just once. Okay, maybe twice.

Yoongi groans appreciatively. “You’re so sexy. So fuckin’ sexy.” He combs his hair back, eyes glued to the soft jiggle of your behind as he gives his cock a few more pumps.

You spank your bum playfully, a pretty shade of red blooming on your skin, before spreading your cunt open for him as you bend forward.

“Holy fuuuck.” Yoongi slurs. “I gotta–”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, just presses his face against your ass so suddenly that you almost tip forward if he wasn’t gripping your hips. Then, you feel him trail his tongue from your glistening hole and up towards the rim. That makes your knees buckle but thankfully he catches you by the waist and plants your ass firmly against his cock.

Yoongi’s already so hard against you and that just makes you want to tease him a bit more. You shift a little so his thick cock sits snug between your cheeks. He huffs a satisfied chuckle at the feeling, rutting up once to stuff himself even deeper into the soft squish of your ass.

You hook one hand around his neck, pulling him forward to kiss the underside of his jaw, tasting his clean sweat as you move your hips in a slow swivel.

“Fuckiiiin’ hell…”

The groan you pull from his throat with each calculated roll gets lower and a little more wrecked with each pass. But when you drag your tongue slowly along the shell of his ear, the sound he lets out is downright nasty. A low, desperate rumble that went straight to your pussy.

Wetness spreads along his cock as you continue to rub against him, a little faster, panting sweet sighs against his ear. You flick your warm tongue along his lobe again, licking along the cartilage before capturing it inside your mouth.

“A-ahhh,” Yoongi chokes out a shudder like he was caught off-guard. “Shit, baby, that’s…”

“You like that?” You hum and continue to lick and suckle, the sensual noises making his dick twitch. It’s the first time you pulled this move on him and you’re satisfied with his reaction. 

Hands sliding up to make your breasts spill from his hands, he grits. “I think you need to get fucked hard.”

“Can you do that for me, Yoon?” you mewl as he pinches your nipples between his calloused fingertips, pleasure pricking at your chest. “You wanna fuck me hard?”

“You know I do.” he rasps, voice an octave lower. “Bend over the arm rest, baby.”

You rearrange yourself on his utterly debauched couch as he rolls a condom on himself that he grabs from behind a lamp like he has it at the ready. You can’t even clock him for that because you’re desperate to have him inside you.

Thighs still burning from your little performance, you rest your weight on your belly.

Yoongi stands behind you, lining himself up on your entrance as he lets his fat cock be swallowed inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby. It’s so tight.” he groans, as your pussy flutters all over him.

You moan when he finally pushes himself to the hilt, crescent shapes blooming on the soft skin on your waist.

“Yoongi…” You call his name like a broken plea.

His pelvis bounces against your ass as he thrusts his dick in and out of you at a ruthless pace. There’s no show build up here, just a quick ascent to the top. You claw at the cushions finding something to grip as he slams against you, rough and unrestrained, and you’re reduced to a wailing mess.

He bucks his hips even harder, faster, working himself stupid. You know he’s fucking gone, you can feel it.

“Touch yourself, baby. Fuck, I’m so close…”

You slip your index between your battered cunt, your clit so slippery it doesn’t take much for you to reach your peak for a second time.

You rub quick finger eights and reach cloud nine even quicker, shaking as you cum, your walls pulsing against his cock.

“Where?” he asks when he knows you’ve finished.

“Back.”

He slips out of you so fast, and before you can whine at the sudden emptiness, you feel the warm ropes of Yoongi’s gooey cum splash against your spine as your name leaves his lips.

[Madrid, June 2026]

You should have known that of all the girls it would be Rei who clocks you first.

You’ve barely stepped out from behind the dim green room partition when she narrows her eyes at you. You shift your slightly twisted top and wince as it chafes against your too-sensitive nipples.

After challenging Yoongi with making you come from just nipple stimulation, you found yourself on top of spare music equipment as he decided to grant your wish like some fucked-up genie.

Behind you, he walks out a beat later.

Rei’s lips part, then press into a thin line.

“Wow,” she mutters, low enough that only you hear. “He looks like an evil king.”

You look at Yoongi over your shoulder—and yeahhhh. There’s no denying what just happened. His lips are red, slightly swollen, and his hair? God. You shouldn’t have tugged that hard. It’s sticking out every which way.

“I know Mujin don’t do hair like that,” Rei comments.

You’re still mute, refusing to meet her eyes as she falls into step beside you.

“You doing hair now, sweets?” Rei teases. “I didn’t realize glam was short-staffed.”

“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about,” you say quickly, already walking faster.

She cackles, not convinced in the slightest. But it’s fine. If there’s one person you can trust here it’s Rei.

“Adios, mamacita,” she calls out as you round the corner to find the nearest bathroom.

⊙⊝⊜

Rehearsal runs late. But the minute it’s over you return your eomma’s call.

Your dad and your mom got into a fight.

Something about his pension. Something about the trash. Something about him never listening to her needs.

Rei looks over to you, a silent question if she should hang back. The hotel is 10, maybe 15 minutes on foot, so you wave a dismissive hand. You don’t want witnesses to this. Not for this. You can make your way back easily. You just need to get through this phone call.

You let your mom spill her guts to you. You know love is there. But you also know how something can be real and still not work.

At some point, your legs just give out. You’re slumped on the floor, the base of your spine against the worn walls of the dance studio as you control your breathing. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Your heartbeat hasn’t fully come down yet, still knocking against your ribs, and this news isn’t doing you any favors.

By the time the call finishes, your skin is no longer tacky with sweat, but your limbs still feel heavy. You think about what your mom said. Not everything, just the last part. That love isn’t always enough. 

You drag a hand down your face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see white. After a few minutes, you push yourself up, roll your shoulders. You don’t want to cry over something you can’t control.

You’re locking up behind you when you see him.

Yoongi’s leaning against the wall like he’s been there a while, arms crossed loosely, gaze unfocused as he chews on the skin on his bottom lip. 

“You waiting for someone?” you ask, keeping it light, like your pulse is not racing.

“Mm.”

“…who?”

This time he looks at you properly. Just for a second. You look away, not wanting to show him truths buried beneath your lids. You dig through your bag for your pepper spray, something to keep in hand for the walk back to the hotel.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You scoff softly. “Okay.”

As you start heading out, he pushes off the wall like he’s been waiting for that exact moment, falling into step beside you like it was always the plan.

“My car’s still outside,” Yoongi says, like you should already know what that means.

You hesitate for half a second. But your tired legs are screaming hallelujah as you follow him out.

⊙⊝⊜

Inside the SUV neither of you says anything at first. Personally, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing here. Maybe he wants to fuck in the car? You really don’t know…

You glance over to where he’s seated. The city moves outside in streaks of gold and shadow, streetlights slipping across his profile in intervals. He also looks worn, tired. 10% battery life. 

So you let your head fall back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, letting your body finally start to come down from everything.

“Is it okay if we stop somewhere?” he asks when the driver nears the hotel cul de sac.

You turn your head slightly. “Where?”

“Place I heard about.”

You study him for a second. “What if I say no?”

There’s no hesitation. “Then it’s a no.” He sounds serious.

“Relax. I’m kidding.” You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Just pretend I’m not here, I’m wiped.”

He leans over and presses a small button on your armrest, the recliner whirring quietly as it tilts back, letting you sink into the seat a little more.

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling a little to the side away from him, so you can watch the view from outside.

⊙⊝⊜

Tucked into a narrow street, the shop is easy to miss. You never would have gone here not with how small it is, how unassuming. It’s like a Spanish deli. A butcher shop and a little restaurant rolled into one.

You step inside and the smell hits you. Salt, cured meat, something rich and fatty and indulgent, layered over the faint tang of wine and old wood.

Yoongi steps towards the till, pointing to something in the menu. You don’t hear what he communicates except for the faint “Gracias.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at how he said it so cutely.

“I got this for us,” he says, showing you a picture of an open sandwich called bocadillo de jamon.

You raise a brow. “You ordered for me?”

He smirks playfully. “Got a problem with it?”

“Why do you keep bossing me around?”

He shakes his head, a tiny grin playing in his lips, before he tsks. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“Wha—“ a puff of air escapes your gaping mouth. How dare he.

⊙⊝⊜

Back in the car, the wrappers crinkle softly between you as you take the first bite, grease soaking faintly through the paper, the taste immediate and overwhelming in the best way. It’s salty, rich, and so indulgent.

“Wow,” you gush. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He nods, a lump on the side of his cheek as he chews thoughtfully.

You glance at him. “You been there before?”

“No,” he says simply. “But it was on the Michelin Bib Gourmand.”

Honestly, you have no idea what that means. But Yoongi is always researching random shit, his knowledge running weirdly deep in ways that constantly catch you off guard, so you assume it’s basically the equivalent of five stars on Yelp.

Yoongi tells the driver to head back to the hotel, but not before he also hands the man a sandwich of his own.

Then, he reaches into the bag and pulls out two tiny bottles of red wine, twisting one open with ease before handing it to you. 

“Yay,” you smile, oddly delighted by the unexpected treat.

You glance back toward the little jamon spot as the car pulls away, the warm glow of the restaurant fading slowly into the Madrid night. “That’s the kind of place you see in movies, y’know?” you muse lightly. “Somewhere people accidentally fall in love on the first date.”

Yoongi takes a slow swig of wine, thumb swiping across his bottom lip afterward. He doesn’t reply with words. Just a tiny wine-stained smile.

You take another crunchy bite of your sandwich then take your phone out to snap a quick pic. God, it’s amazing.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks after a while.

“It’s my off,” you say, leaning your head back again. “So, nothing. Sleep. Maybe walk around if I feel like being a human. I know the girls wanna hit the beach.”

He nods. “Mm. You like the beach?”

“Sometimes. You?”

“Nah, I hate water.”

You smirk. He is never beating the catman allegations. “You got plans tomorrow?”

“Sleep,” he laughs.

You snort softly. “Of course.”

The rest of the ride is quiet after that. You part ways at the lobby drop off, where you go down, while the driver takes the private entrance for him as per protocol.

But later, in your room, the silence feels different. You catch your reflection in the mirror as you take the day off with a makeup wipe. 

Your mom’s voice echoes faintly in your head. You sigh. You need to call her back in the morning. See if she changes her mind.

You peel your lashes away, letting your eyes revel in relief for a second.

You lick your lips and still taste the wine, the salt. You remember the quaint restaurant. 

And Yoongi. The way he waited for you outside the studio. The softness in his face inside the car. The baby-sized bottle of red. Then shake your head lightly.

Was it a–? No way. 

That couldn’t be what it felt like. 

That couldn't have been a date.

A/N: Hehe <3

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Smoke & Mirrors, part one | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: BTS fucks a lot!, except one (he’s kinda depressed), implied smut, angst, heavy make-out, mention of death :c, mention of mental health struggles, second-hand embarrassment, MC handles rejection not super well, drinking, Mean Yoongi, canon moments I manipulated for my own sick pleasure, the ending, that fucking Hannam scene, holding hands (it deserves a warning in this fic), angst i guess, and again Mean Yoongi, redemption arc when?, he’s an idiot but he has heart I promise, probably wrong ways to play LOL chess/teamfight tactics, foyer quote was inspired by something i randomly saw in my feed, watch out for the time skips (one flashback and a tiny flash forward) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 10.3k whuuuut ✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie; credits to Aqua for inspiring one of MC’s quotes (marked **) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie (my very first fic with an OST i'm sobbing, ty sweets) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: A whole ass year in the making and it took a trip to South Korea and experiencing Arirang in all its glory for me to finally bring this fic to life the way I envisioned it. After dropping two teasers I guess y’all really fw this plot, so I do hope you guys like it. Don’t forget to comment or reblog. I’d really appreciate it. I might take time to tag everyone that requested, so bear with me. Other than that, enjoy~ Thank you to the lovely and talented @risky-peaches for the banner. 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You’re part of BTS’ BTS. 

Bangtan Tour Sluts. 

It’s a term one of the make-up unnies coined half-jokingly, after realizing the truth: you’re a group of women who’ve practically dedicated your lives to seven men who are not even your family. 

You’re a sorority of girls who go on tour with the group, taking on multiple hats, making sure every tour stop goes as best as possible. 

You willingly do every beck and call of theirs because you actually like them. They are nice and you want to see them succeed. And even if they’re not being nice (oh the stories you could tell!), you still do everything for them. Like good girls. Like sluts. 

Maybe that’s just what devotion looks like in this business.

Yours started with Hoseok.

Back before you had a name that anyone could recognize, you were just another girl on YouTube flexing dance moves in her tiny apartment. Somehow, he saw one of your clips, a clean cover of Dope, and sent your link to their performance director.

You got the email weeks later, went in for an audition, and the rest is history. 

Then came the rehearsals. The late nights. The endless counts of eight. You were still so broke in those early days that you couldn’t even afford a cab after a late night practice, so you’d wait at the bus stop outside the studio, hoodie soaked through, sneakers squishing from the rain.

One night, Jin pulled up beside the curb and offered you a ride. You remember Yoongi was in the passenger seat. Wordless for the most part, but he blasted the heater so you wouldn't get cold. You thanked Jin profusely as he dropped you off. 

He shrugged and said, “Good thing Yoongi saw you.” 

You still remember the heat sinking back into your bones.

It added up over time. 

Jimin once wrapped your ankle when you landed wrong after some crazy choreo you were trying to hit. Even crazier, Namjoon paid for your eomma’s emergency medical bills, because you were still struggling then. 

You tried to pay him back. He just looked at you, shrugged, and said, “If you really want to, just stay with us. Stay in the team.”

So you do.

The boys noticed you beyond your work. Not all at once, but steadily, gradually, eventually. And maybe that’s all it takes. You’d follow them anywhere after that. From MOTS to PTD Live On Stage to Arirang.

The thing is, some of the Bangtan Tour Sluts do become that over time.

You once overheard a manager say: stupid idols date fans; smart idols date other idols. Or each other.

The boys are fine as fuck. But after living together for years, the latter feels… borderline incestuous. Except for two of them, who you suspected had something non-platonic going on, but you don’t want to speculate further.

You’ve seen some of them try dating other idols too, but it’s chaos. Too many schedules to align, too many eyes watching, security doubling the second they want to meet up even in a different city for a simple fuck.

It’s easier this way. Closer. Quieter.

You don’t even blame them for it. This arrangement. The girls are hot as hell.

There’s Angel from Wardrobe who’s become Taehyung’s emotional support buddy. She’s on-call to dress him and undress him, whenever the situation calls for it.

Jungkook’s got a couple in his roster. Bina from glam and Tiff, also from glam. It could be problematic, sure, but so far they’re having fun.

Somehow, even if you highly considered becoming Seokjin’s… 

You ended up becoming Yoongi’s.

…and it all begins with a very mature game of Spin the Bottle.

You and the rest of the crew had stayed back in the rehearsal studio to celebrate the birthday of Rei, assistant performance director, resident tyrant, and class president of your little dysfunctional sorority.

There’s food, balloons, and too many empty soju bottles. One of which is currently spinning… and lands on you.

“Shit,” you mutter, already reaching for your beer. “Truth.”

A chorus of groans.

“Boring!”

“Ask her something good!”

The birthday girl leans forward, eyes glassy, tipsy as hell. “Aight, gun to your head—which member you gonna fuck?”

You choke on your drink. “No way I’m answering that. Next question.”

“Nah,” Tiff tosses a handful of popcorn at you. “You know the rules.”

You groan, tilting your head back dramatically before swatting the kernels off your lap. “You guys…”

“Wuss!” Bina teases.

“C’mon, you’ve thought about it. Don’t even play,” Rei smirks.

All eyes are on you. The pressure is mounting so high that you almost want to hurl. You take another swig. Rei is right though, as she almost annoyingly always is. You’ve definitely checked the boys out. It’s not even a question of who (singular), because if you’re gonna be honest, you have biblical levels of greed and there’s two in particular you’d let rearrange your guts.

But ugh. You’ll play along. 

Just one name to satiate these hoes.

“Fine,” you huff, wiping your lip with the back of your palm, readying to reveal your answer:

“Kim Seokjin.”

The room erupts.

“OHHHH—”

“I knew it!”

And even if you know you could stop at that, the alcohol kicks your courage into overdrive. 

“I’d let him fuck me raw until the inside of my coochie moulds to the shape of his dick...”**

The rest spills out of you in a half-slurred, disgustingly specific ramble that has the girls screaming and Angel spilling her shot.

You’re laughing, face hot, still high off everyone’s reactions when you feel the heat of someone’s stare.

You glance up and holy shit. It’s the name you withheld.

Feline eyes piercing and lips curling at the corners, oh Yoongi looks hella amused. He’s right there and he heard it all.

Fucking hell. Your life is literally over.

⊙⊝⊜

It’s later, much later, when you run into him again.

The hallway outside the bathrooms is quieter, the bass from the dance studio muffled into a distant thrum. Your head is a little light, steps a little uneven, but you’re mostly sober now. Okay, not really.

You push the door open and there he is, almost like he’s been waiting.

Yoongi’s leaning against the wall, one foot propped up, head tilted just enough that his hair falls into his eyes. He looks… loose. Drunk, then. Obviously. Just like everyone else in the party.

His gaze slides over you and that same almost-smile returns. “Seokjinnie-hyung, huh?”

You groan immediately, covering your face. “Oh my god, don’t.”

He huffs out a scratchy laugh and your fist collides against his arm.

He rubs the spot with his palm. “Didn’t know you had that much to say about him.” 

“I didn’t know you were listening,” you shoot back.

“Right place at the right time,” he shrugs.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re enjoying my demise way too much.”

“Am I?” he says, pushing off the wall.

He steps closer. “I mean…” his gaze flicks down, then back up. “You were pretty detailed.”

This close, he smells like warm musk and whisky. It hits you all at once, heat creeping up your neck before you can stop it. You swallow it down, deflecting. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.” He smiles sweetly, pretty teeth and pink gums on show. Then he circles back smoothly to the topic because he is a piece of shit. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You scoff, folding your arms like that’ll save you. “Oh, there’s a lot of things you don’t know ‘bout me.”

His gaze dips, trailing down the exposed skin where your cardigan has conveniently fallen off your shoulder, towards your breasts hugged by your camisole. His eyes linger just a second too long before dragging back up to your face.

And there it is. He did the thing for you. That thing he does where his tongue presses into his cheek. Fucker.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

Alarm bells are ringing in your head because is Min fuckin’ Yoongi lowkey hitting on you right now?

“Well…” his head tilts, voice dropping just enough to feel it. “Was that just talk?”

He is! Fuck. Why? No, shut up. It doesn’t matter right now. Say something.

You swallow, then tilt your chin up, meeting him head-on as liquid courage pushes you to say the next words. “What?” You shrug, forcing a smirk. “You wanna stand-in for your hyung?”

His lips curve, slow and amused. “Maybe.”

“I… could be open,” you say almost lazily.

And then he moves.

Rough hands find your wrist, tugging you down the hall before you can think too hard about it. You let him and the next thing you know you’re pressed behind his studio door.

Just the two of you.

Too close that you feel the heat emanating from his body.

“Jin’s got a girl,” he murmurs, close enough that you feel his hot breath grazing your cheek.

That makes you pause, because you didn’t know Jin was steady with someone. Else you wouldn’t have said what you said.

 “And y’all won’t fuck nasty like that.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, just enough that your lips brush his when you speak.

“No?” You lick between his parted mouth, pulling back with a smirk. “And… we would?”

“Like animals.”

And then he cups the back of your neck and crashes his lips into yours.

⊙⊝⊜

Monday comes faster than you’d like.

You don’t know what you were expecting from Yoongi exactly. A text, maybe? Something more than the thumbs up he sent after you told him you got home safe. Friday night feels like it happened in a vacuum, sealed off like crime scene evidence the second he booked you that Uber.

You’ve spent the weekend turning it over in your head, wondering if things are supposed to be different now that you’ve had sex. Are you supposed to be different? Is it going to be awkward?

You’re about to find out.

You don’t usually hang around after hours unless there’s a reason.

Tonight, the reason is Jimin, who’d dragged you in with the promise of early access to the new tracks you’d be helping to choreograph. You felt a little strange when you entered the studio and found just two members of Bangtan and one of their producers, who nodded at you casually as you entered.

So here you are, curled up on the couch in the corner of the studio, laptop open but mostly forgotten, as the last bits of a track play through the speakers. You’re too deep in thought to notice the delivery guy come in, but you do notice when Yoongi picks up the coffee tray, wordlessly plucking a cup free and walking it over to you.

He holds it out, no expression, no explanation.

“Hyung,” Jimin calls lazily from where he’s sprawled out on the floor. “Where’s my coffee?”

Yoongi doesn’t even glance up. “Just grab a Coke from the fridge.”

You stifle a laugh as Jimin groans dramatically, dragging himself up to rummage through the mini fridge.

A few minutes later, Yoongi slips out of the room, muttering something about finding Namjoon because he should have joined you all 30 minutes ago.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Jimin flops back down beside you, grinning like he’s got a secret he can’t wait to spill. “That’s him flirting, by the way.”

You blink at him. “What?”

Jimin points at the cup still in your hand. “Hyung doesn’t even order me coffee.”

“Why would he? You’re an annoying lil bitch.”

Jimin playfully slaps the visor of your baseball cap down so that it covers your eyes.

Which works out just fine because as you glance down at the cup again, you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth seeping into your palms. You shake your head, trying to play it off, but the corners of your mouth betray you, tugging up into a smile you can’t quite hide.

You take a sip of your warm drink and pretend it doesn’t taste sweeter somehow.

Namjoon finally walks in ten minutes later, forehead sweaty, hoodie hanging off his shoulder. Yoongi follows behind him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Namjoon says, already reaching for the aux like he owns the place. He knocks over a cup of pens as he does so.

Then, his eyes land on you. “You ate?”

You nod, lifting your coffee, lipstick-stained spout and all.

“That’s not food,” Namjoon shakes his head, dimples deepening, as he reaches for something in his pocket. “This one’s better.”

A tiny Quaker Oats bar, a bit warm from pocket heat, lands on your lap.

“Thank you.”

The crinkle of the granola bar mixes with Jimin’s whines. “Why doesn’t anyone give me food?”

⊙⊝⊜

In the weeks that follow, when tour prep shifts into high gear, nothing else really happens—not in the way you thought it might, at least. Yoongi doesn’t seek you out. Doesn’t text. Doesn’t bring up that night, ever. You’re not really suprised, considering…

But you do notice he lingers in small ways. A bottle of water left by your things before you even realize you’re thirsty. A quiet “eat” when the catering after a shoot finally finishes setting up. The occasional glance. Maybe even a tiny smile here and there. You fall into an easy rhythm with him, familiar but not quite the same, and you catch yourself thinking, maybe something did shift. 

Maybe this is just how it starts.

⊙⊝⊜

Rehearsals just wrapped up and your heart is reckless with exhaustion.

You’ve never asked anyone out before. Let alone a fuckin’ idol. But you’re young and dumb. Heavy on the dumb, actually. Anyway, you’ve already slept together. And you’re convinced the chemistry is off the charts. So, why not? And it’s just hanging out anyway. It’s not that deep.

You approach Yoongi as he’s wiping off his neck with a white terry cloth, still breathing heavily. It’s probably serendipity, how everyone else has already slipped out of the room, leaving just the two of you.

He lifts his eyes towards you, mouth slightly agape as he gulps oxygen back in.

Ugh. 

Your earlier bravado is slowly evaporating.

This is stupid. So stupid. But wasn’t it him who said if you know you’re going to crash, accelerate harder?

“So there’s this café in Yeonnam,” you say, stopping in front of him as he ties his shoelaces. 

“Apparently, the building it’s in has been standing since the Joseon dynasty. Crazy. Used to be an apothecary or a medical clinic and they restored it so well it looks so legit...”

You’re blabbing. His face is unreadable, but you press on, fumbling toward hope.

“You’re into historical shit… Daechwita vibes, right? Anyway, the place looks pretty cool. If you’re free sometime, we could—”

There’s an audible inhale as Yoongi stands, dusting off his jeans, slow and careful, before he lifts his head towards you.

“Look,” he says, and you already know how this ends just from the weight of that word. You wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m not really…” he tilts his head, like you should know. Like you shouldn’t even be having this conversation. “You get it, right?”

You force your face into something neutral, something that won’t betray you. Shrug like embarrassment is not a fire razing you from the inside.

“‘S all good.” You smile albeit tightly. You even pat his shoulder as you pass, casual, almost laughing. But inside you’re ash.

“Oh, get that shoulder pop on 2.0 sharper,” you toss on the way out. “I’ll tell Junho to run it with you again tomorrow.”

Behind you, his eyes slant with what you can only tell is pity.

You make it to the hallway before the first tear slips free, quick and traitorous and pathetic, falling soundless onto the worn carpet. 

You’re already a few beats away when you hear it, “Hey Y/N!“ and then frantic steps.

You don’t stop walking. No. No fuckin’ way. You speed up.

He can’t see you like this. 

You round the corner and run straight to the fire exit to extinguish the heat of shame before you’re burned to a crisp.

It’s sort of easy to get back into the normal swing of things, despite everything. You’re not friends. You probably never will be. And that’s okay.

You have your dignity.

You have the girls. 

You have Rei. 

…who proceeded to scream at you when you explained to her why your eyes were bloodshot the day after you made that reckless decision to ask a world-famous idol out.

She had to re-orient you how this goes. The boys are not off-limits per se, but they do have limits. Fuck, it’s not like you forgot, you just thought… it was different. You were different. Or you could be, given your history. You’ve been in the team for years now and you’d like to consider yourself not just a colleague, but maybe even a friend.

Because there was that one time in Hannam when he… fuck. It’s probably irrelevant. Unimportant. You’re just making it a thing.

And you know what, honestly, you’re fine with rejection. You’ve had practice.

Jongho, back in fifth grade, returned the paper heart you gave him because Bora sent him one first. Bigger, more glittery. 

Baekhyun, in college, dumped you for that French exchange student with ginormous tits.

Even recently, word got to Seokjin about your little drunken speech, and he wasted no time reminding you exactly where you’ve always stood—firmly in the friend zone. He has a girl after all.

It was during the Swim choreo shoot. Jin flicked your forehead when he caught you staring too long during break. He was sweaty and his lips were really plump and pink, and…

“Focus,” he said. “I know I’m handsome, but you can’t do that. Next time, I’ll have to charge you.”

You flipped him off. And thank God he laughed like a windshield wiper, otherwise it would just be really unfair.

As always, you survive. You move on. You always do.

But the real problem? Life is dangling you the man of your dreams like a keychain and you can’t seem to catch it.

Yoongi’s haircut. Right before tour.

It’s almost cruel, because Yoongi’s long hair is most revered by society, widely beloved. Tiktoks and shrines were dedicated to that lionesque mane. ARMY yearned for it. Scissors were manifested to disappear within a 5-mile radius from him.

But you? You personally liked cleaner cuts on guys. When you joined the team circa-MOTS, he had that sharp, neat cut that you were very much into. 

To add insult to injury, you’ve always liked Nerds. You consider yourself one, too.

And now Yoongi’s walking around with this new pair of specs—rimless frames, whenever he feels like wrecking your equilibrium. It sits low on his nose when he’s tired or playing League of Legends Chess during breaks or sipping on his coffee in between takes, and it’s…

Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.

Comeback season officially starts and everything else falls away. Days blur into soundchecks and rehearsals, quick meals eaten standing, ears popping from cabin pressure.

There’s no time to think about anything else when you’re moving from the Netflix show in Gwanghwamun to New York for that Spotify event and then back home again. You’re running on three hours of sleep and caffeine, counting formations in your head even when you’re off-work. You don’t have time to breathe, but somehow it’s easier like this.

Once in a while during rehearsals, Yoongi still asks for your input on how to execute a move better. Of course you give it; it’s your job. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting when he, famously allergic to eye contact, suddenly makes an effort to meet your gaze.

Honestly, you don’t know why he bothers. He doesn’t owe you anything. No line was crossed without your consent. And whatever that was, it’s not happening again. You almost wish you could just hate him, because that would be easier than this neutral middle ground you’re stranded in.

But you can’t.

Because you see the quiet way he takes care of people, especially Jimin. He shows up, every time, steady and professional and so annoyingly good at what he does. There’s something about that you can’t ignore.

You respect it, because you respect him.

Maybe that’s the worst part. Because he didn’t string you along and didn’t blur the lines more than you let him. You gotta hand it to him, he shut it down clean.

So… you just gotta move on.

Right?

And you… You’ve built this life carefully, piece by piece. You didn’t fight this hard just to get distracted now. So you buckle up. You lock in.

It’s days before the World Tour kicks off and you’re knee-deep in rehearsals. Day in, day out, you’re in the dance studio, double-hatting as a dancer and an assistant choreographer. You’re exhausted–bone-deep, muscle-aching tired, but you’re focused on the grind, on making this show the best fucking tour in history. The boys deserve it. The whole team deserves it. So do you.

You used to rewind dance practice videos frame by frame, pausing just to study the angle of an arm, the timing of a step. Back then, it was just you, your reflection, and the stubborn belief that if you worked hard enough, you could belong in rooms like this. And now you do.

“Let’s start?” Seung Eun calls and everybody hops back into formation. You drop your strawberry lip balm back in your bag.

There’s this sequence in Hooligan.

You and the other dancers crowd Yoongi during his verse, closing in until there’s barely any space left between bodies. It’s choreographed, calculated chaos. You’re meant to get in his face, invade his space just enough to look dangerous, just enough to feel menacing for him. And he’s supposed to hold eye contact, like he’s unbothered. 

For this run, you’re standing in for Kian, who pulled his calf muscle and needed to get iced real quick. Injuries are part of the game, but there’s always a medic on standby to ensure any impact is minimized.

The music starts and your bodies move to the choreography. You slide into position on the last count, stepping into Yoongi’s space. He recites his line.

“Hooligan, like hooligan, ttaeryeo buswo like hooligan…”

You tilt your chin up slightly, eyes on his—ready, steady, professional. But that’s when it shifts.

His gaze doesn’t land where it usually does with the others. It drops to your mouth. 

Anyone else might miss it, but you don’t.

And suddenly you’re hyper-aware of the way you’re breathing, the way your lips part just slightly, the way your body feels a fraction too close to his.

“Sigan dwaesseuni jom bikyeo jom…”

His next line stumbles.

“Ah, fuck—”

The music cuts.

Yoongi lifts a hand, already half-turning away. “My bad.”

There’s a ripple of movement around you as everyone resets, but you’re still standing there as blood rushes up your neck, your cheeks warming before you can stop it.

You glance at him. He glances back.

And then, quieter—almost under his breath—he mumbles to you without meeting your eyes. “That‘s… distracting.”

You gulp.

When the next sequence starts, there’s a faint smudge of red staining the back of your sleeve. You don’t remember doing it. But you do remember how Yoongi doesn’t miss a single beat when Kian steps back in to take your place.

[Goyang, SK, April 2026]

“Stay safe out there!” Namjoon calls just before the curtains are drawn and the opening beat of Hooligan detonates through the speakers.

The crowd goes wild as the bassline rattles your ribs, syncs with your pulse, turns your body into music before you even think. On cue, you surge forward with the rest of the dancers, breaking through the curtain like a wave, energy ripping out of you in sharp bursts, boots slamming against the stage in perfect unison. 

You’re gripping a red smoke stick, heat blooming in your palm as it spits thick plumes into the air, bleeding color into the stage until everything is drenched in crimson. It curls around your bodies, around the lights slicing down from above like blades, burning the stage with fire without flames.

Man. Goyang hits different.

Maybe it’s because it’s home. Maybe it’s because this is the first real show where everything finally clicks into place—not just in your head, not just in rehearsals, but out here, in front of thousands of people screaming like the world is ending.

The 360 stage feels massive under your feet, lights slicing through the dark in perfect sync, pyro exploding at just the right beat. Every cue lands. Every formation locks. Every transition you’ve drilled into muscle memory finally breathes.

It’s insane and you feel even more insane because you’re in it. On stage, moving with everyone, keeping up, matching energy, feeding off it. The crowd roars and it vibrates through your bones, through your chest, through everything.

As rain pours down from the sky like blessings from above, you feel genuinely alive. Even though you’re damp and drenched and soaked to your very core, there really is no place else you’d rather be.

⊙⊝⊜

When you hit backstage after the encore, everyone’s wet, loud, breathless, half-laughing, half-shouting over each other, still riding the high of the first show. You don’t even think; you’re just moving, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you high five whoever’s in reach, grinning like an idiot.

“Good job!” someone yells.

“You killed it!” another voice.

You barely register who’s who.

Hoseok finds you in the middle of it all and just pulls you into the biggest hug, squeezing tight like he’s just as proud of you as you are of yourself.

“You did so good,” he says, bright and warm and Hobi, and you laugh into his shoulder, still catching your breath. He praises you like you’re the global superstar, not him.

When you pull back, everything’s still squishing about, still loud and electric. 

Namjoon messes up your hair. Jungkook gives you a high five. Yoongi’s across the room, exchanging quick fist bumps with some of the dancers, head dipped, saying something you can’t quite catch. Then he looks up and sees you.

There’s a split-second of indecision. But, you smile. He nods. A tiny one. He looks a little tired. He’s never been one to hide when he’s exhausted, but just like you he’s glowing. Tired, but certainly happy.

And then someone grabs him from the side, pulling him into a quick hug, and the moment’s gone just as easily as it came, replaced by high-pitched screams, and too-tight hugs from your girls.

[Tokyo, JP, April 2026]

You find Hobi slumped against the wall of the green room, half-hidden behind a rack of wardrobe like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is.

You’d heard. Everyone had, in that quiet, careful way news like that travels—soft voices, lowered eyes, staff moving around a little more gently than usual.

You hesitate for a second, unsure if it’s your place. When you think about it, Hoseok isn’t just one of them to you. He’s your mentor. The reason you’re even here. The first person who saw something in you and decided it was worth something. And more than that, he’s someone you really care about.

Before you can think yourself out of it, you move closer. He looks up and red-rimmed eyes meet yours. Then, something in his expression breaks the distance you were trying to keep. You’re kneeling in front of him the next second, and he’s leaning into you, folding into your arms like he’s been holding himself together for too long.

His sobs are quiet, restrained, but they shake through him all the same.

You wrap your arms around him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, the other rubbing slow, steady circles into his back.

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” you murmur softly. “I know she meant everything to you.”

He lets out a shaky breath against your shoulder, voice breaking. “I hate this. I should be home. I should be there, but I…” his grip tightens slightly. “I fuckin’ can’t.”

Your chest caves at that.

“She knows,” you say gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “She understands. She’s looking down on you right now, smiling, so proud of you. I promise.”

Hobi looks up at you then and for a second, beneath the stage makeup and styled hair and everything that makes him him to the world, he just looks like a little boy.

Small. Hurt. Lost.

As your heart breaks a little, a soft cough breaks the moment.

You glance over your shoulder. Yoongi stands a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, like he walked in on something he wasn’t meant to interrupt.

“I—um…” he shifts slightly. “They told me to come get you.” He means Hoseok, but for some reason, his eyes are fixed on you.

“Shit,” Hobi exhales, scrubbing at his face as he pulls away. “Yeah. Yeah, give me a second.”

Hobi stands, walking over to the makeup station, picking up a tissue and carefully blotting at his cheeks, trying to undo what he can.

It feels like your cue to leave. Rei’s probably already looking for you anyway because there’s a hole in the formation.

Hobi disappears into one of the changing rooms, pulling the curtain shut behind him as he gets ready.

You turn to go, but a hand catches your arm.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says quietly, before his fingers lose their grip.

There’s something in Yoongi’s expression that stops you for half a second. You don’t know what it is. But mostly you think, it’s gratitude sitting heavy in his gaze like he doesn’t know all the words for it.

You shrug lightly, because it doesn’t feel like something you should be thanked for. It’s the least you can do for someone who changed the trajectory of your life without ever asking for anything in return.

He just nods, still looking at you. You see his fingers reaching then drawing back.

It’s… a lot. More than you’re used to with him.

So you look away first, swallowing the tightness in your throat before the sting in your eyes turns into something else.

[Tampa, FL, April 2026]

Being in America is always exciting. Something about stepping onto U.S. soil flips a switch in the boys, like there’s something in the water, or maybe it’s just the distance from home loosening something in their bones.

Tae, for one, fully commits to the bit—gray sweats, tank tops, lewd little ad libs to the choreo. No one questions it. Angel is definitely going through it. Lucky bitch.

Jungkook is on his phone 24/7, liking everything in sight to send any and all users in a frenzy to fuel them until their next life. He also films these borderline menacing TikToks alone in his hotel room at ungodly hours, looking fucked out because well, he probably has done just that.

Jimin wakes up one day and decides he wants to have an even longer ponytail. And suddenly the internet is in shambles, ARMY collectively just losing their shit.

And that’s just the maknaes. 

It’s fascinating to watch all of them, seeing different versions surface depending on where they are, like they’re all just slightly more themselves here. Or maybe just slightly less guarded.

After the last show in Tampa, the members decide to treat the crew to KBBQ at some nearby strip mall. You squeeze into a long table with some of the dancers and a couple of the boys, smoke from the grill curling into your hair, soju flowing a little too easily.

For one reason or another, as people made room for others, and chairs were moved left then right, you somehow end up in front of Yoongi like you just played musical chairs. 

“How’s it going?” you say.

“Not bad. You?”

You shrug, “I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

The awkwardness is like a knot that loosens as drinks flow. Then, the easy back-and-forth comes like you do this on a daily basis instead of pretending you don’t think about him at all.

“You’re in a good mood,” you say, watching as he pours you another shot.

“Am I?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “You talk more when you are.”

He huffs softly, like he doesn’t agree but won’t argue it either. He looks pretty like this, barefaced and sleepy. Then you remember something and you decide to be a menace. “Give me a reason to not tattle.”

His brows meet in the middle. Confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know full well.” You mimic a head turn and flail your arms.

Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink. He fumbled the Run choreo. AGAIN.

“I recovered faster this time.”

“Not the point,” you reply pointedly.

“I ate in Day 1.”

“You did,” you nod. “Not the point though.”  

He gives a wary glance over at Hoseok who has half a rib inside his mouth at the moment, when he looks back at you and challenges. “Name your price.”

“RP gift card. Could use some new arena skins.” You smile sweetly, knowing he’s been obsessed with LoL Teamfight Tactics, too. You’ve seen it on his phone.

“Fine.” Yoongi laughs, actually laughs,  because he didn’t expect the response. “We should play sometime.”

And it was your turn to not expect that response.

“Oh, alright. Sure.” You nod, a little flustered even as you recall the nugget you’ve seen from one of his interviews. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Yoongi smiles, so gummy and wide, like he has a praise kink that you just discovered. “Thank you. Diamond is very hard to achieve.” So you let him brag a bit, before you decide to knock him down a peg.

“Trust me, I get it.” You bring the spout of your beer to your mouth and before you take a swig, you quip. “I’m a grandmaster.”

His jaw hits the floor and you almost spit your beer out. “You are not.”

You tilt your head as if to say, try me. He is still waiting. And the smirk disappears from his mouth when swipes of your screen later you show him your profile and your level is as you disclosed.

“Wow.”

“I know. Wow.” You say, smug. “Anyway, do you think you’re gonna get away with it, or is there a fan cam already circulating?”

“You tell me. I don’t watch those things.”

“My phone probably heard us and is about to add it to my algorithm. I’ll let you know.”

“Taehyung-ie threw me off, honestly.” He leans back and exhales deeply.

A giggle slips out of you because you know exactly what he means. “Yeah, no, everyone was just feeling it. Kookie did the dougie to Life Goes On. Namjoon was fucking the air to Butter of all songs. Insane behavior from all of you, actually.”

“I’m innocent.” 

Oho. “You’re not off the hook.” You wag your finger.

“Wae?”

“Baepsae.” You lean your chin on your palm, referring to the Army time surprise song.

“What?” 

“You got real close to a camera and let ‘er rip.”

“Did no such thing,” His lips stretch into that infuriating bracket-like grin. He’s obviously lying.

“Don’t even play. I saw the smile you tried to hide when you turned around, you dog.”

“So you were really watching me, huh?”

“I was monitoring the performances from backstage. As it is my job.” 

“Mhm,” he hums, biting his lip to hide a smile as he shakes his head.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything,” he chuckles, voice a little higher than usual.

“Silence is admission.” You point your chopsticks at him and smirk. “It’s fine. You were just feeling yourself.” 

You thought you were gonna have the last laugh. But as always, Yoongi knows how to render you speechless.

“And if I am,” he tilts his head slightly, eyes straight to yours. “What you gon’ do ‘bout it?” 

You have a comeback. You definitely do. It’s just stuck in your brain traffic, unable to come out.

He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose bridge and the single action almost makes you fall to your knees.

God, you hope he doesn’t notice.

But he does. 

That’s the only explanation for the text that you get while you’re settling in your hotel room that night. 

Rei is on her bed already semi-snoring, her phone still lit up as a TikTok live seller continues to peddle a hyaluronic acid sheet mask bundle. 3+1 event—you’d check it out if you didn’t have a booty call staring back at you.

You check it again. Still not sure if you’re reading the text correctly.

Yoongi: 2004 Yoongi: come over if ur feelin it

So you find yourself on his floor thirty minutes later, the faint scent of your perfume still clinging to your blouse as you walk down the hallway.

Room 2002 has a very loud and dramatic show playing inside. For sure it’s one of the members as they’re typically roomed in the same floor. You just don’t know who.

A few steps over is your destination. Room 2004.

Fuck. You’re doing this. (Again.)

Except… There’s a sound.

No. A moan.

Your knuckles are frozen, inches from the door.

Someone is definitely having a great time in there.

You check the text again, because maybe you got the room wrong. 

The numbers match. And yet, the math is not mathing. If he invited you, then why—

Oh.

Oh shit.

You look at your messages again and realize, all at once, what happened.

Your reply sits there with a red exclamation point. Which only means one thing. It was Unsent.

You:  yeah, i’ll come ❗

Well.

Now?

No, you won’t.

“Fucking shit,” your phone flies out of your hand when you trip on the carpet floor like a complete klutz. You can’t believe you’re risking injury and getting benched for the rest of the tour for this stupid cat man.

“Y/N?”

Noooooooooo

You straighten up immediately, thankful it wasn’t Yoongi’s door that flew open. “Namjoon, hi.” 

“Is this yours?” he bends to pick up your phone, which is resting by his doorway. 

“Yeah, umm. That’s mine.”

He studies you as you take the device from his hand. Your screen is still bright and open and your Kakao app is just there. Ain’t no way he didn’t see who’s on your thread.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m totally fine.” You pocket your device, forcing a light smile. But before you can say anything else, Namjoon is pulling his door wider.

You stay rooted in place, even as your eyes dart inside the plush suite. You realize he is wearing a black tank top and matching pajamas. 

“I got food and a drama. Could use some company,” Namjoon says simply. No malice, no undertone. You’re sure Namjoon has no way of knowing you had a lacy thong underneath, so this is really just a simple invitation to hang out. 

You consider it. At the same time, you think, huh, his dimples are really, really deep. Your reply came easy after that. “I–sure, yeah. I’m down.”

“Cool.” he tilts his head, gesturing you in.

The night settles into something softer in Room 2002, the noise in your brain fading into nothing thanks to room service, wine samplers from the mini bar, and Namjoon’s running commentary over a drama. He’s literally such a yapper. You lean back into the couch, listening to him more than watching the show, letting his voice fill the space instead of your thoughts.

It’s easy hanging with Namjoon. No guessing. No second-guessing. And you don’t realize until now how much you needed Namjoon’s friendship until now, but you’re glad he is offering it.

And maybe more than that, you’re glad he didn’t ask any questions you couldn't answer even if you tried.

⊙⊝⊜

The next day, rumors fly that Gwayoung from Digital was bragging about being on the receiving end of that tongue technology.

The same day, you also receive a 50,000 won gift card credited in your mobile game.

You know it’s from the same person. And you know which one you would’ve wanted more.

⊙⊝⊜

The tour goes on. It starts off like a high you can’t come down from. New cities, new crowds. You collect moments like souvenirs—late-night convenience store runs, inside jokes backstage, someone filming content here and there, drinking sessions inside someone’s hotel room. There’s always something happening, always someone around. You don’t have to think too much because everything moves too fast. It feels like living ten lives at once, and for a while, it’s enough.

But somewhere along the way, the novelty starts to thin out. The cities blur into one long stretch of airports, hotel hallways, empty highways, and backstage corridors that all feel vaguely the same. You wake up and sometimes it takes a second to remember where you are. Your suitcase never really gets unpacked—just opened, lived out of, closed again. Everyone’s tired in that bone-deep way that makes even laughter feel like effort. You’re surrounded by people all the time, and somehow, it still feels lonely.

You and the girls have a kind of unspoken understanding between all of you now, forged in cramped dressing rooms and shared mirrors, in the quiet rituals of getting ready before a show. Someone’s always borrowing someone else’s lip tint, someone’s fixing a crooked lash, someone’s complaining about a bruise they didn’t notice until they caught it under the harsh vanity lights.

“Why are we like this?” Angel groans one night, poking at a purple mark on her thigh.

“Occupational hazard,” Bina shrugs, already halfway through redoing her eyeliner for the third time.

“Is that the one that you banged on the clothing rack, or, ahem…”

Angel’s face heats. It was Tae. Rough Tae, as per usual.

Rei rolls her eyes. “Alright, we know you’re getting it good. No need to shove it in our faces.”

“You know who I wouldn’t mind shoving something in my face?” Lisa pipes in. She’s one of the newer dancers that joined the US leg.

“Who?” You ask, curious.

“Yoongi. Fuck. He looks so daddy these days. Literally need that.”

Rei shoves a protein bar into your hand, with a stern look to match. “Eat.”

You do, because if you don’t you might say something you’ll regret.

⊙⊝⊜

Since that late night hallway encounter several stops ago, you and Namjoon have somehow made hanging out into a thing. It just happens seamlessly. Over meals, passing conversations end up lasting longer than expected. 

Off-handedly, he confides in you that he struggles to sleep. You piece together the rest on your own. Military life has altered his mental state in ways he is still struggling to undo and it’s been tough, but at least he’s a work in progress. 

As far as you know, he’s the only member who doesn’t really… distract himself the way the others do on tour. Nobody waiting for a quick one backstage, no regular to help release all that adrenaline after long shows.

So instead, he watches dramas. It’s funny, really. But you guess, it works for him. He really likes those cheesy lovey dovey ones or those about heartache. Tells you it’s the closest he can feel something real and he lets them play until he passes out.

He invites you to join him sometimes.

At first, you’re suspicious. You wouldn’t have blamed him (or minded, to be honest) if there were other intentions. Everyone has needs, after all. And honestly, you would have been flattered to be considered by a catch like him. But after the third or fourth time of bingeing on drama and food, it becomes clear that he doesn’t want you like that. And you have to admit—he’s a fun time. So it’s cool.

When you hang out, he tells you about the books he’s reading, summarizing them in a way that makes you want to pick them up yourself. You tell him about choreography ideas, about how certain movements sit in your body, about how you think music should look when it’s danced.

“You think in shapes,” he says once, mimicking the way your hands move as you explain.

“You think in paragraphs,” you shoot back.

He laughs at that, dimples deep, eyes soft. “True.”

“Long-ass paragraphs, actually. Mr. Yapper.”

Sometimes, when the days feel too long and the nights stretch a little too quiet, you find yourself standing outside his door without really remembering how you got there.

No matter, Namjoon always lets you in.

[Las Vegas, NV, May 2026]

One night, you get a message from Hobi inviting you for drinks. You haven’t hung out with him in a while, so it was a no-brainer when you said yes. You don’t go out every night at every tour stop, but you made an exception this time.

You put on something cute. Not to impress Hobi particularly, but because you know he always dresses well, and you will not be caught dead looking shabby beside him. Lips a little glossy and cheeks a little rosy, you make your way to the hotel bar, heels clicking against the marble. 

But instead of Hobi, you find someone else instead.

“Hey.”

“You stalkin’ me?” Yoongi smirks at his lowball.

“Yup, this is exactly what this is. Call Mr. Lee,” You deadpan, sitting on the bar stool beside him. “Where’s Hob-ah?”

He shrugs. “Not his keeper.”

“Is there another hotel bar?” You ask the bartender who was polishing off a wine glass.

“Yes, miss. There's another on the 31st.”

Realizing you might’ve gotten the venue wrong, you grab your clutch and start to slide off the stool. “I guess I’ll—”

“Stay.” 

He says it so quietly, almost like he was hoping you don’t hear it.

You pause.

When you look at him, he’s not even looking at you—just staring into his drink like there’s something at the bottom of it worth pondering. You know you should leave, but you don’t.

“You look… a little worse for wear,” you say as you settle back into your seat.

“You can say I look like shit.”

You glance at him, then nod once. “Okay. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

A beat.

“Everything okay?”

He shrugs. Noncommittal. Dismissive. Yoongi core.

You signal the bartender for a drink, letting the noise of the bar fill the space between you for a while as you wait for your cocktail.

It’s him who breaks first.

He slides a bowl of roasted edamame toward you, like a peace offering he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“I dunno,” he mutters, more to the glass than to you.

You wait.

He exhales, long and slow, the amber liquid in his glass rippling with the movement.

“I keep listening to the album and it all just…” He trails off, jaw tightening. “Trash.”

You blink, shock evident in your face. “What do you mean?”

“Like I should’ve done it differently.” He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Every track. Every arrangement. Feels like I missed out on changing something obvious.”

“That’s just—”

“I know,” he cuts in, already shaking his head. “I know it’s not real. I know it’s just…” He gestures vaguely, searching for the word. “Fatigue. Whatever.”

But it doesn’t sound like he believes that.

“I can’t turn it off,” he adds, quieter now. “Even when I see how fans enjoy the songs, the doubt just eats at me.”

There’s something raw in that. Something he doesn’t usually let slip. You watch him for a second, really look at him. And it pulls something up from the back of your mind:

Hannam-dong.

⊙⊝⊜

A random weeknight. You’d gone out alone, too proud to call anyone after your ex ended things over something stupid that somehow still shattered you. You were busy ugly-crying over your gin until someone slid into the seat beside you.

Him. Yoongi.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You looked like you needed someone.”

“You heard me crying from across the room?”

“It was a bit loud, yeah.”

Your face crumples again and you let out a broken sound, covering your eyes. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing…”

“It’s fine,” he says, voice low, even. “No one’s looking.”

You sniff again. “I look disgusting.”

“You look like you’re crying.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not.” He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you.

You let out a weak huff, somewhere between a laugh and another sob, before taking it.

He didn’t ask questions or make it a big thing. Just sat there with his black face mask, providing you with the comfort of company. He let you talk when you wanted. Let you cry when you couldn’t stop. 

At some point, you’d leaned into him without thinking, and he’d just let you. Steady. Warm. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around in his slight torso, sobbing slightly against his tee.

“Yoongi. Why are men pigs?” you sniff.

“I dunno. I’m a cat.” He shrugs. “...apparently.”

That makes you laugh, all wet and snotty. But it makes all the difference to lighten your mood.

“Look. I don’t know who the guy is. But I know he’s an idiot.”

“He is,” You nod immediately. “… but I am, too.”

A pause, before he chides. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I just…” You trail off lifting your head from his shoulder and looking up at the track lights hanging from the bar. “I just really love love, you know?”

He doesn’t interrupt.

“I like the idea of it,” you continue, words coming slower now, more honest. “Falling for someone. Growing with them. Having… I dunno, fuck…” you laugh weakly, shaking your head. “Someone to hold your hand ‘til it’s all sweaty and gross, like… I love that shit.”

It sounds stupid out loud.

“So even if I knew he wasn’t it, I tried to hold on. Because I’m scared of being alone. And I’m scared I won’t find someone who’d want me again.”

Jeez, that was a lot to unpack. You expect him to say something dry. He’s good at that.

No words come.

Instead, his fingers brush against yours where your hand rests on the bartop.

You glance down.

He’s not looking at you. Just placing his palm on the back of yours, before turning it over. And slowly, his hand closes around yours, fingers interlacing between each digit.

You’re staring at your conjoined hands and then his stoic face. He doesn’t look back, but he squeezes your hand tighter as if to say: I’m here. Not forever. But at least you’re not alone for now.

And that was enough. That night, you had someone to hold your hand til it was all sweaty and gross. You swallow, something tight in your chest easing just a little.

He walks you out after, hands still clasped. Makes sure you get into a cab. Waits until the door shuts before stepping back. Your hand feels cold without the feel of his when the car drives off.

But after that… nothing. He never brought it up again. Neither did you. Life got complicated. You don’t know what happened during his enlistment. So now you both just act like it didn’t happen.

If you will be honest, you still think about Hannam-dong sometimes. More than you will ever admit.

You’re reminded of it every time you see that random quote hanging on your foyer.

“The most romantic thing in the world is being understood. It’s even deeper than love.”

Things with Yoongi never really took off. But you will always have Hannam-dong.

⊙⊝⊜

Yoongi looks at you now, the same way you looked at him then, a little lost, a little broken, trying to stay strong. So you don’t make it a big thing either. You just reach for an edamame, pop it into your mouth, pull the peel, and shrug lightly as you mash the beans with your teeth.

“Sounds like your brain needs to shut the fuck up for a bit.”

He huffs, something almost like a laugh slipping out. “Yeah,” he mutters. “If only.”

“For what it’s worth, Album of the year, in my opinion.”

Yoongi can’t stop his lips from curling.

Satisfied, you call for the server. “Let’s eat something first. Then we solve your existential crisis.”

He glances at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’m the best, right?”

He gives you a thumbs up. “Kkaepjjang.”

Ass.

You order food, which comes out quicker than expected, but what you really wanted to do to distract him comes in the form of a mobile game.

“You still play?” you ask, showing the app now loading in your phone.

Face instantly lighting up, he unlocks his phone and presses the same app sitting on the home screen. “One game.”

You grin. “Double Up?”

A small nod.

“Don’t drag me down,” he mutters as the queue pops.

“Tsss,” you shoot back. “I’ll carry.”

He huffs, but there’s no bite to it.

You fall into rhythm without needing to talk much—checking in here and there, nudging each other when it matters, covering where the other slips. Just quiet coordination, the kind that only happens when both people know what they’re doing.

At some point, you lose a round you shouldn’t have. You fumble a turn.

“I got you,” he says, and he does.

By the time the game ends—with a win you barely scrape—you’re both facing each other, knees touching, smiles plastered on your faces.

“Not bad,” you murmur, setting your phone down. “You did well.”

“But I always do well?” he replies.

You push him lightly. “Take a humble W for once.”

“No, cause I can’t remember ever doing poorly…”

“Oh my gooood, I’m tired of you.” You roll your eyes, attempting to swivel away from him, but his knees stop you.

He glances at you, something softer flickering through his expression. You look away first, because what’s with the face? You reach for your drink, swirling what’s left and sip.

“Thanks,” he says, and why are his fingers drumming on your knee? It’s kind of distracting, actually.

“Are you feeling a little better now?” You reply, forcing a neutral expression.

He pauses, exhales. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I just got tired of my own head.”

And maybe it’s the fact that you’re sipping the final dredges of your margarita that the next words carelessly tumble out.  “Maybe you just need good head.”

The dining area is still loud around you, but somehow, between you and him, it has become z-z-z. His fingers cease tapping against your skin.

Panicking, you blab. “Just text Gwayoung. Or Haein… I’m sure they’re available. You don’t have to look too far, you know.”

His eyes bear a weight you didn’t anticipate. 

“I’m not,” he says quietly.

And the way he’s looking at you makes it very clear he’s not looking far at all. He doesn’t need to.

⊙⊝⊜

You don’t remember deciding to leave or how he even paid. Just the deja vu of how his hand found your wrist and the way you let it. Of how a door opens and then your back is firmly against it.

The next thing you feel is Yoongi’s soft lips sliding against your own. 

His hand drifts up the side of your neck, fingers settling at the base like he’s keeping you right where he wants you, and it does something weird to your breathing—shortens it, stutters it—without needing to press.

The strap of your dress sags against your shoulder, but you make no move to fix it.

Your fingers find his hair instead, threading through the longer strands at the nape. It’s softer than you remember, just enough length to catch between your fingers, and when you tug, he groans against your mouth, the sound going straight to your center.

Total brain fog. 

Your heartbeat, faint but present, is somehow the one that warns you about the risks. Because you’ve been in this situation before with Yoongi. You’ve been vulnerable in Hannam, and in his studio, and in the rehearsal space, and in room 2004. There’s a host of reasons why you should run away.

But it’s only taking one slow, smooth swipe of his tongue against the roof of your mouth for you to run in. 

Your mouths part at the same time, an accidental knock of teeth, before he catches your lower lip between his and sucks softly, almost sweetly.

God. Yoongi makes your head swim.

And all this kissing is making you feel like there’s something more, when there is none. You’d do well to remind yourself of that.

By some miracle you find the strength to pull away.

“Yoongi, if we’re doing this, just…” you place your palm gently against his chest, pushing him back. “Don’t confuse me.”

Yoongi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I know what this is,” you say, still a little breathless. “And I’m down, but I just… let’s not…”

The words stall out, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold onto them. You inhale sharply, trying to piece together something that makes sense, something that doesn’t sound as messy as it feels in your head.

Because if you’re being honest—really honest—you’re already in deeper than you should be.

You never quite bounced back from his rejections. It lingers, quieter now, but still there, still tender in places you don’t like to acknowledge. And that’s not something you can tell him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Not when he’s this close. Not when his lips are a soft, distracting pink. Not when he’s looking at you like this—like, for once, all of his attention is yours.

So you decide on something, albeit hastily. You shift your weight, looking him dead in the eye. “You can’t kiss me.”

He studies you curiously, too amused for your liking. His eyes are transfixed on your mouth, observing how they’re still shiny from his own spit. “Too late for that, don’t you think?”

“No, you can’t do it again. Not anymore.”

If he is confused, he doesn’t let it show. He scratches his nape. “Just your mouth, right? Anywhere else is fair game?”

His eyes dip, trailing your body like he’s already mentally undressing you. You feel heat building beneath your skin.

“Yes.”

“Sweet.” His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, dragging lightly across your lower lip to wipe away the trail he left behind. Then he turns, moving further into his hotel room, dropping the keycard into an empty fruit bowl. “Anything else?”

You follow him in, dragging your feet on the plush carpet, still deep in thought.

You exhale through your nose, trying to keep your tone even. “Don’t make me sign an NDA.”

“No need, your current NDA’s already airtight.”

That—

You blink, thrown for half a second. The reminder lands colder than you expected, like a bucket of reality dumped over something that was just starting to feel… not real.

“Right.” You nod slowly, arms tightening across your chest. “Way to make a girl feel special, Yoongi.”

“Legal contracts don’t turn you on?” Yoongi drops to the couch.

“Not particularly. My dad’s a lawyer.”

He makes a face.

You snort. “What? Talking about my old hairy lawyer dad doesn’t turn you on?”

“Pass.”

That gets a real laugh out of you, the tension cracking just enough to breathe again.

He watches you when you do, like he’s taking note of something. Almost like he’s fascinated with you.

Then his head tilts slightly, a small gesture, almost nothing. “C’mere.”

You hesitate for half a second, but step forward anyway, closing the distance until you’re right in front of him, standing between his parted legs as he looks up at you.

His hand finds your wrist first, then your waist, guiding you down like it’s nothing. You end up on his lap, breath catching just a little as his hand slides under your dress, resting on your upper thigh.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, eyes dragging over your face, slower this time. “What does?”

The question sinks somewhere low, coiling tight, as he squeezes your soft flesh, so close to where you need him.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already leaning in.

His lips brush your collarbone first, not really doing anything but press his mouth against your skin. It’s almost absent-minded, the way he does it, like he can ask a question and distract you at the same time.

You inhale sharply.

His mouth drifts lower, grazing the hollow between your chest, and your thoughts start slipping, unraveling faster than you can catch them.

“Yoongi…”

He hums against your skin, like he heard you, but doesn’t want to stop. Frankly you don’t want him to when you feel his lips latch on the top of your breast and your brain goes foggy, words dissolving before they can form.

And that’s exactly why you…

“Wait.” You feel the solidness of him under your palms, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, as you lean back.

He stills, mouth swollen.

“Mm?” he hums, lifting his head but not moving far, like he’s willing to wait—but only just.

“Don’t you have your own rules?”

There’s a brief flicker of something, before his expression smooths back out.

He blinks once and huffs. “Don’t leave me on read.”

You almost react. Almost say something about that night, about the message that never sent, about the door you stood in front of, and the sounds that destroyed you before his friend picked up the pieces of you that shattered in front of room 2004.

But you swallow it down. He doesn’t need to know.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

You study him for a second longer, like you’re trying to find something deeper and coming up short.

“Okay.”

A beat.

It’s decided.

“So,” he says, voice lower, like it’s already done. “Are we gonna do this, or—”

“Fuck me, Yoongi.”

His mouth curves, just slightly one corner. “Gladly.”

Part 2

A/N: .....hi? :)

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[ashlegacies]

New Moon: Volterra Pospack

hey, babes! 🌸

Here is another posepack for you: New Moon: Volterra

12 poses

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

How to use and put into your game:

🌸 Place the posepack into your Mods folder located at Documents » Electronic Arts » The Sims 4 » Mods.

🌸 You will need Andrew's Poseplayer

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Huge thank you and credit to all cc creators! If you use my poses, I'd LOVE to see it! Make sure to tag me on Instagram @ashlegacies or @ashlegacies2.0! Thank you! 💕

T.O.U.

DO NOT re-upload!

DO NOT claim as your own!

Feel free to edit for personal use, but please DO NOT upload!

🌸 Download 🌸

[agirllovespancakes]

Ugh your writing makes me levitate. May i request demetri or Felix getting off on spoiling y/n? Like him taking her shopping and loving to watch her spend his money. And when they get back home she gives him a fashion show of all of her new clothes and jewelry. Or maybe a scene where she is nervous to ask him to buy something for her? And he is like "bruh order it rn" thxxxx

Show off

A/N: Thank youuu 😭🫶🏻 I am going to leave for a holiday till late july but I saw your request and really wanted to write it before I disappear. Lol the photo is how I imagine Felix watches you showing off the new clothes

Warnings: just fluff / Words: I think 1k

“Felix, look,” you gasped as you spun your dress around, twirling and waving the fabric.

Felix’s lips pulled into a soft smile. He didn’t move his body except held up a finger to show that you should get closer.

You moved across the room towards him. Giggling when he subtly pulled you closer by snaking an arm around your legs once you stood before him. You looked at how he looked at the fabric, how it hugged your body.

“I want to wear it to the double date tomorrow. Do you think it’s appropriate for that?”

He smirked, “it’s Demetri and Heidi. Nothing is inappropriate for them.”

“I mean it! We are going to a restaurant in the town, those people-“

“I will make them avert their eyes if you feel uncomfortable, little one. But it is beautiful!”

You bit your lip, flustered at the implication. But there were many more dresses you bought on your trip together. He wanted to spoil you. Not just because you were his mate and you would have your transformation soon, also because he just loved spoiling you. A trait he and Demetri shared. Though, Felix wasn’t an expert on fashion. He just let you pick what you thought was lovely.

“I want to show you the other dresses too. Then maybe you pick which one you like most for the date?”

Felix sighed with a hint of smile.

“It’s only fair because you paid for them,” you started overexplaining. “Really! I feel like it was so much and I love you and I want you to be happy with the way we dress and-“

You gasped when he put a finger on your lips.

“I wanted to spoil you, do not feel like you need to pay me back. Now show me those other dresses, love.”

You grew hot with embarrassment. He was right. He told you before he would pay for everything. You were just not used to it aside from still being human.

You could feel a stronger contrast between his cold hand and your warm skin now that your embarrassment had you grow even hotter. Especially with how he caressed your legs.

He pointed at the stack of dresses you bought with his free hand. “Put them all on. Give me a fashion show.”

“Yess,” you smiled. Giving him a quick kiss before moving to take your dress off.

You could sense the intensity of his gaze as you undressed and dressed there where he could still see. Felix was lounging on the sofa still, lying there as if he was exhausted from the shopping trip. You had to admit knowing he was watching you, made you a little clumsy with putting on the other dresses. You grew tired too. How many steps did you walk all day?

The current dress was dark blue, modest compared to the first but it had a magical drape attached to the back. It gave you princess vibes, you thought.

“What do you think?”

“I like the colour.”

“I think it’s perfect for a ball.”

“We have one coming up next December.”

You bit your lip, “I shall save it for the ball then.”

“You will be cold,” he smirked.

“I can add a fur maybe,” you whispered. “Wait? You mean-“

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But fur would be good. Ask Heidi. She is the fashion icon here.”

You smiled. Quickly taking this dress off to grab the next one. You grew excited at the thought of being like him soon. It would make everything better and more equal for you. And- you shuddered at the promise- he could finally make love to you then.

The next dress was red. A little bit daring but it suited the colours of the coven. A deep V cut but the back was high. It hugged your body tight and was longer than most other dresses.

Felix whistled.

“It is not too much?” You grew hot from embarrassment again. Especially when he couldn’t take his eyes off your chest.

“Felix,” you squirmed.

“I vote this one, love,” he flashed a wide grin. “It’s hot.”

“I got more,” you covered your cheeks, giggling.

“You can show them but I say this one.”

“Felix,” you giggled with a shriek when he was suddenly right in front of you.

His hands were on your hips immediately. You looked into his eyes to see they were completely dark.

“My tits are very-“

“Hot,” he interrupted you. “You look hot.”

“Are you sure it’s good for tomorrow?”

“Little one,” he sighed. “We are going with Demetri and Heidi. My bet is that they are going to dress up as much as we are.”

“Really?”

Felix grabbed your hand, lifting it to kiss the back of it. You sighed at the gentleness.

“I love spoiling you. I paid for these dresses so you will wear them. Don’t be shy now. I will spoil you tomorrow some more with all that food there.”

“Oh,” you bit your lip again.

Felix’s hand on your hip moved to your ear, “didn’t I buy you some jewelry? Try them on too.”

“I put them there,” you pointed at a box.

“Good, try them on!”

You wanted to move away but Felix twirled your body around so you clashed against him. He cupped your cheeks, kissing you on your lips. He couldn’t stop. You kissed him back, holding onto his shirt.

After he finally pulled away, you felt dizzy with the lack of air.

He squeezed your cheeks, “now, put them on.”

“You have to let me go then,” you giggled, taking a deep breath.

Felix smirked, “I won’t once you are like me. It makes me feral to see you wear what I paid for.”

You very much hurried to try the jewelry on.

[iloveslasher]

Learning to stay - Demetri volturi x F!Human!Reader

Her (part |)

The first thing Y/N learned about living in the Volturi castle was that it was never truly quiet.

There were always footsteps echoing through the ancient halls.

Always guards changing shifts.

Always the soft murmur of cloaks brushing stone.

And almost always…

No Demetri.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be with her.

It was because he couldn’t.

“The Guard doesn’t stop because I found my mate,” he had told her one evening as they walked through one of the castle’s courtyards. Moonlight silvered the ivy climbing the old walls. “The masters still expect me to perform my duties.”

Y/N smiled softly.

“I know.”

His cool fingers tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I would rather spend every hour with you.”

She laughed.

“I don’t think the masters would appreciate that.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“No.”

That was Demetri.

Not overly expressive.

Not poetic.

He simply… meant every word he spoke.

And somehow, that meant more.

⸻

Most mornings, he was already gone when she woke.

Most nights, he returned long after sunset with dust on his boots from tracking assignments.

No matter how exhausted he looked, he always found her.

Sometimes he simply sat beside her while she read.

Sometimes he brought flowers from whatever countryside he’d crossed that day.

Sometimes he rested his forehead against hers in silence.

He never acted as though she was a burden.

Never treated her like something fragile.

Only precious.

⸻

The letters started arriving a week later.

The first carried Alice’s handwriting.

Y/N didn’t open it.

The second came from Edward.

Straight into the fireplace.

The third…

Carlisle.

She held it for almost an hour before quietly placing it unopened inside a drawer.

She couldn’t read them.

Not yet.

Every envelope reminded her that she’d been brought to Volterra because she’d been useful.

Because she’d been expendable.

She wasn’t ready to hear apologies.

Not when they still echoed in her dreams.

⸻

Fortunately…

She wasn’t alone.

Felix adopted her almost immediately.

“You look bored,” he announced one afternoon.

“I was reading.”

“Boring.”

“I like reading.”

“I don’t.”

She sighed dramatically.

“I had noticed.”

Twenty minutes later, he had somehow convinced her to watch two younger guards spar.

Then he’d started loudly critiquing both of them until everyone—including Y/N—was laughing.

Felix was loud.

Ridiculous.

Endlessly entertaining.

It was impossible not to like him.

⸻

Heidi was different.

Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her.

She walked into every room like she belonged there.

Golden hair.

Perfect skin.

Elegant clothes.

An effortless smile.

Y/N had never met someone so naturally magnetic.

Heidi liked shopping.

Fashion.

Music.

Long conversations.

Within days she had practically claimed Y/N as her newest friend.

“You’ve been wearing grey for three days.”

“I like grey.”

“I don’t.”

“…I’m sensing a pattern.”

Heidi grinned.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re fixing your wardrobe.”

⸻

Several weeks later, they wandered through Volterra’s shopping district together.

Heidi held up a burgundy dress.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“You’d look lovely in this.”

Y/N laughed.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Absolutely yes.”

Y/N glanced at her reflection in the shop mirror.

“…Maybe on someone else.”

Heidi frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just…”

She shrugged.

“Average.”

Heidi stared.

Then burst out laughing.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Y/N…”

She gently lowered the dress.

“You know why humans are drawn to vampires?”

“The supernatural thing?”

“No.”

Heidi smiled kindly.

“Because beauty isn’t one shape.”

Y/N looked unconvinced.

Heidi sighed.

“I’ve watched Demetri look at you.”

Y/N blinked.

“…What?”

“I’ve known him for centuries.”

That caught her attention.

“C…centuries?”

“Mhm.”

Heidi smiled nostalgically.

“I knew him long before either of us joined the Guard.”

Something uncomfortable twisted inside Y/N’s stomach.

“You were close?”

“Oh, very.”

The words landed harder than they should have.

“We were friends.”

Heidi paused.

“…With benefits.”

Silence.

The street suddenly felt much colder.

Y/N forced a smile.

“Oh.”

“It was never romantic.”

Her heart still sank.

“It ended years ago.”

“…Why?”

Heidi smiled—a warm, almost amused smile.

“Because he found his mate.”

Y/N blinked.

“He found me weeks ago.”

Heidi nodded.

“We knew before he did.”

“You…what?”

“The bond changes a vampire.”

She leaned against the shop window.

“He became distant.”

“He stopped flirting.”

“He stopped accepting invitations.”

“I asked him once what had happened.”

“And?”

“He said…” Heidi smiled softly.

“‘Someone is waiting for me. I simply haven’t met her yet.’”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“He said that?”

“Months ago.”

Before Volterra.

Before she’d ever stepped into Italy.

Before he’d ever seen her.

“He believed you’d exist someday.”

Tears threatened to gather in Y/N’s eyes.

“But…”

She looked down at herself.

“I’m human.”

“So?”

“You’re…” She laughed weakly. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

Heidi’s expression turned unexpectedly serious.

“I have watched kings fall to their knees.”

“I have watched artists paint women who looked exactly like me.”

“I’ve watched thousands of men fall in love with a pretty face.”

She stepped closer.

“Do you know what Demetri sees?”

Y/N shook her head.

“He sees home.”

The words shattered every insecurity she’d been holding onto.

“Beauty fades to us,” Heidi continued quietly.

“We live forever.”

“Perfect faces become ordinary after a century.”

“But finding the person your soul recognizes?”

She smiled.

“That happens once.”

Y/N wiped quickly at her eyes.

“I still don’t understand why it’s me.”

“You don’t have to.”

Heidi linked their arms together.

“You only have to believe him.”

⸻

That evening Demetri returned later than usual.

His cloak carried the scent of rain.

He found Y/N curled in the library.

Without a word he sat beside her.

“You’ve been crying.”

It wasn’t a question.

She looked away.

“I met Heidi today.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Oh?”

“She told me.”

His shoulders tensed.

“I should have.”

“No.”

She looked at him.

“You didn’t hide it.”

“You just… never mentioned it.”

“It was over long before I met you.”

“I know.”

Silence settled between them.

Finally she whispered,

“She’s beautiful.”

He looked genuinely confused.

“Yes.”

“And I’m…”

His cool hand gently cupped her cheek before she could finish.

“You.”

She frowned.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

He brushed his thumb beneath her eye.

“I have seen queens.”

“I have seen empresses.”

“I have seen every definition of beauty your world has ever created.”

His voice remained quiet.

“I searched for centuries without knowing I was searching.”

His forehead rested lightly against hers.

“And then…”

“You walked into that corridor.”

“There has never been anyone else.”

His crimson eyes met hers.

“There never will be.”

For the first time since arriving in Volterra…

Y/N believed him.

Not because he had called her beautiful.

But because he looked at her as though beauty had never been the reason.

[iloveslasher]

Her - Demetri volturi x F!Human!Reader.

Learning to stay (part ||)

The stone corridor beneath Volterra smelled faintly of damp earth and ancient water.

I kept close to Alice as she hurried ahead, her golden hair flashing in the dim light. Bella stayed at her side, pale and shaking after her desperate sprint through the square.

Edward was alive.

That should have been enough to steady me.

Instead, every step deeper into the Volturi’s underground halls made my stomach twist tighter.

“Just stay close, Y/N,” Alice whispered.

The words should have sounded comforting. They didn’t.

A pair of figures emerged from the shadows ahead.

One was enormous, broad-shouldered, with a lazy smile that never reached his crimson eyes. The other was tall and lean, bronze-brown hair brushing his forehead, his posture elegant and utterly still.

Felix.

And Demetri.

“There they are,” Felix said pleasantly. “The masters are waiting.”

Demetri’s gaze swept over Bella, then Alice.

Then it landed on me.

Everything stopped.

His expression changed so quickly I almost thought I imagined it. Surprise. Recognition. Something fierce and unguarded.

A breath escaped him.

“Her,” he murmured.

Felix glanced sideways. “Demetri?”

Demetri didn’t answer. He was still looking at me.

Heat rushed through my face. I should have looked away, but I couldn’t. His crimson eyes were terrifying—and somehow unbearably familiar.

Alice touched my elbow. “Come on.”

Demetri stepped aside without another word.

We followed them through twisting corridors, down worn stone steps slick with moisture, and through a narrow drainage tunnel where cold water whispered around our shoes. Felix led the way. Demetri remained behind us.

Behind me.

I could feel his attention like a hand at the center of my back.

When we climbed the final staircase, the reception chamber opened before us, bright after the darkness. A silent woman sat behind the desk, watching us pass.

Then the doors to the throne room swung open.

The Volturi waited in a crescent of black robes.

Edward stood between Jane and Alec.

Bella’s breath caught. “Edward.”

He turned, relief flooding his face.

“Bella.”

His eyes moved to Alice.

Then to me.

For a heartbeat his expression was blank.

Then it sharpened.

Edward stiffened.

Impossible.

The thought crossed his face before I understood why.

Behind me, Demetri took one step forward.

Edward’s gaze snapped to him.

Another heartbeat.

And suddenly Edward was moving.

He crossed the chamber in a blur, placing himself between Demetri and me.

“Stay away from her.”

Bella stared. “Edward?”

A low sound rumbled from Demetri’s chest.

Not anger.

A warning.

Edward’s eyes narrowed. He was listening to something none of us could hear.

Aro leaned forward, fascinated.

“Well,” he said softly. “This is unexpected.”

Demetri’s shoulders squared. Every line of his body turned toward me, protective and possessive all at once.

Edward bared his teeth. “She’s human.”

“She is under my protection,” Demetri said.

The room went still.

Felix blinked. “Ah.”

Edward’s voice dropped. “Your protection?”

Demetri’s gaze never left mine. “My mate.”

The word struck me harder than the cold underground air.

Mate.

Bella’s eyes widened.

Alice froze.

Edward looked suddenly furious.

“She doesn’t belong to you.”

Something flashed across Demetri’s face then—something ancient and absolute.

“She is not a possession,” he said. “But you will not threaten her.”

Edward shifted closer to me.

Demetri moved at the same instant.

Felix sighed.

In a blur of motion, the giant vampire caught Edward around the shoulders and hauled him backward.

“Easy,” Felix said. “The masters dislike broken furniture.”

Edward struggled. “Let me go!”

Demetri stepped in front of me.

Not touching.

Simply there.

A wall between me and the rest of the room.

I should have been terrified.

Instead, my pulse steadied.

Aro’s smile widened. “Extraordinary. Demetri, our finest tracker, rendered entirely incapable of looking anywhere else.”

A faint laugh rippled through the guard.

Demetri ignored them.

“Are you harmed?” he asked quietly.

The concern in his voice startled me more than everything else.

“No.”

His shoulders eased.

And suddenly I understood that if anyone in this chamber moved toward me with hostile intent, Demetri would fight them all.

Even Edward.

Even the Volturi.

Aro rose gracefully. “It seems we have two matters before us. First, the indiscretion involving our young human friend Bella. Second…” His eyes glittered. “A bond of rare significance.”

Edward stopped struggling.

Felix released him but remained close.

Aro extended a pale hand toward me. “Tell me, Y/N—did you know why you were brought here?”

I looked at Alice.

She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

A cold knot formed in my chest.

“Alice?”

Bella looked confused. “What does he mean?”

Alice finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

“We needed every advantage.”

My breath caught.

“If things went wrong,” she said, “another human witness gave us leverage. The Volturi would be less likely to act immediately.”

The throne room seemed to tilt.

“You brought me… in case they needed a reason not to kill you?”

“Y/N—”

“You used me.”

Alice’s face crumpled.

Bella stepped forward. “She didn’t mean—”

“But she did.”

The hurt was sharper than fear had ever been.

Edward closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

For once, there was no defense in his voice.

I wrapped my arms around myself.

The Cullens had been my family for so long that I’d never imagined being anything else.

Yet here, in the center of the Volturi’s throne room, I felt strangely alone.

A cool hand hovered near mine.

Demetri.

Not demanding.

Waiting.

When I looked up, there was no triumph in his expression. Only concern.

“You are free to choose,” he said.

Aro’s brows lifted.

Demetri continued, steady as stone.

“If you wish to leave, no one will stop you while I stand here.”

Edward stared at him.

“So you’d let her go?”

“If that is what she wants.”

The answer settled something deep inside me.

I looked at Alice.

At Edward.

At Bella.

Love still lingered there, tangled with betrayal.

Then I looked at Demetri.

The fierce stillness in his eyes felt nothing like a trap.

It felt like certainty.

“I don’t know what this bond means,” I admitted. “And I’m angry with all of you.”

Alice flinched.

“But for the first time since we came here…” I swallowed. “I don’t feel like a bargaining chip.”

Demetri’s expression softened.

I took a hesitant step toward him.

Then another.

His hand opened.

I placed mine in it.

The contact was cool, gentle, careful—as though he feared I might disappear.

Across the room, Edward’s shoulders lowered.

Alice’s eyes shone with regret.

Aro clasped his hands together, delighted. “Marvelous. A choice freely made.”

I exhaled.

“I’m not staying because anyone forced me to.”

Demetri’s fingers tightened around mine.

“I know.”

The ache of abandonment remained, tender and unfinished.

But as Demetri moved to stand beside me—not before me, not behind me, but beside me—I discovered that the loneliness was no longer quite so heavy.

And when the Volturi doors opened once more, the future waiting beyond them no longer felt like a sentence.

It felt like a beginning.

[kenzies-love-stories]

Oh Come on Bella Rewrite Pt. 3 (Felix volturi x Fem! Swan! reader)

a/n: Well, hello everyone, it has been a while since I have posted anything, and that is because life has been so much right now. I'm trying to get my health in order and settle into my new little life with my husband. I just learned that my mom has stage 4 lymphoma, and I haven't been taking it well. My mother is my best friend, and I know she is strong enough to fight this. She is the toughest person I know. I am trying my best to stay strong for her, but I am beyond worried about her. She starts chemo on July 6th, and I want nothing more than to give her a hug, but we are 2,500 miles apart. I am so sorry it's been so long since I updated any of my stories, but I feel I will be writing a lot more now. If I tagged anyone who would like to be removed from the list, please let me know. Feel free to comment; I love seeing them; they keep me going. ~ Kenzie

Summary: Y/n Swan is the adopted younger sister of Bella Swan. At the young age of 16, she is forced on a spontaneous trip to Italy to rescue a person whom she doesn't even like, but will it be worth it? Her life from this point on will change forever.

1 2 (you're here)4(Queued)5(in editing)6(drafting)

Pairing: Felix x fem! Swan! Reader

Date posted: June 26 2026

Word Count: 5,036

Warnings: Birthday Fluff, motherly Esme, Best Friend Alice, Bella is a hypocrite, Edward continues the vicious cycle of redemption and doom

Y/n POV

The coping mechanism that Alice so graciously helped me find works best once I melt down the wax melts two to three times. The scent only then becomes faint enough to remind me of the scent that clings to Felix's cloak and marble skin. Of course, it isn’t exactly like my tall mate, but it is close enough to trick my brain in a tired haze. I have a small collection of these wax melts that I rotate through. By the fourth or fifth rotation, they get thrown out because they no longer smell like anything. If anyone but Alice was to ever find out about this coping mechanism, I’d die of embarrassment, and I would be teased to no end by everyone. I am fortunate Alice is good at keeping my secrets, especially from Edward.

This is the best way I have found to cope with that dull ache in my chest that gets greater with every day that passes without Felix. It makes me wonder why Bella never thought of doing the same thing when Edward left her.

I am brought out of my deep thoughts of Felix by my phone pinging on my nightstand by my bed. A smile breaks out on my face when I see it is a message from Felix himself. ‘Happy Birthday, my Dearest Little Dove! I will call you later today after I finish up with my duties; I’m sorry I couldn’t make it there today to celebrate with you.’

‘Thank you, Fe <3 You have already made my day much better.’ After I hit send, I make my way down the stairs to greet my adopted dad, Charlie.

“Good morning, Dad!” I exclaim as I make my way into our kitchen.

“Morning Bug, Happy Birthday.” He says, getting up from the kitchen table with a small box in hand, blue ribbon on top.

“Dad, I thought we agreed on no presents,” I state as he goes to hand me the box.

“Yeah, I know, but I think you are really going to like this one, kiddo. If it makes you feel any better, it is the only present.” A ghost of a small smile makes its way onto his face as he puts the box into my hands.

“Okay,” I say as I open the box and gasp when I see a key inside.” Dad, is this?”

He just nods his head softly with a smile. I bolt out the front door and see a Black Acura 1999 TL parked in the driveway where Bella’s truck is usually parked. “I know it’s not much, but it has low miles and good gas mileage.”

“What! Dad, it’s perfect! I love it! Thank you.” I pull him into a tight hug, to which I feel him tense for a second before he relaxes into the hug.

Charlie has always been a bit awkward with affection, but we are working on it. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Your new curfew is 11:30 pm. Please be safe tonight. I have to work late at the station.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” I exclaim before running to the driver's seat. I adjust my mirrors and seat to the most comfortable and safe position.

“Drive safe, or I will pull you over.” Charlie jokingly warns with a very serious undertone.

“Always,” I reply, starting my car. Charlie helped me get my license a month ago, as Bella had graduated, so that I could drive myself to school.

I play music from the stereo as I drive over to the Cullens' house. Much to my dismay.... Alice is throwing me a birthday party. It is July, so she thought that after the horror story that was Bella’s 18th birthday, it would be best to have it outside in their yard.

I pull up to their house and see that the yard is beautifully decorated, and Esme, being as sweet as she is, took it upon herself to make Bella and I a lot of snacks. Upon further inspection, I see that Esme had made me a fruit tart; she knows I am not a fan of cake. My heart swells with love as I park my new car. I take my key out of the ignition.  “There’s the Beautiful Birthday Girl.” Alice muses as she comes running up to me with her skin sparkling in the sun.

Bella is right, the Cullens are truly beautiful in the sunlight, just like diamonds. I find irony in Alice’s comment, but I say a quick, “Thank you, Alice.” I hug the cold girl.

“Of course! Do you just love the car?” she questions.

“Yes! I love it. Did you help Charlie?” I ask as I didn’t get the chance to mention my new car to her, even though I drove it here.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Come see everyone,” she muses as she grabs my hand and escorts me to the backyard, where my sister Bella and the rest of the family are.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” Esme says while softly pulling me into her gentle yet cold embrace. I really like Esme, she reminds me of what little I could remember of my mother.

“Thank you, everyone, I really appreciate it,” I say while taking turns hugging everyone, except Edward; He just gets a short nod as he and I are still on the outs.

Edward awkwardly passes me a small, wrapped box with a purple bow on top; my sister definitely wrapped it. “It’s from Bella and I.”

“Thank you very much.” I open it and see a Polaroid camera, something I have been wanting for years. “Edward, I am going to hug you. You get on my nerves every chance you get, but I can’t deny that you give thoughtful gifts.” I pull Edward into a very short and awkward hug,which only lasts a few seconds. I miss the small smile that makes its way onto Bella’s face.

I open more presents as they are passed to me. I get a scrapbook from Carlisle and Esme, a bracelet from Rosalie, an art set from Emmett, and Illusion wax melts from Jasper. I laughed when I opened Jasper's present, “Alice, you promised.”

“I’m sorry, I tell Jas everything.” Alice slightly cringes.

“What?” Bella asks, confused.

“Oh, nothing, it is just a little inside joke,” I reply

“Now, please don’t be mad, but there is one more thing. My gift should be here very soon,” Alice says as she pulls out a small box. She places it in my hands, then gently she turns my body around so my back is now facing her house. “Don’t open it quite yet.” She states before she skips back over to where Jasper is standing.

“Okay, now you can open it,” she instructs.

“Alice, I thought I said nothing expensive,” I complain as I start to slowly open the wrapping paper.

“Well, luckily for you, it is not from me, so the rule doesn’t apply,”she says as I slowly open the small black box and gasp. Inside the box rest a pair of beautiful diamond earrings to go along with the necklace around my neck. A smile breaks out on my face as I see a small note inside. I quietly read it in confusion, ‘Turn around, My Dove.’

I slowly turn around so I am facing the Cullens’ house, but instead I stare straight at a chest, a very familiar chest. A smile breaks out onto my face, “FELIX!” I cry and rush into his outstretched arms.

He wraps his cold, strong arms around my frame. “Happy Birthday, my Dove.”

“Oh, how I missed you.” I cry tears of happiness, I let them flow down my cheeks as I pull away from his embrace.

“Hey, don’t cry, Cara Mia, it’s okay. I’m here, and I missed you, too.” He says softly, wiping my tears with his cold fingers.

“You tricked me!” I exclaim and playfully push him, which does absolutely nothing. I bounced off him a bit, actually.

“I know, Dove, but it was so worth it to get to see your reaction,” he states in amusement.

I turn towards the Cullens to see almost all of them with warm smiles on their faces. I feel Felix’s arm go around my waist, “Thank you all very much, you have no idea what this means to me.” I say sincerely.

“It is really no problem, really. It was actually Aro and Alice’s idea.” Carlisle states softly.

“Really?” I ask and look up and over my shoulder at Felix with a smile. He stares down at me with a soft grin on his lips.

“He was tired of my moping around the castle after I finished with my duties.” He smiles down at me a bit wider.

I was about to reply when I heard a shutter and briefly saw the flash of my Polaroid camera out of the corner of my eyes. I turn and see Alice shaking the Polaroid film as it develops, “I’m sorry, it was just too cute a moment to pass up, I had to.”

“Thank you very much, Alice,” I say gracefully as she puts it in the first page of my scrapbook so I don’t lose the picture.

*Time skip*

My Birthday party went over perfectly, no blood, no accidents, no hungry vampires wanting to attack me. It’s just before sunset, and Felix takes my hand into his. ”Walk with me?” He asks, leading me into the woods surrounding the Cullens’ property. I take a quick glance back to see Jasper and Emmett holding back Edward with a confused-looking Bella.

I am brought out of my thoughts by Felix’s soft yet gruff voice, “Do you trust me?” I look up into Felix’s Crimson eyes.

“Without a doubt in my mind, Fe,” I reply with full honesty.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that; Now hold on tight.” He states as he picks me up bridal style, then takes off into the forest at vampire speed.

“Eeekk!” I squeak and hide my face closer to his cold neck if that was even possible. I hear and feel him chuckle slightly.

“It’s not funny, Fe,” I whine out as I feel him come to a stop. Soon, he gently places my feet on the solid ground, and he keeps an arm around me to help me get steady as I regain my balance.

“It is a little funny, babe.” We both freeze at the nickname that fell out of Felix’s mouth. My cheeks flush a deep pink as he looks away in embarrassment.

“Felix?” I softly ask

“I am so sorry if I overstepped, I just, let me kn-” He starts rambling in a panicked tone, which is quite amusing to see such a big vampire panicked.

Rolling my eyes at his panicked ramble, I take a step towards him and reach my hands up to his cold cheeks. I gently bring his face down towards my face level. I roughly place my lips onto his, and I learn very quickly that I have no idea what I am doing, like at all. This causes me to stiffen with panic; Felix senses it. He places his arm around my waist, gently taking control over the kiss, making it softer and more gentle than it had initially started.

We pull away from one another so I can catch my much-needed breath. “Soo, I’m guessing my calling you babe, doesn’t bug you then?” He asks me teasingly.

“Not one bit, Felix, I, I really like you, and I think I am ready to move forward with our relationship,” I say, dancing around the fact that I really want Felix to be my boyfriend now.

I feel both of his big, cold hands cradle my warm cheeks as he gently guides his lips to mine, guiding me into another sweet kiss. Finally feeling a bit bold, I trace the tip of my tongue against his bottom lip. I am not at all prepared for his tongue to meet mine when I go to do it again for the hell of it.

Shocked, I pull away with a gasp as I feel my cheeks heat up bright red. He places his cold forehead on my now hot one. “You are blushing, Mi Amor,” he teases a bit.

“I’m sorry, it shocked me; I've never kissed someone before, let alone like that. I just wasn’t expecting that.” I state, avoiding his intense gaze.

“Hey, look at me.” He starts softly raising my chin up with his index finger, so I am looking up at him now, “It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for or be ashamed of; I am honored to get to be the one who gets to teach you about all this. There is nothing to be embarrassed about, okay, love, we go at your pace.”

“Thank you, Felix, I really appreciate you.” I smile softly.

“I appreciate you too, Mia amore, more than you will ever know,” he muses as he pulls me into a back hug as we watch the sun start to set.

Felix and I sit in comfortable silence as we watch the sky change from a pretty light blue to hues of pinks, purples, and deep oranges as the sun slowly fades below the horizon. We are now surrounded by the beautiful night sky, full of stars and constellations twinkling all around us from above. I am brought out of my comfortable haze by Felix’s voice, “What time did you have to be home tonight, Babe?”

“Charlie said that my curfew is at 11:30 pm tonight. Where are you staying tonight, and how much longer are you going to be in town for? Will I get to see you again before you go?” I ask, directing my full attention to my mate as I never want this moment to end.

“I’m staying at a hotel up in Seattle. I have to leave in a few days. I sure hope I get to see you again before I go. How busy are you, Dove? It is also almost 10:30pm, we should start getting you headed back towards home.” Felix states, “Do you want to run or walk back?”

“Can we please walk back? I want to get as much time in with you as I can before you have to go back. And I am never too busy for you, Fe, I’d love to come visit you in Seattle.” I say before grabbing his large, cold hand in my smaller, warm one.

“Doesn’t my body temperature bother you?” He questions as we slowly make our way through the woods surrounding the Cullens’ property.

“No, actually, it doesn’t, I don’t really do well in the heat...like at all. So, it is actually very nice that you are so cold, it feels like a breath of fresh air; if that makes sense.” I pause before continuing, “Does the scent of my blood bother you?”

“Bother me?!? Oh god no! Honestly, the scent of your blood is a bit intoxicating; the only thing that is more powerful is the need I feel to protect you from everything out there in the world.” Felix exclaims as he stops walking to look at me for a second.

“You know something, Felix, I don’t think I would make a very good vampire.” I giggle a bit as Felix looks down at me, confused.

“Why’s that, My Dove?” He inquired while placing a bit of hair behind my ear.

“Well, because blood makes me feel queasy, I am not good with blood at all.” I laugh

Felix smiles softly, “I promise that goes away with time, I promise. Your thirst for blood when you are a newborn will overpower that queasiness you feel.”

“After I graduate, you are going to have to turn me into a vampire, huh?” I ask nervously.

“It is definitely what my masters want, but I promise you this, I will do everything in my power to delay that day until you are ready.” He nods his head while gently swinging our interlaced hands back and forth between us.

After a few more minutes walking in comfortable silence, we start to see the Cullens’ house come into view. Felix seems to hear something before I do as he tenses up next to me, “Stay behind me.” He states, gently moving me so he is in front of me protectively.

“Why? Felix, what is going on?” I ask, placing one of my hands on the lower part of his shoulder.

“Edward and Alice are arguing; they are headed this way,” he whispers to me.

Sure enough, not even a second later, I can hear the raised voices of Edward and Alice reverberating off the trees around us. Loud and clear, “Edward, it is none of your business, leave it alone!” Alice exclaims in anger

“Alice, it is my business; he is going to absolutely ruin her. Imagine what that would do to Bella.” Edward huffs back.

“Her life doesn’t involve you, Edward; you have your own mate to worry about! For fuck sake, stop trying to get in between them. You need to stop assuming things and just let them be happy!” Alice curses.

“she much be really mad, I’ve never heard Alice curse before.” I whisper to Felix

“Well, we are none of Edwards' concern or business,” he tells me softly while staying in front of me, shielding me from view.

“He is going to turn her into a monster Alice!”

“OH COME ON, EDWARD, STOP ACTING AS IF YOU CARE FOR HER WHEN YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT YOU DON’T GIVE A RAT'S ASS ABOUT HER! YOU ARE JUST TRYING TO PLAY THE HERO TO REDEEM YOURSELF TO BELLA FOR LEAVING HER ALONE LIKE THE COWARD YOU ARE! You need to mind your own FUCKING business. He doesn’t turn her into a monster. Felix turns her into a powerful woman who knows she is valued, loved, and cared for, and THAT is ALL that matters.” Alice yells at Edward.

“Alice! What the hell!?!” Bella exclaims

“Oh, COME ON, Bella! You and I both know it’s true. It is time to face the facts.” Alice snaps with a venom-laced tone. She is indeed very angry. I never heard her talk to Bella that way, let alone yell at one of her siblings.

“No, I don’t believe you! Felix isn’t good for my sister!” Bella exclaims.

At this point, I can feel my heart starting to race as my blood boils over in anger. With my fist balled up at my sides, I start to stomp towards my sister. I make it all of two and a half steps before I am hoisted up into the cold, strong arms of my mate, “Easy there, tiger, we can’t have you doing something you will regret later, let’s take a second to breathe.” Felix says softly, holding me back to his chest while my feet kick around in the air a bit.

“BELLA, you have NO RIGHT!” I yell at her, pointing from my spot in Felix’s arms.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I have every right!” she yells back.

“NO, you don’t because when I was saying the same things to you about Edward, I was told to shut my FUCKING MOUTH. Bella, Felix has done nothing to hurt me ever, he doesn’t talk down to me, he doesn’t stop me from seeing my friends, he does NOT make my cut people out of my life, and he has not put me in any line of danger. Too bad the same can’t be said about Edward and your relationship. Maybe instead of worrying about my relationship and trying to get in between it, you should re-evaluate yours. My love life is not any of yours or Edwards concern or business; you both have made your own decisions, so for the love of God, STOP trying to MAKE mine for ME. Felix and I are both consenting individuals who can handle ourselves.” I shake in anger in Felix’s arms.

I have rendered Bella speechless; she just shakes her head and stomps off with a scowl back towards the house. Edward points at Felix and I as I am still being held and states, “Stay away from y/n or you’ll regret it.” As if he is going to do anything.

Before I can reply with a smartass comment, Felix beats me to it. “Edward, must I remind you of the ass-whooping you got from me back in Volterra? I would love to see you try and keep my true mate from me; you wouldn’t live to tell the tale.”

“Is that a threat?” Edward starts to walk towards us.

Felix maneuvers me behind him again, keeping one of his cold hands on my hip behind him. “No, that is a fucking PROMISE.” I glance up and see the rest of the Cullen family watching all this go down in anticipation from the balcony.

“Felix.” I gently whisper out nervously and place my hand on his arm, glancing up at the family, I see looks of disappointment and worry.

“Edward, I suggest you back off and go comfort your mate. She looked pretty angry when she went inside.” Felix suggests in a calm tone.

Edward was about to reply with something snarky before he was cut off by Esme’s angry voice. “Edward, that is ENOUGH, you will leave the poor girl alone! Just let her be happy. I don’t know why this is so hard for you. If this continues, I will personally let Felix adjust your attitude toward y/n, whether you like it or not felix is a part of y/n's life now; she is not Bella. You do not get to control who she has in her life. So, stop trying to control her.”

Edward looks shocked and defeated as he rushes inside with his tail between his legs like a kicked puppy. Esme walks downstairs, and I come out from behind Felix, “Thank you, Esme.” I state before embracing her in a loving hug.

“I want to apologize to both of you. I let Edward’s bad behavior towards you two go on long enough. I can see how truly happy the two of you are together; it reminds me of Carlise and I. I can assure you that Edward will not be bugging you both again, or he will be moving. You are both more than welcome to hang out here whenever you like, y/n, that is also extended to when you no longer have a beating heart in your chest, too,” she says as she pulls away from the hug.

“Thank you very much, Esme. I am truly sorry for the scene that was caused on both parts.” Felix responds, giving her a slight nod in respect.

“Felix, you have nothing to be sorry for, you reacted the way anyone of us would have reacted in that situation. It is starting to get late, though, you’d best get y/n home, we would not want Charlie to start to worry.” She says, nodding back at us both.

“Thank you for everything, Esme,” I say before Felix, and I start to walk towards my car. I turn around to talk to Felix, “Do you want to drive me home?” I ask, dangling my keys in front of him while walking backwards towards my new car.

With a slight smirk, he grabs the keys gently from my hands, and he walks over to the passenger side to open my door for me. “Such a gentleman.” I tease him lightly, smiling as i get into the car, he closes it behind me once I am all settled.

I watch him flash over to the driver’s side. He tries to get into the car, but the seat is too far forward. “How are you so small?” He questions as he adjusts the seat to better accommodate his muscular body.

“How are you so giant?” I counter back.

“Touche,”  he responds as he places his phone in one of the cupholders between us before he starts my car.

“Wait, Felix!” I exclaim before flicking on the dome light. I then pick up his phone and open up the camera app.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, confused putting my car in park.

“Smile for a picture with me? I want you to have something to remember me by while you are back home in Volterra. Alice only took the one Polaroid.” I state cheeks and neck are a bit flushed.

“Oh, Dove, you had me a bit worried for a second.” He snickers before smiling and leaning over the center console. He smiles at the phone with me.

I snap a quick picture of us smiling at the camera. Feeling bold for the second time tonight, I lean over and press a kiss to his cheek and snap another picture. After I am satisfied with the pictures, I place the phone back where he put it first. “Okie, we can go now.” I smile

He snaps out of his trance as he puts my car in drive before pulling out of the Cullen’s driveway and onto the main road we go. At some point down the road, he placed his big, cold hand on my thigh. I place my hand on top of his, holding it as I watch the woods start to thin around me. We finally make it back to my house, and I see that Charlie is still not home yet, as the cruiser is missing from out front.

“Would you like to come inside for a bit?” I ask as he walks me up to the front door, passing me my car keys.

“Are you sure?” he asks with a small smile.

“Yeah, Dad isn’t home yet, and when he does make it home, we can just sneak you out my window,” I say as I lead him to my bedroom.

“How would your dad feel about you having a boy all alone with you in your bedroom?” Felix teases as he sits down on my bed.

“What doesn’t he know won’t hurt him, right?” I state as I walk over to my closet to pick out a pair of pajama shorts and a loose cotton t-shirt. “I will be right back. I am going to go change really quickly.” I say as I walk out of my room and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

After I am all dressed, I make my way back into my adjacent bedroom. I see Felix laying on my bed with his hands behind his head as he looks around my room in what looks to be awe and comfort. With a smile adorning my face, I walk over to my bed and lie down beside him. “ Come here, Dove.” He says, outstretching one of his arms, exposing his side, making room for me.

“Are you certain?” I ask him dumbly

“Dove, I wouldn’t have offered the opportunity if I was not sure, my love.” He reassures me, a little confused. It’s all the reassurance I need as I carefully make my way over to Felix’s large, cold body. I comfortably nestle myself into his side with my head on his chest. His chest is hard but smooth like marble under his shirt. It’s cold and oddly silent, devoid of a heartbeat, but nonetheless, I find comfort in the silence that is beneath my ear.

A silence falls over us both as we lie together, my breathing slowing as I relax further into my mate's body. I use my index finger to draw small shapes on his chest as he gently rubs small circles on my arm. “y/n/n I have a question.”

“What’s wrong, Fe?” I acknowledge

“What’s with the new wax burner thingie on your desk?” he questions innocently.

I feel my face flush with embarrassment as I hide it in his chest. “A-after I sent you back your cloak, I may or may not have had a bit of trouble sleeping, and during that time I may or may not have gone to every single store in Seattle until I found something that smelt like you…because I missed you.”

“And I am guessing you were successful in your search?” I can hear the smile in his voice

“Yes, well, nothing beats the real thing, I must say. I did get as close as I could; I even roped Alice into helping me, which she did willingly. That is why Jasper got me those wax melts today.”

“That is actually the cutest thing ever. I was going to ask about it earlier, but you said it was an inside joke, so I wasn’t going to pry about it.” He states before placing a gentle kiss on my hairline.

I put my chin on his chest so I can look up at his face, “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Absolutely not, Dove, why would I think that’s weird? I find it enduring that you missed me so much, and if it makes you feel better, I had Heidi go out and find something close to your perfume as well.” He replies nonchalantly.

Instead of replying, I just lean up and peck him on the lips. I feel his smile on my lips as I do the same. I start to lie back down, but he stops me first by kissing my top lip, then my bottom lip. Finally, he gently kisses the tip of my nose before telling me, “You should get some rest, Dove; it is getting late.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” I ask getting comfortable on his chest again.

“I can not make any promises, Dove; however, if you are feeling up to it, you can come visit me in Seattle tomorrow if you’d like to.” He says, placing both his arms around my waist while I drift off.

“Really?” I yawn as the events of my day are finally starting to catch up with me.

“Of course you can. Now sleep, my Dove, don’t fight it. You have had a long day.”  He says as he gently rubs my back, lulling me into a deep sleep.

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[kenzies-love-stories]

Oh COME ON Bella! pt2 rewrite (Felix Volturi X Swan Fem Reader)

A/N: Well, hello it's been too long, I'm going to be completely honest with you guys I have not been making my writing a priority as I should be. I have been learning how to balance my time working full time at a cooperation job is hard, I feel like I never have time for myself but i am learning how to make the time. I don't know how many people are still invested but here the rewrite for part 2.~Kenzie

pairing: Felix volturi X fem Swan reader

1 (you're here) 3 4(queued)5(in editing)6(In production)

Type/ warnings: M for mature

Word count:3,355

Date posted: January 30 2025

Six long tortuous months have gone and passed since I was dragged to Volterra Italy where I met him, Felix, the man who has so effortlessly caught my attention. He feels so close yet so far out of my reach. The only reasons I know that he is actually real is because of the leather book which is on the nightstand by my bed as well as the memory that plays on repeat every night while I sleep.

I find myself more often than not longing for the feeling of comfort that his cold embrace manages to bring to my warm body. I have yet to hear from him but he promised, so I am not going to lose hope so easily. Though I do miss him every day even though I don’t know him very well at all. I am guessing it is the bond.

Today Jasper has dragged Bella and I to the Cullens house after school to work on their Spanish project that is due the following week while I sit on the couch next to Rosealie, she is probably my favorite Cullen as she is unapologetically honest with me. Which I very much appreciate as everyone else isn’t as straight forward as Rosalie.

I see an angry Edward storm into the room with a panicked Alice hot on his heels, “Edward you don’t have the right to do this, it’s not your place. If you follow through with this it is not going to end well for anybody involved.” Alice sped infront of Edward to stop him.

“I am doing this to protect her.” He seethes looking down at alice callously

“Since when have you ever cared about her safety. Trust me Eds you are going to do more harm than good.” Alice grabs the envelope out of his hands as this comment shocks Edward. "STAY OUT OF IT!" she adds loudly.

“Y/n/n this came in the mail for you from a very special someone.” Alice says and passes me the envelope, while wiggling her eyebrows at me playfully.

“Thank you!” I exclaim with a big smile taking it from her hand gently. I let out a barely audible giggle as I run my fingers over the fancy cursive writing that adores the front that reads y/n Swan with the Cullens address. I gently turn it around and admire the red volturi wax seal. After a second I pull open the wax seal then i pull out the parchment and allow my eyes to run over the words.

 ‘To my dearest little dove, I am happy to inform you that I finally managed to get my hands on a phone, that I have yet to accidently break. It took me longer than expected as I kept on crushing them on accident. I put my number at the bottom. Don't tell anyone about this but Aro is planning on sending us to Seattle for a mission soon. I can't say when but afterwards I’ll sneak away to come and see you. it shouldn't be too difficult to do. With much love Felix aka your giant.’ 

With a smile I feel the envelope is still slightly heavy, with curiosity I look in the envelope. I see a very dainty looking necklace. I gingerly lift it out and into my hand, it is a small yet perfect diamond. ‘A diamond for you to sparkle in the sunlight as I do.’  I let out a slight gasp after I read the note, I very carefully put the necklace on. Once it falls into place my chest swells with love and pride.

I pull out my phone and program his number under the name 'Gental Giant'. I send him a picture of me with the necklace on as well as a message ‘it’s gorgeous Fe, I love it very much Thank you.’

A few hours later on at home I hear my phone ping. I check it with a grin. It is a message from Felix, ‘I am glad you love it, I'll come find you next week to visit.’ i read while smiling wide

With a blush that he can’t see I type out ‘can’t wait giant’

I lay down for the evening as i have school in the morning.

I am soon lulled in to a deep slumber dreaming of the tall giant that has started to plague my every dream...in the best way possible of course. In this particular dream I can see him and I cuddled up on the same couch that is in his room in the corner by the fireplace as he reads out loud to me. One of his big cold hands turns the page while the other is placed on my knee, gently resting there covering it completely.

*One week passes by*

The day after I received the letter from Felix, I worked on getting him one in the mail in return. I decided to make him a bracelet out of some black cord, as well as write him a letter in return. I made sure that it got in the mail the same day. I went ahead and put two extra stamps on the envelope even though I don’t think it makes all the difference. I do hope that he got it and that it didn’t get lost in the mail on the way to Volterra. I find myself absent mindedly studying for my upcoming history test.

I am situated in the living room with music playing softly in the background. My therapy has been up for some time now and I have been doing much better overall. It was finally deemed safe for me to be by myself, So I am home by myself. Bella is either at the Cullens or with Jake at Emily’s house. Whist Charlie is at Billy Blacks watching the late-night baseball game. I am brought out of my deep trance by a crash and cursing from my room upstairs. Quietly and full of nerves with my heart racing I grab my pepper spray tiptoeing my way up the stairs avoiding the creaky stair boards. I silently enter my room, heart beating out of my chest, my finger on the trigger of my pepper spray ready to fire. When I see a very much so familiar giant that I have been missing, my body starts to relax.

Throwing my pepper spray somewhere off to the side, I excitedly exclaim, “Felix! Please tell me you are really here in front of me!”

“Yes, dove it is really me.” He reassures me and pulls me into his cold yet very comforting embrace, “Oh how I missed you.” he slightly breaths in my scent as I nuzzle my face into his strong cold chest.

“I missed you to Fe so much. I have a question; so I am in the middle of studying, would you mind helping me study for my history test please?” I ask slightly pulling myself from his embrace to get a good look at his perfect face.

“What time period Kiddo?” he jests as I lead him down the stairs by his hand.

“Kiddo really!?!” I exclaim "It is the 16th Century" I reply handing him my notes and textbook.

He asks me a random question and I answer confidently as I know it is the right answer. I see him furrow his eyebrows, “Dove I'm sorry but that’s not right at all.”

“Yes, it is Fe, it is in the textbook.” I state the obvious.

“Is that really what they wrote! That is totally not how this happened I was there.” He laughs a bit in shock

“Well, that is what they are teaching me. Glad to see that they are lying” I state and grab the textbook out of his outstretched hand, I freeze when I look down at his wrist.

I grab his and gently pull it towards me running my thumb across this cord with adoration, “you’re wearing it.”

“of course, Dove, I love it; I have not taken it off since I got it and I don’t plan to anytime soon.” he responds softly

“Thank you! I only take my necklace off when I sleep.” I state with a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He smiles "So what do we want to do now?" he asks looking at me.

"Hmm We can watch..." I am cut off by another body speeding down the stairs halting in front of us. “Fe we got to go now.”

I start to panic when I notice it is just Demetri his friend and fellow guard.

“Okay Dem I will be right out.” Felix states defeated as our time is cut short, yet again.

“Oh, and nice to see you again y/n,” Demetri smiles at me.

“Nice to see you too Demetri.” I smile politely back at him, a little sad my mate has to go so soon.

“Alright My Love sadly I got to go. I promise I will message you as soon as I can.” he says pulling me up into a hug he kisses my forehead as he starts to pull away, I squeeze him tighter to my chest, my face in his neck by his ear, “Stay safe please Felix, I need you around.” I softly plea into his ear. He puts me down and we walk upstairs to my room.

“I’ll do my best,” I hear him say as I watch him disappear from in front of me and out of my window.

I sigh with a newfound heartache deep in my chest, it feels like a hole is there. I sniffle as I walk downstairs to collect my things, I am done studying for the night. I am too upset to retain any information tonight anyway. It was good to see him, and I am happy that I got to spend time with him even for a short bit.

I pause when I see a familiar black cloak, slightly gasping I gingerly reach out and bring it to my chest, hugging it tightly. I find myself breathing in his scent, it smells a bit like cedar and is slightly musky with a very small hint of citrus. This oddly brings me more comfort than anything with lavender ever could or ever would again. Felix has ruined lavender for me and I am very okay with it. I gather my study supplies and pack them up into my backpack for easy transport. I grab the cloak and I rush back to my bedroom.

I put the cloak on my bed while I put my school bag aside for the school day tomorrow. I then take off my shoes and quickly get into pajamas. Soon enough I lay down on my side and bring the cloak of comfort over one of shoulders, like a blanket. I can freely breath in the comforting scent radiating off the fabric. I allow myself to reach the deep state of relaxation and in minutes I am out for the night. I am not sure if he left it behind on purpose or not but I am glad he did.

I only keep his cloak for two weeks as the scent of him is starting to fade. It still brings me the comfort, but it now smells like me, and I know he needs it back. Another week goes by, and I make sure to send Felix back his cloak that he left here as well as a sweet little letter. I am not sure if it was on purpose or accident. However, I am guilty of waiting until it no longer smelt of him, instead I sent it back smelling like me, I hope it may bring him the same comfort it brought me during our time of separation.

Now I am having trouble sleeping at night without the familiar smell of absolute comfort as well as the weight of his cloak. That brings us to where we are now; in a Seattle Walmart smelling the wax melts and candles with Alice trying to find one that is close enough to invoke the same comforting feeling.

I carefully grab a box of brown wax melts and gently pull open the corner to smell. The strong scent makes my face pucker in disgust, this one, smells strongly of male musk and palo santo. Nothing like my Felix," Nope!" I say and put it back on the shelf. I smell my coffee grounds and continue my search. Alice bounces off to the other side of the isle.

A small box of blue wax melts catches my eye. I read the notes on this one softly to myself, "Cedar and sea salt." I don't think it'll be this one but I grab it and gently pull the corner open to get a small whiff. Closing my eyes I breathe in softly, it's almost right but the sea salt throws it off for me, it makes it kind of smell like a sweaty man.

I am starting to lose hope in my search but while I am here I decided to get a few candles for the house. I grab a fresh linen and a pumpkin spice candle then start off in the direction of Alice.

"Alice I only managed to find sweaty males and fruity deserts." I state in defeat, "do you need anything else while we are here, I give up."

"Just let me check in one spot, there is a clearance pile over by the five dollar movie bin." She states taking off at a human's pace. I head over to the five-dollar movie bin as I have given up. I start to filter through the movies when Alice comes running at a human pace towards me, “Y/n/n what about this one, it is called Illusion, there is cedar, musk, and whatever the mystery smell is.”

"I will give it a try Alice but I have lost hope." I state before she starts to hand me the package.

I gently take the package from Alice and gently pop open the corner feeling somewhat hopeful I bring the package to my nose and gently breathe in. The smell is very strong, but it is close enough to Felix that in a tired haze it would do the trick. Happily nodding at Alice, “Alice this is almost exact. Is there more than one?”

I close the small box and start to make my way through the isle with Alice, “Sadly that is the very last one here but at least now you know which one it is, we can order you more from online."

We walk to the self-checkout as I muse, “you’re right Alice! Thank you very much for helping me I appreciate it, you are such a great friend." I muse while I scan and pay for our items and we exit the store.

“You are more than welcome, Y/n i am happy to help." she smiles as she gets into her car.

“Hey Alice, please don’t mention this to anyone, it is kind of embarrassing.” I look down at my hands that are folded in my lap. "I know Bella would view this as childish and I don't want to be made fun of." I state quietly.

“Of course, Y/n/n you have my word. You should not feel embarrassed about missing Felix though. It is not your fault that you two have to be separated at the moment. It is not forever even though it may feel like it. Believe me when I say this though, Felix is just as affected by this as you are, if not more so.”  Alice states while keeping her golden eyes on the freeway. That is one thing no one tells you about vampires, they love to drive fast as it causes an adrenaline rush, I have learned to grow more comfortable with the speeding.

“You really think so.” I ask in a hopeful tone, not because I want Felix to hurt but it hurts a little less knowing that we are both hurting together.

“I know so y/n/n.” she says with a smile, “Don’t let Edward or Bella try to convince you any different. If he says anything to you about this, tell me okay. I’ll have Emmett and Jasper rough him up for you. He shouldn't have anything to say he just needs to let you be happy.”

I am thinking of my response when Alice beats me to it, "Now enough of the heavy, let's listen to some music." I see her cold dainty hand reach over and turn the volume dial up on the radio.

The rest of the ride is filled with laughter, off key singing, and crazy dancing on the way back to Charlie’s house. When she pulls up out front it is four fifty-eight, I have two whole minutes to spare. “Thank you again Alice, for everything,”

“You are most welcome y/n/n, tell Charlie I said hi,” Alice smiles and pulls me over the center console in to a tight embrace (not too tight though).

“Of course, Drive safe Alice.” I state knowing that she is going to drive recklessly now that I am no longer in the car.

I close the car door and walk inside after I hear her say ‘always' I make my way inside to put away my candles and to burn my wax in my wax wamer that is in my bedroom.

Felix’s POV

I have been back in Volterra for a little over a week now. The sharp pain in my chest has only grown stronger each day that passes without her. I miss my little human, more than I could have ever thought possible. I have tried to distract myself with working extra hours and picking up extra missions but it never works. I come to realize that this distance thing is going to be a lot harder to handle then I first thought. I have somehow misplaced my last cloak between the constant missions. I unlatch my new cloak and place it over the couch in my room. I then exit to hunt down where Demetri is hiding away at.

I see him walking down towards the library with Heidi, fixing my bracelet I speed over to them before they can get too far.

“Hey Fe, Gianna the new girl is looking for you, you have mail.” Dem teasingly states.

With a smile I start to turn away with a smile to make my way to the front desk, “Thank you Dem, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

I don’t wait for a reply, I instead speed down the stairs stopping in front of Gianna's desk. “Hey, Gianna Demetri told me that you have mail for me.”

“Yes, from forks.” she states in broken English handing me a box.

“Grazie.” I state and take the box in confusion, I was expecting a letter from y/n.

She nods as I walk off to my room looking at the box, I see the familiar semi messy writing that I have grown to love. With a smile I put the box down on the table and gently open it. There is a note on red paper that is on top of something wrapped in tissue paper. I pick up the note to read it more closely, ‘Fe, I hope this brings you the same comfort it brought me, love little Dove.”

Curiously I put the note down and open the tissue paper, I am hit by the strong scent of my mate, with a smile I pull out, my cloak? I put it on with a laugh, I must have forgotten it at her house that night. Her scent surrounds me and the pain in my chest subsides just a little bit. She must have been wearing it at night as her scent is imprinted in to the fabric. I smile at the image of her cuddled on her bed, her small frame drowning in my cloak. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I first thought, It’s going to suck but it is going to be manageable…for now.

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[kenzies-love-stories]

Oh come on Bella Rewrite (Fem!swan reader x Felix volturi) pt 1

A/n: This is the first reinstallment of my oh come on bella series, I really hope everyone likes where I am going with this, first chapter is still mostly the same just more detailed now and a bit more polished than before. please feel free to request, I am rebranding my blog and need some fresh prompts.~kenzie

Pairing: Fem reader x felix

2 3 4

type and warnings: M for mature due to mentions of murder, suicidal thoughts, edwards a bit of a dick, Bestfriend alice!

word count: 3584

date posted: September, 9th 2024

Life has the tendency to fuck people, I experienced this firsthand. My life has been anything but easy, in fact it has been rather difficult. It all started when I was about 5 years old when my birth parents were murdered. I’m not sure why the culprit left little old me alive, but they did. I woke up in the middle of the night for a glass of water when I found them bloody and lifeless in the kitchen. At the tender age of five my life turned upside down. Chief Swan was the responding officer to my 911 call. I remember when he found me, I was cuddled up next to my bloody mom and dad hyperventilating.

Charlie decided then and there to adopt me out of the system I was about to be put into. Charlie welcomed me with open arms into his life yet despite this I still feel like I don’t belong in the Swan family, I feel like an outcast due to how long it took for Bella and I to get along. Bella was about seven when I came into their life. As any seven-year-old would be she was jealous and scared that this meant her dad didn’t love her anymore. Though I do owe my life to Charlie, if it wasn’t for Charlie whom I now call dad I would most likely be dead in an alleyway by now.

I am two years younger than my adopted sister Bella, which makes me sixteen years old. She and I are learning to get along better as we grow up. I remember the first time she referred to me as her sister, it made my heart feel full, she was thirteen and I was eleven.  Bella and I are relatively cool, but oh my fuck I hate her boyfriend, Edward. He has caused my sister so much pain and so much heartache, plus he reads my mind without my permission. This leads us to where we are now, in a stolen car speeding down the roads in Italy heading to rescue her sparkling boytoy. The only reason I agreed to go is because Alice asked, and I have a hard time saying no to the pixie like girl. She’s one of my best friends.

“Bella, you need to go! He won’t see you coming.” Alice exclaims and lets her out to run the streets of Volterra.

Once we are parked in a parking garage Alice freezes eyes slightly glazed over. “Alice what do you see?” I asked, getting out of the car.

“y/n/n stay here in the car,” Alice pleads with me.

“Hell no! They have my older sister in a room full of less than friendly vampires! Alice, I love you to death, but I am not staying here with Bella in there.” I state looking Alice in her Golden eyes.

“I am not going to win this one am I.” Alice sighs out.

“Nope, not a chance sorry.” I say as we start to walk in the shadowed streets of Volterra towards the castle.

We look down over a ledge and see Bella and Edward talking to two men in grey cloaks. Alice takes my hand in her cold one, “stay behind me.” she quietly whispers to me and jumps dragging me with her.

“Now boys we wouldn’t want to cause a scene now, would we?” she asks purposely shielding me from view of the two men even though they could more than likely smell me, they know I am there.

Curious and tired of standing behind Alice I move very slowly so I am standing slightly to the left but still behind her.  I get a good look at the two men; one is short yet still taller than me with sandy blonde hair and striking red eyes. My gaze switches to the other man who is very very tall, at least 6ft 3, if not taller. He has broad shoulders, nice biceps, and a strong face with the same striking crimson eyes. My breath catches in my throat when his hard red gaze lands on me and I swear I see his eyes soften, “Wait! I told you to stay behind me!” Alice grabs me to gently push me behind her again. She freezes when the tall man growls at her.

‘Wow he’s hot for a vampire.’ I think in my head

“y/n No!” Edward scolds me like a child

“Dammit Edward, I told you to stay out of my Fucking head.” I yelled angrily at him.

“Language little Dove.” I hear a sultry voice say, it sends a slight shiver down my spine and relaxes me at the same fucking time.

“Sorry, but Seriously Edward, stay, out, of, my, head! You are not ruining this trip for me; I was pulled out of bed to rescue your stupid ass, the least you can do is let me have my thoughts in peace.” I sternly grit out.

“You didn’t have to come.” He spat out at me 

I walk towards Edward in anger, “Edward you know better than anyone else as to why I must be here, you are always reading my thoughts, I know you heard them that night and yet you didn’t say anything, I was hospitalized because you couldn’t use your gift for good. If you had told Bella what I was thinking about I could been helped but you only tell her my secrets when it is amusing to you. I am not allowed to be alone until my therapy is up.”

“Watch yourself.” he growls standing tall a bit in front of Bella.

“No, you watch yourself! Mr. I’m too good to stay with my sister, if you wouldn’t have left her like you did none of this would have happened.” I find myself walking closer to Edward until I feel arms go around my waist not allowing me to move further.

“at least Bella doesn’t find a heartless killer attractive.” he states

Shocked I let out a laugh and remove the arms from my waist, “Seriously, Y/n!” Bella exclaims

“Oh! Come on Bella! Get over yourself Edward isn’t a saint either. I know he’s killed people too” I state still in the arms of the strong man I don’t know.

“y/n, he kills innocent people.” She whines out like a child.

“And Edward hasn’t?” I question

“don’t talk about him like that.” I roll my eyes at Bella comment. I love my sister but she can be such a hypocrite at times.

Bella comes stepping towards me with fire burning in her eyes. Bella starts to raise her hand when I am pulled behind a strong body and her hand is grabbed. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  A rough voice states.

I see Bella become even paler as she walks back up to Edward. Before anymore commotion could happen, I see a young-looking girl walk towards us, “Demetri, Felix, Aro sent me to see what was taking you so long. “  She stops walking and glances over us, “I can see why, the Masters will be please with this, this way.”

In silence we follow the girl though I am stopped by a cold hand gingerly pulling me back and to face him.  “Are you alright, little dove.” the tall man asks bending down to my height to look me in my eyes.

“Yes, I am alright, thank you.” I feel my face get warm yet I maintain eye contact as I respond.

“Does he always treat you like that?”  he asks as we start to catch up with the others, my cheeks are flushed warm.

“Yeah, he’s a dickh-” “Language Little one.”  I am interrupted by the gaint man whose name I have yet to learn.

“I’m Sorry Giant.” I say shyly walking forward not looking at the man.

“Giant?!?” He questioned sounding a bit offended, maybe.

“Well, I don’t know your name, so Giant it is.” I smile at him softly

“I’m Felix Volturi, what is your name little Dove?” He finally introduces himself to me

“Nice to finally put a name to a face, I'm y/n swan, Bella's adopted sister.”

“A pretty name for a Pretty girl.” he says, and I blush so red, I'm probably redder than Felix’s eyes.

I notice that we are outside the throne room, and I start to get nervous, “Don’t be scared little Dove no one will harm you. He gently leads me into the throne room with his head on the small of my back in an oddly comforting way. I know that deep down I should feel frightened, but I feel very safe with the tall vampire who could kill me with only his pinky finger. We walk in and stop a little bit behind Alice and the blonde vampire.

“Felix how nice of you to finally join us, and you brought another human with you.”

“My apologies masters.” He marches forward leaving me behind Alice to give this other vampire his hand. After a few moments he starts to laugh, “magnifico.” he turns his red gaze towards me, “may I?” he asks as he slowly makes his way to me.

Frightened I look around the room for Felix, “little dove I promise it’s okay, no one is going to hurt you with me around.” Felix says as he gently rubs my back to soothe me.

With one last glance at Felix, I just nod and put my hand out for the vampire to take. “Aro reads thoughts y/n kind of like myself.” Edward states

‘Edward, I thought I told you to stay out of my head.’ I think and then I hear Aro giggle a bit at that thought. He turns to the tired looking vampire and the tired vampire just nods his head, “True mates they are.”

Bella seems to connect the dots faster than I do. “NO! I will NOT allow it,” Bella roughly grabs my wrist and pulls me behind her, I let out a wince of pain. I can see that this visibly upsets Felix, he marches towards Bella with eyes blazing red with anger.

“Keep your hands off of her and get away from her!” he growl out on his way towards her.

Before he can get to Bella, Edward maneuvers past me to push Bella behind him. This causes her to knock into me in the process and I fall to the hard ground, putting my hands out to catch myself before my face hits the hard ground with a groan. The short blonde vampire gently helps me back to my feet, “Are you okay little human?” He asks softly checking on me

“Thank you, I will be fine.” I say with a nod and turn back towards the commotion.

I can see Edward trying to take on the giant Vampire himself which is kind of pitiful to watch as I see Felix throw him around like it was nothing, “wow.” I whisper under my breath memorized.

“Y/n Y/M Swan!” Bella scolds me after they are done fighting, and Edward is back near her.

“What, it’s not my fault!” I exclaim, He’s hot I think in my head

“He kills people Y/N!” Bella tries to argue

“Oh, Come on Bella get over yourself! Edward is no saint either.” I shoot back, this makes Felix look at me with pride and Edward glares back at me.

“Cullen, you better relax your gaze when you look at her before I relax it for you.” Felix shoving a cloak into his arms roughly before making his way to me.

“Are you alright?” he asks me wiping some hair out of my face and placing it behind my ear.

“yeah, I am fine Felix, thank you.” I say blushing

“Demetri please escort them out.” Aro states going to sit back on his throne.

I start to walk towards the door behind my sister, “Not you y/n, we have a lot to discuss.” Aro states

Bella stops walking and turns, “I’m not leaving her alone, what needs to be said can be said here and now.”

“Y/n you are to stay here in Volterra with Felix.” Aro bluntly states

I feel my face get hot and my hands start to shake, my breathing quickens; I am going to have a panic attack. Felix can sense my accelerated heartbeat and brings me into a comforting hug. A gentle almost nonexistent humming rumbles in Felix chest starting calm me down.

“She can’t stay, she’s only 16.” Bella tries to reason with the old vampire king

Once I am calm enough, I turn in Felix’s arms looking up into his eyes, “Please allow me to return to Forks long enough for me to graduate, after my graduation I am more than willing to come back and stay with you no complaints.” I plead with the gentle giant.

“Do I have your word?” Aro questions

“Of course, I never break an oath.” I state sincerely

 Aro waits a moment “Very well, you may go back...but only until graduation, in two years Felix will be coming to bring you home.”

“Thank you I am so grateful.” I say with a serious tone.

“You may all leave at sundown until then you will be brought to a different room. Dinner will be here shortly.” The blonde king grumbles out.

I turn and look up at Felix, I wrap my hand under his arms as I am to short to reach his shoulders with my 5’4 frame. I squeeze him as tight as I can which doesn’t do much to him, after a second he gently places his arms around my waist, “When will I see you again?” I ask meekly resting my chin on his chest straining my neck a bit

“I will try my best to visit you when I can Little one but I am not certain.” He says and gently kisses my forehead with his cold lips, “Now go with Demetri.”

Demetri leads us to a different room, “Don’t leave here until sundown.” He states and turns to leave, smiling at me softly on his way out.

I am stuck in this room with Alice watching Bella and Edward being all lovey Dovey. After about an hour of the torture of watching the couple, the door opens and a person walks in, I don’t pay it any mind as I think it is just Demetri. I am very much pleasantly surprised when I hear the voice of the one and only Felix, “Little Dove, will you please come with me.”

Bella and Edward both perk up at this question, “No she isn’t leaving this room with you!” Bella exclaims

“Bella let her go, Felix won’t do anything to hurt her, in fact she is the safest with him than anyone else, vampire or otherwise, there is no one safer for her to be around.”  Alice comes to my aid by saying this.

Without another word from my sister or Edward I take Felix's outstretched hand and allow him to gently pick me up off the cold stone floor.  He doesn’t release his gentle grip on my hand once I am standing. He keeps my hand in his as he leads me through the castle. We stop as he opens a new door, “Lady’s first.”

I walk into what seemly is a bedroom, I can feel my nerves slightly rise when he shuts the door behind him. “Hey, it’s okay, relax cara mia it’s okay. I figured that you would want to talk somewhere more private.” He says while sitting at a table by a huge bookshelf. Amazed, I walk over to the bookshelf and gently run my fingers along the leather spines of the books as I walk past them in fascination. Most of these are first editions kept in pristine condition, these books are very much loved.

I stop when I hear his voice, “Do you like read?”

I turn my attention to him, back now to the bookshelf and I answer, “Very much so,” I pause, “Have you read all these?”

“Yes, I have actually, you have a lot of extra time on your hands when your immortal.” he jokes, “so tell me, what’s your favorite genre of book.”

I kind of giggle out of embarrassment, “As ironic as it sounds, I really enjoy fantasy.”

Felix nods his head and makes his way over to the shelf directly in front of me. He gently places one hand on my hip and with the other he reaches to the top of the bookshelf with minimal effort. He pulls a small but thick leather book from above my head.

When he brings the book down to my height his cold hand releases my hip to present the book to me, “Here little Dove, this one is called The Bloody Chamber, it was published in 1979 and it is a collection of short stories.”

I gently run my fingers over the leather cover with gold writing across it. “Felix, this is a first edition, I can’t take this back to Forks with me.”  I make eye contact with his memorizing red ones, which I noticed are brighter now that he has fed.

“yes, you can, I trust you to take care of it.” He states like it was the most obvious thing ever.

With a smile I pull him in for a hug “Thank you Fe! I’ll take really good care of it.”

“I know you will.”

“Fe?” I question

“Yes Dove?” he replies looking down at me

“How tall are you?” I question

“I’m 6 foot 7.” he replies with amusement

“How is that even possible.”

“I was a gladiator before I was turned by Aro.”

“Really? That is so cool!” I pause before questioning. "Will you help me with my history test next year.”

“Of course, once I figure out contact information that is.” Felix states

My smile dropped slightly, my phone... I left it back in forks, “I left my phone in forks, and I don’t know my new phone number yet.”

“you’re okay, I need to get myself a phone anyway, until then how about I write to you.”

“I would really like that a lot Felix.” I look and see that the sun is starting to set over the horizon.

“I should probably get you back to your sister before she thinks I ran away with you.” he jokes and leads me back to the room we were waiting in.

I giggle as we head towards the small room, “Yeah that’s probably for the best unfortunately.”

“Don’t you worry Dove soon I won’t have to give you back.” He smiles out.

“I really hate goodbyes, so I’ll see you later Felix.” I say feeling my tear ducts start to swell with tears as I already feel such a strong pull to him.

“See you later Dove, Stay out of trouble for me okay.” He says handing me the book from earlier.

“I promise, stay safe please.” I say grabbing the book with our hands accidentally touching.

Before I go, I stand on my tippy toes and place my hands on his shoulders to help steady myself; he places his hands on my hips to steady me further. I gently kiss him on the cheek as a goodbye gesture. I make my way over to alice with a small smile. As I walk away arm and arm with Alice, I see his eyes widen slightly in shock.

Alice and I let Bella and Edward go in front of us, “So did he follow through with kissing you?” she asks teasingly

“What no, we just talked and he gave me a book. It was really sweet” I smile sweetly

“You like him already, don’t you?” she asks

“I’m pretty sure I might, I do feel safe with him.” I state

“You and him are going to be really happy, I’ve seen it. You both are going to bring out the good in each other.” she finishes her statement fondly. “It was honestly what I was wishing for Edward and Bella too but it’s not looking very good.”

When Bella and I finally make it home we face the wrath of Charlie Swan. It was more so pointed at Bella than myself. This is because she left me no choice, I had to go. Bella had to be home by 4 pm every day, I however got to stay out until 5pm. Our punishment is going to be in effect until the end of the school year. I run up to my room after we are done with Charlie’s lecture, and I sit on my queen size bed. I gently opened the book that Felix had given me. I let my eyes scan the words on the pages only carefully turning them with the softest touch to not transfer too much of my skin's oils back on to the original parchment.  

I read the first short story before putting my bookmark into the book and gently placing it on the bookshelf where it will remain safe. I crawl into bed and place my head on the pillow as I start to drift off into a deep sleep thinking of Felix. I hope I get a letter from him soon.

taglist:

@small-town-wayward-daughter @venusdelaroix @trashy-panda777 @kezibear143 @smithmallory13 @im-as-mad-as-a-wax-bananna @sunsetswurve @believinghurts

@xcastawayherosx @iloveslasher @yikeskatz

@melinsk1 @ssa--holmes @artaxerxesthegreat @jenfox25 @lacychick @smileykiddie08 @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx

[agirllovespancakes]

Hiiiiii

Wanted to request Demetri x hybrid mate? Maybe something dirty? :) if not, something wholesome is completely fine ^^ whatever you’re comfortable with

Warm touch

A/N: Dear anon… I went a little unhinged with the word “dirty” today ❤️ I hope you love it!

Summary: you want to have sex for the first time with Demetri and cannot hold back your excitement 🫶🏻

Words: 3.2K / Warnings: smut, fluff, lots of banters

You were one of Aro’s experiments. 

A guard born out of two guards. There were a few born like you before, most did not survive. Growing up, you were secluded from all guards. You grew up with the queens as your mothers and the kings as your fathers. 

Now Aro did not truly care for your since it was obvious you were a hybrid without gifts as well. It was due to his wife, queen Sulpicia, that you stayed alive and got to grow up comfortably. She took a liking to you. 

Queen Sulpicia introduced you to the high guards at a young age. You liked them a lot, especially Alec and Jane were so curious about you. However, when you met Demetri you knew he would be your favorite. King Marcus had stolen a glance that day, unable to hide a smile. Yet you were not allowed to see Demetri again until you were much older. 

He was now your mate. 

The first day you finally met him again he couldn’t stop staring. 

You giggled nervously, unsure how to respond. He had grabbed your hand, kissed the back of it and asked how you liked your freedom now. Demetri then had promised you to take you outside: showing you Volterra, then the outskirts of this town and the hills surrounding it. Eventually, as a date several weeks later, he took you to see his home country: Greece. Demetri took you everywhere, showing you the places you saw in the books the queens taught you to read. And as if they knew he would so, they taught you his old language, his country’s history, his culture. 

You had nothing of your own. Therefore he wanted you to shape your own view of everything there was in the world. 

More dates came. Travel dates, library dates, garden dates, astronomy dates, feeding dates. 

The one thing you had not done yet was…sex. 

You knew he was a casanova. A gentleman of course, but still a casanova. You heard of his history with some of the guards. Tales of what he could and would do. Stories that were still famous centuries later. You knew he did not go so fast with you because one: you were the daughter of the queens, and two: you were mates. 

But you grew curious. 

He was currently reading a book. You squinted your eyes at him. A little nervous about what you wanted to do next. 

“Something wrong?” He asked without looking up. 

“No,” you giggled. 

He looked at you, raising his brows, “your heartbeat is quickening, love.” 

“Right,” you took a deep breath. “I want to fuck you.” 

Demetri put down his book, grabbing your hand. He caressed your hand tenderly, holding it with both his hands. 

“We should take it a step further, Demetri. We have known each other for months now.” You looked at how he held your hand. He started kissing it.

“You are very warm to touch.” 

You shuddered, looking at the way he kissed your hand. His lips were cold on your skin.

“I wonder what it’s like to…” he smirked as he looked down at your body. 

“I want to fuck you,” you whispered. 

“I know but let’s take our time. I am a gentleman, aren’t I?” 

Demetri winked when you gulped. 

He peppered kisses up your arm until he reached the shirt you wore. He then moved to your cheek, smirking when you gasped. You had shared a few kisses before. First kisses where you held each other for the first times. 

Some of them were emotionally loaded. For example the day you saw his home country for the first time. Greece. The first kiss was during a sunrise, when you sat on a roof together. 

“Your heart just skipped a beat,” he kissed your cheek again. 

You pushed him away, quickly climbing into his lap before he could react. 

“I am sure if your heart could still beat, it would skip a beat now too,” you giggled. You placed your hands on his chest. The fabric of his hoodie soft against your hands. 

Demetri smiled, “I am sure it would. You are beautiful, my love.” 

Oh. 

He grinned, “another skip.” 

“Shut up,” you grew flustered. “I want to fuck you.” 

He placed his hands on your hips, tilting his head upwards to reach for your lips. You leant down to meet his lips. Fervently kissing each other until you grew impatient, you started grinding on his lap. 

The growl he let out motivated you to grind harder. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked him between the kisses. You wanted to fuck him badly. Try it with him. You lowered your hand to reach for his skin underneath his hoodie. 

Demetri grabbed your hand, stopping you, “you kill me, love.” 

“Let me touch you there,” you whined. 

“How long have you wanted to ask me?” 

You licked your lips, looking down at him. You grinded a little over his hardened cock, you could feel it harden underneath you. His pale face was beautiful, the spikes wild because of your hand that went through it, his eyes that were pitch black now. You had wanted him for so long.

Demetri’s smile increased as you sighed at the question. He was so incredibly charming, it was unfair. 

You told him the truth before. You wanted to see him all those years that you had to wait on mother Athenodora’s orders. But this? The curiosity started when you were finally of age and allowed to roam the fortress. You heard guards having sex and asked father Caius on what it entailed. He was rather embarrassed that day. 

You had wanted to do it in Greece when he took you there the second time. Ask him there when you explored the cities for a second time. But you were too nervous and wanted to do it at home. 

“Since Athens,” you confessed. “I want to take my shirt off.” 

“Athens? You waited for a month?” He moaned when you grinded over his cock again. “Darling, that is a whole month.” 

Demetri watched as he waited for you to take off your shirt. You were a bit clumsy, too excited to finally start. You giggled when he growled at the sight. 

“I was waiting for the right moment,” you bit your lip. “I can take my bra off too?” 

“So much patience with asking and now you are in a rush,” he teased. “Go ahead.” 

Demetri’s hands gripped your hips as you rushed to take off your bra as well. Throwing them away you took a deep breath as you looked at him. His eyes wideblown, he leant forward to kiss the valley between your breasts. 

“Demetri,’ you gasped when he peppered more kisses there, shoving his head in between your breasts. His hands started to slide upwards, thumbs pressing into your skin. 

You grinded again, earning low moans from him. 

He cupped your breasts and squeezed them, “warm tits.” 

“Benefit of having a mate that is not fully vampire,” you giggled.

Demetri smirked, “yeah, sturdy and warm.” 

Oh, you were certain he has had thoughts about the first time. You could sense it. You both were eager for this. “Demetri, take off your clothes too.” 

He looked up, “you first.” 

You giggled again, nervosity increasing. You stepped off his lap and unbuckled your pants. Demetri sat up, slowly taking off his hoodie as well while he watched you get fully naked. 

He got up, now shirtless. You gasped when he kissed your cheek and slapped your ass, “bed, now. I want to taste you.” 

You squirmed, flustered from his words as you both moved to his bedroom. You had slept there a few times last months, still needing to sleep every night. 

As you sat in the bed you watched Demetri take off his pants as well. His hardened cock sprang free. You gulped at the size. 

“If you think that is big you should see Felix,” he teased. ‘Open your legs, love,” he instructed as he climbed onto the bed. 

“What are we gonna do first?” 

He laid down between your legs, his head near your abdomen. His smile increased and it made you melt, “how about I taste you first, make you cum? Then I come inside you?” 

“Oh.” 

“Need to make my girl feel good on her first time.” 

“What will you do?” 

He looked perplexed, “have they not explained?” 

You grew embarrassed, “I got a few answers. You will be inside me and it will feel good. We cannot have babies like humans?”

“That is short,” he snickered. “Yeah, probably. I will lick you, eat you out until you feel an orgasm.” 

“Does that feel good?” You gulped, cheeks growing hot. You heard some women from the guard scream at times when they were together with their male counterparts. You never experienced it. Which made sense considering your short existence. 

Demetri smirked, “I will make it feel good.” 

You bit your lip, trusting him as you rested your head on one of his pillows. With your legs spread and Demetri between them, you could feel his hair tickle your thighs. He put his left arm around your leg, resting his hand on your abdomen. You couldn’t see what he was doing with his right hand but- 

“Oh,” you gasped. He was suddenly spreading your folds with his fingers. The fingertips cold on your skin. 

“So wet already,” he murmured, kissing your clit. 

A tingle in your abdomen spread, making you feel warm. You grew excited, nervous, and let out a gasp when he started licking you. Demetri gripped your abdomen, locking you down as he ate you out. Due to your hybrid nature you knew he was far stronger than you. You were just more resilient, sturdier than a human. 

“Demetri,” you cried out. He kept your folds spread with his fingers, sucking and licking at your clit for such a long time that you felt like you were reaching afterlife. 

You could hear him reply but your ears did not register the words. You whimpered as the tingles in your abdomen increased. The warm sensation spread and increased the pleasure. You gripped his hair between your fingers as it reached a peak and suddenly the sensation was too much. Overstimulating you. 

“Demetri,” you screamed as you came on his tongue. He kept licking you, sliding his fingers through your folds to rub them. 

He let go of your abdomen so you could raise your legs. 

“Did I keep my promise?” He kissed your clit as he looked up. His jaw was wet with your come. 

You panted, “yeah, that was-.” You sighed, out of breath, “are we having sex now?” 

Demetri chuckled, coming up to kiss you on your lips. You tasted your own come on his lips, sweet and salty at the same time. You gasped when he grabbed your knees, pushing them against your chest. 

“I need to prepare you for my cock, darling. May I?”

“Oh,” you grew hot again. “Does that hurt?” 

“Not if I use my fingers well,” he winked. “Hold your knees.” 

You did as he said. This position felt more vulnerable. You knew you were more visible to him with your bare cunt out like that but what did it matter? He just ate you out and you felt safe and good. You wanted this. 

You let out whines when he rubbed your clit again. The touch was overstimulating already. 

Then he gently pushed a finger inside you. You had done this once before with yourself, curious as to how it felt to push a finger inside you. But you were far wetter now and it was Demetri’s fingers that went in. They were so cold inside you. You felt like fire and ice were touching. He curled his finger and touched that spot that made that tingle reappear. 

“Dem,” you mewled. 

He cooed at you, “take it, you are tight.” 

He moved the finger around for a bit before he added a second. Scissoring them inside you, making you moan at the sensation. You felt like they slid in so easily but your walls tightened around them. 

“No,” you cried again when he started to rub your clit once more.

“No?” 

You shook your head, “no, keep going. Ignore me.” 

He pinched your clit, “I am not ignoring you. If you say no, I ask. Say it if you want to stop. Is that clear?” 

He slapped your clit gently when you didn’t reply quickly. 

You whined, nodding as you lifted your legs, “yes, Demetri.” 

“Good girl,” he smiled. He rubbed your clit again with his left hand as he scissored his fingers inside you. 

You whimpered at the stretch and the stimulation. The tingles in your abdomen increased again. Faster even when he added a third finger. How many was he gonna add until he thought it was good enough for his cock? Demetri touched that spot inside you with all three of them, gently trusting them in and out of you as he rubbed your clit faster. You looked up at his face, noticing his focused expression. His cock was very hard, leaking pre-cum as he tended to your needs first. 

The second orgasm was almost unbearable. You kept your arms around the back of your knees as you came on his hands again. The sound of his fingers going in and out of you slopping wet. 

You gasped for air as you calmed down from your orgasm. Demetri took his fingers out, starting to stroke his cock. 

“Now you are ready,” he grinned. He grabbed your thighs, rubbing his cock through your folds. 

“What do I do?” You moaned at the new sensation, looking down at how he touched you.

“Nothing, darling. Just take my cock.” 

You gasped at the intrusion. He slowly thrusted the tip of his cock in, now inching inside slowly. It was not much of a stretch due to his fingers. You were gasping at how deep he eventually got. Just until his hips touched your ass cheeks. Skin to skin.

“Dem,” you mewled again. 

He started to thrust faster. Hitting that spot all over again but with the tip of his cock. You had imagined how sex felt but the reality was far better than you expected. 

Demetri leant forward until his forehead touched yours. His cold body on top of yours, he put his hands on the sheets next to your head. You put your hands around his neck, tugging at his hair. 

Slowing down his thrusts he started grinding against your hips. You grinded back, hoping you were doing something right. 

“Feel good?” He kissed you. 

“I do,” you whimpered. “Do you?” 

Demetri laughed, “I am about to come.” 

“Please, come inside me.” 

He kissed you again, you kissed him back. More kisses came. You giggled when he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your chin, every spot on your face. 

Then you yawned. 

“Tired?” he chuckled. 

You had not realised yet that this activity was very much energy consuming. You put your legs around his torso, digging your heels into his ass. “Don’t stop. I can handle it.” 

Demetri moaned, “wasn’t planning to.” 

You let out a yelp when he bit your neck suddenly. Pushing him closer against you, you let him nibble on your neck while he still thrusted inside you. Sometimes you were jealous of how much energy the full vampires had. Demetri could go on all day and night, never needing rest from anything. You weren’t even participating fully during your first time and it was already tiring you out. 

He started to thrust harder again. The slaps of his hips against yours sounding louder. You clamped down on his cock as he hit that spot repeatedly. 

“Oh.”

You clamped down harder when he came inside you. His cum was very cold. Almost colder than his body against yours or his cock inside you. You gasped, holding onto him as he thrusted his seed deeper inside you. 

“Few more,” he growled. “Feels so good.” 

You whimpered when he bit your neck again. He nuzzled into your neck, grinding his hips against yours as he came down from his orgasm. 

Then you both grew silent. Demetri sighed, rubbing his head against your neck. You tugged at his hairs, shifting underneath him. 

“Are we done?” 

Demetri chuckled, “aren’t you tired?” He nipped at your skin, earning a hiss from you. 

“I am tired but I feel like we can try more.” 

“They were right. You are sturdier than a human.” 

“You can do with me as you wish.” 

“Don’t tease me,” he growled. “I am a gentleman. This is your first time.” 

You giggled, “so, what is the non gentleman side of you like?” 

Demetri raised his hand to curl it around your throat, he squeezed it a little bit as he looked you into the eyes. Causing you to gulp. 

“Perhaps a little rough,” he smirked. 

You grew flustered again, “I want it.” 

“Hmm,” he squeezed your throat again. “I once fucked a human like that. They did not survive it.” 

“I am not human,” you whispered. “I am a hybrid. I can handle it.” 

“I am sure you can,” Demetri kissed your cheek. “But you will sleep for a long time. Perhaps even be unable to walk for a while afterwards.” 

“I want it,” you squealed. 

“This is your first time with me. Shouldn’t we wait? Get you used to it?” 

“Okay, let’s do a compromise. Tomorrow? After I have rested?” You reached for his lips, kissing him. 

You felt so excited you knew you would have a hard time falling asleep. The sex felt so good. You could still feel his cock inside you. Hard while his cold seed was deeper inside you. You felt amazing, good and happy. 

“Please?” 

He kissed you back, “okay, but you rest first. And we take it slow.” 

“Yes, yes,” you kissed him again, cupping his cheeks to deepen the kiss. “I want to experience it all. Can I take your cock in my mouth too? Like you ate me?” 

Demetri’s smile increased, laughing, “yes, of course you can.” 

“Does that feel good?” You wrapped your legs closer around him, feeling so excited. 

He let you kiss his cheeks, “yeah, if I teach you right it will feel very good for me.” 

“We can do everything you experienced.” 

“You need to sleep first, darling. You just yawned again. I can see you are tired.” 

You were protesting when he pulled out. You felt empty without him inside you. But Demetri pulled you close against him, pulling a blanket over you. You rested your head on his chest with your legs splayed over him. 

“I love you, Demetri. Thank you for tonight.” 

“I love you too, darling. Sleep.” 

You heard him chuckling when you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. 

[ktownshizzle]

Smoke & Mirrors, part two | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: angsty introspections, smut, fluff (kinda), more arirang song references, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, edging!, implied nipple stimulation leading to orgasm, exhibitionist kink (if you squint), mc being dense af, yoongi being dense af, miscommunication or lack of?, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Madrid OH Madrid ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 7k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie ✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie ✎ ˎˊ˗ Banner by @risky-peaches ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Since you really wanted it...💜 I had to split up the original chapter bec it was getting to 14k it didn't want to end. But the good news is the next chapter is about 80% done atp. Please let me know what you think and enjoy. Taglist to follow because I need to clock in for work in a few minutes. And sorry in advance if I don't get to tag everybody, but I will try! <3

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You don’t really do casual. Or fuck buddies. Or situationships.

There’s a first time for everything.

Because this is where you currently stand with one Min Yoongi.

Your last real relationship was four years ago. After that, it’s just been a string of dates that never really turned into anything.

The plan was simple: focus on yourself, your career, travel the world.

This was not in the plan.

At least your career is thriving. And you are traveling the world. And maybe that’s how you justify it.

Because somehow, you start to understand why Tiff and Bina and Angel agreed to something like this with the other boys. The work is stressful, the hours are insane, and this arrangement takes the edge off in a way nothing else really does. There’s something about being in the same place at the same time a little too often that makes whatever this is with Yoongi… convenient. Easy.

That’s why it works. Theoretically.

You’re focusing on yourself. Your well-being. And if that well-being happens to come in the form of a chemical-induced haze on the regular—dopamine, not drugs—then so be it.

There’s an easy, unspoken rhythm to it now. Between rehearsals, Yoongi glances at you from across the room. A tilt of his head. You follow. In the evening, a text from him. Midnight. Sometimes as late as 2 or 3 a.m. when he’s still buzzing from adrenaline or when he can’t quite figure a track out. You’re out the door and into his lap.

It’s always him. You don’t really initiate. You don’t have to. Not when he seeks you out first and gives it to you all night.

⊙⊝⊜

Yoongi is a generous lover. This to say, he is a munch. 

Now you get why he sings about giving good head every chance he gets. That tongue technology. Feeling the high waves coming. That salt in his tongue. Yeah, that’s your salt on his tongue.

Yoongi knows what to do to make your toes curl. How to pull pleasure out of you like no lover has before. Maybe it’s because of the secrecy, the risk. It heightens everything. Mostly you know it’s him. He’s clocked the hours to up his dick game. There are times you’re bothered by it. There are times you don’t care.

He’s mapped the places in your body that fall apart with his touch. Makes sure he does it again. And again. That’s what keeps you coming back for more.

The part that always gets you though is that brief moment of clarity after the act. The way he pulls you in after like it’s the right thing to do. You know it’s bare minimum. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

But for that stretch of time, danger looms. When your brain conjures a different version of you and him. A version where you’re allowed to ask questions like why he cut his hair. Why he doesn’t eat more. How his cat is doing. Why he keeps pressing on his shoulder like that-Is his past injury bothering him again? Is he gonna do another marathon?

You swallow all of it down. Because those aren’t your questions to ask. They belong to the people Yoongi loves. Jimin, for one. Not you.

Despite the many things you want to say in between the moment you come and the moment you go, you stop yourself because that’s not your role in his life. 

Whatever this is has rules. Unspoken, but clear. You’re a big girl. You’ve come to terms with the fact that this doesn’t extend beyond closed doors and dim lights. That this is temporary. A placeholder until he finds something real and true and worth risking his idol life for.

So you draw your own lines for your own good.

You don’t stay the night. Not once. You leave before things can settle into something softer, something harder to walk away from in the morning.

You don’t let him clean you up, either. Never. The first time he brings you a washcloth, you take it from his hand with a muttered I got it, like it’s nothing. Like you don’t want the care. Like you don’t need it.

Every now and then, a casual baby slips from his lips because he must know exactly how much it gets to you. You’re not his baby, you know that, so you never call him anything sweet. It should be enough for him that the world calls him SUGA.

And kissing. None of that. Let him take, let him unravel you however he wants. Just not your kryptonite.

The rules keep you grounded. You hold the line firmly where you can, even if sometimes things feel like they are starting to blur.

Yet, there are moments when they do blur in your favor.

When he’s with you, breath uneven, composure slipping in ways not many get to see. When his hands tighten their grip on your hair as he struggles to stay grounded. When his eyes—usually so guarded, so distant—roll to the back of his head as you give him bliss. When he calls you that one word in a voice so strangled and desperate, and punctuates it with please as you have his warm and heavy cock wrapped tightly around your fingers and he chants your name and curses over and over before white blooms across your skin.

That’s the power you have. It does something crazy to you. Because for all the secrecy, all the restraint, all the careful distance you keep, you know this much is yours. 

This version of him that comes undone in your hands. Pretty. Putty. It’s enough for now.

[Busan, SK, June 2026]

“Ughhh…”

You’re backstage, in one of the new costumes created for Festa, and this frickin’ zipper won’t—

“Hold still.”

You know the voice, and you don’t even argue. Yoongi steps behind you, tugging the zipper up in one smooth motion, the back of his hand brushing your spine in the process.

“You could’ve cut your skin,” he lightly scolds you with an eyebrow raise.

“Thanks,” you say, not meeting his eyes, ignoring the thump in your chest.

Down the hallway you hear a gaggle of noise and spot some of the dancers congregating by the catering table. You should probably join them and get something to eat, too. Though you’re feeling kinda…

“Nervous?” Yoongi asks.

“What?”

“You seem stressed.”

You don’t even realize you were showing it. “…maybe a little.”

Yoongi nods once like he’s satisfied that he read your mood. “Why?”

“Uh, my family is watching today.”

“Really?” His eyes widen. “Did you ask to seat them in the suites?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. They should be okay in the 300s.”

Yoongi plucks his phone from his back pocket and starts tapping away. You don’t even know if he heard you or anything, but suddenly he’s furiously texting someone, fingers flying across the screen.

Since he seems distracted, you decide to bounce.

“I’m gonna go.” You jerk a thumb behind you. “I have to meet with Seung Eun to orient some of the… anyway, bye.”

Yoongi lifts his head and nods absently, before going back to whatever has him occupied.

⊙⊝⊜

Your phone rings and your sister’s goofy smile fills your screen. You swipe to answer it immediately. “Hey…”

“Unnie!!” There’s an unmistakable tone of delight in her voice. “Yo, the seats were amazing! Thank you for the upgrade!”

You pause mid-step, phone pressed to your ear. “…upgrade?”

“We got moved to the sky suite,” your sister gushes. “There was a buffet and everything. It was so cool!”

You stop walking entirely now, trying to piece it together. “Huh.”

Your sister is none the wiser about your confusion, still gushing about her experience. “We even met V, J-Hope, and RM!” She continues, sounding a little breathless. “Eomma introduced herself to RM. She thanked him for helping with her surgery. He was so nice, unnie. And so hot.”

Ah. That tracks.

Namjoon.

Of course it was him. Now you’re not surprised because you might have mentioned this to him one time. Honestly, you can’t remember. But he’s a generous soul. Does thoughtful things and he never expects anything back. Who else would have done this for you anyway.

“That’s great,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll thank him later.”

“I couldn’t really find you though,” your sister adds sheepishly. “All the dancers looked the same.”

You laugh. “That’s kind of the point.”

“You should come home when you can, okay?”

“How are things with eomma and appa?”

“They still haven’t killed each other.” She chuckles wryly and something pricks at your chest. 

“Were they at least happy today?”

“So happy,” she assures. “I’m proud of you, unnie. We are all proud of you.”

Your heart feels like it expanded two sizes. “...Thank you.”

“Come visit when you get back from tour, okay?”

“Yeah… I should be able to after US. We’ll have a short break.”

“Okay. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

You say your goodbyes as you reach Yoongi’s door, still feeling a little frayed around the edges. It seems to be the case anytime you speak to your younger sister these days, who is literally the best person in your life. You wish you could tell her your worries, but she already has enough to deal with at home.

You sigh deeply, trying to reset yourself before you lift your wrist to knock.

Yoongi has asked you to come over that night and there wasn’t really any reason for you to say no. You still had some surplus energy you wouldn’t mind burning off. And it should take your mind off things. 

He tells you he just wrapped up a Weverse live with the members and you suspect his body is still high from all of the adrenaline and excitement from today.

One thing about Yoongi is that he always knows exactly where to put all that restless energy.

By the time he’s done with you, your thoughts have gone blissfully quiet, your body boneless beside his.

The room is quiet except for the steady rhythm of your breathing, bodies still warm, the sheets a mess around you.

You’re staring up at the ceiling when he speaks. “Did your family enjoy the show?”

You turn to him, brightening instantly. “Yeah. They loved it. I was on the phone with my sister on the way up.”

Yoongi smiles, soft and pretty in the afterglow. “Your dad must’ve liked the unlimited beer in the sky suite.”

You grin. “I think he did. They really appreciated being there.”

“You’re wel–”

It clicks then. “Oh shit.” You sit up suddenly, clutching the sheet to your chest. “I forgot to text Joon.”

“Namjoon-ah?”

“Yeah,” you say, already reaching for your phone. “To thank him for doing that for my family. That was really thoughtful of him.”

You don’t look at Yoongi.

You don’t see the way his expression stills. Flattens.

He watches you for a second longer, something stormy settling behind his eyes. Then he sits up, reaching for the shirt draped over the chair.

“I need to sleep.” He says as his head pokes through the tee.

You glance up from your phone, blinking as realization hits. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” You take it as your cue, slipping out of bed without question.

This isn’t new. This is how it usually goes.

“Sorry,” you mumble, already gathering your clothes. “I’ll get gone.”

He shrugs lightly. “It’s fine.”

You don’t think anything of it. He doesn’t really kick you out per se. But you guess in the few times you’ve done this, he’s figured out you never stay so he doesn’t expect you to.

You dress quickly and head out the door mumbling a goodbye. He doesn’t say anything back.

⊙⊝⊜

You’re walking down the hallway when Namjoon’s reply comes through.

You smile, opening the message.

Namjoon: Your family was so nice. I’m glad to finally meet your eomma. She looks healthy. Namjoon: Wasn’t me though. You should have told me they were coming and I would’ve arranged for it.

You read the last bit again. Confused.

Wait, so if it wasn’t him…

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime.

You step inside slowly, thumb hovering over your screen uselessly.

Before it closes, your eyes lift to the door at the end of the corridor, thinking of the man behind it.

Oh.

Your stomach drops.

Could it be…?

You type before you can overthink it.

You: Was it you?

No reply comes.

⊙⊝⊜

Until a week after, where a u free tonight? graces your thread and you’re up and out the door in a green hoodie you copped from the Goyang tour kick-off. It seems like ages ago now, you think, as you pull some loose threads on the sleeve, but it’s really the comfiest thing ever.

You’re back in Seoul now. There’s two weeks of rest and rehearsals before flying out again. Seoul feels strangely still compared to months of constant movement, but it’s nice to come back to this pace after being crazy-busy.

This is the first time Yoongi has messaged you outside the tour bubble, and the fact that he wants to meet at his actual house sends a strange little thrill through your chest.

The lobby of his high-rise is massive, luxurious, infinitely more intimidating than your condo complex. You half expect security to arrest you, but the moment you say your name at the desk, the concierge nods immediately and sends you up without a problem. Still, maybe you should have dressed up a bit? Ah, it’s useless thinking about that now. Yoongi probably just has a random tee and his favorite sweats on anyway.

When you get to his room at the penthouse level, you press the doorbell on the digital screen. The door swings open not five seconds later.

See, Min Yoongi is a menace.

A white ribbed tank clings tightly to his toned chest, biceps completely exposed, the slim-cut brown trousers tapering perfectly against his narrow waist. He smells so good, too. Soapy and musky from having just showered, hair combed back showing his fresh new undercut.

Damn. Okay.

Yoongi chose violence tonight.

“Hi,” you say stupidly, suddenly hyperaware that this is the first time you’ve seen him outside of HYBE, arenas, and hotel hallways. 

(Except Hannam. But you don’t talk about that.)

Yoongi leans against the frame barefoot. “Hi,” he echoes, quieter, stepping aside to let you in.

His apartment is exactly what you imagined and somehow not at all.

Minimal. Clean lines. Classy. Smells nice. Huge windows wrapping around the open plan layout of his spacious living room, connecting to the kitchen towards the farther side of the room.

“Wow,” you mumble, toeing your shoes off near the entrance. “This is where you live…”

Yoongi snorts softly behind you. “Shut up.”

“Wae? I haven’t even said anything!”

A tiny smile pulls at his mouth as he watches you slowly wander further inside, your fingertips brushing lightly over the back of the couch as you take everything in.

You stop near one of the framed photos on the shelf. “You decorated this yourself?”

“Mm. Mostly.”

You glance around once more, genuinely impressed. “It feels very…”

“Go ahead,” he sighs. “Make fun of me.”

“No, I was gonna say warm.” You look around once more before teasing lightly, “Like a rich man in a K-drama lives here.”

“The lead or the second lead?”

The question catches you off-guard, but makes you grin. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

“They’re not usually both rich, you know.”

“But what if they both are?” He shrugs, still waiting for the answer. “So?”

“Lemme think.” You consider it, making a show of surveying the space like you’re a reality show judge. “The Pinterest touches. I dunno ‘bout those…”

“What do you mean?”

“Yankee candle in Fresh Laundry. Bottle of Rose on the counter with two wine glasses.” You point accusingly. “Succulents.”

The place kinda looks a bit showroom-y, like he got the model unit from the realtor. But there are obvious traces of him everywhere. A pair of ear buds lying on the coffee table outside of its case, shelves of vinyls from many years of collecting, a Spotify plaque for D-day hanging on a wall beside some other accolades, a cat scratching post on the corner.

The one thing making this place feel the most like a K-drama set though is the man standing in front of you right now. In that fit. So fucking handsome. Looking at you with those stupidly hopeful eyes like your opinion of his apartment matters way more than it should.

Hands twitching faintly at his sides, Yoongi seems to be combusting for praise tonight, so you give it to him. It’s the truth anyways.

“Lead guy.”

His mouth twitches. “There it is.”

You smile softly as you watch him pour the wine. The sweet tang of the rosé glides across your tongue, cool and refreshing down your throat while Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter, watching you over the rim of his own glass with far too much satisfaction.

Like he’s pleased you like it here. Like he’s pleased you’re here.

“C’mere,” he mutters eventually, nodding toward the living room.

You follow him deeper into the apartment, eyes trailing after the broad line of his shoulders as he strolls toward the massive couch like he doesn’t realize how unfair he looks in soft pants and that stupid tank top.

He gestures casually toward the sofa. “Sit befo—”

Before he can even finish the sentence, your hands are on him.

“You have no idea how hot this is,” you inform him seriously, shoving lightly at his chest.

“Yah—”

He drops onto the couch with a startled laugh, and you immediately climb into his lap, your knees sinking into the plush cushions on either side of his thighs. His palms slide instinctively up your bare legs, settling at your waist before dipping lower, squeezing at your ass like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you most.

“Why are you wearing this?” you accuse, tugging lightly at the neckline of his tank.

“Why are you wearing that?” he accuses back.

You blink innocently. “Wearing what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely toward your mouth, already looking annoyed. “The lip thing.”

Oh. You smile slowly. “You like it?”

“Hate it,” he deadpans immediately.

Which means you’ve already won.

You drag your bottom lip between your teeth before licking over the stain deliberately, just enough for it to catch the light, glossy and wet.

“Mm,” you hum. “Tastes good, too.”

Yoongi’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His hands tighten slightly on your waist. “You know what.”

You tilt your head, pouting playfully now. “No, I don’t think I do.”

His gaze drops to your lips again like he can’t help it. Like he’s actively losing a battle with himself.

“Y/N,” he warns.

You lean closer on purpose, close enough for him to smell the sweet strawberry tint on your mouth. “What?”

He exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darkening in that way you’ve become very familiar with. “I need to fuckin’ do something with my mouth.”

“Is that your way of asking if you can kiss me?” You laugh softly, pleased with yourself, as you deliberately grind down against his length, just once. “You’re so romantic.”

A groan. A slap on your ass. Then a long, suffering sigh. “What if I say please?”

“Oh wow, big bad Agust D wants to say please?”

“Y/N.”

“You know you can’t kiss me, Yoongi.”

Another sigh. Deeper this time, just like the slow drag of your clothed cunt against the ridge of his cock.

His head tips back slightly against the couch like he’s asking the universe for patience while your smile grows impossibly smug.

“Fuuuuck,” he curses. “You’re evil.”

“Just suck on my tits. I don’t care.” 

His brow quirks. “You don't care?”

You shrug dismissively.

You don’t know it then, but he bookmarks that as a challenge. Not for tonight, though. He’s already so worked up. 

“Lie back,” he smacks your ass again and maneuvers you towards the couch cushions, already halfway peeling your shorts and panties off your legs.

“Show me your tits. Wanna see them while I eat you out.”

You comply, promptly pulling the zip of your hoodie down, showing you’re bare underneath. His eyes bug out temporarily before he shakes his head and drops his gaze between your legs.

He presses his lips to the soft inner flesh of your thigh, inching up to your core. He switches to the other leg, pressing butterfly kisses there to drive you insane.

Then, his tongue darts out to part your folds, gently, shallowly, wiggling it as if to make room.

Your hips arch off from the cushions, chasing his wet muscle immediately. But he holds you down, soft thighs locked against strong arms as he tsks a warning for you not to squirm too much.

He lifts his head and grits, in mock seriousness. “Can I have my meal in peace now?”

God, what the fuck is he saying? No matter, it got you clenching around nothing.

Yoongi lowers his chest further where you’re spread open for him. The warm air from his nose tickles your skin before letting his lips touch yours.

What he does next tracks, because he’s a little shit. 

Yoongi makes a show of making out with your puffy lips as if it was your mouth. You prop yourself on elbows to watch him do it, applying the faintest pressure before pulling it with a gentle suck. He licks and suckles noisily and you whine as his tongue snakes between your slit to flick against your clit. Just the first swipe almost breaks you. 

Yoongi doesn’t really talk much when he gets into a flowstate. Not before he props a pillow behind your head because he knows you love this show. 

“Watch…” he instructs, before your eager nod makes him smirk.

He keeps it soft, steady at first, his fat tongue sliding up and down your aching nub. He takes his time with this, just gives you maddeningly slow, torturous flicks at a glacial pace. The heat pools low on your belly, gradually increasing in intensity as he shakes his head against your mound, tongue zig-zagging against your clit. 

You run your fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp. He purrs when you do that and the vibration makes you shiver.

This is the view you retrieve from your mind palace on nights you’re alone. Yoongi’s dark hair and even darker eyes between your legs. 

Fuck. He’s so insanely good at this. He moves lower to lap at the trail of juices leaking from your hole. You moan helplessly when he fucks you shallowly with his tongue, the sharp tip breaching your entrance but just barely.

“God… Yoongi, what the fuck?”

As if he wants to drive you even more insane, he adds pressure to your clit with his thumb and you’re just moaning and panting haplessly now, mind going numb.

Just when you’re about to—

Of course, of fucking course, he pulls back. You tip your head back, chasing the breath that has left your lungs.

“Look at you, baby.” Yoongi admires how his spit and your juices make your pussy all shiny and pretty. Eyes full of stars, he breathes out, “this perfect fuckin’ cunt…”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, biting your lip as he continues to just ogle at you. “Stop teasing…”

“Okay, okay…” he chuckles, giving your clit one quick swipe.

Yoongi takes your hand on the back of his neck and swallows two fingers, wetting the pads. He bites it playfully before telling you to “play with your tits...”

You pluck at your right nipple, swirling his spit around it before pulling it taut and releasing it with a jiggle. You didn’t realize your eyes fluttered shut until you feel the moist heat of his mouth envelop your other nipple, sucking at it greedily to force your eyes open.

“You ready to come?” he mumbles against your chest, kissing the sweat off your sternum.

“Please…” you scratch the tufts of his hair behind his ear, earning you another deep groan as he nuzzles his cheek against the softness of your tits.

He trails gentle kisses down your body as he goes back to his previous position. And you gasp when he does the thing for you. The finishing move. It’s when he sucks your clit in between his soft, pink lips and the tip of his tongue circles it while inside the warmth of his mouth.

“I love it when you do that… shit…” 

His brows are furrowed while he hums against you, still suckling like he’s addicted, even moaning indulgently for you.

“Yoongi, please. Don’t stop…”

And just like that…

“Not yet.”

He smirks as he withdraws just enough to look you dead in the eye before stuffing two fingers right through your cunt without warning.

“Fuck!” you cry out, walls clamping tight at the intrusion.

God his fingers. They’re moving so fast and it feels impossible. You’re too close to hold back.

“Not yet,” he snarls, fingers moving rapidly in and out of your sopping hole now. “Not until I say so.”

Everything feels fucking lit. Your skin is burning up, electricity running up and down your veins.

But this is where he likes to play, because Yoongi enjoys edging you. Works you up, but forces you to control yourself as if it doesn’t take every ounce of willpower not to explode. He’s a fucking problem.

“Don’t act like you don’t like this,” he mutters, almost to himself, as he watches you tremble. “I know you do.”

You loathe to admit that you like that sadistic grin on his face when he knows you’re close, but even better, the tiny tilt of his brow when he finally tells you to let go.

Your fingers curl against his bicep, grounding yourself as you start to grind against his fingers. You meet his every thrust, the noisy squelches of your pussy filling the room. You’re writhing, desperate, mouth hanging open to take every ounce of pleasure seeping into your bones and dribbling down your thighs.

There’s something glinting in his eyes when he asks. “You let anyone else see you like this?”

You’re still hyperfocused on rocking against him.

“Answer me,” he says, adding a third finger now as he scissors your gummy walls open.

You roll your eyes, even as your pulse races. “You’re the only one stupid enough to deal with me.”

That seems to satisfy him.

“Good,” he smirks. “Come for me.”

Your brain seems to respond to his voice because suddenly you’re shuddering as your orgasm racks your body, spine bowing towards him, while he continues to piston his fingers inside, your cunt weeping violently in surrender.

His fingers slow, helping you ride out the wave. You sink back into the couch cushions, smiling a little dopey as you stare at the ceiling above.

“I’m not done with you…”

“I’m not done with you, either,” you reply, more breath than your actual voice, still heaving from your release.

He grins all big and cocky, licking your juices clean off his bony digits and you feel another twitch right in the spot where he just left.

You move to stand up, jelly legs still a little wobbly. He catches you by the ass, and you shove his cheeky face back, giggling.

An equal opportunity lover he maintains, but you suspect deep down he’s an ass man.

Yoongi licks his bottom lip while you shrug off the hoodie, eyes on him. He looks chuffed as hell as he palms his crotch, the stiff one underneath the thin material already making itself known.

“Pants off,” you say sweetly, sliding your hands from your sides to cup the underside of your breasts.

A sharp inhale mixes with the shuffle of pants and briefs as it joins your hoodie in a messy puddle.

Yoongi is big. You already know he packs a wallop, but it still surprises you every damn time.

He tugs at the velvety shaft languidly, a tiny bead of white pooling at the tip.

You bite your lip, heart racing, as you watch him spread his cum around his cockhead with his thumb.

The grin he has on his naughty, just one corner lifted up, eyes shining with mischief. “Sup?”

The fucking audacity.

So tonight, you decide to lean into every unfair advantage your years of dancing gave you. You know exactly how to move your body to elicit the right reactions and bring Yoongi to his demise.

You turn around, gathering your hair on one side, then glance at him from over your shoulder as you throw your ass back, just once. Okay, maybe twice.

Yoongi groans appreciatively. “You’re so sexy. So fuckin’ sexy.” He combs his hair back, eyes glued to the soft jiggle of your behind as he gives his cock a few more pumps.

You spank your bum playfully, a pretty shade of red blooming on your skin, before spreading your cunt open for him as you bend forward.

“Holy fuuuck.” Yoongi slurs. “I gotta–”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, just presses his face against your ass so suddenly that you almost tip forward if he wasn’t gripping your hips. Then, you feel him trail his tongue from your glistening hole and up towards the rim. That makes your knees buckle but thankfully he catches you by the waist and plants your ass firmly against his cock.

Yoongi’s already so hard against you and that just makes you want to tease him a bit more. You shift a little so his thick cock sits snug between your cheeks. He huffs a satisfied chuckle at the feeling, rutting up once to stuff himself even deeper into the soft squish of your ass.

You hook one hand around his neck, pulling him forward to kiss the underside of his jaw, tasting his clean sweat as you move your hips in a slow swivel.

“Fuckiiiin’ hell…”

The groan you pull from his throat with each calculated roll gets lower and a little more wrecked with each pass. But when you drag your tongue slowly along the shell of his ear, the sound he lets out is downright nasty. A low, desperate rumble that went straight to your pussy.

Wetness spreads along his cock as you continue to rub against him, a little faster, panting sweet sighs against his ear. You flick your warm tongue along his lobe again, licking along the cartilage before capturing it inside your mouth.

“A-ahhh,” Yoongi chokes out a shudder like he was caught off-guard. “Shit, baby, that’s…”

“You like that?” You hum and continue to lick and suckle, the sensual noises making his dick twitch. It’s the first time you pulled this move on him and you’re satisfied with his reaction. 

Hands sliding up to make your breasts spill from his hands, he grits. “I think you need to get fucked hard.”

“Can you do that for me, Yoon?” you mewl as he pinches your nipples between his calloused fingertips, pleasure pricking at your chest. “You wanna fuck me hard?”

“You know I do.” he rasps, voice an octave lower. “Bend over the arm rest, baby.”

You rearrange yourself on his utterly debauched couch as he rolls a condom on himself that he grabs from behind a lamp like he has it at the ready. You can’t even clock him for that because you’re desperate to have him inside you.

Thighs still burning from your little performance, you rest your weight on your belly.

Yoongi stands behind you, lining himself up on your entrance as he lets his fat cock be swallowed inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby. It’s so tight.” he groans, as your pussy flutters all over him.

You moan when he finally pushes himself to the hilt, crescent shapes blooming on the soft skin on your waist.

“Yoongi…” You call his name like a broken plea.

His pelvis bounces against your ass as he thrusts his dick in and out of you at a ruthless pace. There’s no show build up here, just a quick ascent to the top. You claw at the cushions finding something to grip as he slams against you, rough and unrestrained, and you’re reduced to a wailing mess.

He bucks his hips even harder, faster, working himself stupid. You know he’s fucking gone, you can feel it.

“Touch yourself, baby. Fuck, I’m so close…”

You slip your index between your battered cunt, your clit so slippery it doesn’t take much for you to reach your peak for a second time.

You rub quick finger eights and reach cloud nine even quicker, shaking as you cum, your walls pulsing against his cock.

“Where?” he asks when he knows you’ve finished.

“Back.”

He slips out of you so fast, and before you can whine at the sudden emptiness, you feel the warm ropes of Yoongi’s gooey cum splash against your spine as your name leaves his lips.

[Madrid, June 2026]

You should have known that of all the girls it would be Rei who clocks you first.

You’ve barely stepped out from behind the dim green room partition when she narrows her eyes at you. You shift your slightly twisted top and wince as it chafes against your too-sensitive nipples.

After challenging Yoongi with making you come from just nipple stimulation, you found yourself on top of spare music equipment as he decided to grant your wish like some fucked-up genie.

Behind you, he walks out a beat later.

Rei’s lips part, then press into a thin line.

“Wow,” she mutters, low enough that only you hear. “He looks like an evil king.”

You look at Yoongi over your shoulder—and yeahhhh. There’s no denying what just happened. His lips are red, slightly swollen, and his hair? God. You shouldn’t have tugged that hard. It’s sticking out every which way.

“I know Mujin don’t do hair like that,” Rei comments.

You’re still mute, refusing to meet her eyes as she falls into step beside you.

“You doing hair now, sweets?” Rei teases. “I didn’t realize glam was short-staffed.”

“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about,” you say quickly, already walking faster.

She cackles, not convinced in the slightest. But it’s fine. If there’s one person you can trust here it’s Rei.

“Adios, mamacita,” she calls out as you round the corner to find the nearest bathroom.

⊙⊝⊜

Rehearsal runs late. But the minute it’s over you return your eomma’s call.

Your dad and your mom got into a fight.

Something about his pension. Something about the trash. Something about him never listening to her needs.

Rei looks over to you, a silent question if she should hang back. The hotel is 10, maybe 15 minutes on foot, so you wave a dismissive hand. You don’t want witnesses to this. Not for this. You can make your way back easily. You just need to get through this phone call.

You let your mom spill her guts to you. You know love is there. But you also know how something can be real and still not work.

At some point, your legs just give out. You’re slumped on the floor, the base of your spine against the worn walls of the dance studio as you control your breathing. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Your heartbeat hasn’t fully come down yet, still knocking against your ribs, and this news isn’t doing you any favors.

By the time the call finishes, your skin is no longer tacky with sweat, but your limbs still feel heavy. You think about what your mom said. Not everything, just the last part. That love isn’t always enough. 

You drag a hand down your face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see white. After a few minutes, you push yourself up, roll your shoulders. You don’t want to cry over something you can’t control.

You’re locking up behind you when you see him.

Yoongi’s leaning against the wall like he’s been there a while, arms crossed loosely, gaze unfocused as he chews on the skin on his bottom lip. 

“You waiting for someone?” you ask, keeping it light, like your pulse is not racing.

“Mm.”

“…who?”

This time he looks at you properly. Just for a second. You look away, not wanting to show him truths buried beneath your lids. You dig through your bag for your pepper spray, something to keep in hand for the walk back to the hotel.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You scoff softly. “Okay.”

As you start heading out, he pushes off the wall like he’s been waiting for that exact moment, falling into step beside you like it was always the plan.

“My car’s still outside,” Yoongi says, like you should already know what that means.

You hesitate for half a second. But your tired legs are screaming hallelujah as you follow him out.

⊙⊝⊜

Inside the SUV neither of you says anything at first. Personally, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing here. Maybe he wants to fuck in the car? You really don’t know…

You glance over to where he’s seated. The city moves outside in streaks of gold and shadow, streetlights slipping across his profile in intervals. He also looks worn, tired. 10% battery life. 

So you let your head fall back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, letting your body finally start to come down from everything.

“Is it okay if we stop somewhere?” he asks when the driver nears the hotel cul de sac.

You turn your head slightly. “Where?”

“Place I heard about.”

You study him for a second. “What if I say no?”

There’s no hesitation. “Then it’s a no.” He sounds serious.

“Relax. I’m kidding.” You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Just pretend I’m not here, I’m wiped.”

He leans over and presses a small button on your armrest, the recliner whirring quietly as it tilts back, letting you sink into the seat a little more.

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling a little to the side away from him, so you can watch the view from outside.

⊙⊝⊜

Tucked into a narrow street, the shop is easy to miss. You never would have gone here not with how small it is, how unassuming. It’s like a Spanish deli. A butcher shop and a little restaurant rolled into one.

You step inside and the smell hits you. Salt, cured meat, something rich and fatty and indulgent, layered over the faint tang of wine and old wood.

Yoongi steps towards the till, pointing to something in the menu. You don’t hear what he communicates except for the faint “Gracias.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at how he said it so cutely.

“I got this for us,” he says, showing you a picture of an open sandwich called bocadillo de jamon.

You raise a brow. “You ordered for me?”

He smirks playfully. “Got a problem with it?”

“Why do you keep bossing me around?”

He shakes his head, a tiny grin playing in his lips, before he tsks. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“Wha—“ a puff of air escapes your gaping mouth. How dare he.

⊙⊝⊜

Back in the car, the wrappers crinkle softly between you as you take the first bite, grease soaking faintly through the paper, the taste immediate and overwhelming in the best way. It’s salty, rich, and so indulgent.

“Wow,” you gush. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He nods, a lump on the side of his cheek as he chews thoughtfully.

You glance at him. “You been there before?”

“No,” he says simply. “But it was on the Michelin Bib Gourmand.”

Honestly, you have no idea what that means. But Yoongi is always researching random shit, his knowledge running weirdly deep in ways that constantly catch you off guard, so you assume it’s basically the equivalent of five stars on Yelp.

Yoongi tells the driver to head back to the hotel, but not before he also hands the man a sandwich of his own.

Then, he reaches into the bag and pulls out two tiny bottles of red wine, twisting one open with ease before handing it to you. 

“Yay,” you smile, oddly delighted by the unexpected treat.

You glance back toward the little jamon spot as the car pulls away, the warm glow of the restaurant fading slowly into the Madrid night. “That’s the kind of place you see in movies, y’know?” you muse lightly. “Somewhere people accidentally fall in love on the first date.”

Yoongi takes a slow swig of wine, thumb swiping across his bottom lip afterward. He doesn’t reply with words. Just a tiny wine-stained smile.

You take another crunchy bite of your sandwich then take your phone out to snap a quick pic. God, it’s amazing.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks after a while.

“It’s my off,” you say, leaning your head back again. “So, nothing. Sleep. Maybe walk around if I feel like being a human. I know the girls wanna hit the beach.”

He nods. “Mm. You like the beach?”

“Sometimes. You?”

“Nah, I hate water.”

You smirk. He is never beating the catman allegations. “You got plans tomorrow?”

“Sleep,” he laughs.

You snort softly. “Of course.”

The rest of the ride is quiet after that. You part ways at the lobby drop off, where you go down, while the driver takes the private entrance for him as per protocol.

But later, in your room, the silence feels different. You catch your reflection in the mirror as you take the day off with a makeup wipe. 

Your mom’s voice echoes faintly in your head. You sigh. You need to call her back in the morning. See if she changes her mind.

You peel your lashes away, letting your eyes revel in relief for a second.

You lick your lips and still taste the wine, the salt. You remember the quaint restaurant. 

And Yoongi. The way he waited for you outside the studio. The softness in his face inside the car. The baby-sized bottle of red. Then shake your head lightly.

Was it a–? No way. 

That couldn’t be what it felt like. 

That couldn't have been a date.

A/N: Hehe <3

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Smoke & Mirrors, part one | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: BTS fucks a lot!, except one (he’s kinda depressed), implied smut, angst, heavy make-out, mention of death :c, mention of mental health struggles, second-hand embarrassment, MC handles rejection not super well, drinking, Mean Yoongi, canon moments I manipulated for my own sick pleasure, the ending, that fucking Hannam scene, holding hands (it deserves a warning in this fic), angst i guess, and again Mean Yoongi, redemption arc when?, he’s an idiot but he has heart I promise, probably wrong ways to play LOL chess/teamfight tactics, foyer quote was inspired by something i randomly saw in my feed, watch out for the time skips (one flashback and a tiny flash forward) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 10.3k whuuuut ✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie; credits to Aqua for inspiring one of MC’s quotes (marked **) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie (my very first fic with an OST i'm sobbing, ty sweets) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: A whole ass year in the making and it took a trip to South Korea and experiencing Arirang in all its glory for me to finally bring this fic to life the way I envisioned it. After dropping two teasers I guess y’all really fw this plot, so I do hope you guys like it. Don’t forget to comment or reblog. I’d really appreciate it. I might take time to tag everyone that requested, so bear with me. Other than that, enjoy~ Thank you to the lovely and talented @risky-peaches for the banner. 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You’re part of BTS’ BTS. 

Bangtan Tour Sluts. 

It’s a term one of the make-up unnies coined half-jokingly, after realizing the truth: you’re a group of women who’ve practically dedicated your lives to seven men who are not even your family. 

You’re a sorority of girls who go on tour with the group, taking on multiple hats, making sure every tour stop goes as best as possible. 

You willingly do every beck and call of theirs because you actually like them. They are nice and you want to see them succeed. And even if they’re not being nice (oh the stories you could tell!), you still do everything for them. Like good girls. Like sluts. 

Maybe that’s just what devotion looks like in this business.

Yours started with Hoseok.

Back before you had a name that anyone could recognize, you were just another girl on YouTube flexing dance moves in her tiny apartment. Somehow, he saw one of your clips, a clean cover of Dope, and sent your link to their performance director.

You got the email weeks later, went in for an audition, and the rest is history. 

Then came the rehearsals. The late nights. The endless counts of eight. You were still so broke in those early days that you couldn’t even afford a cab after a late night practice, so you’d wait at the bus stop outside the studio, hoodie soaked through, sneakers squishing from the rain.

One night, Jin pulled up beside the curb and offered you a ride. You remember Yoongi was in the passenger seat. Wordless for the most part, but he blasted the heater so you wouldn't get cold. You thanked Jin profusely as he dropped you off. 

He shrugged and said, “Good thing Yoongi saw you.” 

You still remember the heat sinking back into your bones.

It added up over time. 

Jimin once wrapped your ankle when you landed wrong after some crazy choreo you were trying to hit. Even crazier, Namjoon paid for your eomma’s emergency medical bills, because you were still struggling then. 

You tried to pay him back. He just looked at you, shrugged, and said, “If you really want to, just stay with us. Stay in the team.”

So you do.

The boys noticed you beyond your work. Not all at once, but steadily, gradually, eventually. And maybe that’s all it takes. You’d follow them anywhere after that. From MOTS to PTD Live On Stage to Arirang.

The thing is, some of the Bangtan Tour Sluts do become that over time.

You once overheard a manager say: stupid idols date fans; smart idols date other idols. Or each other.

The boys are fine as fuck. But after living together for years, the latter feels… borderline incestuous. Except for two of them, who you suspected had something non-platonic going on, but you don’t want to speculate further.

You’ve seen some of them try dating other idols too, but it’s chaos. Too many schedules to align, too many eyes watching, security doubling the second they want to meet up even in a different city for a simple fuck.

It’s easier this way. Closer. Quieter.

You don’t even blame them for it. This arrangement. The girls are hot as hell.

There’s Angel from Wardrobe who’s become Taehyung’s emotional support buddy. She’s on-call to dress him and undress him, whenever the situation calls for it.

Jungkook’s got a couple in his roster. Bina from glam and Tiff, also from glam. It could be problematic, sure, but so far they’re having fun.

Somehow, even if you highly considered becoming Seokjin’s… 

You ended up becoming Yoongi’s.

…and it all begins with a very mature game of Spin the Bottle.

You and the rest of the crew had stayed back in the rehearsal studio to celebrate the birthday of Rei, assistant performance director, resident tyrant, and class president of your little dysfunctional sorority.

There’s food, balloons, and too many empty soju bottles. One of which is currently spinning… and lands on you.

“Shit,” you mutter, already reaching for your beer. “Truth.”

A chorus of groans.

“Boring!”

“Ask her something good!”

The birthday girl leans forward, eyes glassy, tipsy as hell. “Aight, gun to your head—which member you gonna fuck?”

You choke on your drink. “No way I’m answering that. Next question.”

“Nah,” Tiff tosses a handful of popcorn at you. “You know the rules.”

You groan, tilting your head back dramatically before swatting the kernels off your lap. “You guys…”

“Wuss!” Bina teases.

“C’mon, you’ve thought about it. Don’t even play,” Rei smirks.

All eyes are on you. The pressure is mounting so high that you almost want to hurl. You take another swig. Rei is right though, as she almost annoyingly always is. You’ve definitely checked the boys out. It’s not even a question of who (singular), because if you’re gonna be honest, you have biblical levels of greed and there’s two in particular you’d let rearrange your guts.

But ugh. You’ll play along. 

Just one name to satiate these hoes.

“Fine,” you huff, wiping your lip with the back of your palm, readying to reveal your answer:

“Kim Seokjin.”

The room erupts.

“OHHHH—”

“I knew it!”

And even if you know you could stop at that, the alcohol kicks your courage into overdrive. 

“I’d let him fuck me raw until the inside of my coochie moulds to the shape of his dick...”**

The rest spills out of you in a half-slurred, disgustingly specific ramble that has the girls screaming and Angel spilling her shot.

You’re laughing, face hot, still high off everyone’s reactions when you feel the heat of someone’s stare.

You glance up and holy shit. It’s the name you withheld.

Feline eyes piercing and lips curling at the corners, oh Yoongi looks hella amused. He’s right there and he heard it all.

Fucking hell. Your life is literally over.

⊙⊝⊜

It’s later, much later, when you run into him again.

The hallway outside the bathrooms is quieter, the bass from the dance studio muffled into a distant thrum. Your head is a little light, steps a little uneven, but you’re mostly sober now. Okay, not really.

You push the door open and there he is, almost like he’s been waiting.

Yoongi’s leaning against the wall, one foot propped up, head tilted just enough that his hair falls into his eyes. He looks… loose. Drunk, then. Obviously. Just like everyone else in the party.

His gaze slides over you and that same almost-smile returns. “Seokjinnie-hyung, huh?”

You groan immediately, covering your face. “Oh my god, don’t.”

He huffs out a scratchy laugh and your fist collides against his arm.

He rubs the spot with his palm. “Didn’t know you had that much to say about him.” 

“I didn’t know you were listening,” you shoot back.

“Right place at the right time,” he shrugs.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re enjoying my demise way too much.”

“Am I?” he says, pushing off the wall.

He steps closer. “I mean…” his gaze flicks down, then back up. “You were pretty detailed.”

This close, he smells like warm musk and whisky. It hits you all at once, heat creeping up your neck before you can stop it. You swallow it down, deflecting. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.” He smiles sweetly, pretty teeth and pink gums on show. Then he circles back smoothly to the topic because he is a piece of shit. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You scoff, folding your arms like that’ll save you. “Oh, there’s a lot of things you don’t know ‘bout me.”

His gaze dips, trailing down the exposed skin where your cardigan has conveniently fallen off your shoulder, towards your breasts hugged by your camisole. His eyes linger just a second too long before dragging back up to your face.

And there it is. He did the thing for you. That thing he does where his tongue presses into his cheek. Fucker.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

Alarm bells are ringing in your head because is Min fuckin’ Yoongi lowkey hitting on you right now?

“Well…” his head tilts, voice dropping just enough to feel it. “Was that just talk?”

He is! Fuck. Why? No, shut up. It doesn’t matter right now. Say something.

You swallow, then tilt your chin up, meeting him head-on as liquid courage pushes you to say the next words. “What?” You shrug, forcing a smirk. “You wanna stand-in for your hyung?”

His lips curve, slow and amused. “Maybe.”

“I… could be open,” you say almost lazily.

And then he moves.

Rough hands find your wrist, tugging you down the hall before you can think too hard about it. You let him and the next thing you know you’re pressed behind his studio door.

Just the two of you.

Too close that you feel the heat emanating from his body.

“Jin’s got a girl,” he murmurs, close enough that you feel his hot breath grazing your cheek.

That makes you pause, because you didn’t know Jin was steady with someone. Else you wouldn’t have said what you said.

 “And y’all won’t fuck nasty like that.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, just enough that your lips brush his when you speak.

“No?” You lick between his parted mouth, pulling back with a smirk. “And… we would?”

“Like animals.”

And then he cups the back of your neck and crashes his lips into yours.

⊙⊝⊜

Monday comes faster than you’d like.

You don’t know what you were expecting from Yoongi exactly. A text, maybe? Something more than the thumbs up he sent after you told him you got home safe. Friday night feels like it happened in a vacuum, sealed off like crime scene evidence the second he booked you that Uber.

You’ve spent the weekend turning it over in your head, wondering if things are supposed to be different now that you’ve had sex. Are you supposed to be different? Is it going to be awkward?

You’re about to find out.

You don’t usually hang around after hours unless there’s a reason.

Tonight, the reason is Jimin, who’d dragged you in with the promise of early access to the new tracks you’d be helping to choreograph. You felt a little strange when you entered the studio and found just two members of Bangtan and one of their producers, who nodded at you casually as you entered.

So here you are, curled up on the couch in the corner of the studio, laptop open but mostly forgotten, as the last bits of a track play through the speakers. You’re too deep in thought to notice the delivery guy come in, but you do notice when Yoongi picks up the coffee tray, wordlessly plucking a cup free and walking it over to you.

He holds it out, no expression, no explanation.

“Hyung,” Jimin calls lazily from where he’s sprawled out on the floor. “Where’s my coffee?”

Yoongi doesn’t even glance up. “Just grab a Coke from the fridge.”

You stifle a laugh as Jimin groans dramatically, dragging himself up to rummage through the mini fridge.

A few minutes later, Yoongi slips out of the room, muttering something about finding Namjoon because he should have joined you all 30 minutes ago.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Jimin flops back down beside you, grinning like he’s got a secret he can’t wait to spill. “That’s him flirting, by the way.”

You blink at him. “What?”

Jimin points at the cup still in your hand. “Hyung doesn’t even order me coffee.”

“Why would he? You’re an annoying lil bitch.”

Jimin playfully slaps the visor of your baseball cap down so that it covers your eyes.

Which works out just fine because as you glance down at the cup again, you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth seeping into your palms. You shake your head, trying to play it off, but the corners of your mouth betray you, tugging up into a smile you can’t quite hide.

You take a sip of your warm drink and pretend it doesn’t taste sweeter somehow.

Namjoon finally walks in ten minutes later, forehead sweaty, hoodie hanging off his shoulder. Yoongi follows behind him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Namjoon says, already reaching for the aux like he owns the place. He knocks over a cup of pens as he does so.

Then, his eyes land on you. “You ate?”

You nod, lifting your coffee, lipstick-stained spout and all.

“That’s not food,” Namjoon shakes his head, dimples deepening, as he reaches for something in his pocket. “This one’s better.”

A tiny Quaker Oats bar, a bit warm from pocket heat, lands on your lap.

“Thank you.”

The crinkle of the granola bar mixes with Jimin’s whines. “Why doesn’t anyone give me food?”

⊙⊝⊜

In the weeks that follow, when tour prep shifts into high gear, nothing else really happens—not in the way you thought it might, at least. Yoongi doesn’t seek you out. Doesn’t text. Doesn’t bring up that night, ever. You’re not really suprised, considering…

But you do notice he lingers in small ways. A bottle of water left by your things before you even realize you’re thirsty. A quiet “eat” when the catering after a shoot finally finishes setting up. The occasional glance. Maybe even a tiny smile here and there. You fall into an easy rhythm with him, familiar but not quite the same, and you catch yourself thinking, maybe something did shift. 

Maybe this is just how it starts.

⊙⊝⊜

Rehearsals just wrapped up and your heart is reckless with exhaustion.

You’ve never asked anyone out before. Let alone a fuckin’ idol. But you’re young and dumb. Heavy on the dumb, actually. Anyway, you’ve already slept together. And you’re convinced the chemistry is off the charts. So, why not? And it’s just hanging out anyway. It’s not that deep.

You approach Yoongi as he’s wiping off his neck with a white terry cloth, still breathing heavily. It’s probably serendipity, how everyone else has already slipped out of the room, leaving just the two of you.

He lifts his eyes towards you, mouth slightly agape as he gulps oxygen back in.

Ugh. 

Your earlier bravado is slowly evaporating.

This is stupid. So stupid. But wasn’t it him who said if you know you’re going to crash, accelerate harder?

“So there’s this café in Yeonnam,” you say, stopping in front of him as he ties his shoelaces. 

“Apparently, the building it’s in has been standing since the Joseon dynasty. Crazy. Used to be an apothecary or a medical clinic and they restored it so well it looks so legit...”

You’re blabbing. His face is unreadable, but you press on, fumbling toward hope.

“You’re into historical shit… Daechwita vibes, right? Anyway, the place looks pretty cool. If you’re free sometime, we could—”

There’s an audible inhale as Yoongi stands, dusting off his jeans, slow and careful, before he lifts his head towards you.

“Look,” he says, and you already know how this ends just from the weight of that word. You wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m not really…” he tilts his head, like you should know. Like you shouldn’t even be having this conversation. “You get it, right?”

You force your face into something neutral, something that won’t betray you. Shrug like embarrassment is not a fire razing you from the inside.

“‘S all good.” You smile albeit tightly. You even pat his shoulder as you pass, casual, almost laughing. But inside you’re ash.

“Oh, get that shoulder pop on 2.0 sharper,” you toss on the way out. “I’ll tell Junho to run it with you again tomorrow.”

Behind you, his eyes slant with what you can only tell is pity.

You make it to the hallway before the first tear slips free, quick and traitorous and pathetic, falling soundless onto the worn carpet. 

You’re already a few beats away when you hear it, “Hey Y/N!“ and then frantic steps.

You don’t stop walking. No. No fuckin’ way. You speed up.

He can’t see you like this. 

You round the corner and run straight to the fire exit to extinguish the heat of shame before you’re burned to a crisp.

It’s sort of easy to get back into the normal swing of things, despite everything. You’re not friends. You probably never will be. And that’s okay.

You have your dignity.

You have the girls. 

You have Rei. 

…who proceeded to scream at you when you explained to her why your eyes were bloodshot the day after you made that reckless decision to ask a world-famous idol out.

She had to re-orient you how this goes. The boys are not off-limits per se, but they do have limits. Fuck, it’s not like you forgot, you just thought… it was different. You were different. Or you could be, given your history. You’ve been in the team for years now and you’d like to consider yourself not just a colleague, but maybe even a friend.

Because there was that one time in Hannam when he… fuck. It’s probably irrelevant. Unimportant. You’re just making it a thing.

And you know what, honestly, you’re fine with rejection. You’ve had practice.

Jongho, back in fifth grade, returned the paper heart you gave him because Bora sent him one first. Bigger, more glittery. 

Baekhyun, in college, dumped you for that French exchange student with ginormous tits.

Even recently, word got to Seokjin about your little drunken speech, and he wasted no time reminding you exactly where you’ve always stood—firmly in the friend zone. He has a girl after all.

It was during the Swim choreo shoot. Jin flicked your forehead when he caught you staring too long during break. He was sweaty and his lips were really plump and pink, and…

“Focus,” he said. “I know I’m handsome, but you can’t do that. Next time, I’ll have to charge you.”

You flipped him off. And thank God he laughed like a windshield wiper, otherwise it would just be really unfair.

As always, you survive. You move on. You always do.

But the real problem? Life is dangling you the man of your dreams like a keychain and you can’t seem to catch it.

Yoongi’s haircut. Right before tour.

It’s almost cruel, because Yoongi’s long hair is most revered by society, widely beloved. Tiktoks and shrines were dedicated to that lionesque mane. ARMY yearned for it. Scissors were manifested to disappear within a 5-mile radius from him.

But you? You personally liked cleaner cuts on guys. When you joined the team circa-MOTS, he had that sharp, neat cut that you were very much into. 

To add insult to injury, you’ve always liked Nerds. You consider yourself one, too.

And now Yoongi’s walking around with this new pair of specs—rimless frames, whenever he feels like wrecking your equilibrium. It sits low on his nose when he’s tired or playing League of Legends Chess during breaks or sipping on his coffee in between takes, and it’s…

Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture.

Comeback season officially starts and everything else falls away. Days blur into soundchecks and rehearsals, quick meals eaten standing, ears popping from cabin pressure.

There’s no time to think about anything else when you’re moving from the Netflix show in Gwanghwamun to New York for that Spotify event and then back home again. You’re running on three hours of sleep and caffeine, counting formations in your head even when you’re off-work. You don’t have time to breathe, but somehow it’s easier like this.

Once in a while during rehearsals, Yoongi still asks for your input on how to execute a move better. Of course you give it; it’s your job. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting when he, famously allergic to eye contact, suddenly makes an effort to meet your gaze.

Honestly, you don’t know why he bothers. He doesn’t owe you anything. No line was crossed without your consent. And whatever that was, it’s not happening again. You almost wish you could just hate him, because that would be easier than this neutral middle ground you’re stranded in.

But you can’t.

Because you see the quiet way he takes care of people, especially Jimin. He shows up, every time, steady and professional and so annoyingly good at what he does. There’s something about that you can’t ignore.

You respect it, because you respect him.

Maybe that’s the worst part. Because he didn’t string you along and didn’t blur the lines more than you let him. You gotta hand it to him, he shut it down clean.

So… you just gotta move on.

Right?

And you… You’ve built this life carefully, piece by piece. You didn’t fight this hard just to get distracted now. So you buckle up. You lock in.

It’s days before the World Tour kicks off and you’re knee-deep in rehearsals. Day in, day out, you’re in the dance studio, double-hatting as a dancer and an assistant choreographer. You’re exhausted–bone-deep, muscle-aching tired, but you’re focused on the grind, on making this show the best fucking tour in history. The boys deserve it. The whole team deserves it. So do you.

You used to rewind dance practice videos frame by frame, pausing just to study the angle of an arm, the timing of a step. Back then, it was just you, your reflection, and the stubborn belief that if you worked hard enough, you could belong in rooms like this. And now you do.

“Let’s start?” Seung Eun calls and everybody hops back into formation. You drop your strawberry lip balm back in your bag.

There’s this sequence in Hooligan.

You and the other dancers crowd Yoongi during his verse, closing in until there’s barely any space left between bodies. It’s choreographed, calculated chaos. You’re meant to get in his face, invade his space just enough to look dangerous, just enough to feel menacing for him. And he’s supposed to hold eye contact, like he’s unbothered. 

For this run, you’re standing in for Kian, who pulled his calf muscle and needed to get iced real quick. Injuries are part of the game, but there’s always a medic on standby to ensure any impact is minimized.

The music starts and your bodies move to the choreography. You slide into position on the last count, stepping into Yoongi’s space. He recites his line.

“Hooligan, like hooligan, ttaeryeo buswo like hooligan…”

You tilt your chin up slightly, eyes on his—ready, steady, professional. But that’s when it shifts.

His gaze doesn’t land where it usually does with the others. It drops to your mouth. 

Anyone else might miss it, but you don’t.

And suddenly you’re hyper-aware of the way you’re breathing, the way your lips part just slightly, the way your body feels a fraction too close to his.

“Sigan dwaesseuni jom bikyeo jom…”

His next line stumbles.

“Ah, fuck—”

The music cuts.

Yoongi lifts a hand, already half-turning away. “My bad.”

There’s a ripple of movement around you as everyone resets, but you’re still standing there as blood rushes up your neck, your cheeks warming before you can stop it.

You glance at him. He glances back.

And then, quieter—almost under his breath—he mumbles to you without meeting your eyes. “That‘s… distracting.”

You gulp.

When the next sequence starts, there’s a faint smudge of red staining the back of your sleeve. You don’t remember doing it. But you do remember how Yoongi doesn’t miss a single beat when Kian steps back in to take your place.

[Goyang, SK, April 2026]

“Stay safe out there!” Namjoon calls just before the curtains are drawn and the opening beat of Hooligan detonates through the speakers.

The crowd goes wild as the bassline rattles your ribs, syncs with your pulse, turns your body into music before you even think. On cue, you surge forward with the rest of the dancers, breaking through the curtain like a wave, energy ripping out of you in sharp bursts, boots slamming against the stage in perfect unison. 

You’re gripping a red smoke stick, heat blooming in your palm as it spits thick plumes into the air, bleeding color into the stage until everything is drenched in crimson. It curls around your bodies, around the lights slicing down from above like blades, burning the stage with fire without flames.

Man. Goyang hits different.

Maybe it’s because it’s home. Maybe it’s because this is the first real show where everything finally clicks into place—not just in your head, not just in rehearsals, but out here, in front of thousands of people screaming like the world is ending.

The 360 stage feels massive under your feet, lights slicing through the dark in perfect sync, pyro exploding at just the right beat. Every cue lands. Every formation locks. Every transition you’ve drilled into muscle memory finally breathes.

It’s insane and you feel even more insane because you’re in it. On stage, moving with everyone, keeping up, matching energy, feeding off it. The crowd roars and it vibrates through your bones, through your chest, through everything.

As rain pours down from the sky like blessings from above, you feel genuinely alive. Even though you’re damp and drenched and soaked to your very core, there really is no place else you’d rather be.

⊙⊝⊜

When you hit backstage after the encore, everyone’s wet, loud, breathless, half-laughing, half-shouting over each other, still riding the high of the first show. You don’t even think; you’re just moving, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you high five whoever’s in reach, grinning like an idiot.

“Good job!” someone yells.

“You killed it!” another voice.

You barely register who’s who.

Hoseok finds you in the middle of it all and just pulls you into the biggest hug, squeezing tight like he’s just as proud of you as you are of yourself.

“You did so good,” he says, bright and warm and Hobi, and you laugh into his shoulder, still catching your breath. He praises you like you’re the global superstar, not him.

When you pull back, everything’s still squishing about, still loud and electric. 

Namjoon messes up your hair. Jungkook gives you a high five. Yoongi’s across the room, exchanging quick fist bumps with some of the dancers, head dipped, saying something you can’t quite catch. Then he looks up and sees you.

There’s a split-second of indecision. But, you smile. He nods. A tiny one. He looks a little tired. He’s never been one to hide when he’s exhausted, but just like you he’s glowing. Tired, but certainly happy.

And then someone grabs him from the side, pulling him into a quick hug, and the moment’s gone just as easily as it came, replaced by high-pitched screams, and too-tight hugs from your girls.

[Tokyo, JP, April 2026]

You find Hobi slumped against the wall of the green room, half-hidden behind a rack of wardrobe like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is.

You’d heard. Everyone had, in that quiet, careful way news like that travels—soft voices, lowered eyes, staff moving around a little more gently than usual.

You hesitate for a second, unsure if it’s your place. When you think about it, Hoseok isn’t just one of them to you. He’s your mentor. The reason you’re even here. The first person who saw something in you and decided it was worth something. And more than that, he’s someone you really care about.

Before you can think yourself out of it, you move closer. He looks up and red-rimmed eyes meet yours. Then, something in his expression breaks the distance you were trying to keep. You’re kneeling in front of him the next second, and he’s leaning into you, folding into your arms like he’s been holding himself together for too long.

His sobs are quiet, restrained, but they shake through him all the same.

You wrap your arms around him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, the other rubbing slow, steady circles into his back.

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” you murmur softly. “I know she meant everything to you.”

He lets out a shaky breath against your shoulder, voice breaking. “I hate this. I should be home. I should be there, but I…” his grip tightens slightly. “I fuckin’ can’t.”

Your chest caves at that.

“She knows,” you say gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “She understands. She’s looking down on you right now, smiling, so proud of you. I promise.”

Hobi looks up at you then and for a second, beneath the stage makeup and styled hair and everything that makes him him to the world, he just looks like a little boy.

Small. Hurt. Lost.

As your heart breaks a little, a soft cough breaks the moment.

You glance over your shoulder. Yoongi stands a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, like he walked in on something he wasn’t meant to interrupt.

“I—um…” he shifts slightly. “They told me to come get you.” He means Hoseok, but for some reason, his eyes are fixed on you.

“Shit,” Hobi exhales, scrubbing at his face as he pulls away. “Yeah. Yeah, give me a second.”

Hobi stands, walking over to the makeup station, picking up a tissue and carefully blotting at his cheeks, trying to undo what he can.

It feels like your cue to leave. Rei’s probably already looking for you anyway because there’s a hole in the formation.

Hobi disappears into one of the changing rooms, pulling the curtain shut behind him as he gets ready.

You turn to go, but a hand catches your arm.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says quietly, before his fingers lose their grip.

There’s something in Yoongi’s expression that stops you for half a second. You don’t know what it is. But mostly you think, it’s gratitude sitting heavy in his gaze like he doesn’t know all the words for it.

You shrug lightly, because it doesn’t feel like something you should be thanked for. It’s the least you can do for someone who changed the trajectory of your life without ever asking for anything in return.

He just nods, still looking at you. You see his fingers reaching then drawing back.

It’s… a lot. More than you’re used to with him.

So you look away first, swallowing the tightness in your throat before the sting in your eyes turns into something else.

[Tampa, FL, April 2026]

Being in America is always exciting. Something about stepping onto U.S. soil flips a switch in the boys, like there’s something in the water, or maybe it’s just the distance from home loosening something in their bones.

Tae, for one, fully commits to the bit—gray sweats, tank tops, lewd little ad libs to the choreo. No one questions it. Angel is definitely going through it. Lucky bitch.

Jungkook is on his phone 24/7, liking everything in sight to send any and all users in a frenzy to fuel them until their next life. He also films these borderline menacing TikToks alone in his hotel room at ungodly hours, looking fucked out because well, he probably has done just that.

Jimin wakes up one day and decides he wants to have an even longer ponytail. And suddenly the internet is in shambles, ARMY collectively just losing their shit.

And that’s just the maknaes. 

It’s fascinating to watch all of them, seeing different versions surface depending on where they are, like they’re all just slightly more themselves here. Or maybe just slightly less guarded.

After the last show in Tampa, the members decide to treat the crew to KBBQ at some nearby strip mall. You squeeze into a long table with some of the dancers and a couple of the boys, smoke from the grill curling into your hair, soju flowing a little too easily.

For one reason or another, as people made room for others, and chairs were moved left then right, you somehow end up in front of Yoongi like you just played musical chairs. 

“How’s it going?” you say.

“Not bad. You?”

You shrug, “I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

The awkwardness is like a knot that loosens as drinks flow. Then, the easy back-and-forth comes like you do this on a daily basis instead of pretending you don’t think about him at all.

“You’re in a good mood,” you say, watching as he pours you another shot.

“Am I?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “You talk more when you are.”

He huffs softly, like he doesn’t agree but won’t argue it either. He looks pretty like this, barefaced and sleepy. Then you remember something and you decide to be a menace. “Give me a reason to not tattle.”

His brows meet in the middle. Confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know full well.” You mimic a head turn and flail your arms.

Yoongi’s cheeks turn pink. He fumbled the Run choreo. AGAIN.

“I recovered faster this time.”

“Not the point,” you reply pointedly.

“I ate in Day 1.”

“You did,” you nod. “Not the point though.”  

He gives a wary glance over at Hoseok who has half a rib inside his mouth at the moment, when he looks back at you and challenges. “Name your price.”

“RP gift card. Could use some new arena skins.” You smile sweetly, knowing he’s been obsessed with LoL Teamfight Tactics, too. You’ve seen it on his phone.

“Fine.” Yoongi laughs, actually laughs,  because he didn’t expect the response. “We should play sometime.”

And it was your turn to not expect that response.

“Oh, alright. Sure.” You nod, a little flustered even as you recall the nugget you’ve seen from one of his interviews. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Yoongi smiles, so gummy and wide, like he has a praise kink that you just discovered. “Thank you. Diamond is very hard to achieve.” So you let him brag a bit, before you decide to knock him down a peg.

“Trust me, I get it.” You bring the spout of your beer to your mouth and before you take a swig, you quip. “I’m a grandmaster.”

His jaw hits the floor and you almost spit your beer out. “You are not.”

You tilt your head as if to say, try me. He is still waiting. And the smirk disappears from his mouth when swipes of your screen later you show him your profile and your level is as you disclosed.

“Wow.”

“I know. Wow.” You say, smug. “Anyway, do you think you’re gonna get away with it, or is there a fan cam already circulating?”

“You tell me. I don’t watch those things.”

“My phone probably heard us and is about to add it to my algorithm. I’ll let you know.”

“Taehyung-ie threw me off, honestly.” He leans back and exhales deeply.

A giggle slips out of you because you know exactly what he means. “Yeah, no, everyone was just feeling it. Kookie did the dougie to Life Goes On. Namjoon was fucking the air to Butter of all songs. Insane behavior from all of you, actually.”

“I’m innocent.” 

Oho. “You’re not off the hook.” You wag your finger.

“Wae?”

“Baepsae.” You lean your chin on your palm, referring to the Army time surprise song.

“What?” 

“You got real close to a camera and let ‘er rip.”

“Did no such thing,” His lips stretch into that infuriating bracket-like grin. He’s obviously lying.

“Don’t even play. I saw the smile you tried to hide when you turned around, you dog.”

“So you were really watching me, huh?”

“I was monitoring the performances from backstage. As it is my job.” 

“Mhm,” he hums, biting his lip to hide a smile as he shakes his head.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything,” he chuckles, voice a little higher than usual.

“Silence is admission.” You point your chopsticks at him and smirk. “It’s fine. You were just feeling yourself.” 

You thought you were gonna have the last laugh. But as always, Yoongi knows how to render you speechless.

“And if I am,” he tilts his head slightly, eyes straight to yours. “What you gon’ do ‘bout it?” 

You have a comeback. You definitely do. It’s just stuck in your brain traffic, unable to come out.

He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose bridge and the single action almost makes you fall to your knees.

God, you hope he doesn’t notice.

But he does. 

That’s the only explanation for the text that you get while you’re settling in your hotel room that night. 

Rei is on her bed already semi-snoring, her phone still lit up as a TikTok live seller continues to peddle a hyaluronic acid sheet mask bundle. 3+1 event—you’d check it out if you didn’t have a booty call staring back at you.

You check it again. Still not sure if you’re reading the text correctly.

Yoongi: 2004 Yoongi: come over if ur feelin it

So you find yourself on his floor thirty minutes later, the faint scent of your perfume still clinging to your blouse as you walk down the hallway.

Room 2002 has a very loud and dramatic show playing inside. For sure it’s one of the members as they’re typically roomed in the same floor. You just don’t know who.

A few steps over is your destination. Room 2004.

Fuck. You’re doing this. (Again.)

Except… There’s a sound.

No. A moan.

Your knuckles are frozen, inches from the door.

Someone is definitely having a great time in there.

You check the text again, because maybe you got the room wrong. 

The numbers match. And yet, the math is not mathing. If he invited you, then why—

Oh.

Oh shit.

You look at your messages again and realize, all at once, what happened.

Your reply sits there with a red exclamation point. Which only means one thing. It was Unsent.

You:  yeah, i’ll come ❗

Well.

Now?

No, you won’t.

“Fucking shit,” your phone flies out of your hand when you trip on the carpet floor like a complete klutz. You can’t believe you’re risking injury and getting benched for the rest of the tour for this stupid cat man.

“Y/N?”

Noooooooooo

You straighten up immediately, thankful it wasn’t Yoongi’s door that flew open. “Namjoon, hi.” 

“Is this yours?” he bends to pick up your phone, which is resting by his doorway. 

“Yeah, umm. That’s mine.”

He studies you as you take the device from his hand. Your screen is still bright and open and your Kakao app is just there. Ain’t no way he didn’t see who’s on your thread.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m totally fine.” You pocket your device, forcing a light smile. But before you can say anything else, Namjoon is pulling his door wider.

You stay rooted in place, even as your eyes dart inside the plush suite. You realize he is wearing a black tank top and matching pajamas. 

“I got food and a drama. Could use some company,” Namjoon says simply. No malice, no undertone. You’re sure Namjoon has no way of knowing you had a lacy thong underneath, so this is really just a simple invitation to hang out. 

You consider it. At the same time, you think, huh, his dimples are really, really deep. Your reply came easy after that. “I–sure, yeah. I’m down.”

“Cool.” he tilts his head, gesturing you in.

The night settles into something softer in Room 2002, the noise in your brain fading into nothing thanks to room service, wine samplers from the mini bar, and Namjoon’s running commentary over a drama. He’s literally such a yapper. You lean back into the couch, listening to him more than watching the show, letting his voice fill the space instead of your thoughts.

It’s easy hanging with Namjoon. No guessing. No second-guessing. And you don’t realize until now how much you needed Namjoon’s friendship until now, but you’re glad he is offering it.

And maybe more than that, you’re glad he didn’t ask any questions you couldn't answer even if you tried.

⊙⊝⊜

The next day, rumors fly that Gwayoung from Digital was bragging about being on the receiving end of that tongue technology.

The same day, you also receive a 50,000 won gift card credited in your mobile game.

You know it’s from the same person. And you know which one you would’ve wanted more.

⊙⊝⊜

The tour goes on. It starts off like a high you can’t come down from. New cities, new crowds. You collect moments like souvenirs—late-night convenience store runs, inside jokes backstage, someone filming content here and there, drinking sessions inside someone’s hotel room. There’s always something happening, always someone around. You don’t have to think too much because everything moves too fast. It feels like living ten lives at once, and for a while, it’s enough.

But somewhere along the way, the novelty starts to thin out. The cities blur into one long stretch of airports, hotel hallways, empty highways, and backstage corridors that all feel vaguely the same. You wake up and sometimes it takes a second to remember where you are. Your suitcase never really gets unpacked—just opened, lived out of, closed again. Everyone’s tired in that bone-deep way that makes even laughter feel like effort. You’re surrounded by people all the time, and somehow, it still feels lonely.

You and the girls have a kind of unspoken understanding between all of you now, forged in cramped dressing rooms and shared mirrors, in the quiet rituals of getting ready before a show. Someone’s always borrowing someone else’s lip tint, someone’s fixing a crooked lash, someone’s complaining about a bruise they didn’t notice until they caught it under the harsh vanity lights.

“Why are we like this?” Angel groans one night, poking at a purple mark on her thigh.

“Occupational hazard,” Bina shrugs, already halfway through redoing her eyeliner for the third time.

“Is that the one that you banged on the clothing rack, or, ahem…”

Angel’s face heats. It was Tae. Rough Tae, as per usual.

Rei rolls her eyes. “Alright, we know you’re getting it good. No need to shove it in our faces.”

“You know who I wouldn’t mind shoving something in my face?” Lisa pipes in. She’s one of the newer dancers that joined the US leg.

“Who?” You ask, curious.

“Yoongi. Fuck. He looks so daddy these days. Literally need that.”

Rei shoves a protein bar into your hand, with a stern look to match. “Eat.”

You do, because if you don’t you might say something you’ll regret.

⊙⊝⊜

Since that late night hallway encounter several stops ago, you and Namjoon have somehow made hanging out into a thing. It just happens seamlessly. Over meals, passing conversations end up lasting longer than expected. 

Off-handedly, he confides in you that he struggles to sleep. You piece together the rest on your own. Military life has altered his mental state in ways he is still struggling to undo and it’s been tough, but at least he’s a work in progress. 

As far as you know, he’s the only member who doesn’t really… distract himself the way the others do on tour. Nobody waiting for a quick one backstage, no regular to help release all that adrenaline after long shows.

So instead, he watches dramas. It’s funny, really. But you guess, it works for him. He really likes those cheesy lovey dovey ones or those about heartache. Tells you it’s the closest he can feel something real and he lets them play until he passes out.

He invites you to join him sometimes.

At first, you’re suspicious. You wouldn’t have blamed him (or minded, to be honest) if there were other intentions. Everyone has needs, after all. And honestly, you would have been flattered to be considered by a catch like him. But after the third or fourth time of bingeing on drama and food, it becomes clear that he doesn’t want you like that. And you have to admit—he’s a fun time. So it’s cool.

When you hang out, he tells you about the books he’s reading, summarizing them in a way that makes you want to pick them up yourself. You tell him about choreography ideas, about how certain movements sit in your body, about how you think music should look when it’s danced.

“You think in shapes,” he says once, mimicking the way your hands move as you explain.

“You think in paragraphs,” you shoot back.

He laughs at that, dimples deep, eyes soft. “True.”

“Long-ass paragraphs, actually. Mr. Yapper.”

Sometimes, when the days feel too long and the nights stretch a little too quiet, you find yourself standing outside his door without really remembering how you got there.

No matter, Namjoon always lets you in.

[Las Vegas, NV, May 2026]

One night, you get a message from Hobi inviting you for drinks. You haven’t hung out with him in a while, so it was a no-brainer when you said yes. You don’t go out every night at every tour stop, but you made an exception this time.

You put on something cute. Not to impress Hobi particularly, but because you know he always dresses well, and you will not be caught dead looking shabby beside him. Lips a little glossy and cheeks a little rosy, you make your way to the hotel bar, heels clicking against the marble. 

But instead of Hobi, you find someone else instead.

“Hey.”

“You stalkin’ me?” Yoongi smirks at his lowball.

“Yup, this is exactly what this is. Call Mr. Lee,” You deadpan, sitting on the bar stool beside him. “Where’s Hob-ah?”

He shrugs. “Not his keeper.”

“Is there another hotel bar?” You ask the bartender who was polishing off a wine glass.

“Yes, miss. There's another on the 31st.”

Realizing you might’ve gotten the venue wrong, you grab your clutch and start to slide off the stool. “I guess I’ll—”

“Stay.” 

He says it so quietly, almost like he was hoping you don’t hear it.

You pause.

When you look at him, he’s not even looking at you—just staring into his drink like there’s something at the bottom of it worth pondering. You know you should leave, but you don’t.

“You look… a little worse for wear,” you say as you settle back into your seat.

“You can say I look like shit.”

You glance at him, then nod once. “Okay. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

A beat.

“Everything okay?”

He shrugs. Noncommittal. Dismissive. Yoongi core.

You signal the bartender for a drink, letting the noise of the bar fill the space between you for a while as you wait for your cocktail.

It’s him who breaks first.

He slides a bowl of roasted edamame toward you, like a peace offering he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“I dunno,” he mutters, more to the glass than to you.

You wait.

He exhales, long and slow, the amber liquid in his glass rippling with the movement.

“I keep listening to the album and it all just…” He trails off, jaw tightening. “Trash.”

You blink, shock evident in your face. “What do you mean?”

“Like I should’ve done it differently.” He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Every track. Every arrangement. Feels like I missed out on changing something obvious.”

“That’s just—”

“I know,” he cuts in, already shaking his head. “I know it’s not real. I know it’s just…” He gestures vaguely, searching for the word. “Fatigue. Whatever.”

But it doesn’t sound like he believes that.

“I can’t turn it off,” he adds, quieter now. “Even when I see how fans enjoy the songs, the doubt just eats at me.”

There’s something raw in that. Something he doesn’t usually let slip. You watch him for a second, really look at him. And it pulls something up from the back of your mind:

Hannam-dong.

⊙⊝⊜

A random weeknight. You’d gone out alone, too proud to call anyone after your ex ended things over something stupid that somehow still shattered you. You were busy ugly-crying over your gin until someone slid into the seat beside you.

Him. Yoongi.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You looked like you needed someone.”

“You heard me crying from across the room?”

“It was a bit loud, yeah.”

Your face crumples again and you let out a broken sound, covering your eyes. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing…”

“It’s fine,” he says, voice low, even. “No one’s looking.”

You sniff again. “I look disgusting.”

“You look like you’re crying.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not.” He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to you.

You let out a weak huff, somewhere between a laugh and another sob, before taking it.

He didn’t ask questions or make it a big thing. Just sat there with his black face mask, providing you with the comfort of company. He let you talk when you wanted. Let you cry when you couldn’t stop. 

At some point, you’d leaned into him without thinking, and he’d just let you. Steady. Warm. He rubbed your back as you wrapped your arms around in his slight torso, sobbing slightly against his tee.

“Yoongi. Why are men pigs?” you sniff.

“I dunno. I’m a cat.” He shrugs. “...apparently.”

That makes you laugh, all wet and snotty. But it makes all the difference to lighten your mood.

“Look. I don’t know who the guy is. But I know he’s an idiot.”

“He is,” You nod immediately. “… but I am, too.”

A pause, before he chides. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I just…” You trail off lifting your head from his shoulder and looking up at the track lights hanging from the bar. “I just really love love, you know?”

He doesn’t interrupt.

“I like the idea of it,” you continue, words coming slower now, more honest. “Falling for someone. Growing with them. Having… I dunno, fuck…” you laugh weakly, shaking your head. “Someone to hold your hand ‘til it’s all sweaty and gross, like… I love that shit.”

It sounds stupid out loud.

“So even if I knew he wasn’t it, I tried to hold on. Because I’m scared of being alone. And I’m scared I won’t find someone who’d want me again.”

Jeez, that was a lot to unpack. You expect him to say something dry. He’s good at that.

No words come.

Instead, his fingers brush against yours where your hand rests on the bartop.

You glance down.

He’s not looking at you. Just placing his palm on the back of yours, before turning it over. And slowly, his hand closes around yours, fingers interlacing between each digit.

You’re staring at your conjoined hands and then his stoic face. He doesn’t look back, but he squeezes your hand tighter as if to say: I’m here. Not forever. But at least you’re not alone for now.

And that was enough. That night, you had someone to hold your hand til it was all sweaty and gross. You swallow, something tight in your chest easing just a little.

He walks you out after, hands still clasped. Makes sure you get into a cab. Waits until the door shuts before stepping back. Your hand feels cold without the feel of his when the car drives off.

But after that… nothing. He never brought it up again. Neither did you. Life got complicated. You don’t know what happened during his enlistment. So now you both just act like it didn’t happen.

If you will be honest, you still think about Hannam-dong sometimes. More than you will ever admit.

You’re reminded of it every time you see that random quote hanging on your foyer.

“The most romantic thing in the world is being understood. It’s even deeper than love.”

Things with Yoongi never really took off. But you will always have Hannam-dong.

⊙⊝⊜

Yoongi looks at you now, the same way you looked at him then, a little lost, a little broken, trying to stay strong. So you don’t make it a big thing either. You just reach for an edamame, pop it into your mouth, pull the peel, and shrug lightly as you mash the beans with your teeth.

“Sounds like your brain needs to shut the fuck up for a bit.”

He huffs, something almost like a laugh slipping out. “Yeah,” he mutters. “If only.”

“For what it’s worth, Album of the year, in my opinion.”

Yoongi can’t stop his lips from curling.

Satisfied, you call for the server. “Let’s eat something first. Then we solve your existential crisis.”

He glances at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’m the best, right?”

He gives you a thumbs up. “Kkaepjjang.”

Ass.

You order food, which comes out quicker than expected, but what you really wanted to do to distract him comes in the form of a mobile game.

“You still play?” you ask, showing the app now loading in your phone.

Face instantly lighting up, he unlocks his phone and presses the same app sitting on the home screen. “One game.”

You grin. “Double Up?”

A small nod.

“Don’t drag me down,” he mutters as the queue pops.

“Tsss,” you shoot back. “I’ll carry.”

He huffs, but there’s no bite to it.

You fall into rhythm without needing to talk much—checking in here and there, nudging each other when it matters, covering where the other slips. Just quiet coordination, the kind that only happens when both people know what they’re doing.

At some point, you lose a round you shouldn’t have. You fumble a turn.

“I got you,” he says, and he does.

By the time the game ends—with a win you barely scrape—you’re both facing each other, knees touching, smiles plastered on your faces.

“Not bad,” you murmur, setting your phone down. “You did well.”

“But I always do well?” he replies.

You push him lightly. “Take a humble W for once.”

“No, cause I can’t remember ever doing poorly…”

“Oh my gooood, I’m tired of you.” You roll your eyes, attempting to swivel away from him, but his knees stop you.

He glances at you, something softer flickering through his expression. You look away first, because what’s with the face? You reach for your drink, swirling what’s left and sip.

“Thanks,” he says, and why are his fingers drumming on your knee? It’s kind of distracting, actually.

“Are you feeling a little better now?” You reply, forcing a neutral expression.

He pauses, exhales. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I just got tired of my own head.”

And maybe it’s the fact that you’re sipping the final dredges of your margarita that the next words carelessly tumble out.  “Maybe you just need good head.”

The dining area is still loud around you, but somehow, between you and him, it has become z-z-z. His fingers cease tapping against your skin.

Panicking, you blab. “Just text Gwayoung. Or Haein… I’m sure they’re available. You don’t have to look too far, you know.”

His eyes bear a weight you didn’t anticipate. 

“I’m not,” he says quietly.

And the way he’s looking at you makes it very clear he’s not looking far at all. He doesn’t need to.

⊙⊝⊜

You don’t remember deciding to leave or how he even paid. Just the deja vu of how his hand found your wrist and the way you let it. Of how a door opens and then your back is firmly against it.

The next thing you feel is Yoongi’s soft lips sliding against your own. 

His hand drifts up the side of your neck, fingers settling at the base like he’s keeping you right where he wants you, and it does something weird to your breathing—shortens it, stutters it—without needing to press.

The strap of your dress sags against your shoulder, but you make no move to fix it.

Your fingers find his hair instead, threading through the longer strands at the nape. It’s softer than you remember, just enough length to catch between your fingers, and when you tug, he groans against your mouth, the sound going straight to your center.

Total brain fog. 

Your heartbeat, faint but present, is somehow the one that warns you about the risks. Because you’ve been in this situation before with Yoongi. You’ve been vulnerable in Hannam, and in his studio, and in the rehearsal space, and in room 2004. There’s a host of reasons why you should run away.

But it’s only taking one slow, smooth swipe of his tongue against the roof of your mouth for you to run in. 

Your mouths part at the same time, an accidental knock of teeth, before he catches your lower lip between his and sucks softly, almost sweetly.

God. Yoongi makes your head swim.

And all this kissing is making you feel like there’s something more, when there is none. You’d do well to remind yourself of that.

By some miracle you find the strength to pull away.

“Yoongi, if we’re doing this, just…” you place your palm gently against his chest, pushing him back. “Don’t confuse me.”

Yoongi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I know what this is,” you say, still a little breathless. “And I’m down, but I just… let’s not…”

The words stall out, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold onto them. You inhale sharply, trying to piece together something that makes sense, something that doesn’t sound as messy as it feels in your head.

Because if you’re being honest—really honest—you’re already in deeper than you should be.

You never quite bounced back from his rejections. It lingers, quieter now, but still there, still tender in places you don’t like to acknowledge. And that’s not something you can tell him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Not when he’s this close. Not when his lips are a soft, distracting pink. Not when he’s looking at you like this—like, for once, all of his attention is yours.

So you decide on something, albeit hastily. You shift your weight, looking him dead in the eye. “You can’t kiss me.”

He studies you curiously, too amused for your liking. His eyes are transfixed on your mouth, observing how they’re still shiny from his own spit. “Too late for that, don’t you think?”

“No, you can’t do it again. Not anymore.”

If he is confused, he doesn’t let it show. He scratches his nape. “Just your mouth, right? Anywhere else is fair game?”

His eyes dip, trailing your body like he’s already mentally undressing you. You feel heat building beneath your skin.

“Yes.”

“Sweet.” His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, dragging lightly across your lower lip to wipe away the trail he left behind. Then he turns, moving further into his hotel room, dropping the keycard into an empty fruit bowl. “Anything else?”

You follow him in, dragging your feet on the plush carpet, still deep in thought.

You exhale through your nose, trying to keep your tone even. “Don’t make me sign an NDA.”

“No need, your current NDA’s already airtight.”

That—

You blink, thrown for half a second. The reminder lands colder than you expected, like a bucket of reality dumped over something that was just starting to feel… not real.

“Right.” You nod slowly, arms tightening across your chest. “Way to make a girl feel special, Yoongi.”

“Legal contracts don’t turn you on?” Yoongi drops to the couch.

“Not particularly. My dad’s a lawyer.”

He makes a face.

You snort. “What? Talking about my old hairy lawyer dad doesn’t turn you on?”

“Pass.”

That gets a real laugh out of you, the tension cracking just enough to breathe again.

He watches you when you do, like he’s taking note of something. Almost like he’s fascinated with you.

Then his head tilts slightly, a small gesture, almost nothing. “C’mere.”

You hesitate for half a second, but step forward anyway, closing the distance until you’re right in front of him, standing between his parted legs as he looks up at you.

His hand finds your wrist first, then your waist, guiding you down like it’s nothing. You end up on his lap, breath catching just a little as his hand slides under your dress, resting on your upper thigh.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, eyes dragging over your face, slower this time. “What does?”

The question sinks somewhere low, coiling tight, as he squeezes your soft flesh, so close to where you need him.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already leaning in.

His lips brush your collarbone first, not really doing anything but press his mouth against your skin. It’s almost absent-minded, the way he does it, like he can ask a question and distract you at the same time.

You inhale sharply.

His mouth drifts lower, grazing the hollow between your chest, and your thoughts start slipping, unraveling faster than you can catch them.

“Yoongi…”

He hums against your skin, like he heard you, but doesn’t want to stop. Frankly you don’t want him to when you feel his lips latch on the top of your breast and your brain goes foggy, words dissolving before they can form.

And that’s exactly why you…

“Wait.” You feel the solidness of him under your palms, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, as you lean back.

He stills, mouth swollen.

“Mm?” he hums, lifting his head but not moving far, like he’s willing to wait—but only just.

“Don’t you have your own rules?”

There’s a brief flicker of something, before his expression smooths back out.

He blinks once and huffs. “Don’t leave me on read.”

You almost react. Almost say something about that night, about the message that never sent, about the door you stood in front of, and the sounds that destroyed you before his friend picked up the pieces of you that shattered in front of room 2004.

But you swallow it down. He doesn’t need to know.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

You study him for a second longer, like you’re trying to find something deeper and coming up short.

“Okay.”

A beat.

It’s decided.

“So,” he says, voice lower, like it’s already done. “Are we gonna do this, or—”

“Fuck me, Yoongi.”

His mouth curves, just slightly one corner. “Gladly.”

Part 2

A/N: .....hi? :)

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Oc for The Juniper Magic Academy RP.

Taika, class 3a

Wiebke, class 1a

Kai, class 1a

Honora, class 1b

Amelia, class 1b

Victoria, class 1b

Mae, Teacher

Shizuka, Teacher

——More to come soon——

#juniperacademyofmagic #oc #originalcharacterdesign #digitaldrawing #ocdrawing

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